#& then again into the AO3 box. each time being a different edit type

[daddyplasmius]

yeah i think i'm just gonna do it if no one minds updates being sporadic & out of nowhere & like 10-20k words

[hd-fan-fair]

THE MASTERLIST OF H/D SEX FAIR 2020 FANWORKS

View the full list on [AO3] or under the cut below!

( Fanwork posted in chronological order by type )

ART

1. How hard can it be? (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary: 

Harry and Draco have to stay over at their friends' places for a few weeks, since the renovation of the Grimmauld Place hadn't been completed by the time they were back from their honeymoon. That creates a slight issue with being intimate but the newlyweds are nothing if not creative...

2. Revelio! (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

It's that time of year again for Witch Weekly's annual charity event! By popular demand, this year they have prepared a calendar featuring the sexiest studs in the Wizarding World. Gracing the cover in style, the Hogwarts staff is represented by none other than DADA Professor Harry Potter and Potions Professor Draco Malfoy. Grab one before they're gone! Reserve your copy by owl today!

3. Handling Dragons (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry brought over dragons to Hogwarts for a new Triwizard Tournament or for a class. Draco is hopelessly turned on by the resident Professor or Hogwarts Medic. Draco wants his dragon tickled by Harry. Unknown to him, Draco is the only dragon Harry wants to manhandle.

4. I plan on getting very wet. (Digital, Mature) Summary:

When they arrived at their private beach holiday, they didn't expect it to rain all the time. Oh well, boys can still find a way to have fun.

5. The Dragon's Boy (Digital Comic, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is chosen to be the next sacrifice to the dragon, but it turns out this dragon is interested in Harry for entirely different reasons.

6. The Art of Trust (Digital, Mature) Summary:

One piece of rope offers what Harry and Draco seek the most from each other.

7. (Intimidating) Brand New World (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary:

Draco's nervously perusing a sex shop for the first time when he sees a flash of dark hair across the store. He'd know it anywhere, but why is Potter here? And what on earth is in that box he's buying? Years of uptight parenting from his parents have left him woefully lacking in knowledge about his newfound interests. Potter's always been rather uncaring of public opinion, perhaps he could be the one to help Draco figure it all out...

ART & FIC

8. as much a light as a flame (6303, Explicit) Summary:

His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again.

His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it.

9. Starkissed (32631, Explicit) Summary:

“Your tattoos!” The intruder says, boldly stepping over Ron’s chaise and crossing in front of Hermione to get to Harry, eyes wide and hungry. Harry immediately sits up, pulling the towel draped across the back of his chair down over his shoulders.   “No! Don’t cover them. They’re beautiful.” Harry hopes an indulgent trip abroad will help shake him out of the doldrums of his life. What he finds once he gets to Venice is more than he ever expected.

  PODFIC

10. Infuse With Affection, Enchant With Love by bafflinghaze (1.5 Hours, Teen and Up) Summary:

It starts with Draco making protective pendants for himself, his parents, and his friends, after the war. Something that would watch their backs—and their fronts—as people spat on them in the streets and hexed them in the alleyways. Draco gets better at it, does a course on it, and takes enough commissions for charmed jewellery that he eventually opens his own shop.

But Harry doesn’t know any of this. So when he sees Malfoy in a shop of charmed necklaces, he immediately tries his best to uncover Malfoy’s machinations.

11. Things Worth Paying For (1.5 Hours, Explicit) Summary:

After leaving post-war Britain for Paris, Draco is finally happy, with friends and a job he loves, But then his newest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and everything changes.

  FIC

12. Three Wishes (10161, Explicit) Summary:

Draco meets his fairy godmother and is granted three wishes. Unfortunately, they all keep coming back to the same thing.

********** Pop! 

"Oh, wow," Vince says, and is that sarcasm Draco hears? "I never saw that coming."

"What?" Draco opens his eyes. He's prepared for the theatrics of the puffs of smoke—Vince, despite the sudden career change, was never blessed with an overactive imagination—but what he was not prepared for was the sight of Harry Potter, bare-chested and dressed in arseless chaps, his hands bound and mouth wrapped around a ball gag while lying face down on Draco's sofa.

13. H.A.G.S. (Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality) (9517, Explicit) Summary:

When Hermione decides Hogwarts needs a LGBTQIA+ club, of course Ron and Harry are roped into helping. After a rocky start, Harry begins seeing the club as an opportunity to educate students and celebrate diversity and sexuality at Hogwarts. He also starts seeing it as an opportunity to snog Draco Malfoy.

14. You Don't Know Me (Like You Used To) (33106, Explicit) Summary:

"Buy me a drink as compensation for maiming me?" he asks.

"And why the hell would I do that?" It’s a perfectly valid question. A drink invitation from Harry Potter is about as likely of a scenario as me streaking down Piccadilly in broad daylight. Consider me completely thrown off.

Sometimes it only takes a week to change everything. The story of how twenty-five-year-old Draco Malfoy hit one Harry Potter with a door and knocked both of their lives into somewhere entirely new.

15. the best treasure is up Harry’s arse (2891, Explicit) Summary:

Harry and Draco probably had a tumultuous time getting together, filled with angst and denial and pining and brooding. However, this is not that story. Here, Draco makes Harry come (more than once).

16. Breakin' the Rules (3146, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry and Draco are Auror partners. They're in a relationship that they've been forced to keep secret due to relationships between Aurors being forbidden. Harry is okay with this, as he hasn't come out to anyone other than Draco, but after a mission goes awry, their relationship is exposed.

17. The HogShagMan (31685, Mature) Summary:

Professor Potter is called upon to teach the first-ever official course on Magical Sexual Relations at Hogwarts and, in the process, must navigate the pitfalls of relationship-building, the nefarious schemings of those entrusted with school funding, and the uneven tempers of his boss and several co-workers. Clearly, only ‘the’ Harry Potter can pull it all off.

18. Let's not wait for France (17714, Teen and Up) Summary:

All Harry had wanted from his Eighth year at Hogwarts was a little peace and a little privacy but, from the moment that he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, it was obvious that nothing was ever going to be that easy.

An accidental bond with Malfoy that resulted in them having to stay together at all times was the final straw.

Things couldn't be worse. So much to a quiet year in Hogwarts.

19. Take All That You See (19666, Teen and Up) Summary:

Draco Malfoy has only two goals for his eighth year are Hogwarts: 1) stay as invisible as possible, and 2) get enough NEWTs to be accepted at a university abroad and get the hell out of the UK. Everything is going according to plan until he is unceremoniously outed by the Daily Prophet and subsequently disowned.

Finding himself the unexpected focus of unwanted attention and harassment, he is suddenly dependent on the good will and protection of the last people he would have expected — Harry Potter and his gang of do-gooder Gryffindors (plus Luna Lovegood). With his world turned upside down, how will Draco make it through the rest of the year? And worse still, as he grows closer and closer to Harry, how will he get out with his heart intact?

20. True Children Still (34240, Explicit) Summary:

After years of dancing around each other, Draco and Harry have finally begun to date, though they're taking things slow. They've got enough to figure out as it is, and the last thing Harry needs is an unexpected introduction to desires he's not quite ready to face.

21. Asking For A Friend? (13734, Explicit) Summary:

Asking for a friend? Don't be shy! I'm Genna Russ with advice! Draco Malfoy, drag queen and agony aunt for the Daily Prophet, is very happy with his life. He loves his job. He loves his drag queen persona. And he loves the fact that the wider Wizarding world doesn't know who is offering them sassy advice with their morning news.

When he starts receiving letters from one Harry Potter – letters that are too racy to publish – he does the only thing he can do: he replies. His carefully constructed secret life is at risk of being blown wide open, but he just can't help himself. Draco never did have any self-control where the Prat Who Lived was concerned.

22. All I Have to Do (9575, Explicit) Summary:

The Patented Daydream Charm (Adult Edition) allows you to enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute sexual fantasy. Solitude and privacy spells advised.

Or: Draco finally has some alone time; Harry just needs to nip in for a book.

23. Take My Wonder (3949, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter is the author of very well-written children's text books. Joshua Starkweather is the author of not-so-well-written erotic fiction. Only one person knows that they are one and the same.

24. (There Is Nothing) More Than This (5431, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter returns home past midnight, distressed and anxious about the multiple murder case that he is leading. His husband Draco looks after him, comforting Harry with his hands, his mouth and his unwavering love.

25. the space between (what you want and what you need) (13601, Mature) Summary:

As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

26. Walk in the sun (18233, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is perfectly content with the life he built for himself; simple and private, it helps him heal the wounds from the war. He then accepts to go out with one of Neville’s acquaintances, never expecting that decision would bring him back to his obsession for Draco Malfoy.

“That was his cue. Had Harry stopped to think about his situation, he could have left. Malfoy was nibbling at his neck, he had his hand down his pants. All things considered, a disaster incoming. And yet, his feet still refused to move. After all, he was not the stop-to-think-of-consequences kind of guy.”

(Features drunken confessions, bathrooms, a lot of smut, sexy pictures, panties, cats and only one bed)

27. You Need to Just Do Whatever You Want (7998, General) Summary:

Draco's confused when he receives a manual explaining his magical inheritance. Being a veela would be good (at least he would be prettier), and a vampire would have been fine (another excuse to hide himself in the Manor). But a descendant of the God of Love, complete with arrows and a love quota? Now that's just bonkers.

A story in which Draco is Cupid (sort of).

28. Under my Skin (8258, Explicit) Summary:

One year after the war and after Hogwarts restorations, Harry is back at school to finally finish his education. He wasn't expecting McGonagall to assign him to protect Draco Malfoy, in case he was bullied during the classes. Although really just wants to relax on his last year in Hogwarts, he'd seen how Draco had changed at the trials. He knew being around him would be easy enough... Wouldn't it?

29. Glory, glory! (16898, Explicit) Summary:

It's 2005 and Harry has recently purchased a new mobile phone so he can easily keep in touch with his friends. Little did he know that the Muggle technology would lead him down a path of self discovery and safe exploration that would lead him into the soft recesses of the last person he ever expected. As it turns out, very good things can be found in the dark.

30. Husbandly Duties (2108, Explicit) Summary:

Draco and Harry leave their wedding after-party early for some quality one-on-one time.

31. Sex, Relationships & Love (3873, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy runs an anonymous sex advice column in the Witch Weekly magazine and gets hundreds of letters asking him for advice on sex, love and relationships. How was he to know that the advice he had given in response to one of those letters would result in Harry Potter showing up at his flat at 6 in the morning?

32. Disparate (6022, Teen and Up) Summary:

Ever since he went to Hogwarts, Draco realized that he wasn't quite the same as the others.

Or: Draco Malfoy over the years as he tries to understand and accept his sexuality.

33. Silver Scales in Pools of Green (26603, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is one of the last sirens of the seas, who escaped to the human world looking for friendship and food, but captivity found him instead. For seven years, he's gotten used to his life as human entertainment, and prides himself in his ability to make humans fall in step to his song.

That is, until everything falls apart when he has an audience with green eyes...

34. It's So Hard (9170, Explicit) Summary:

Draco has posed for some interesting photos, and it is currently making things very... hard for Harry.

35. On Your Shore (35113, Mature) Summary:

Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too. But both the house and Draco Malfoy have secrets to uncover, and Harry might be in deeper water than he thought.

36. A Little Less Broken (6417, Mature) Summary:

After the war Draco thought he would never feel again. But a mix of revenge gone wrong and Harry Potter, might help him to feel just a little less broken.

37. Always (20147, Explicit) Summary:

In which Draco is the (in)famous erotica writer H.J. Belladonna, writing successful scandalous novel after successful scandalous novel and hiding his true identity, and Harry is questioning his sexuality after reading one of Belladonna’s books. Until ten years after the war their paths cross again, and Harry doesn’t only question his sexuality, but also the meaning of his obsession with Draco Malfoy.

“You look like something my cat dragged in,“ Blaise said from the sofa. Draco’s sofa, in Draco’s tiny flat. “You don’t have a cat, because you’re too vain, Blaise. A cat would get hair all over your expensive clothes,“ Draco replied and then ignored Blaise in favor of going into the kitchen to get some hot sweet tea into his system. Maybe that would make his day better, even if it had just started and the potential for disaster was high. Blaise followed him. “I’ll take one too.“ “You can’t use my home as your personal hotel, Blaise,“ Draco said, but he was already grabbing two cups out of the cupboard. He was too tired to use magic, after writing the whole night, he felt like all the magic had been absorbed by his parchment. Some of his sanity maybe too.

38. Absurd. (3773, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco discovers a kink that Harry's been hiding from him, he has no choice but to explore said kink, right? Right.

39. For Want Of Five Minutes (And a Locked Door) (4333, Mature) Summary:

It’s hard enough to get five minutes to yourself in a house of five kids, nevermind getting five minutes with your boyfriend for anything else.

40. Let Out the Beast (9649, Explicit) Summary:

In the wizarding world where alphas are looked down upon for their lack of control and unseemly aggression, it is generally accepted that they are not allowed to work in places like schools and hospitals where their nature could risk the people there. When Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up at Hogwarts smelling strongly like an alpha, Harry is beyond baffled. The fact that no one else seems to catch his scent only adds to his confusion. But, of course, the most puzzling part is how Harry’s body reacts to that scent.

41. Flowers, Dildos and Other Courtship Gifts (15853, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry Potter is the Ministry's star auror trainee, and Draco Malfoy is the cute florist in Diagon Alley who Harry stares at through the window during lunch breaks and leaves. That's all they are and all they would ever be. (Really.) Until Harry accidentally mails Draco an autumn themed dildo (among others). Cue: bad planning, owl kidnapping, and flangst.

Or two emotional gay disasters fall in love in the middle of autumn.

42. he touched me, so I live to know (4729, Mature) Summary:

Five times Harry Potter is unsure about touching someone and one time he isn’t.

43. cut my name into your lip (6321, Explicit) Summary:

Harry can't take it anymore. Seriously. If Malfoy chews on the end of his quill/licks his spoon/sucks on the papercut on his finger one more time, Harry's going to put an end to it.

44. Realities, Unfurling (45487, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

45. The Delicate Balance of Light and Shade (13288, Explicit) Summary:

With the war finally over, Harry tries to find his own path in a world where he is free to make his own choice. On a holiday in France, he unexpectedly falls in love with art and painting. Returning to Hogwarts to help rebuild it, he is paired up with Draco Malfoy to restore the Room of Requirement - and unexpectedly falls in love with Draco. When the rebuilding efforts are done, Harry disappears.

Years later, Draco goes to Muggle London at Pansy's suggestion to visit an art gallery. The name of the Muggle artist is unknown to Draco, but the subject of the erotic paintings is shockingly familiar: it's Draco himself. It's time to confront the past and make some long-due confessions.

46. Tonight's the Night (Gonna Be Alright) (9181, Explicit) Summary:

Sex is hard to come by when you're 40 and have kids.

Or: Five times Harry and Draco tried and failed to have sex and one time they were successful.

47. The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance (6079, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is going to lose his virginity, so help him god, and he's going to lose it to one Harry Potter. Why? Because of his big cock, his status as The Top Five Quidditch Players in England, and Witch Weekly's Most-Eligible Bachelor for eight years straight. At least that's what he tells himself. Too bad first times rarely go as one plans, and now Harry is looking miserable and Draco doesn’t understand why.

48. you killed me on the moon (4906, Explicit) Summary:

'You barely know me. We do not know each other.’

‘Beyond this overwhelming need to submit to you, completely and utterly?’ Potter raises his eyebrows, stretching his scar. ‘Beyond this bone-deep awareness that you are made for me, and I for you? That our destiny was written in the stars, in the very foundation of our known world?’

An A/B/O Royalty!AU wherein a desperate Slytherin prince faces a proposal from the conquering Gryffindor king.

49. i just want your extra time and your... (9058, Explicit) Summary:

Ron should know better than to speak Latin in a magical library. If he’d just left well enough alone, instead of trying to badger Malfoy for the details of his newest novel, Harry wouldn’t have to listen to all of this chatter about how bloody decent Malfoy is, and he wouldn’t be dealing with all of these...feelings. Really, it’s all Ron’s fault that Harry’s mind is stuck on Malfoy like this again.

50. The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows (41492, Explicit) Summary:

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

51. You Do Your Body Work, I Feel My Pulse Working Overtime (1627, Explicit) Summary:

Harry did not have an addiction to watching Draco masturbate on camera. He could stop any time he wanted to. Really.

52. Right Romantic Setting (6266, Explicit) Summary:

On the twelfth day of their romantic relationship, Draco and Harry take Albus, Scorpius and Rose on a weekend trip to Muggle London that Ron and Hermione were supposed to lead. At the fully-booked hotel where they'll be staying for the night, they're surprised to discover that their rather plain room has only one bed. It's definitely not the right romantic setting for their first night together but, as Draco comes to realise, there's good in taking things slow.

53. Portrait of a Marriage (130627, Mature) Summary:

Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug.

Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible.

54. Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are (29803, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco finds himself wrongly accused – of course it's Potter who swoops in to save the day. Isn't it always Potter?

[borkthemork]

Got tagged by @calamity-unlocked for the procrastinating writer ask, and might as well! Always fun to get away from the pains of editing, RIP to Falling Down Dry’s eighth chapter.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

26.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

220,000.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

A lot. Just...a lot before I got into Ao3 so let’s keep it at that. But mainly I wrote for SU, Amphibia, and FMA.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

-Death of the Ego

I would say this happened because I wrote this at the right place at the right time. People had been theorizing that Steven would get corrupted ever since the trailer to SUF, and I originally made this as a one-shot...until people encouraged me to start exploring it.

Wouldn’t say it was my best work, but every time I wrote something it meant I improved slowly, and I would always appreciate that no matter the weather.

-Doesn’t Have to be Solo

Oh man, I loved this one! Just a series of connected events with Steven going on his road trip, and learning more about himself and who he was along the way. It also was the fic where I needed a lot of beta readers as time went on, so it made me learn a lot about grammar, prose, and overall the internal rules I developed while writing in general.

-Beyond the Music Box

This was the surprising one! This fic was originally a place where I could archive all the drabbles I written on Tumblr, and y’all really wanted it due to how chaotic my tag format is for this stuff.

It’s surprising for me because I didn’t expect a lot of love when it came to my casual writings since they take I don’t know an hour or so in creating, so thank you everyone who encouraged me to do this.

Just ignore the fact I’ve been lazy at updating the drabbles, shhhh.

-Building One Up

Marcanne, my beloved. Me and my friend kept talking about how Anne was a buff dork and this was at a time where no one really focused on that except mainly on Sasha when it came to strength (for obvious reasons).

I found this slander (I’m joking, by the way) and decided that I needed to write my feelings out on the topic.

And y’all agreed with me so dthdfthtfhtfht.

This also was the first time I had to hone in on a new form of characterization entirely, being that I infused the character’s thoughts and feelings into the way the prose flowed out itself. For Marcy, I went on a pretty analytical front with this piece, and it helped me get into the groove for people like Anne and Sasha and many others over the course of writing.

-Late Night Talks

I didn’t expect this one to blow up at all. I wrote this at one a.m. and y’all just grabbed this fic and ran, I am still confused.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I respond to comments all the time because comments just give a lot of serotonin, you know? Someone took their time out of their day to remark on things I did in the work itself, and it’s just very validating to see. It also creates this environment that says, “Yes, I see you, and you can interact with me anytime you want.” so it’s all about that friendliness unless you’re rude to me back.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Pizza for One. Had an angst kick when SUF occurred so I milked it whenever my motivation got the best of me.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write crossovers unless you mean a crossover of characters to a new environment and set of rules. I would gladly write characters into the FMA world, oh my Lord!

But I guess the craziest stuff I’d written would just be comedy sketches? Best example would be Joe and Bessie having kids and Marcy having a conniption over it, so take that what you will.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t believe so? I did get one person on my old SU fic asking me to continue while giving me unsolicited advice but they apologized not soon after.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut. I write it privately but I adore characterization and intimacy, and so I try to make rather domestic pieces that connect to the characters themselves. If it has a certain kink, I make sure to research it so I could understand why the character finds the act rather arousing, and I just want to pay respects to the act itself.

Even with our current day and age, there’s still a lot of conservative anti-sex rhetoric going around, and I always try to view the act of physical intimacy in the same lens as one who adores love in all its different facets and forms.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope to that either!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sadly, no. I do art trades with people and those are lovely to do since we get to brainstorm and make art together, but I’ve never co-written work with someone. If anyone wants to do that, then sure, just hit me up.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

It changes every season, every morning tide, every peace loving hour on the Planet Earth.

It’s Marcanne, right now.

When it comes to ships I always go with the Friends-to-Lovers dynamic, but a lot of the ships I have come from seeing the amount of intrigue in how that type of ship would play out. That could be with Kannao and the amount of commentary over Japanese gender biases, or Royai with their very complicated but extensive adoration and loyalty to one another.

For Marcanne, it’s all about that playful banter that could definitely bubble out of the surface if you just (bangs table) allow them to communicate and be transparent fully. (cries)

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Sadly, that Anne fic with her confiding in Hop Pop after they get settled in her house. After what happened with the sneak peek, I realized that this fic would need a lot of build-up to be satisfying and I didn’t have the strength to do a 10k build-up to Anne crying.

Maybe I’ll finish it, we’ll see.

15) What are your writing strengths?

Writing strengths would be concise prose and characterization. I am a worry wart, I worry over the importance of each paragraph and how it all forms and transitions together, it’s just a part of how I work a great deal of the time. And man, characterization is the big one for me, if I don’t understand how the people work and could theoretically function in the story itself, I feel absolutely lost.

Which is also the reason why I’m struggling right now with FDD Chapter Eight, because Marcy’s reaction to Yunan keeps eluding my grasp!

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I overthink a lot. Concise prose is great but I force myself to get all fancy and massive with details since I’ve got to unless I want a specific part to be so quick and unmeaningful, and this leads to pacing issues or just not enough intended time for people to breathe in the fic itself.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I need to get a beta to make sure I don’t sound like an asshole, haha. I do love other languages, they are beautiful and can add a lot towards an audience who does know the language itself, but it depends on the work I’m doing.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would be uhhhhh, my memory is lacking but Minecraft. The whole videogame had a wish fulfillment atmosphere to it, and since I got rather obsessed by how anything could happen in the engine itself I went with it.

19) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

When it comes to me, my own perception of my art changes day to day. Back when I first posted the Lapidot fic I thought it was the best thing I’ve ever done even though now, with the knowledge I have from workshops and betas, that the style I drafted had a lot of grammar and prose mistakes that I wouldn’t make in the future. It is pretty subjective, but for now I think the best fic I could look at right now would be amestrian catcher (set something ablaze).

Thank you Calamity once again for this! And I’ll be tagging @resplendent-chungus, @aanau, and @golddragon387!

[frightfurtabby]

HimiKiyo Week 2021: Day 1- Creeping Darkness

//HimiKiyo Week 2021 is finally here! Took a little bit tonight to finalize edits and come up with a title. Look forward to more each day for the next week~

I’m proud, this is one of my longest singlechapter  fics ever if not the longest

Links to other Platforms:

Amino: https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-2021-day-1/5B58_R2MsVulaQEnXkXVBzYlGjd3mXnP3Z

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34119466

The seaside village Himiko moved out to was more out of the way  than the usual cities and suburbs. Apparently, her mentor couldn’t come. It was going to be a pain being out in that little house all alone. Who knows, maybe he’d sent another student of his the same kind of message?

To her disappointment there wasn’t anyone else, still not a single other apprentice known to her. She decided that after not doing anything yesterday but unpacking and eating and sleeping she would go over to the shrine marked on the local map. If nothing else she could pray for good luck before really getting down to working. 

The course of this assignment and her whole life changed the moment she saw that strange figure at the offerings box while nobody else was around. They wore a long green kimono with beautiful dark hair almost matching that outfit in length. They looked to be glowing ethereally, with pale white skin akin to a porcelain doll. 

Their hand was in the offerings box. At first she assumed they must be giving their own prayers and as such stayed back so as to not intrude. She noticed then that the figure was taking something *out* of the offerings box and that’s when she wondered if they were a thief. 

“Fret not, these offerings are for me, dear human.” a voice came to her, seeming at first separate from the figure still several feet ahead. Someone addressing a person as “human” and saying it was their offering… She’d never seen a kami before, but that was the sole explanation that made everything make sense about them.

“Then you’re a kami?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow. 

“That I am, I am called Shinguji. This family name refers to residing here, at the True Temple. My given name Korekiyo means just and pure”

“I-it’s a beautiful…” The mage was torn in half between the word ‘name’ and the word ‘place.’ The brook not far behind the pair was babbling audibly and birds were chirping. The water went past the trees and out to the river, which fed it almost directly into the ocean. 

Even if something wicked this way was coming there was nothing yet to taint the natural beauty. She wasn’t sure if it would even be able to with a keeper this pretty.

“A beautiful what?” The spirit gently prodded her with the question. They had noticed her biting her lip in uncertainty.

“Name, your name is pretty. Uhh, and I’m…” she was too flustered to easily find any of the necessary words. 

“You are Yumeno Himiko.”

“So you knew that already?” It was not that surprising in hindsight, but in that moment she was caught off guard, focusing on trying not to be so tense in their presence like she had been up to that point. She worried she was giving off the wrong message.

“I intuited it, but I don’t blame you for being surprised. Most humans think of us Kami as mythology, but I’ve known these old figures, and dealt with many creatures as my neighbors in my centuries of life.”

“In that case then are you able to intuit why I’m here?” The mage tried hard not to sound too much like a schoolgirl talking to her popular crush. 

“I could. It would be easier if you told me. Whatever it is, you seem particularly stressed out by it.” They tilted their head slightly, a very human gesture, and it was clear they were reading deeper. Either humans had gotten it from the ancient gods or vice-versa. One of those things nobody would ever be able to remember the origin of.

It was better to answer the question than get too off track wondering about that. 

“Well, my master who is a magician told me there was something that was going to go wrong here. He gave me the mission to stop it.”

It was Kiyo’s turn to be concerned. 

“Well, I have been given whispers that a nasty yokai is approaching this land. It comes from the far north and wishes to sap power for itself. Very few claiming to be survivors of this have shown up, and we’re all so isolated these days...”

That was a bad sign. 

“Is it because of us?” If her master had worried so much about it then there was no doubt in her mind that this thing would be going after humans if it hadn’t already started.

“Not all of you, but some who are greedy have broken many natural connections and scattered the so-called mythical creatures and spirits away. In a way it’s beautiful, the circle of life even. Although, it is believed perhaps negative energy has attracted this beast from its home and onto its rampaging path.”

A realization hit her. In her research she found that even things that you would not expect to have a soul or a consciousness did at least have the same kind of natural energy as things that did. So objects and anything/everything else with a soul would be susceptible to producing negative energy. 

“So it's a cycle of things feeding into it.”

“Yes. I fear if it gets to a certain point it’ll have enough momentum that there will be no stopping it. So you should think about what you will do to face the possibility.”

Something about those words felt familiar. Even though it was a serious topic, Himiko was comforted. 

“And you need someone like me to stand a chance?”

“The more the merrier, of course. There are things even I may have missed and for that you can be an extra set of eyes and ears. We’re going to train and prepare.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent, at first guided by Kiyo and by the end on her own, getting more used to the area and learning some specific landmarks. 

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

Starting the following day, Himiko started up a routine to come back every day, which would last for several months. Each day she learned new things about the old times that had only ever been guessed about from artifacts. She learned that even Kami had a cutoff point in memory, even if it did happen to be thousands of years stronger than mortals. The only truly omnipotent beings were those that had created earth eons ago, who were as elusive as ever. 

She also trained. Oh, how wonderful it was to train again. And with a more formidable opponent than most people  she would ever encounter normally. After each session she was told more about the species of yokai, and which were more likely to be dangerous foes that needed preparation for.

They would pray and make wishes for having strength and safety at the lucky rock on the path along the brooks. Kiyo allowed Himiko to take and keep a bit of power from it.

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

It happened when she thought it was going to be just another day of what they had been doing. It was not. 

There was something off in the air. And it wasn’t just the dead trees, those were normal for winter. What wasn’t normal was the small patches of rot in them already, the rot had even spread to the grass and other plants on the ground. There was a trail of it and it reeked of a nasty yokai. A being only interested in death and destruction. 

Even worse was that Kiyo was nowhere to be found. They had made a game plan about that, Himiko was to check somewhere inside the shrine in order to find clues. Inside the prayer chamber proper it was a mess just like it would be in the case of any other type of break in. The rot hadn't set in because the room was blessed and was better able to resist, but there was a distinct trail of slime that showed its movement and the room.

She could picture Kiyo weaving around it and dodging attacks to have a chance to hit back at it. The fight had torn up the screens and the ancient art it depicted, and even punctured holes in the inner walls and flooring. An extra band of beads like one Kiyo would often wear was left behind. The signal was received.

Something wasn’t right, however. A presence that was too strong to be explained by the evil residue. It seemed like what they were working against had minions left behind, for the exact reason that someone like her was in the area and had to be stopped. The question was how many were there?

Five of them came up from either the ground or one of the holes puncturing the walls, one right before her and four circling around, forming seemingly out of the shadows and the goo. They quickly solidified into dark shapes that were much like werewolves, though she recognized among them different animal traits expressed. One even had bunny-esque lop ears. 

Himiko took out her wand and started muttering some spells under her breath, making a broad sweeping motion to keep all at bay. The one closest was pushed back and stumbled in surprise. Trying to charge her led to an acrobatic maneuver: it leapt over onto its back and she whipped out a stage magician-like string of handkerchiefs and pulled it up to start choking the beast out.

They surprisingly weren’t as vicious as she’d imagined from how each of them had shown up. It couldn’t do any of its special moves. Unfortunately, its friends could, and they did. They rushed and she let go for a moment, tripping up one and using its momentum in a way it crashed into the first one before it could recover.  

Swinging off it allowed her to jump up and kick a third before lashing a whip of electricity from her wand, yanking the fourth and gaining momentum by bouncing off it with a drop kick right about where the lungs were.

Watching them struggle, she realized they had once been animal spirits for sure, only to have been corrupted. They weren’t just something conjured by their boss.

Hesitation for even one second almost cost her when one swiped claws, just barely missing her and taking her hat instead. The advantage of being shorter than the monsters was they’d miss like that. And much like the stage magic she pretended to use in daily life, the hat was spring-loaded with some friends for them to play with. A magic box that was shattered by the attack let out doves of magical energy that distracted each as well as a jack-in-the-box dummy that took her place as a target for just long enough to take one out.

Even though the trick had been figured out, she could tell from their expressions changing the exact instant of the realization there wasn’t much the poor things could do when the tide had been turned. The rest of them were dispatched with a quick volley of attack spells. She sprinted out, conjuring another hat loaded with a similar trick from her storage at home, just in case. It was more physically exhausting than mana draining so she borrowed from her reserve to recover breath and catch up sooner.

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

She crossed her fingers that those things weren’t going to be much more of a problem on the way over. The trail grew cold on her about a dozen times already the past 4 days but each time she doubled back to a previous checkpoint, there was another sign she’d accidentally glossed over. Each time something was left in an obscure place: a back alley or a bush only to be dragged out by a cat, occasionally right to her. 

Whether it was an order from Kiyo or someone else, she wasn’t sure, but all the help was appreciated. 

It seemed to be that when it took someone, it had to complete a loop back home. It was much faster than she could follow on foot. So the mage took to various buses and trains when she needed to. 

Himiko hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the 4th night, and all the past nights had been similarly lacking in rest. She’d set alarms to go off within a few hours of very scattered naps so she’d at least run decently when it finally came down to it.

She snuck out of an inn somewhere very rural and very cold in the northern reaches of Hokkaido. She could just feel the cave system nearby was definitely the origin point of the attacker. 

Before she could even begin the climb upwards, an upright, tall figure came barrelling down in her direction, diving from above off of a rock and gliding down gracefully, coughing and panting, falling to their knees after the taxing stunt. That fall easily could have killed a human, plus most people couldn’t fly without magical objects.

“We need to get back up there, hurry!”

“Kiyo!” 

However, before the first shape could speak further they were interrupted from behind Himiko. Just a few feet downhill a second Kiyo was standing. 

“Don’t Himiko! That thing can become other entities!”

The first Kiyo to arrive chuckled and shook their head. “Well, that’s true, clever of you to tell her first.” A deep sigh later,  they continued. “Shame I’ve heard of that little trick before and prepared something for this kind of thing.”

“A double cross is it?” the second Kiyo asked. “It’s quite a claim you have there, being the real me, having planned for your own deception.”

Whichever Kiyo was the real one, it was hard to tell at first. The two auras had been in close proximity so a mage in training would have a hard time pulling apart which was which. Then the first Kiyo cleared their throat again.

“Well then, I have a proposition.” they said, turning their attention back to Himiko. “Yumeno Himiko should be able to ask a question, then see how both of us answer, and she’ll know which of us is real.”

“Of course, after spending so long with me she’s bound to know the real one. I’d be crazy to decline,” the beast said.

Kiyo knew this thing would do anything to avoid being pegged as suspicious. It was a double bind for the beast. The only way this was ending was fighting it. This was part of that plan. Delaying it just a tad until the right time. 

Himiko cleared her throat, glancing between the two one more time before she closed her eyes. It was nerve wracking but as long as it wanted to not out itself, the yokai would never blindside attack her. 

“My question is very simple: What is it that I was training to do?” 

The creature nodded. “Understood. This one is easy. We were going to stop the one who’s taken all those others and stop them from taking enough power for its plan.” It turned to Kiyo, giving a taunting glare. “And before the monster tries any trickery, to be specific, we were practicing your magic and got you a mana boost. It’ll help the new technique not be so taxing on you.”

That was almost entirely correct. Kiyo knew then their suspicion was right and something in the area had been spying and relayed all its gathered information back to prepare this creature for any threats that may spring up. That’s what attacked first, the helpers that Himiko had to fend off to get here.   

“Alright. My turn.” Kiyo remained characteristically calm face to face. “We were training. So I don’t have to repeat what the other me said, I’ll agree. However, there was something missing from that answer.”

“Missing? What, pray tell, did I miss?”

“The mana boost served as a test to see if you were already there. And I felt something that may have been a minion performing recon.” Emphasis on the last word. That was something Kiyo had been anticipating. Before they had been taken, she was given a code word. They only mentioned it to her in a whisper on the day that they felt a presence leave to the north with no other context. ‘Recon’ was that word. 

Eye contact was made, Himiko gave a slight nod to show that she understood and it was off to the races. She went on ahead, up one path leaving the Kiyos behind. It was a signal to the real Korekiyo. And so, the two fought again, much like they had when the faker had invaded the temple and kidnapped them to try and complete the ritual.  

They weaved in and out, sometimes further to one side away from Himiko and her destination when Kiyo was having their way and closer, forcing her to duck and use repulsion spells to avoid being caught up in the scuffle. Kiyo’s attacks looked like needles when they flew at their enemy, so she even gave those attacks a boost. She heard the cries of anger and pain when one managed to hit just the right place.

The yokai was a resilient one though, it would just pluck them right out and fire back energy attacks of their own. One of them hit Kiyo and sent them tumbling back down the mountain some distance, dropping several dozen feet to a thud.

They got back up almost instantly, knowing how much danger the girl ahead was in, and pulled out a pair of scythe to quickly dig into the mountain’s side and climb up to a point where they could launch up and gain enough momentum to catch up right behind that yokai.

Faster than ever, Himiko ran. It seemed being tired was starting to slow both down the further up the mountain the climb went. She dove and rolled right into the cave and the faker caught up, confirming even further that it was the yokai when it dove to try and stop her from entering, the disguise melting away grotesquely. She didn’t even have time to be offended at it ruining and distorting those beautiful features because of how fast it barrelled back into the base.

All she could do was point her wand directly in its face and say the words. Like a bullet, red light with a pointed tip struck right through an already gaping hole that showed the black flame-like matter that was its heart. The evil and corrupt soul was pierced.

It could barely re-shape itself anymore with its wounds. It stared at her with half its true features and half rippling nothingness as the face it wore sloughed off and dissipated like a puddle under sunlight. Even the animal-like maw began falling off, fangs first. 

Then Kiyo wrestled it from behind and wrapped it in chains of light. It was likely already dying. But part of its corrupt nature would linger in this spot if it was not sealed and purified.

“What no! Nooooo”. It started shrieking when the shock of being blindsided had finally worn off and it found itself in chains, being dragged away towards the cave’s inner chamber. It was powerless to do anything but watch these interlopers ruin everything.

“Unfair, unfair, unfaaiiiiir.” Most of the thrashing came in the form of weak kicks. It was truly pitiful for something that had beaten kami before. . 

“What a childish temper tantrum.” Kiyo scoffed at it, only briefly turning a shoulder to pay it any mind as they continued towards the end of the mission. It was so mad, and nipped away trying to bite its captor in spite of there being no chance of succeeding now. . 

Himiko came to a strange spot on the back wall and Kiyo lifted the beast over their shoulders and used its paw to unlock a big room full of artifacts, a bunch of seals on them to keep its victims contained. Many tomes of black magic and scribbles showcased a plot to steal power from all the shrine deities to build a “Domain of Darkness”. In which it plotted to prevent the sun from ever rising above Japan, and the whole planet after long enough, ever again. This would remove power from any being who got magic from natural resources and would kill billions of mortals. 

Himiko looked at the plans and laughed nervously, sweating a bit. 

“So um… you don’t think that this would have worked?” she asked, desperately wanting this to just be the pipe dream of an arrogant monstrosity.

“Absolutely not. I’m by no means the strongest of my kind, and you’re still training. It took prisoners, yes, but this is delusional. We won in part because we were underestimated. That kind of fatal mistake would have doomed this plan eventually.”

A sad whimpering came from it, laying on the ground in defeat.

Himiko was tasked to watch over it while Kiyo performed the unsealing rituals. Each one she spared glances at, admiring them from her spot in the center of the room. She could almost feel a tinge of jealousy among the defeat and anger emanating from their felled foe. It was way more interesting watching Kiyo work and chat with each spirit that was freed. Each time they agreed instantly to help get the rest out, which hastened the process. 

Each one helped before some left to make sure their shrines were fine. The remainder, led by Kiyo, thanked Himiko. Their hands warm around hers. Kiyo felt every little soft spot on her hands and even some slight callusing, presumably from the fighting. Even those bits were lovely. 

“You can go home now. It’s getting late but we need to stay for now. I will return to you with the important news.

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

Himiko got home first, since that was decided as the meeting place. It was far enough from the shrine that it wouldn’t be immediately obvious if that entity came back for another round. She got on her knees in front of her bed, elbows firmly leaning into the mattress so she could clasp and pray. She was exhausted. 

“Please let it be gone once and for all.” She trusted Kiyo could do that much.

Then she was awoken by footsteps and sat upright to who was joining her. Her door had opened and glowing in the moonlight, Kiyo came in, closing the door behind them. 

“I have seen to it that this chapter is done.” The spirit held a hand to her cheek and gently brushed a long finger across part of her face. “Thank you, your journey has only truly just begun but you can relax for now.”

Himiko was flushed a bright red. 

“I was struck by your beauty from the moment that I walked to your shrine.” Her heart raced. They’d touched a couple times by now but this was the most breathtaking and close. The most intimate. She raised a hand of her own and touched Kiyo’s arm gently.

A soft smile spread on the spirit’s lips. “Oh, I could tell. I could also tell that there was a pull here. Some call I needed to answer for you and it's only become more clear that there was more to it than that.”

Time felt like it slowed down to a stop as the two maintained soft eye contact.

Then they kissed her. A warmth emanated from them, pulsing like a heartbeat. 

“More to it?” she asked, even though the kiss gave her a very good idea of what they were going to tell her next. 

“I love you. And so… I want it to actually be *our* journey.” They heavily emphasized the word indicating that the adventure would be shared. It already was, it had been since the day she came to this place.

“Would it really be okay? For you to leave your shrine I mean. When it comes time for that.” 

“No worries about that, I can find someone for that when that’s necessary.”

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Anonymous

in the second month of the year 20xx, im merely testing the limits of ao3s inaction

Words: 40, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 전지적 독자 시점 - 싱숑 | Omniscient Reader - Sing-Shong, Marvel Cinematic Universe, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS, 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Original Work, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed, Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, Naruto, 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Teen Wolf (TV), Voltron: Legendary Defender, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies), One Direction (Band), Star Wars - All Media Types, Doctor Who, Haikyuu!!, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Free!, Miraculous Ladybug, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, One Piece, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Hobbit - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV), James Bond (Craig movies), Homestuck, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Men's Hockey RPF, Glee, Merlin (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV), Hamilton - Miranda, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Final Fantasy, Overwatch (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game), Mass Effect Trilogy, Fire Emblem Series, Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga), Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung, Yoo Sangah, Jung Heewon, lee hyungsung, Lee Jihye, Lee Seolhwa, Jang Hayoung, Kim Namwoon, Biyoo, Bihyung, Uriel, Prisoner of the Golden Headband | Sun Wukong, Secretive Plotter (Omniscient Reader)

Relationships: Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung/Kim Dokja, Han Sooyoung/Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk, Han Sooyoung/Yoo Sangah, Han Sooyoung/Jung Heewon, Anna Croft/Han Sooyoung, Kim Dokja/Sung Jin-Woo, Kim Dokja/Yoo Sangah, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional Tags: im trying to prove a point, There are three ways to survive in a ruined world., now, I have forgotten a few, but one thing is certain., The fact that you who are reading this now will survive., -Three ways to survive in a ruined world, Prologue – There are three ways to survive in a ruined world., Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (1), “I’m Dokja.”, (translater note: Dokja can me only son or reader)., I usually introduced myself to people like this, then the following misunderstanding would occur., Chapter 2: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (2), Dokkaebi., The first time he appeared, someone said so., Chapter 3: Episode 1 - Starting the Paid Service (3), People reacted differently after the dokkaebi disappeared., Some people tried to get out of the train while others called the police., Chapter 4: Episode 1 - Starting the Paid Service (4), Laughter emerged., I had to clear my eyes and look again to see if it was a lie., The file extension was TXT., Then this person…, The gift they sent me was a copy of their novel?, Chapter 5: Episode 1 - Starting the Paid Service (5), People panicked as they saw the insects running around the carriage., Chapter 6: Episode 2 – Protagonist (1), The subway stopped around halfway past Dongho Bridge., Chaptr 7: Episode 2 – Protagonist (2), [Sponsor Selection has ended.], Chapter 8: Episode 2 – Protagonist (3), I stared straight into Lee Hyunsung and Han Myungoh’s eyes and said., “Do you want to die from that guy beyond the iron door, or do you want to try your luck outside the train?, Which one will you choose?”, Episode 2 – Protagonist (4), at this moment, Yoo Sangah shouted., “Dokja-ssi! Behind you!”, Episode 2 – Protagonist (5), It would be quite a ludicrous sight if anyone else saw it., A large adult man was being grabbed by the neck and hanging like a monkey., Episode 3 – Contract (1), My body suddenly became heavy as I felt water entering my lungs., Then I was sucked in somewhere., I wasn’t torn apart because I fell with perfect timing., however, I couldn’t lose consciousness here., Episode 3 – Contract (2), Star Stream system., The star stream broadcasting was designed to relay its contents to the entire universe., Episode 3 – Contract (3), Looking at the situation, I got a sense of what happened., Episode 3 – Contract (4), I didn’t know how much time passed., My breathing was often interrupted, and all my muscles were so stiff, that I could barely move them., Episode 4 – Line of Hypocrisy (1), A meteor shower was pouring down in the starry sky., It was a sight that anyone would admire, but not Yoo Joonghyuk., Episode 4 – Line of Hypocrisy (2), I often thought about it., Episode 4 – Line of Hypocrisy (3), Despite the interference of Cheon Inho, the constellations didn’t ask for a bounty scenario., in other words, it wasn’t the best time to deal with him., Episode 4 – Line of Hypocrisy (4), the next morning, I was almost out of supplies., Jung Heewon stared at the convenience store bags, as if she couldn’t believe it., Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (1), [T-Then I will let everyone take care of it! Yihihihit!], The dokkaebi said these words and disappeared., Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (2), The party fought well., It was actually a little bit surprising., in particular, Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon, who stepped forward with me were very influential., Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3), “Hyung! This…”, Right after Lee Gilyoung discovered the treasure box, I blocked his little mouth., “Shh, wait.”, Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (4), Maybe we would’ve fought for a long time., [The exclusive skill ‘Bookmark’ can now be activated.], [The number two bookmark has been activated.], [The level of the Bookmark skill is low, shortening the activation time.], [Activation Time: One minute.], Episode 6 – Judgment Time (1), The limited random items box., According to the setting of Ways of Survival, this was a coin item that was sold as a limited edition in a past ‘scenario.’, Episode 6 – Judgment Time (2), Just as I was about to open my mouth, I heard Cheon Inho’s voice., “Oh, Dokja-ssi! You came just in time.”, Episode 6 – Judgment Time (3), The following morning, there were a few changes to Gumho Station., first of all, Han Myungoh had disappeared., Episode 6 – Judgment Time (4), A few minutes later, I once again entered Dongdae Station, and ate a ground rat., It was in order to heal, the skin contaminated by the poisonous fog., Episode 7 – Landlord (1), We followed Lee Jihye and entered Chungmuro., Yoo Sangah saw the shattered screen door of the platform and said., “…It is a chaotic atmosphere.”, Episode 7 – Landlord (2), The 10 Evils., The list and rankings were often changed, according to Yoo Joonghyuk’s regression cycle, but they were the 10 people in charge of being the main villains, in this world of Ways of Survival, Episode 7 – Landlord (3), Yoo Joonghyuk was looking at everyone except for Lee Hyunsung., The three remaining people were standing together, and I couldn’t figure out exactly who Yoo Joonghyuk was looking at, 「…How is this possible? 」, Episode 7 – Landlord (4), After the dokkaebi disappeared ×dozens of casualties appeared on the platform of line 3., Episode 7 – Landlord (5), As I watched the surging wave of monsters, I gave strength to my thighs., The level 15 strength condensed at once, and my feet developed a strong propulsion force., Episode 8 – Emergency Defense (1), 「 Lee Hyunsung was dozing like an officer on duty, 」 - Freeform, Episode 8 – Emergency Defense (2), It was finally the promised time., I gathered on the line 3 platform with the party., Every member was checking their weapons., Lee Hyunsung seemed to have handled it properly., Episode 8 – Emergency Defense (3), I couldn’t kill Gong Pildu because he was useful in future scenarios, but I needed Gong Pildu to leave his land., Episode 8 – Emergency Defense (4), One hour after the battle began, Gong Pildu fought and fought., The number of monsters had barely decreased but it was still great., Gong Pildu was considered to have the strongest defense among the 10 Evils for a reason., Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (1), After a while, we moved towards the entrance, of the ‘hidden dungeon’ on the first underground floor., I walked behind Lee Jihye, Lee Gilyoung and Jung Heewon while looking at my smartphone., Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (2), The moment the yellow eyes looked at us, a deafening roar echoed in our ears., Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (3), [The constellation Secretive Plotter is curious about your scam.], [The constellations have sponsored you 200 coins.], Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (4), unfortunately, Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t on the sixth floor., Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (5), The cold sensation numbed my fingers., dammit, I really wanted to beat this guy up., but..., There was something strange., Episode 9 – Omniscient Sunfish (6), “What?”, 「 What are you…? 」, Episode 10 – Future War (1), [Main Scenario #3 – Emergency Defense has ended.], [You have obtained 1, 000 coins as compensation.], Episode 10 – Future War (2), As soon as my hand wrapped around the flag, I felt a strong energy rising in my body., originally, this was something the third turn Yoo Jonghyuk should have but…, it didn’t matter., Episode 10 – Future War (3), …It hadn’t been long since the scenario began and already?, Episode 10 – Future War (4), “Push through to the flag holder!”, Episode 10 – Future War (5), After coming down from the theater, I headed straight to Myeongdong Station with Lee Hyunsung and Yoo Sangah., Dongmyo Station was important but there was something to be done first., Episode 10 – Future War (6), It wasn’t an illusion., The guy’s eyes instantly widened when he heard my name., Episode 10 – Future War (7), the internet - Freeform, it wasn’t possible., Episode 11 – Night of the Prophets (4), “The 9th person to get off.., it is the first time I’ve heard of this attribute.”, Episode 11 – Night of the Prophets (2), “A prophet like us?”

[therealjammy]

The End of the Line

AN: I’m just adding to the pain train. Don’t mind me. This is also an excuse to work out the hellish week I’ve had. Also, please forgive the mistakes, I stayed up way too late trying to finish this and edited all 4,100-something words in half an hour. 

Heavy angst ahead. I’m so sorry 

1. Excerpt from Nazim Hikmet’s poem “Before time runs out, my rose...” 

Read it on Ao3, too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555409

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

There comes a point in time when one realizes their own weight. It hits suddenly, like an unexpected wave when one is swimming in the middle of the ocean, and they realize the series of events leading to the wave are all in a perfect line. But how to stay afloat, wonders the swimmer, when your life preserver might go down with you? When you’re tired of fighting against the waves?

           You’ve been floating for ages, the seas calm, but lately the waves have become choppy, and what were once clear skies are now cloud-filled. And the fog… That fog is thick and it’ll just keep getting thicker, until you can’t even see what’s in front of you. And if there is a lighthouse—which you’re certain there is, on some days—the light comes in and out of focus, a candle getting brighter and then dimmer in a breeze. The light, of course, being Jamie. Always Jamie. Your lighthouse. Your anchor. Your poor, burdened anchor, who looks as tired as you feel.

           The guilt hits you when she comes home, opening the door with a long sigh, tossing her purse onto the couch. You notice the dark half-moons underneath her eyes, the result of staying up with you in the middle of the night when you’d woken from a night terror. If you close your eyes, you can still see the monochrome of it, some beautiful, long-haired woman hovering over you, face screwed up in effort, a strong, damp hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

           “How’s it goin’, Poppins?” Jamie asks.

           Papers are spread on the round kitchen table, accompanied by accounting books and expenses receipts. You remember, suddenly, you’d said you’d have the work done by the time Jamie got home. There’s more than half still to do, and a long pencil line disrupts the muted colors in the accounting book. You shake your head to clear the fog. “It’s uh… I’m sorry. It’s not done. I…”

           “‘S all right. Shit takes time, doesn’t it?”

           “Not this much.”

           “There’s always tomorrow.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm from the early autumn sun she’d walked in. “Take a break. Help me decide what to do for dinner. My head’s empty.”

           You hum. Lean your head against her forearm. Her skin is warm underneath your cheek. She smells like lilies and soil and berry hand soap. “Okay,” you murmur.

           There’s a drawer in the kitchen, just below the knife holder, that bears an abysmal amount of takeout menus. Some are from tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that are no longer open that neither of you felt like tossing out. Others are from restaurants you frequent. Appetite being what it is, nothing calls loud enough for you to hear, so you pull one at random and hand it over.

           “Right,” says Jamie, giving it a glance. “Chinese it is.”

           You eat dinner on the parlor floor, small boxes of fried rice and noodles and various flavors of chicken spread between you, chopsticks clicking to each other. Jamie is a pro with them now. You’d had to teach her how to use them. It was at a sushi restaurant in San Francisco, a name you can’t remember, but you recall the distinctly Asian décor and Jamie’s sighs of frustration.

           “I’m too fuckin’ white for this, Poppins,” she said. “Better off with a fork.”

           “You’re holding it wrong,” you said, smiling. You took the top stick from her hand and set it aside, allowing her to focus only on the bottom one. “Hold this one like a pencil. Mm-hmm.” You picked up the other one. “Keep it like that. Now, let this one rest on top of those two fingers, and use your index finger to pinch it to the other one.” She did. “Just like that.” You helped her snag a salmon roll between them, but she did the work of bringing it to her mouth.

           You can’t remember when it’d finally clicked for her. Only that it had.

           Jamie cracks open the fortune cookies. Passes one to you.

           “If it’s a bad one,” she says, “I’m burnin’ it.” She takes a bite of the cookie first. You’d told her, once again in California, that it would bring bad luck if she didn’t. Jamie reads, “Let your heart give away its biggest secret today.” She sighs. “Well shit.”

           Yours says, “A very bright future is ahead of you.” You laugh. Not with amusement. Just at the irony. You flick the small piece of paper away into the shadows. It lands with a soft click. You ask softly, “Is yours wrong, too?”

           “No,” Jamie says. “It’s bang on.” A mask of nervousness descends upon her face, but you notice the nuances of excitement, too. “I was thinkin’… We could get the paperwork this week. Fill it out, have someone witness the signing… I mean, it’ll take a bit for the official certificate to come in, but…” She trails off, both giddiness and nervousness dancing on her features and in her gestures.

           “We’ll celebrate,” she continues, hands clasping yours. “Splurge on a fancy bottle of wine. Somethin’ vintage.”

           You like her dreams. They’re big and grand, a painting waiting to be seen in a gallery.

           “And we’ll call Owen. He’ll shout on the other end of the line, I’m sure.”

           The image pulls a smile from your lips. “It’s wonderful.” You lean to kiss her. The Lady, blissfully, is silent, tucked into some corner or other, claws retracted, dozing. You feel Jamie’s touch on your face. The soft press of her mouth against yours. Had this been earlier, much earlier, when you were more wholly yourself, you would’ve pulled her into you until you were both sprawled on the rug and made love there, boxes be damned, until, with much effort, you rose on unsteady legs to clean up and stumble to the bedroom, where it might continue. But you are fading like ink in water, and there is no pull of desire.

           “Oi,” Jamie whispers, holding your face between gentle hands, “what’s the face?”

           You shake your head. “I… can’t give you what you want.”

           “You think it matters?”

           “It should.”

           “I’ll tell you a secret, Poppins,” she says. “Sex is like dessert. Somethin’ you want and can have. Or choose not to have. There’s a reason it’s had last.” A tear falls warmly onto your cheek. She catches it with the pad of her thumb, wiping it smoothly away. “It’s the main course that’s most important.” She kisses your forehead. “Sweets come in other forms.”

           Like gestures. Like little kisses she gives you in passing, or a touch that lingers.

           Sleep comes easier that night, with her reminder. With her soft warmth and flannel shirt that’s gone soft from the many washes it’s had. The only dream is a string of bubbles rising to a freshly disturbed surface, obscuring two figures standing on a shore you can’t see. Like they’re floating.

 —

You go into work less and less. You do what you can from home: filling out orders in the book, writing in the specific details, filing paperwork and doing accounting. It is an altogether different weight, sometimes overwhelming. And the less you go into work, the more you find yourself getting lost in your own head, thinking of water and pale hands and feeling a simmering impatience. The drifting happens in the oddest of moments—in the middle of discussing an arrangement, or going over the different types of flowers that would suit the mood for an engagement party, or in the middle of the most mundane things. Cleaning the house. Preparing an edible dinner. Plucking the drain in the bath.

           No, you think, but the thought dissolves. You feel her stirring. Waking again to find herself still trapped. You barely hear the front door open, the thunk of Jamie’s purse as it lands on the loveseat, the clop, clop of her boots, the closing of your bedroom door so she can change into house clothes.

           The Lady’s reflection appears in the faucet.

           You stare at each other.

           Sounds from the bedroom float to your ear. The squeaking of the bedframe as Jamie’s weight settles on it. A few seconds of silence followed by a sigh, and another, heavier one.

           Once, moons ago now, on a day you had felt the Lady’s weight more prominently than you had since leaving Bly, Jamie came home while you worked on the books, diligently adding up the expenses by hand with paper and pencil. Your mind drifted until there was a strange, silent bubble surrounding you. You were barely aware of the bedroom door closing, of the sounds that happened shortly afterwards. At least until telling sighs reached your ears and told you she was not, in fact, changing out of her work clothes.

           The bubble gone, you sat and listened, everything sharp, a familiar knot tying itself in the pit of your stomach. It was quiet, what she was doing, but not quiet enough; you stood just as you heard her breathing pause.

           You opened the bedroom door. She was a silhouette in the late evening light, trembling on the heels of a first, intense orgasm, gasping from both it and surprise. It took you three strides to stand over her.

           “Dani,” Jamie breathed, “I’m sorry—”

           You cut her off with a kiss. The interruption was a pleasant surprise, and the mood that filled you was one you were glad for. You felt like yourself, in moments like these; you could just be Dani and Jamie, not Dani with the Lady crawling under your skin and pulling you back into the fog.

           She wrapped you in her arms, even as you worked her already unbuttoned jeans from her hips, even when you slid down to follow your hands with your mouth, keeping the pace slow so as not to overwhelm her. Still, she didn’t last long, already taut from the wake of the first, your name tumbling from her mouth in an ecstasy-filled whisper, the sounds thereafter muted inside her hand. You cursed the thin walls of the apartment and people’s irritating nosiness.

           “Christ,” Jamie sighed when you came back up to kiss her.

           “Hmm,” you said, smiling a little now. “Thank you for the interruption.”

           “Workin’ out some frustrations?”

           “You could say that.” You brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Our business isn’t cheap.”

           “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She kissed you softly, cupped your face tenderly between her hands. “Want anything?” she murmured.

           “Just you,” you said, helping her fumble with the button on your jeans so she could slip her hand between its sides.

           You do not go to her.

           You hear her come, a string of stilted curses and harsh, stuttering breaths, but it is far away, on some shore you cannot reach. There is only the empty tub and the silver faucet, in whose face is the Lady. All stringy, wet hair and pristine white dress. Faceless.

           Jamie will wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Pat her damp face and neck dry with the dish towel from the stove. Attempt to make dinner, thinking you’re still freshening up, only coming in when she realizes you’re taking an awfully long time, or when she needs your rescue.

           However much you want to, you find you cannot move. Even though you’re cold. You stay as if glued to the spot, knees pulled against your chest, chin resting on them, staring at the woman who is not you.

           If I reach out, you wonder, tilting your head to the side, will I feel you? Will you feel like metal or will you feel like mud…?

           “Dani?”

           You gasp. Your hand falls back to your knee.

           “Hey.” She wraps a fresh towel around your shoulders. “Been here a while, huh?”

           The Lady isn’t in the silver face. You see you, damp hair falling around your shoulders, expression that of someone washing up on shore and surprised to find they haven’t drowned. “A little while,” you say. “Is dinner…?”

           “I’ve got it started, at least. Haven’t had pasta primavera in a bit.”

           “Last time you made it, it was a wreck.”

           Jamie smiles. “It was, wasn’t it?” She adjusts the towel, dabs at a few lingering water spots on your cheek. “Let’s get you outta here, cold girl.”

           Warm dinner smells fill the apartment. Bell peppers and squash and zucchini, all tossed in a skillet with bowtie pasta. Wine accompanies the dish, a red you’d gotten from Owen when you’d gone to Paris to announce your engagement. Jamie lights a plain white candle and sets it in the middle of the table.

           “Thank you,” you tell her. “It’s good.”

           “Didn’t set off the smoke alarm this time,” Jamie says. “It’s an improvement.”

           Despite how good it is, you can only stand a few bites and a few sips of wine. You pass your plate to Jamie, who clears it, bringing back a memory of the warm kitchen at Bly, Hannah and Owen at the sink, Jamie picking over what Flora and Miles left on their plates.

           “Our human Hoover strikes again,” Hannah said. “Less work for us.”

           “Not just good at gardenin’,” Jamie said. “I’m always happy to make less work for you.”

           Later, you dry the dishes, keeping your back to the sink, averting your eyes from the plates’ shiny faces.

           “I uh…” Jamie begins after a minute. “I could use your help with somethin’ tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

           “Hmm?”

           “Just an arrangement. I need your expert eyes.”

           The phrase brings a faint smile to your lips. Your eyes haven’t felt expert for a while. And what joy there was in assisting with arrangements feels almost forced. The emotion itself is muted, along with everything else. Yet you ask, “What flowers?”

           “Roses. Simple enough.”

           Jamie brings home Starbucks in the morning. Blonde roasts, with cream and sugar. Old habits, she says, as she hands your cup over. You think of the greenhouse after your first kiss. The warmth of the autumn sunlight filtering through the windows.

           “You ready?” Jamie says.

           “Yeah.”

           The walk to The Leafling is only a few blocks. There’s a light breeze. It rustles the leaves on the oak trees, whispering through the branches. The sunlight is warm. The weather is a perfect mix of summer and autumn, but you think it isn’t you who is wholly absorbing it. The tempest of the Lady seems soothed by it, and when you walk by the market displaying the morning’s freshly picked apples, you see a field of green and a girl in a white dress sauntering after a man in clothes long out of fashion. The image disappears as soon as it had come, as brief as the scent of apples.

           The shop opens at nine. There’s a little over an hour until then. Jamie uses it to go over the arrangement, wondering which flowers should be used to compliment the roses, whose color is as crimson as blood. She says the woman whom it’s for doesn’t want a stereotypical banquet of roses—stereotypical, in this case, meaning roses paired with baby’s breath, despite the combination being a classic—and Jamie rolls her eyes as she says it. “But in America, the customer’s always right,” she continues, “as much of a pain in my arse as it is.”

           “Well…” You think for a moment. Baby’s breath is white. White and crimson are aesthetically pleasing when paired together. “What kind of tone does she want to set?”

           “Somethin’ original. I know,” Jamie says, throwing up her hands at your puzzled look, “not very helpful. Please don’t shoot the messenger.”

           You think for a minute. “We could try something smaller and… white. Daisies, maybe.”

           Jamie nods. “All right.”

           You hold the roses in a plastic sheet, telling Jamie where to place the daises so it’ll look the best. Two between the roses in front, and two between the three roses in the back. She’s careful not to touch either flower’s petals. She steps back to admire it from afar. This close to you, the roses are overly sweet, the smell cloying, reminding you of clothes stashed away, of how the petals were once used to mask the scent of death. Jamie’s mouth moves in the shape of Y’know, I think that is the least stereotypical thing we’ve made. Her smile is small, but proud and bright. You see it. All you can think of is a deathbed.

           “You all right?” Jamie says. “Does it look wrong?”

           You shake your head no.

           Gently, she takes the banquet from you, setting the bunch carefully in an empty glass vase. “What’re you thinkin’, Dani?” she asks.

           The words are soft when they leave you. “They smell like death.”

           The mask of worry becomes darker on Jamie’s features, and you wonder, after you’ve told her, if she’ll think every flower in the shop reminds you of death. You hate the feeling coursing through your chest—worry that she won’t want you here, in the place you’d dreamed and built together, that she’ll want to hide the flowers for the sake of keeping you comfortable.

           “That’s a new one,” she says quietly, and you nod in agreement. She sighs, gives the arrangement a quick once-over. “We can go with the daisies, then. It looks pretty. Romance and new beginnings.”

           The banquet that had been the two of you once gets picked up later that morning by a man in his mid-thirties planning on proposing to his girlfriend. He’d looked happy, you think, sinking into darker thoughts, love making him punch-drunk. Their future stretched like a highway before them, time not a question on their minds but something infinite.

 —

On a Sunday, when The Leafling is closed, you accompany Jamie to pick up the paperwork. Nervousness travels between you like electrodes. You feel it on the walk to the county clerk’s office (?), and inside it. You’re joined by other couples, all with the same goal in mind. It all feels odd. Not in a bad way, but in a surreal way. Time, it seems, has been as kind as it can, letting you get this far. But the cruelty lies in the unknown, in that dark space that asks, How much longer?

           Your handwriting is not what it used to be. Neat cursive has turned into half-legible chicken scratch; next to Jamie’s curling print, it embarrasses you. Such a silly thing turns your cheeks into burning coals.

           “Oi,” Jamie whispers, sensing as she always does, taking your hand in hers. “Least it’s not Russian cursive, yeah? Completely illegible.”

           It gets a laugh. A soft one, but a laugh nonetheless.

           “There we are,” Jamie says.

           You get home and Jamie pulls a bottle of white wine from the liquor cabinet. A Gewürztraminer. The bottle is green, the label white.

           “Where’d you get that one?” you ask.

           Jamie pauses in pouring the first glass. “Napa Valley.”

           “When…?”

           “Three years ago.” She turns to the fridge and plucks a postcard down. Classic lettering, with NAPA VALLEY spread across the bottom. The picture is of acres of grapevines, with a large white building in the background.

           “Livin’ here wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Jamie said. A pale arm hung out the rented Land Rover’s window, whose view was of the rolling hills and the sharp bunches of grapevines. “We could get pricey wine whenever we wanted.”

           “And wine drunk every night,” you said, leaning to kiss her cheek.

           “Sure, Poppins, if you want a hellish hangover the next day.”

           “God,” you say, this time covering your face with both your hands. “Ninety-seven. I…” The water’s coming in fast. Too fast.

           Hands find your shoulders. “Dani,” Jamie says, her tone serious but soft, “it’s all right. It’s okay to forget things. Memory’s fallible.”

           Fallible. It is. And everything else, too, if one wanted to get philosophical about it.

           “Come on,” she says, leading you to the couch. “Let’s give the religious nuts a reason to complain further about us disturbin’ the Sabbath with our agenda.”

           Jamie fetches a book from the small shelf in the room and carries her wineglass over. She propels you down until your head is lying in her lap, one hand tracing lines over the soft hair just above your ear. Exhaustion pulls at you. Your eyes drift closed as she flips through pages. Darkness fills them when she reads from a page.

 Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned and destroyed,

before time runs out, my rose,

and my heart is still on its branch,

in this night of May on the quay we must sit

on the red barrels in front of the warehouses.

 The canal across fades into darkness.

A barge is passing,

my rose, let’s say hello,

let’s say hello to the barge with the yellow cabin.

Is she on her way to Belgium or to Holland?

In the cabin door a woman with a white apron

       is smiling sweetly.

 Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned down and destroyed,

before the time runs out, my rose…

People of Paris, people of Paris,

You mustn’t let Paris be burned and destroyed…1

 —

The call comes on a Tuesday. Jamie, detaching herself from the last of the dishes that need drying, turns business-like, posture stiffer, voice more professional.

           “Clayton residence,” she says.

           “Flora residence,” Flora said, attempting to sound adult but failing. “Hello?”

           A pause.

           “Speaking.”

           Another.

           “Oh.” Her tone is lighter. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

           “What was it?” you say once she’s hung up.

           There’s a large smile on Jamie’s face. “It’s the certificate.”

           You smile, too, as much as you can. She captures it between her hands, pressing her forehead to yours. She says, “I’ll go. You stay. Find us something to celebrate with.”

           “Oh…” You trail off. There’s plenty of wine in the liquor cabinet. And candles on a little iron shelf in the bathroom. An idea forms. “Sure you can trust me with that?” you ask.

           “Definitely.”

           She changes into something more appropriate while you light the candles. Pauses next to you to tell you she’ll be back. Kisses your hair. Says, “Keep those burnin’, yeah? And make room for two.”

           Time slows while she’s gone. And despite the better day, the fog rolls in, filling your head while the tub fills with water, until you’re leaning, and the Lady is your shadow. You are dead to the world until Jamie, home again, shakes you away. The tub has overflown. Water pools on the tile, travelling over it and to the wood of the hallway. You didn’t realize, you say apologetically, to which she says water’s easy to clean up.

           You ask if she sees her.

           She says, “I only see you.”

           You nearly collapse into the steadying arm she holds against your back. “I’m so tired, Jamie,” you tell her. And you are. You’ve been treading water too long. There is no anchor, except the one you cannot cling to anymore. No lighthouse. No life preserver. Jamie declines your words, firmly, fighting back tears. Shaking her head as if the very action will change the course of everything.

           “No one’s going anywhere.”

           But I’m sinking, you want to say. I’ve been sinking since I invited her in. I’ve been clinging to everything I could, and it still isn’t enough. You shake your head, too. “What if I’m here,” you whisper, “sitting next to you… but I’m just really her?”

           “One day at a time,” Jamie answers. The age-old mantra.

 —

There comes a point when one realizes their own weight. It isn’t so sudden anymore. You’ve become used to it. One day at a time. Treading water, still. Looking for the lighthouse. For the life preserver, finding her living, too, in shadows she won’t talk about. And still you go to her. You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Her familiar smell fills your nose. You want to confess everything into the soft skin of her neck, adding more to what you’d told her the night she’d come home announcing your union was civil, but it would be too much, right now. Too much weight for your Atlas to bear. You hold her as tightly as you dare, and you whisper, “I love you.”

           She squeezes your hand. I know, it says. I always have.

           You fall asleep with her beside you, your arm thrown over her, lightly gripping her favorite flannel shirt.

           The Lady, awake again, brings you claws and teeth.

           A dream of water. Jamie standing over it. An arm, clearly yours, breaking the surface and grabbing her, pulling her to the depths.

           You wake with your hand reaching out for her neck.

           You relax it. Knowing, now, it was high time to let the life preserver go.

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[CS] 4. Duty

4. Duty

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny, Winter, Xanthic Word Count: 8k

If robots are just tools…

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Primary Function: Protector  

Penny learned many things during her few short hours outside her father’s facility. Those with familiar background and status gravitate towards each other. Penny suppose the human variable meant different was of understanding the world. Same behaviors and actions can be used to express different emotions, particularly when people whisper under their breath and avoid looking at others.  

Though Penny still had a difficulty figuring out how May and Winter communicated with just looks. Even sign language used an actual method of communication.  

So far the Military Event was the best day of her excistance. Her true first day out in the world! She got to learn more about her future teammate and possibly made two new friends, Winter Schnee and May Marigold. But… It was odd, that the best day of her excistense could affect someone that was not present.  

Penny was starting to understand how powerful the gaze was.  

She sat at the facility’s kitchen table, head casted down and hands intertwined in her lap. She ignored the slamming keys and hard-light screens. Across from her, Ashley Xanthic furiously typed lines of code. The hacker would run simulation after simulation, until the checks ran red and continued working. Bit by bit, she hacked into Atlas’ network, byte by byte Penny Polendina was becoming an official citizen of Atlas.  

Ironwood wanted her to supervise the hacker. Something that required closer observation but Penny didn’t want upset Ms. Xanthic anymore. She sighed quietly, squeezing her hands. She wasn’t doing a very good job…  

“What’s the point in running the Kingdom if you can’t cut corners?” Xanthic growled to herself. Penny spared a glance up. Her future teammate took a break to sip her coffee but her head just kept tilting back and back before she just groaned into an empty cup.  

“It’s to prevent-”  

“Abuse of power, total dictator ship,” Xanthic droned. She put her cup down, looking at Penny through the gasps of her hard-light screens. "But here I am, in a secure military facility, hacking into Atlas Security with resources the General provided."  

If the public found out General Ironwood manipulated the system, he would be stripped of both his council seats. If the public found out a hacker had done it, the consequences wouldn’t be as dire. Still the General must have other reasons for using her as a scapegoat.  

Penny looked at her hands again, “He cannot make such quick changes legally, the process would take too long. Everything has been signed and approved-”  

“Of course,” Xanthic snorted. After hours of working, the hacker finally stood up. In a few short strides she was at Penny’s side, boxing her into the chair with slender arms. Penny knew Xanthic wasn’t fit, wasn’t a fighter. Her hands weren’t calloused like Aro’s but steady, soft, and precise. Penny could easily win but somehow she felt small and weak under that white burning glare.  

Staring into eyes that were so similiar to her own… but so full of resentment was not pleasent.  

"So why would the General," Xanthic hissed the title out like venom, “Need me to skip the queue?”  

“And why should we tell a criminal, one caught red handed by General Ironwood himself.”  

“Winter!” Penny gasped, hydraulics in her back straightening her posture. The specialist’s voice alone lifted her Aura, but seeing Winter glower back at Xanthic corrected any insecurities the hacker caused. “What are you doing here?”  

“I don’t resume my duties till tomorrow,” Winter said, eyes closed and shoulders tensing for a moment. Xanthic sneered. Penny ignored it because Winter refused to acknowledge the hacker. “I did offer you a tour of Atlas Academy.”  

“How about you don’t make my job harder?” Xanthic asked throwing up her hands. She walked to the fridge, making sure to brush against Winter so the Specialist was forced to acknowledge her. Xan was shorter, but somehow she seemed to have just as strong of a presense. “Marigold gets a pass but you and Glade are aware of the consequences that comes with fame. You really think people wouldn’t look up the mysterious ginger? She is a ginger right?”  

“Penny did not disclose her identity until after we witnesses saw us together,” Winter said with an annoyed sigh.  

“Now you know. Yet you still insist on parading her around?” Xanthic reason. She crossed her arms and glared threateningly at one of the best Huntresses in Atlas. Both women were too busy posturing and trying to intimidate each other to see Penny shrink ever so slightly. She quickly straightened out again when Xanthic lost with an infuriating sigh. “Seriously. Please don’t make my job harder than it is.”  

“Penny’s cover is already ruined, what else would hinder your task?”  

“Research,” Xanthic said opening the fridge. She frowned and gave Penny a disapproving look. “It’s practically empty. Is that why you’re all skin and bones?”  

“I’m not skin and bones…” Penny mumbled under her breath. It felt… bittersweet, a small victory in admitting what she is but what was the point if they didn’t understand it? Predictably Xanthic didn’t believe her. The hacker rolled her cybernetic eyes and peeked into the freezer next.  

“Neopolitan ice cream. I can forgive the lack of food,” she said with a small smile. Penny added the favorite flavor to Xanthic’s notes. “I can do what Ironwood-”  

“General Ironwood.” Winter corrected.  

Xanthic continued without any acknowledgement, “Told me to do, get the legal documents into the system or I can do a good job and actually leave some breadcrumbs for people to find.”  

“Breadcrumbs?” Penny asked.  

“According to Ironwood,” Xanthic started, ignoring the way Winter’s hand twitched in frustration. She looked for cups and spoons. “You’re another SDC orphan.” At that Winter’s composition changed, for a split second she looked guilty. Guilty and sad over a lie. Penny sealed her lips tight and looked down at her hands. She wasn’t lying but her Aura still flared across her system. “I’m editing old security photos and videos too hide a very obscure Penny in it. So it doesn’t look like she just magically appeared out of nowhere.” The hacker finished, looking at Winter. There was a shift between them… Xan’s voice barely audiable to Penny’s sensitive eqiupment, “We don’t want a repeat of last time…”"  

The Specialist hummed, eyes glaring in Xanthic’s direction but not really focused on her until whatever thought left Winter’s mind, “Very well. I’ll inform General Ironwood.”  

“Unnecessary but it’s your energy to waste,” Xanthic said waving her hand. She sat back down in front of her temporary workstation and went back to writing lines of codes.  

“Waste of…” Winter paused, practically growling under her breath. No sound came out but with her facial expression, Penny practically heard it. “And what would be an optimal use of my energy?”  

Xanthic pointedly looked at the near empty fridge. Dr. Pietro’s facility was locked down durng P.E.N.N.Y’s finalization process. There was no reason to stock so much food in the recreational kitchen.  

“I am not doing your grocery shopping!”  

“I’m under house arrest!” Xanthic threw up her arms. Around both wrist was a bracelet with gravity and lighting Dust built in. Once activated it would pin her arms together or send a volt of electricity. Ideally non-lethal. "And I’m gonna be here for at least three days."  

“I’m sure the General wouldn’t mind if we accompany you.” Penny said quietly. The two barely stopped from yelling at each other and looked at her. “The Ace-Ops rudely escorted you here from you’re home. I didn’t see any bags either… so…” Luckily Xanthic was dressed for the day… still dressed from the previous day. Under Xanthic’s unblinking cybernetic eyes Penny’s confidence waned.  

Winter took a deep breath, a finger on her temple. Penny stared, wishing she would unclenched her jaw instead. “Was it Herriet and Elm? Those two are quick and rash.”  

“Herriet and Vine, actually.” Penny said.  

“Figures. Vine has always been to the letter,” The Specialist started to walk down into the living room, “I’ll contact General Ironwood and request your cuffs be synced with my Scroll.”  

“Oh how kind! Ms. Schnee and her girlfriend taking me out for a walk. May I have a treat Mistress?” The hacker asked, her monotone voice alive with sarcasm. She even struck a pose along with batting long eyelashes. Perhaps it would be more effective if her makeup wasn’t so intimidating.  

Winter scowled and the two Atlas elites stared at each other for a minute. The silent challenged ended in a draw, they broth broke eye contact with Winter taking a seat and closing her Scroll. Within a few minutes Xanthic had finished her ice cream and checked the fridge again. With a some excessive force, Xanthic shut the fridge and continued working. Penny watched her hit the backspace more than she should.  

“Alright!” Xanthic yelled, ten minutes later. “I’ll play… nicer than usual.”  

Winter looked too dignified and controlled to smirk but the air around her was far too smug. Maybe it was the lack of reaction that held superiority? Whatever it was it annoyed Xanthic and puzzled Penny.  

The call only took a few minutes. Winter returned to the kitchen and held her Scroll to the gravity cuffs around the hacker’s wrist. It beeped twice, the cuffs flashing green. Outside an unmarked car pulled up. Once Winter opened the door Xanthic’s attitude resurfaced.  

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked staring at the front seat. Their transport was being driven by an AK-200. “I’d like to live.”  

“I’ll drive if you’ll shut up,” It seemed the Specialist was nearing her limit.  

“Again, I’d like to live.”  

“They aren’t that bad,” Penny reasoned softly. She physically stepped between them, even if they could clearly see above her head. That chip of insecurity wedged into her a little. Winter’s patient gaze gave her the strength to continue with a straight spin and even voice, “Safe driving is within their capabilities.”  

“Hm… fine,” Xanthic huffed crossing her arms. “I suppose three VIPs dying will finally help people realize these things are horrible.” Winter quickly got into the car, hiding her face but the door slammed with enough force to shake their transport. Xanthic sneered, a small victory. It would take more than a simple crash to harm a huntress… but her future teammate was a civilian.  

“How terrifying is it to live without a protective Aura?” Penny asked following Xanthic in. This time Xanthic glared at her while Winter sneered. Penny merely tilted her head in confusion, staring at the hacker for an answer.  

“You and fucking Glade,” Xanthic muttered. She looked out the window and the car was relatively silent as Penny tried to figure out how she insulted her future teammate.  

Their first stop was Xanthic’s house. It was big enough for a family and gated, Penny could see some trees growing in the backyard and a garden being tended too by a robot and two Ace-Op members. Before the gate could close behind them, Xanthic swung the door open and jumped out of the slow moving vehicle. Winter was quickly to follow so Penny felt compelled to do the same, even if her steps weren’t a confident march like Winter.  

“Welcome back, Lady Xanthic.” The robot gardener greeted with a bow. “May we prepare a meal for you and your guest?” Xanthic ignored it, pointing a finger at Clover then Marrow. Rude, Penny frowned looking at the robot. It didn’t seem to mind…  

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”  

“I could ask you the same question,” Clover said. His eyes gently swept to Winter and momentarily lingered on Penny. She ducked her head, eyes on the ground and stepping behind her Specialist. “But knowing Schnee, it’s classified.” He smiled but it wasn’t directed at Winter. Her professional mask didn’t recuperate any friendliness but the lack of a negative response was approval, in a way.  

“We’re ensuring you don’t escape a previously hacked into facility, pack your things, and run off,” Marrow answered. By Xanthic’s scowl and huff at a proper answer, the question must have been rhetorical. Penny was realizing most of her questions weren’t actually questions. Marrow plucked an apple from the robot gardener’s basket and took a bite. He hummed at the taste. “Oh and wonderful place! Very hermit and simple.”  

“The singular word would be self-sustaining,” Xanthic growled arms crossed. She finally looked at her butler. It was a different model than the one Penny first saw, smooth and curved, the design and cut in the chassis flowing almost gentlly. “Pack all the leftovers and anything you can prepare in 10 minutes. Not staying long.”  

“Understood, Lady Xanthic.” The gardenerbot bowed a little, then knelt back down and resume working on the garden. Through the window Penny saw two more robots walk into the kitchen. The robot did use we when addressing Xanthic, the robot’s AI must share a network, a hivemind. One of the butlers was definitely the model Penny saw driving the night they first met. Sharp edges, thick layered metal plates, intimidating faceplate, a bodyguard?  

Marrow whistled, “Impressive. For a criminal.”  

“Standard. For a genius.” Xanthic scoffed walking to the front door. She pressed her Scroll to the lock and it slide open. When Marrow moved to follow Clover stopped him.  

“You heard the bots, we can enter the yard but not the house. Until we have a warrant, they are authorized to open fire under the Home Defense Clause.”  

Xanthic chuckled softly, “Good Bobs.”  

“Thank you, Lady Xanthic.” Her butler chirped. Penny frowned staring at it before following Winter. The synthetic voice was flat, could almost past as human if Xanthic wanted it too.  

“Man… how does manage to show us up on her day off?” Marrow mumbled walking to Clover. “And the girl?”  

“Classified,” Winter called over her shoulder. Marrow yelped, a little surprised his loud voice carried that far.  

The first thing Penny’s sensors detected was an increase of temperature. Once she entered Xanthic’s home she understood why. Servers and machines lined the walls, countless of physical monitors mounted onto a surface and displaying news channels across the world. Others had lines of code or blueprints, one monitor occasionally flashed red and ‘Simulation Error. Project: BILLY unable to sync’.  

Xanthic stared at it but glanced at Winter. The Specialist glanced around the room for any weapon, then trained her eyes on the hacker. Xanthic grumbled, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the table. Like Aro’s home there was small electrical components and tools, but only one.  

A broken robot that looked like a ram laid on the table, small enough to fit in a pocket.  

Penny sat down and slowly reached for it. “May I?”  

“I can’t exactly stop you.” Xanthic barked. Penny flinched and recoiled. Xanthic sighed, “Right, I’m suppose to play nice… Yeah go ahead.” Slowly Penny scooped up the broken bits of metal and wire. Cradling it. “It was meant to be a monitoring bot.”  

“You mean spy?”  

“I mean as in a kid’s pet. The current cybernetic pets haven’t been changed in half a decade. It’s boring.”  

“… But a goat?” Winter asked with a raised brow.  

Xan smirked, “Greatest Of All Time.” This time Winter did let out a visible display of distain, along with… some surprise? Penny giggled at the light flush across her face.  

She politely decline the food the serverbots offered. Winter accepted a smaller portion while Xanthic scarfed it down. They continued their neutral banter for a few minute, talking about mundane robots walking around Atlas. Penny tried to focus all her processing power into examining the broken robot, but she kept focusing in on Winter’s voice.  

They were objects, they were supposed to be weapons. Xanthic scoffed and argued, they were flexible tools, with familial potential. The two agreed that robots were things but not on the functions. Penny’s function was to protect, she was a weapon. She was her father’s daughter, family… Her Aura stirred throughout her systems, sinking and sinking like it was trying to unplug her power unit.  

In her palm was a pet… “May I have this?” Penny asked.  

Xanthic looked at her through the glass of her cup and finished inhaling her water. “Sure. I doubt I’ll be able to work on any of my personal stuff now.” She held up her wrist, cuffs shining in the sun.  

The hacker spent the remainder of the 10 minutes packing some clothes and books. Winter looked through both, packing it even neater than Xanthic originally had it.  

The trip for groceries was short and uneventful now that Xanthic was cooperating. Penny almost missed her antagonism. It was entertaining, Penny found herself fiddling with the broken bot, thoughts drifting. The future members of APCX were quiet. Winter had her usual professionalism on but every so often worry would break though when she looked at Penny.  

Robots were tools, not meant to function outside their purpose. According to General Ironwood, she was a protector. According to her father-  

“I lied.” Xanthic said suddenly. Her volume was neutral but after a car ride with soft music it was an abrupt cut in Penny’s thoughts.  

“Surprising.” Winter sneered. It wasn’t as hostile as it was earlier but not as playful as with May or Aro.  

“Me and Glade have… history. That was supposed to be a gift.”  

“Really?” Penny asked. Winter held her Scroll to the facility’s front door and escorted the two VIP’s back to the recreation quarters. “I checked Aro’s files. There was some inconsistences during her internship with my father.”  

“I’ll have to fix that later then.” They were in the same environment nearly five years ago. That was enough confirmation for Penny. She helped Winter put away the food and memorized what they bought. Penny doesn’t eat, Winter isn’t a frequent visitor- though Penny hope that is going to change, so everything is Xanthic’s. She noted a surprising amount of sweets, either mint chocolate or some kind of strawberry flavor. She favored salt and vinegar snacks. The meals her butlerbots packaged was well balanced, most things fresh from her gardens.  

Winter synced the hacker’s cuffs back to the recreational area. Penny pulled the remains of the robot from her pocket… and stared at it. If weapon can’t be intimate with people, what does her time at the Military Event classify as?  

“Penny?” She heard Winter’s whisper shortly before registering a light pressure on her shoulder. She almost jumped. Her Aura ramped her system, nearly triggering a fight response. With concentration Penny was able to calmly look up at the Specialist. “Are you alright? Did the crowds at the store bother you?”  

“No…” It was her and the hacker that troubled Penny. “I’m-” fine. The words stopped in her synthetic vocals. She could feel her Aura swirl in her chest at the lie. “Just thinking. I’m going to gather some tools and materials for this little…”  

“Billy. I’ll send you the software after you fix it.” Xanthic said.  

Penny quickly excited the room, Winter’s hand just hovering there for a few seconds before Penny turned the corner and lost visual of both of them. Weapons can’t be friends. Penny shrank in, hands squeezing tighter and tighter. She ignored the warnings and only focused on the wires tightening in her chest.  

Then the squeezing gave way.  

Six days since her last artificial skin tear, rest to zero.  

Her room was simple, very similar to the workshop back in Atlas Academy. No bed, only an examination table with mechanical arms for maintenance. The drawers were full of tools, parts, or accessories. Things that was on the workbench for weapons. People did not wear artificial skin. The tear was easy to repair, thin layer of sillicone and wires around her index finger was torn clean off.  

A light knock on her door made Penny jump. Xanthic would be stuck in the recreational area, trying to leave would meant a painful shock. Winter… she was Ironwood’s second-in-command, she may have access to most of the facility but-  

Another knock.  

“Y- Yes?” She called out. To her surprised and relief her father opened the door. “You… knocked?”  

“Winter fetched me, told me that you seemed upset,” Dr. Pietro said. His chair slowly walked forward, as if ready to turn on a moment’s notice. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy or not.”  

“Ms. Xanthic is restricted to the living quarters of this facility. Winter would be authorized entrance if allowed here,” Penny said. Pricacy was a human concept. She wasn’t… “My privacy is unnecessary.”  

“That does’t mean you can’t want it,” Dr. Pietro said gently. He looked at Penny’s hands and took a breath. Concern, worry, love. Emotions meant for people. It was easy to read these emotions from her father, yet somehow tiring.  

She was tired of seeing him worry.  

“I’m sorry,” Penny mumbled.  

“Maybe this entire Vytal Festival is a bad idea…” For once, Dr. Pietro’s voice was stern. It wasn’t hard like how the General’s could get but it was so odd hearing him frustrated.  

“No!” Penny yelled. She gasped at her own volume. Dr. Pietro jumped in surprised but he didn’t look mad. In fact he nodded and encouraged Penny to continue. “I want to fight! I want to see Vale.” And after the stories Aro told them during the Military Show, Penny wanted to see Minangire. May told stories about the mountains in Minstral and Winter balked at the heat in Vacuo. She wanted to see the world. Her simulations programs were the most accurate ones developed but nothing compared her own experience.  

Her father looked concern again and Penny made a noise. It was a reflex she hadn’t perform before, that hum of frustration May did so much. Her father looked shocked but smiled and laugh.  

“I’ve never seen you pout before. My, my, one day and you’ve learn so much already,” He said patting Penny’s hand. “And that’s really the General decision to make. And I doubt he’s changing his mind.”  

Penny let him repair the tear in the artificial skin. She made sure to watch, wanting to cherish the moment just as the others cherished their visits to other kingdoms. A moment that was truly hers and not programed into her. A special gel will act as a conduit for the wires and adhesive for the silicone. His hands went to work soothing everything back in place, encouraging the material to bound in a way that wouldn’t leave a mark.  

“I will always worry, my dear,” Dr. Pietro said. “I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, but it’s just what fathers do.” The word stirred in Penny’s processors, she hoped it would stick. After all, weapons didn’t have fathers.  

“Then… what do daughters do?”  

Whatever Dr. Pietro had to say wasn’t fully vocalized. Instead the smile dropped for a moment and he sighed. “That depends on the girl,” Dr. Pietro said, “Specialist Schnee chose to leave her family… Family company to protect others.”  

“And… Ms. Xanthic?”  

Dr. Pietro raised a brow, “I think it’d be best if you asked her yourself.”  

Penny flinched at the thought. There was a 2% chance of a pleasant conversation. 95% chance Xanthic would yell at her. Penny left the remaining 3% as open-to-human-nature.  

“I… suppose,” She grumbled. There was a 100% chance of avoiding confrontation with Xanthic if she did not ask.  

Primary Function: Protector Daughter

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

In The Space Between A Zowens Fanfic (Into The Horizon Universe... vaguely)

OK, so I’ve decided. I’m not posting it on AO3 because people on there might not want spoilers. But I WILL post it here because I’ve already told all yinz how that Future Fic ends for Sami and Kevin. So here you go. One songfic, behind the cut.

EDIT TO ADD: The song is “Until Eternity” by Blackbriar and the idea came from @write-it-motherfuckers

Being soulmates, or whatever the hell Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn were, it was a concept hard to express through simply one term.

There were many different languages and cultures across the globe and beyond that had notions of what two lovers, forever entwined would look like. Earth alone had more than Kevin could personally keep track of, although he’d always tried. One of the earliest accounts dated back to Plato, who wrote about how originally, people had four arms, four legs, and two heads, and Zeus split the humans in half, leaving them forever yearning for the rest of themselves. It was a quaint enough notion but didn’t quite cover it. In Buddhism, the idea was that all lives were interconnected. Those connected in one life were connected in the next. That was closer, but if you were to ask Kevin, it wasn’t quite the right idea either. In Hinduism, they believed that in the karmic cycle, a force called lenhu caused two souls to forever intersect, positively impacting each other in every lifetime. That one seemed fairly accurate in Kevin’s eyes, except for the “positive” part. Truth be told, his impact on Sami Zayn over the many lifetimes they shared was far from exclusively positive. Personally, Kevin always liked Sami’s explanation of the Twin Flames, two souls fundamentally identical on a cosmic level that, when brought together, can lead to either tremendous beauty, or absolute havoc and chaos.

Kevin had never been so sure about the first part of that, but the second part was spot on. Between the two of them, in every lifetime they’d shared together, it was either beauty, chaos, or sometimes both. But there was rarely ever indifference. No, the universe wasn’t indifferent to Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens. They’d always thought, upon having their first match, that they were destined to fight forever. Now, looking upon the thousands of paths they’d walked, Kevin realized that, by that point, they already had.

And now, floating beside his soulmate, resting dormant once more in the space between worlds, Kevin couldn’t help but wonder what the cosmos held for them next. He never had any idea beforehand who or what he’d be. He’d given up long ago trying to guess genders. If living thousands of lives had taught him anything, it was that gender was an absolute fallacy. Earth was one tiny speck in an infinite ocean of possibilities, and they weren’t always the same species let alone the same gender. The universe was a funny thing like that; much like Forrest and his damn box of chocolates, you never knew what you were going to get. The only constant in their infinite existence was each other and, while they never retained their memories from lifetime to lifetime, they always found themselves together in the end. One way, or another, be it as friends, lovers, companions, rivals, or even bitter enemies, they were together.

Actually, Kevin was pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. It had been countless lifetimes since their time as 21st Century humans trapped in the future, but he was still certain he recalled something being said about their souls always being in love.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. It certainly wasn’t how it had turned out.

Kevin felt movement beside him in the aether.

Sami was stirring from his sleep, curling instinctively around Kevin. KO didn’t push him away, instead placing a ghostly kiss on Sami’s copper curls. In that place, wherever they stayed between lives, you appeared as you best knew yourself. They’d had so many different bodies and appearances since their souls were made one that even Kevin was surprised that they still kept their old human visages. But after thousands of years, thousands of lives, they were still Sami and Kevin.

And Kevin was just fine with that.

He’d always found Sami attractive as a redhead.

Sami yawned, stretching his arms out and arching his back.

“Nnnng, how long was I out?” he asked Kevin.

Kevin groaned. If there was one thing that never changed, it was his tendency to ask stupid questions.

“Come on, Sami,” he replied. “You know time has no meaning here.”

“Yeah, I know,” conceded Sami, before adding, “but you’d think there’d be some measure of time here in the time vortex.”

“The time vortex? Wasn’t that Back to the Future or something?”

“Mmm, Doctor Who. Back to the Future was the space-time continuum.”

Kevin sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’ve spent too many lifetimes as nerds,” he told his lover, the annoyance in his voice dancing with joviality.

Sami raised an eyebrow.

“And what about the one where you were a 1960’s single woman writing Star Trek fanfiction?”

“Hey, I had Leonard Nimoy over for dinner, that life was pretty fucking cool. Got better after you showed up, though. God that was scandalous.”

Sami smiled. “It always is between us.”

Kevin laughed, before Sami suddenly leaned over to put his face directly beside Kevin’s.

“Nerd,” Sami whispered at him, before breaking away and laughing.

Kevin’s jaw dropped slightly at his own accusation returned to him, before shutting his mouth and pushing Sami away.

“Oh shut up,” Kevin told him.

Sami began to drift away. It wasn’t like they had form there, at least nothing outside of what their minds created. It was almost like drifting in space, weightless and alone. Honestly, were it not for what had occurred back in the Gorosian Empire, they would both be floating alone, still cosmically linked to an extent, but without the companionship between lives.

And powers was Kevin grateful for the companionship.

Time had no meaning where they were, that much was true, but it still felt like an eternity. Even when you slept, you didn’t dream. You just woke up in the same empty space a moment later, right where you started. There really wasn’t anything to look at besides endless fog and darkness, although despite the darkness, he never had a problem seeing Sami next to him, as though his pale skin and ginger curls were bathed in unseen moonlight. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nobody to talk to. You were just waiting.

At least now they could wait together.

Sami was still floating away, eyes closed and a content look on his face and Kevin willed himself closer to him.

“Sami, where the hell are you - “

Sami cut him off with a chuckle, pushing his foot off Kevin’s chest and doing a backflip. He spun himself around a few times amidst the fog before stopping, the grin on his face doing little to conceal his giggling.

Shaking his head, Kevin decided he should ask. Sami had something on his mind, and the guy was going to drive him crazy with his chipperness if he didn’t figure it out.

“Ok, Sami,” Kevin demanded, “What’s up. What’s got you so happy?”

Sami replied by floating over toward Kevin and placing a soft hand on his cheek.

“You,” he said, and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It wasn’t a needy or urgent kiss or anything like the affection they used to show each other back when they were in the Indies on Earth. It was the type of kiss that lovers shared when they knew each other completely. When they had been down a million roads together and knew full well there would be a million more.

When they weren’t two separate souls at all, but one, forever and eternally joined.

And as the soul energy surged between their spirits, Kevin knew he’d found home once again.

But therein lay the trouble, and with a creased brow, he broke off the kiss.

Sami’s pout was damn near audible.

“Shit Sami,” Kevin swore, “I don’t understand what’s got you so excited. You know the routine. We spend time here, then we get shoved into new bodies and have to spend another lifetime finding each other and getting back together. I don’t understand why we can’t just have this forever!”

The one-time Intercontinental Champion looked sad for a moment, before turning his eyes to Kevin.

“Do you want to know what I dreamt about?” he asked KO.

“Bullshit,” Kevin grumbled, “you didn’t dream anything.”

“No, I did, I swear. And it was glorious.”

There was that damn word again.

Glorious.

Kevin both hated and loved when Sami used that word. He hated it because somehow, in almost every situation they found themselves in, he had an equivalent for it and was far too liberal in its usage.

He loved it because, whenever Sami used the word, his eyes would brighten, catching whatever light was nearby, and Kevin would drown in them and fall in love all over again.

And this time was no different.

“Sami...” Kevin sighed, the word a breath across his lips. He gazed into Sami’s hazel eyes, they were always hazel in that space, and he could see himself there. With Sami, where he always belonged and where he always would be.

It was so damn easy to get lost there, but Sami noticed (he always did) and wrapped his hand around Kevin’s head pulling their foreheads together.

“Focus, Kev,” Sami told him, and after closing his eyes for a moment to do just that, Kevin reopened them and pulled away.

“Right,” he said, his mind clear once more, “what was this dream?”

Sami smiled. “It’s about our next lifetime.”

With a tilt of his head, Kevin looked at him like he was crazy.

“Sami. We never get any indication of our lives ahead of time. You know how it is. We’ve certainly been through this enough.”

The redhead shook his head. “No, I swear, I had a vision. You and me. A happily married couple. No fighting, no trauma. Just domestic bliss.”

Kevin made a face.

“Ew, yeargh,” He practically gagged at the idea. “Domestic? Who the fuck wants domestic?”

“You know, Luv,” Sami chided, “We don’t have to be at each other’s throats every time.”

“No, but it’s more fun that way.”

“Maybe for you. I’m usually the one on the receiving end of the beatings. I’ll take a round of domestic bliss if it means I don’t have to get beaten, threatened, tortured, whatever by you for a change. Why are you so determined to hurt me in every single possible future we have together?!”

“You know I don’t do it on purpose!” Kevin shouted, and immediately regretted it afterward. They rarely fought between the worlds, but Sami was right. It always seemed like Kevin had it out for Sami. No matter what configuration the universe put them in, there was always some level of pain involved.

Kevin closed his eyes to focus once more and started again.

“Sami,” he said, “You know I love you. Here, to eternity and back, I love you. I’ve loved you in more ways than either of us could have ever dreamed possible. In this space, looking ahead, you know I don’t want to hurt you. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s just my nature. Maybe I’m just a naturally negative person. All we’ve been through? I think I’m just the bad to your good. The rage to your peace. The darkness to your light.”

“The Yin to my Yang,” Sami added, a kind look on his face.

“Yeah, something like that,” Kevin responded.

Sami reached his hand out, taking hold of Kevin’s shoulder.

“You know, Kev, The Yin Yang? There’s always a bit of light in the darkness, and vice versa. They say that the yin and yang represent...”

“Nope,” Kevin said, shaking his head and cutting him off, “I’m stopping you there. Go much further and I guarantee you’ll lose me. Just stick with ‘there’s light in the darkness’, ok?”

“’K. But you know that means that there’s also always part of you in me as well, right? We’re one soul, not just joined or intertwined, but intermixed. Ever since the powers of the universe blinked us into existence, we’ve been together. I mean, who needs all the marriages, joinings, ceremonies, rituals, all that fluff and stuff. You and me, we’re one unit. Why the hell do you think we’ve always had such chemistry, even when we’re fighting? We’re meant to be together, one way or another. By whatever name, in whatever form. You’ve always been a part of me Kev. Your soul in my soul. Your heart in my heart...”

“... my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, yeah yeah, I got it. Fuck, Sami in what lifetime were you that much of a sappy romantic?”

Shrugging, Sami replied, “Probably most of them. You just never spent enough time in love with me to notice.”

Kevin smirked. “I’m always in love with you. Always have been, always will be. It’s just sometimes I’m too stubborn to realize it.”

Sami couldn’t contain his snort. “Now who’s the sappy romantic?”

It was a fair enough question, but one that Kevin didn’t feel like answering. Instead, he shut his lover up by pressing his lips against him, kissing him once more. And once more the energy surged. Granted, even in their living forms there was always some amount of electricity that flowed between them, but in that netherworld-like space, it flowed the strongest, unhindered by any physical forms or bodies. There it was just their combined soul, floating and waiting to be reborn, and as Kevin tasted the sparks on Sami’s lips, he felt himself start to grow heavier, the way he always did before he was pulled into a new body.

He felt Sami start to pull away, obviously feeling a similar sensation, but Kevin grabbed ahold of Sami’s head and maintained contact. Wherever they were going, it would likely be years before they could kiss once more, and Kevin wasn’t going to miss out on his last chance for who knew how long.

A white light began to glow and blossom between them, starting first in their chests before wrapping its way around their bodies and encircling their arms and legs. He could hear wind blowing, like something out of a blustery spring day, and the sound began to engulf them both.

Still, Kevin didn’t let go. He could feel Sami’s energy pulling away and he struggled to hold on, but it was no use. The contact was broken and as the white light turned to gold, he felt his astral connection to Sami break as he was pulled through the cosmos to whatever destination the powers of the universe had picked for him this time around.

And as he flew through space-time towards his new, waiting life, a thought sat firmly in his mind.

Domestic, huh?

Wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Might be nice even. Possibly glorious.

Maybe we don’t have to fight forever after all.

And then his consciousness lapsed as the light turned to darkness and his new life began.

[hd-fan-fair]

THE MASTERLIST OF H/D SEX FAIR 2020 FANWORKS

View the full list on [AO3] or under the cut below!

( Fanwork posted in chronological order by type )

ART

1. herman_the_moth | Tumblr: caroll-in drew How hard can it be? (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary: 

Harry and Draco have to stay over at their friends' places for a few weeks, since the renovation of the Grimmauld Place hadn't been completed by the time they were back from their honeymoon. That creates a slight issue with being intimate but the newlyweds are nothing if not creative...

2. chachisoo | Tumblr: creeeee drew Revelio! (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

It's that time of year again for Witch Weekly's annual charity event! By popular demand, this year they have prepared a calendar featuring the sexiest studs in the Wizarding World. Gracing the cover in style, the Hogwarts staff is represented by none other than DADA Professor Harry Potter and Potions Professor Draco Malfoy. Grab one before they're gone! Reserve your copy by owl today!

3. Pinky_Wisteria | Tumblr: snarkyships-drarryside drew Handling Dragons (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry brought over dragons to Hogwarts for a new Triwizard Tournament or for a class. Draco is hopelessly turned on by the resident Professor or Hogwarts Medic. Draco wants his dragon tickled by Harry. Unknown to him, Draco is the only dragon Harry wants to manhandle.

4. digthewriter drew I plan on getting very wet. (Digital, Mature) Summary:

When they arrived at their private beach holiday, they didn't expect it to rain all the time. Oh well, boys can still find a way to have fun.

5. Pinkelephant42 | Tumblr: Pinkelephant42 drew The Dragon's Boy (Digital Comic, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is chosen to be the next sacrifice to the dragon, but it turns out this dragon is interested in Harry for entirely different reasons.

6. sugareey drew The Art of Trust (Digital, Mature) Summary:

One piece of rope offers what Harry and Draco seek the most from each other.

7. Pinky_Wisteria | Tumblr: snarkyships-drarryside drew (Intimidating) Brand New World (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary:

Draco's nervously perusing a sex shop for the first time when he sees a flash of dark hair across the store. He'd know it anywhere, but why is Potter here? And what on earth is in that box he's buying? Years of uptight parenting from his parents have left him woefully lacking in knowledge about his newfound interests. Potter's always been rather uncaring of public opinion, perhaps he could be the one to help Draco figure it all out...

ART & FIC

8. p1013 drew and wrote as much a light as a flame (6303, Explicit) Summary:

His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again.

His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it.

9. Zigster drew and wrote Starkissed (32631, Explicit) Summary:

“Your tattoos!” The intruder says, boldly stepping over Ron’s chaise and crossing in front of Hermione to get to Harry, eyes wide and hungry. Harry immediately sits up, pulling the towel draped across the back of his chair down over his shoulders.   “No! Don’t cover them. They’re beautiful.” Harry hopes an indulgent trip abroad will help shake him out of the doldrums of his life. What he finds once he gets to Venice is more than he ever expected.

  PODFIC

10. Bluedreaming read Infuse With Affection, Enchant With Love by bafflinghaze (1.5 Hours, Teen and Up) Summary:

It starts with Draco making protective pendants for himself, his parents, and his friends, after the war. Something that would watch their backs—and their fronts—as people spat on them in the streets and hexed them in the alleyways. Draco gets better at it, does a course on it, and takes enough commissions for charmed jewellery that he eventually opens his own shop.

But Harry doesn’t know any of this. So when he sees Malfoy in a shop of charmed necklaces, he immediately tries his best to uncover Malfoy’s machinations.

11. smirkingcat read Things Worth Paying For (1.5 Hours, Explicit) Summary:

After leaving post-war Britain for Paris, Draco is finally happy, with friends and a job he loves, But then his newest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and everything changes.

  FIC

12. palendrome (nerdherderette) wrote Three Wishes (10161, Explicit) Summary:

Draco meets his fairy godmother and is granted three wishes. Unfortunately, they all keep coming back to the same thing.

********** Pop! 

"Oh, wow," Vince says, and is that sarcasm Draco hears? "I never saw that coming."

"What?" Draco opens his eyes. He's prepared for the theatrics of the puffs of smoke—Vince, despite the sudden career change, was never blessed with an overactive imagination—but what he was not prepared for was the sight of Harry Potter, bare-chested and dressed in arseless chaps, his hands bound and mouth wrapped around a ball gag while lying face down on Draco's sofa.

13. Maraudersaffair wrote H.A.G.S. (Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality) (9517, Explicit) Summary:

When Hermione decides Hogwarts needs a LGBTQIA+ club, of course Ron and Harry are roped into helping. After a rocky start, Harry begins seeing the club as an opportunity to educate students and celebrate diversity and sexuality at Hogwarts. He also starts seeing it as an opportunity to snog Draco Malfoy.

14. dracoismytrashson wrote You Don't Know Me (Like You Used To) (33106, Explicit) Summary:

"Buy me a drink as compensation for maiming me?" he asks.

"And why the hell would I do that?" It’s a perfectly valid question. A drink invitation from Harry Potter is about as likely of a scenario as me streaking down Piccadilly in broad daylight. Consider me completely thrown off.

Sometimes it only takes a week to change everything. The story of how twenty-five-year-old Draco Malfoy hit one Harry Potter with a door and knocked both of their lives into somewhere entirely new.

15. bafflinghaze wrote the best treasure is up Harry’s arse (2891, Explicit) Summary:

Harry and Draco probably had a tumultuous time getting together, filled with angst and denial and pining and brooding. However, this is not that story. Here, Draco makes Harry come (more than once).

16. Orpheous87 wrote Breakin' the Rules (3146, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry and Draco are Auror partners. They're in a relationship that they've been forced to keep secret due to relationships between Aurors being forbidden. Harry is okay with this, as he hasn't come out to anyone other than Draco, but after a mission goes awry, their relationship is exposed.

17. tigersilver wrote The HogShagMan (31685, Mature) Summary:

Professor Potter is called upon to teach the first-ever official course on Magical Sexual Relations at Hogwarts and, in the process, must navigate the pitfalls of relationship-building, the nefarious schemings of those entrusted with school funding, and the uneven tempers of his boss and several co-workers. Clearly, only ‘the’ Harry Potter can pull it all off.

18. Gnarf wrote Let's not wait for France (17714, Teen and Up) Summary:

All Harry had wanted from his Eighth year at Hogwarts was a little peace and a little privacy but, from the moment that he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, it was obvious that nothing was ever going to be that easy.

An accidental bond with Malfoy that resulted in them having to stay together at all times was the final straw.

Things couldn't be worse. So much to a quiet year in Hogwarts.

19. GallifreyisBurning wrote Take All That You See (19666, Teen and Up) Summary:

Draco Malfoy has only two goals for his eighth year are Hogwarts: 1) stay as invisible as possible, and 2) get enough NEWTs to be accepted at a university abroad and get the hell out of the UK. Everything is going according to plan until he is unceremoniously outed by the Daily Prophet and subsequently disowned.

Finding himself the unexpected focus of unwanted attention and harassment, he is suddenly dependent on the good will and protection of the last people he would have expected — Harry Potter and his gang of do-gooder Gryffindors (plus Luna Lovegood). With his world turned upside down, how will Draco make it through the rest of the year? And worse still, as he grows closer and closer to Harry, how will he get out with his heart intact?

20. gracerene wrote True Children Still (34240, Explicit) Summary:

After years of dancing around each other, Draco and Harry have finally begun to date, though they're taking things slow. They've got enough to figure out as it is, and the last thing Harry needs is an unexpected introduction to desires he's not quite ready to face.

21. RoonilWazlibMalfoy wrote Asking For A Friend? (13734, Explicit) Summary:

Asking for a friend? Don't be shy! I'm Genna Russ with advice! Draco Malfoy, drag queen and agony aunt for the Daily Prophet, is very happy with his life. He loves his job. He loves his drag queen persona. And he loves the fact that the wider Wizarding world doesn't know who is offering them sassy advice with their morning news.

When he starts receiving letters from one Harry Potter – letters that are too racy to publish – he does the only thing he can do: he replies. His carefully constructed secret life is at risk of being blown wide open, but he just can't help himself. Draco never did have any self-control where the Prat Who Lived was concerned.

22. fluxweed wrote All I Have to Do (9575, Explicit) Summary:

The Patented Daydream Charm (Adult Edition) allows you to enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute sexual fantasy. Solitude and privacy spells advised.

Or: Draco finally has some alone time; Harry just needs to nip in for a book.

23. simeysgirl wrote Take My Wonder (3949, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter is the author of very well-written children's text books. Joshua Starkweather is the author of not-so-well-written erotic fiction. Only one person knows that they are one and the same.

24. Ladderofyears wrote (There Is Nothing) More Than This (5431, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter returns home past midnight, distressed and anxious about the multiple murder case that he is leading. His husband Draco looks after him, comforting Harry with his hands, his mouth and his unwavering love.

25. disapparater wrote the space between (what you want and what you need) (13601, Mature) Summary:

As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

26. FreddieFoxBaxter wrote Walk in the sun (18233, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is perfectly content with the life he built for himself; simple and private, it helps him heal the wounds from the war. He then accepts to go out with one of Neville’s acquaintances, never expecting that decision would bring him back to his obsession for Draco Malfoy.

“That was his cue. Had Harry stopped to think about his situation, he could have left. Malfoy was nibbling at his neck, he had his hand down his pants. All things considered, a disaster incoming. And yet, his feet still refused to move. After all, he was not the stop-to-think-of-consequences kind of guy.”

(Features drunken confessions, bathrooms, a lot of smut, sexy pictures, panties, cats and only one bed)

27. Countingcr0ws wrote You Need to Just Do Whatever You Want (7998, General) Summary:

Draco's confused when he receives a manual explaining his magical inheritance. Being a veela would be good (at least he would be prettier), and a vampire would have been fine (another excuse to hide himself in the Manor). But a descendant of the God of Love, complete with arrows and a love quota? Now that's just bonkers.

A story in which Draco is Cupid (sort of).

28. PollyWeasley wrote Under my Skin (8258, Explicit) Summary:

One year after the war and after Hogwarts restorations, Harry is back at school to finally finish his education. He wasn't expecting McGonagall to assign him to protect Draco Malfoy, in case he was bullied during the classes. Although really just wants to relax on his last year in Hogwarts, he'd seen how Draco had changed at the trials. He knew being around him would be easy enough... Wouldn't it?

29. Drarryismymuse wrote Glory, glory! (16898, Explicit) Summary:

It's 2005 and Harry has recently purchased a new mobile phone so he can easily keep in touch with his friends. Little did he know that the Muggle technology would lead him down a path of self discovery and safe exploration that would lead him into the soft recesses of the last person he ever expected. As it turns out, very good things can be found in the dark.

30. Enchanted_Jae wrote Husbandly Duties (2108, Explicit) Summary:

Draco and Harry leave their wedding after-party early for some quality one-on-one time.

31. Yesimawriter wrote Sex, Relationships & Love (3873, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy runs an anonymous sex advice column in the Witch Weekly magazine and gets hundreds of letters asking him for advice on sex, love and relationships. How was he to know that the advice he had given in response to one of those letters would result in Harry Potter showing up at his flat at 6 in the morning?

32. Poison_literature wrote Disparate (6022, Teen and Up) Summary:

Ever since he went to Hogwarts, Draco realized that he wasn't quite the same as the others.

Or: Draco Malfoy over the years as he tries to understand and accept his sexuality.

33. Archaic_Nepenthes wrote Silver Scales in Pools of Green (26603, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is one of the last sirens of the seas, who escaped to the human world looking for friendship and food, but captivity found him instead. For seven years, he's gotten used to his life as human entertainment, and prides himself in his ability to make humans fall in step to his song.

That is, until everything falls apart when he has an audience with green eyes...

34. unadulteratedstorycollector wrote It's So Hard (9170, Explicit) Summary:

Draco has posed for some interesting photos, and it is currently making things very... hard for Harry.

35. xanthippe74 wrote On Your Shore (35113, Mature) Summary:

Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too. But both the house and Draco Malfoy have secrets to uncover, and Harry might be in deeper water than he thought.

36. lyonessheart wrote A Little Less Broken (6417, Mature) Summary:

After the war Draco thought he would never feel again. But a mix of revenge gone wrong and Harry Potter, might help him to feel just a little less broken.

37. Ischa wrote Always (20147, Explicit) Summary:

In which Draco is the (in)famous erotica writer H.J. Belladonna, writing successful scandalous novel after successful scandalous novel and hiding his true identity, and Harry is questioning his sexuality after reading one of Belladonna’s books. Until ten years after the war their paths cross again, and Harry doesn’t only question his sexuality, but also the meaning of his obsession with Draco Malfoy.

“You look like something my cat dragged in,“ Blaise said from the sofa. Draco’s sofa, in Draco’s tiny flat. “You don’t have a cat, because you’re too vain, Blaise. A cat would get hair all over your expensive clothes,“ Draco replied and then ignored Blaise in favor of going into the kitchen to get some hot sweet tea into his system. Maybe that would make his day better, even if it had just started and the potential for disaster was high. Blaise followed him. “I’ll take one too.“ “You can’t use my home as your personal hotel, Blaise,“ Draco said, but he was already grabbing two cups out of the cupboard. He was too tired to use magic, after writing the whole night, he felt like all the magic had been absorbed by his parchment. Some of his sanity maybe too.

38. blowfish_diaries wrote Absurd. (3773, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco discovers a kink that Harry's been hiding from him, he has no choice but to explore said kink, right? Right.

39. Postjentacular wrote For Want Of Five Minutes (And a Locked Door) (4333, Mature) Summary:

It’s hard enough to get five minutes to yourself in a house of five kids, nevermind getting five minutes with your boyfriend for anything else.

40. acupforslytherin wrote Let Out the Beast (9649, Explicit) Summary:

In the wizarding world where alphas are looked down upon for their lack of control and unseemly aggression, it is generally accepted that they are not allowed to work in places like schools and hospitals where their nature could risk the people there. When Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up at Hogwarts smelling strongly like an alpha, Harry is beyond baffled. The fact that no one else seems to catch his scent only adds to his confusion. But, of course, the most puzzling part is how Harry’s body reacts to that scent.

41. Erebeus wrote Flowers, Dildos and Other Courtship Gifts (15853, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry Potter is the Ministry's star auror trainee, and Draco Malfoy is the cute florist in Diagon Alley who Harry stares at through the window during lunch breaks and leaves. That's all they are and all they would ever be. (Really.) Until Harry accidentally mails Draco an autumn themed dildo (among others). Cue: bad planning, owl kidnapping, and flangst.

Or two emotional gay disasters fall in love in the middle of autumn.

42. glittering_git wrote he touched me, so I live to know (4729, Mature) Summary:

Five times Harry Potter is unsure about touching someone and one time he isn’t.

43. MistyDeath wrote cut my name into your lip (6321, Explicit) Summary:

Harry can't take it anymore. Seriously. If Malfoy chews on the end of his quill/licks his spoon/sucks on the papercut on his finger one more time, Harry's going to put an end to it.

44. ebbet wrote Realities, Unfurling (45487, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

45. Nympha_Alba wrote The Delicate Balance of Light and Shade (13288, Explicit) Summary:

With the war finally over, Harry tries to find his own path in a world where he is free to make his own choice. On a holiday in France, he unexpectedly falls in love with art and painting. Returning to Hogwarts to help rebuild it, he is paired up with Draco Malfoy to restore the Room of Requirement - and unexpectedly falls in love with Draco. When the rebuilding efforts are done, Harry disappears.

Years later, Draco goes to Muggle London at Pansy's suggestion to visit an art gallery. The name of the Muggle artist is unknown to Draco, but the subject of the erotic paintings is shockingly familiar: it's Draco himself. It's time to confront the past and make some long-due confessions.

46. Pineau_noir wrote Tonight's the Night (Gonna Be Alright) (9181, Explicit) Summary:

Sex is hard to come by when you're 40 and have kids.

Or: Five times Harry and Draco tried and failed to have sex and one time they were successful.

47. Cibee (Cibeeeee) wrote The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance (6079, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is going to lose his virginity, so help him god, and he's going to lose it to one Harry Potter. Why? Because of his big cock, his status as The Top Five Quidditch Players in England, and Witch Weekly's Most-Eligible Bachelor for eight years straight. At least that's what he tells himself. Too bad first times rarely go as one plans, and now Harry is looking miserable and Draco doesn’t understand why.

48. epsilonargus wrote you killed me on the moon (4906, Explicit) Summary:

'You barely know me. We do not know each other.’

‘Beyond this overwhelming need to submit to you, completely and utterly?’ Potter raises his eyebrows, stretching his scar. ‘Beyond this bone-deep awareness that you are made for me, and I for you? That our destiny was written in the stars, in the very foundation of our known world?’

An A/B/O Royalty!AU wherein a desperate Slytherin prince faces a proposal from the conquering Gryffindor king.

49. M0stlyVoid wrote i just want your extra time and your... (9058, Explicit) Summary:

Ron should know better than to speak Latin in a magical library. If he’d just left well enough alone, instead of trying to badger Malfoy for the details of his newest novel, Harry wouldn’t have to listen to all of this chatter about how bloody decent Malfoy is, and he wouldn’t be dealing with all of these...feelings. Really, it’s all Ron’s fault that Harry’s mind is stuck on Malfoy like this again.

50. Oldenuf2nb wrote The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows (41492, Explicit) Summary:

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

51. VeelaWings wrote You Do Your Body Work, I Feel My Pulse Working Overtime (1627, Explicit) Summary:

Harry did not have an addiction to watching Draco masturbate on camera. He could stop any time he wanted to. Really.

52. letsdothepanic wrote Right Romantic Setting (6266, Explicit) Summary:

On the twelfth day of their romantic relationship, Draco and Harry take Albus, Scorpius and Rose on a weekend trip to Muggle London that Ron and Hermione were supposed to lead. At the fully-booked hotel where they'll be staying for the night, they're surprised to discover that their rather plain room has only one bed. It's definitely not the right romantic setting for their first night together but, as Draco comes to realise, there's good in taking things slow.

53. pixiedustatsundown wrote Portrait of a Marriage (130627, Mature) Summary:

Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug.

Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible.

54. sassy_cissa wrote Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are (29803, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco finds himself wrongly accused – of course it's Potter who swoops in to save the day. Isn't it always Potter?

[willowandfog]

InuKag Week 2020- Day 4

Please see tags for all trigger warnings! This is one continual story for the week.

FFN or AO3

I want to give a big SHOUTOUT to @ruddcatha​ for really helping me with edits, writing, and ideas. She’s really helped me to focus my thoughts. <3

Chapter 4: Desire

Sesshomaru had stopped by Kagome’s room while Inuyasha was out processing the news. She explained to him that she had decided to tell Inuyasha, but had asked him to still wait a while after her passing before giving Inuyasha the necessary documents. 

He agreed easily and after gaining her signature on the new form, he had laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a casual gesture and may have seemed even cold to an outsider but Kagome knew. Sesshomaru never touched or showed any type of affection to anyone other than his daughter. His gesture brought tears to Kagome’s eyes. 

After Sesshomaru left it was a while before Inuyasha returned, carrying a large tray filled with all sorts of different food from the cafeteria. “I figured that you could use something other than the gross stuff they send up from the kitchen. This stuff isn’t too much better but.” He gave her a shrug. 

He set the tray down on the rolling table beside her bed before turning to her. He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. “Listen, I’m sorry I bolted out of here. I just needed to think about things.” He gave her a half smile. “I understand why you did it. And I love you all the more for trying to help preserve everything we’ve been striving for.” He glanced down at their intertwined hands. “How could you have known that waiting a week would’ve cost us something even greater? You couldn’t.”

“I was going to tell you. I had planned on letting you know when things started clearing up. I actually had it all planned out, Saturday after the movie I was going to surprise you with the news. I figured since I had been feeling better we could start planning out the future again, taking a fertility test and talking to the doctor about our options and then discussing how to proceed with the eggs if need be. But I guess fate had something else in mind…” Her words drifted off and her eyes began to fill, her face falling.

The sight of her tears and the heartfelt words had his heart aching. Thinking he would help her dry her tears and turn this day into something happier, something that would bring the smile back to her face. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Kagome nodded but when she didn’t speak, Inuyasha did. “You were new to our school. It’s always rough transferring during high school but you had to go and transfer to a partial demon school.”

Kagome cracked a slight smile. “I was so nervous, I hadn’t ever really been around demons much. I tried to stay calm cause I knew they would smell my fear. I still don’t know how I made it through that first day.” 

“I remember seeing you for the first time. Walking down the hall, head held high, seeming to have all the confidence in the world. But we all knew you were nervous, yet you tried not to let it show. I liked that, I admired you for that. You still smiled at people passing by, still pleasant even when afraid.”

“After that first day, I was so hesitant to walk home, I’d never had to walk home before, especially being in a new area, I hardly remembered the way to my house.”

“You stood there at the bottom of the steps for so long. I thought you forgot where you were, lost in thought maybe?” He grinned at her, pulling his hand free from hers to wrap his arm around her shoulders, leaning back against the propped bed. “I had heard your name around school, everyone always talks about the new kid. But I wanted to know more about you, about the brave, confident, kind girl.”

“You came up and offered to walk me home. I remember seeing you walking towards me, my heart started racing, I thought you were so gorgeous. And those ears! So cute.” Inuyasha smirked at that.

“I walked you all the way home, asking you everything I could think of about yourself and your family. By the time we reached your door, I think I knew I was in love with you.” 

Kagome grinned up at him before leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek. “You walked me home everyday after that. Can’t believe it took you six months to ask me to hang out outside of school!” She elbowed him in the side a bit.

“Hey!” He cringed, grabbing his side, a fake wounded look on his face. “I was nervous, ok? You were smart, beautiful, kind, and so amazing. You treated me like I was a real person, not some hanyou abomination. I knew you were too good for me, I couldn’t help it though. After so long I just had to see more of you.” His voice was low and slightly husky by the end.

Kagome blushed. “Remember when you told me you loved me? ‘Finally!’ I thought. I had been wanting to tell you that I loved you but I wanted you to say it first.” 

“We knew each other for years.” He chuckled a little. “I feel so stupid now when I recall how long I waited. Best friends for three years. Out celebrating graduation at the carnival. I didn’t want you running off to college without knowing how I felt. But I was also way too chicken to tell you. So I waited for the perfect romantic moment.” He gestured out with his freehand, splaying it out before them.

Kagome swatted his hand down. “You mean a moment when you knew I couldn’t see your face.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Hey, you only know that because I confessed it to you later. You have to admit it was still romantic.” He raised a brow at her, daring her to disagree. 

“Yeah. The cliche Ferris wheel is romantic.” She smiled, tweaking her nose in a teasing way. “I wasn’t thinking that at the moment though. I was thinking how I wished you would just tell me how you felt, so I would know. Being so close to you, spending every spare moment together. I assumed it was obvious how much I loved you, I just needed you to say it. You say that I was confident and brave, clearly not.”

“I can’t tell you how many nights we were saying goodbye to each other and I just wanted to pull you close. Hold you tight, breathe in your scent and say those words to you. My heart would ache the whole way home, until I saw you again.” 

“I would’ve waited however long you took. There would never be anyone else for me. Even if you didn’t go to college with me, I would’ve been waiting.” Kagome’s eyes filled with tears.

Inuyasha gave her a small loving smile, wiping away her tears gently. “Good thing you didn’t have to. I told you how I felt and I guess that was the only motivation you needed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, earning him another elbow to the side. “Tried to jump me right there in that small enclosed box!”

They both laughed. “Worth it.” Was all she said in between her giggles.

When their laughter died down she gave him a devious look. “So what you really meant to say is that finally confessing was the only motivation you needed. It only took you a year to propose after that.” 

“Hell yeah. We were in college, I wasn’t taking any chances on losing you. Had to lock it down.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I was actually afraid you would propose to me if I didn’t hurry up and do it.” He smirked.

She giggled again. “You’re probably right. After waiting so long for you to tell me you loved me, like hell if I would wait three more years for that.” 

“I hardly remember the wedding though. Went by so fast. I do remember how gorgeous you were though, and how beautiful you looked with a tear running down your face as you spoke your vows. The way you smelled, drove me crazy. Was hard twirling you on the dance floor knowing that in a few hours I’d have you alone in a hotel room.” His eyebrows wiggled again causing another eruption of giggles. 

“Yeah, that was quite a night.” She whispered, her eyes glazing over as if remembering all the details, her face flushing red. Inuyasha could smell her exotic arousal, his pupils starting to dilate. 

“Kagome, if you don’t stop thinking like that I’m going to have a very hard time not barring the door and taking you right here.” His lips were pressed against her ear, his voice very low and husky. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Her scent spiked and Inuyasha sucked in a sharp breath. “I think I’d be ok with that.” She whispered.

His eyes widened in shock before he leaped from the bed. He was quick to the door, closing it gently before turning the lock. As he made his way back he paused to pull the curtain around the bed slightly. When he stopped at the side of her bed, it finally hit him what they were doing. “Kagome.” He sighed. “Do you think this is such a good idea? You’re sick, in a hospital. This isn’t right.” He looked down, a little defeated, a lot disappointed, and very ashamed at not having the thought sooner.

“Inuyasha.” Kagome’s voice was firm and confident. “You’re right, I am sick. But if all of this is real, if I’m not going to be here much longer, I want to spend it with you. Being with you, even if it’s the last time. Stop overthinking it, just be with me, love me, make love to me, show me how much you love me because I want you so bad right now it hurts.” 

Her words shot straight into his heart. He wanted the same thing, to hold her, show her how much he loved her, how beautiful he thought she was. If this was the last time he would be sure to satisfy her every want and need. 

He stripped down, knowing it would be too difficult to do on the bed. When he climbed in beside her, he pulled the blanket up over them, pulling her close. He made sure they took their time, going slow, exploring each other's bodies as if for the first time. It was slow and sweet, him stopping every so often to make sure she was still ok, and her breathy yes reply every time. He satisfied her needs first before finally shifting her to her side, her back pressed firm against him. He checked again that she was alright before lifting one of her legs to drape over his and slowly pushing into her. Using the one arm wrapped around her waist to pull her back against him, he repeated this as gently as he could manage over and over. One of her hands clawed against his arm, as the other reached behind her to hold the back of his head firmly to her. Every so often moving to stroke his ears. He nuzzled his face deeper into her neck, inhaling deeply, trying to implant her scent, and this moment further into his brain. When she started trembling, her release close, he muttered how much he loved her into her ear, throwing her over the edge. With the feel of her coming undone around him and the scent of her release flooding his senses, Inuyasha growled softly and followed her, burying his face in her hair as he lost himself in her.

[i-llbedammned]

I ended up writing the Good Omens noir fic I talked about about before.  I am excited and nervous as this is a hard pairing for me to feel like I am doing them justice.  You can read it on Ao3 here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854631 I will also post it down here:

Light practically sparkled on the grey suit and fedora of one kindly Aziraphale, private eye. It was different being on this side of the pond. Yes, he knew that he could go anywhere in the universe but there was just something so comforting about London that kept him coming back to it. Instead he was here in New York City and even though it was better than dealing with the bombs and the Nazis directly there was something still colder in this city. The roving packs of gangs and the brusk way that everyone talked was just something so unsettling.

He wouldn’t even be here if it was not for a very important mission. Someone had stolen one of his books, you see and it was a first edition of a Charles Dickens novel that he just couldn’t bear to part with. Crowley had given that edition to him shortly after it was published, telling him that reading Dickens was akin to torture so he was really trying to plague him rather than give him a kind gift. The angel was grateful for it all the same.

“What’re’ you looking at?” snapped a man in a flat cap standing near a stoop.

“Oh, ah. Nothing.” Aziraphale gave him a small, brittle smile and quickly looked away.

“Oh I’m nothin’ then?” the man started following the angel, a sour look upon his face.

“I’m just looking for a book shop, I will be right out of your way. My apologies.” He said, looking aside at the man, who had moved to block his path.

“I think you owe me a bit of reparations for the insult sir.”

Oh no. Barely here and it was already leading to a fight. What did he ever do to this man?

“Sir, please just leave me alone and I will be on my way.” Aziraphale tried to move around him and the man stayed with him, blocking his path forward.

“I don’t think I will.” The sharp click of knife sounded from the man and Aziraphale held up his hands as the man brandished a knife.

“The man said he is done with you. Piss off.” Came a deep growl from beside him. A figure with long red hair and a slinky black dress strolled up beside Aziraphale with a swagger that was unmistakable.

“Listen lady, this ain’t none of you-“ the man’s cries were cut off in terror as he beheld the flash of yellow snake eyes and the sharp smell of smoke as his hat began to catch alight. Beating the flames out, the man dropped his knife and began to run in the opposite direction. Cat-eyed sunglasses were placed on her lovely eyes once more.

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked as the man fled, looking at his fellow immortal with gratitude. He could have solved the problem easily enough, but he hated having to evoke terror and do violent things. It just made him uncomfortable.

“Saving you, angel.” She drawled, with her eyebrows raised like it was a fairly obvious question.

“Oh of course." The angel grinned in an embarassed way, "Nice dress.” Aziraphale complimented sincerely, taking in her lovely red lipstick and the golden slither of the snake along her back. It really suited her hips and showed off her legs with the long slit up the side.

“Don’t stare too long, I’ll start to think you’re interested.” Crowley laughed as Aziraphale looked up, a small tinge of color staining his cheeks pink.

“I’m not-Not that you aren’t lovely, but it wouldn’t be right.” The white haired man stumbled over his words a bit before finally changing direction entirely, ”What I mean to say is have you seen a first edition Dickens book around?”

“First edition Dickens? You lost the first edition Dickens book?” Crowley backed up, looking hurt. The look almost broke Aziraphale’s heart on the spot.

“No! I didn’t lose it. It was stolen.” Aziraphale extended his arm and Crowley rested long black taloned fingers on the crook of his arm as they walked side by side, now returning to her default moody look. “The shop was broken into and I found a jacket made by an American tailor in New York with some dollars in it so I assumed it would be here.”

Crowley began to laugh, “So you just miracled yourself over here to look for a book?”

“Well there’s also a lovely Vaudeville show in town that I thought I might pop by and see once I found the book.” Aziraphale wove his way through the city streets, arm in arm with his companion following the strange sort of gut instinct that usually was divine providence at work. He was supposed to be going in this direction, he just knew it.

“Care for a little company for the show? I’m bored and could use something to excite me.” Crowley smirked as Aziraphale’s heart did an instinctual flutter and she laughed.

“Well I can’t promise it will be exciting but-“Aziraphale paused, looking at the window of a bookshop in an alleyway. There it was, his Dickens book on display.

Without a further word he strode into the bookshop. A nasally voice answered his as a tall man with glasses glare at him, “I’m sorry, sir. We are closed.”

“Where did you get that book in the front window?” He demanded.

“It’s from our international shipments, but I told you it’s not for sale. Now scram!” The man spoke in pinched tones, exchanging glances with the other men in the room. All of them looked far too scarred and muscled to be book dealers.

“But that’s my book!” He protested loudly, indignant that these mortals would have the gall to both take his book and then refuse to give it back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it is.” A large man with shoulders twice Aziraphale’s width started shouldering him through the door, flinging him to the opposing wall. He could have resisted, but he chose not to. Really. “And don’t come back!” the man yelled after him.

“Oh bother!” he mumbled, picking up his silver fedora and looking ruefully at the door he had just been flung out of. Wait a second, Crowley never followed him out of the door!

Through the glass he could see Crowley slink forward, with all of the men’s eyes upon her hips and chest. He could not make out the words that were being said, but they appeared to be getting into an argument over it, bickering amongst each other as Crowley made flirtatious facial expressions at the big man who had thrown the angel out.

Wait! From behind the counter Aziraphale could see a man raising a gun towards Crowley’s back. The other men appeared to also be drawing up their various weapons as the conversation got more and more heated. Oh no, if that his her she would most certainly be discoporated for a period of time. That would never do. Aziraphale channeled his energies towards Crowley and with a small miracle, the bullets missed her as they flew about the shop knocking the other men dead.

As the various tough guys fell over from their various wounds, Crowley grabbed the book and walked out. “Was all that violence your doing?” Aziraphale tried to look away from all the death and violence, cringing at the thought of it.

“I wish. It certainly would boost my hellish numbers." Crowley looked mock disappointed, "Alas it was just a bunch of normal human violence though.”

“A pity on all accounts then.” Aziraphale sincerely mourned.

“Now what about that show?” Crowley asked, snapping her long black nails as a ripple of power waved over the City that Never Sleeps. “I think a private box just opened up for us.”

The box seat was lovely with red velvet seats and curtain to close them off from the world should they so choose. It just so happened that everyone who was supposed to have those seats got food poisoning and would be quite unable to attend that night. Poor things.

Aziraphale and Crowley sat next to each other, their arms barely touching.

“Angel, I do believe I owe you something,” Crowley whispered into his companion’s ear as on stage they did some sort of clown act.

“Whatever do you mean?” He responded, turning away from the act to face Crowley. Her face was very close to his all of a sudden, her heavy grey shadowed eye lids and full red lips standing out against the pale of her face in the darkness.

“You saved my life back there, don’t think I didn’t notice.” She grinned at him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were falling a bit for me.”

“Oh not falling. Never that. But I didn’t want to see you discorporated.” Aziraphale smiled.

“You’re not falling, not even a little?” Crowley’s hands stroked Aziraphale’s arm, tracing patterns on his suit jacket.

The angel swallowed hard as his nerves began to pound, “I’m not sure this is a good idea, my dear. They could be watching us you know.”

“You know, no one can see us here.” Crowley whispered into the angel’s ear, nipping at his lobes with her teeth sending a shiver through his body. He made no effort to pull away from her actions, “And if someone was going to stop us from above, they damn well would have by now. What’s say we really enjoy the show?” “What do you have in mind?” Even though angels were not supposed to enjoy this type of behavior, Aziraphale had allowed himself to be drawn into Crowley’s actions time and time again. After all, he could just blame it on the demon should he ever be brought up by his superiors and claim that he had some sort of magic used on him.

“I ride you til neither of us can move in this dark little box while the clowns play below.” Crowley’s lips had moved to his neck and were beginning to kiss it slowly, licking along the path of the neck. Her fingers loosened his tie so she could better reach his neck.

Aziraphale cast an eye at the show below. It didn’t appear that this show was exactly the type of high art that he was going to truly enjoy as they did yet another slapstick routine. With one hand he lifted Crowley’s face to meet his, pressing his lips gently to hers as he undid his tie fully with his other hand. She moaned softly, abandoning her seat to sit on his lap.

With a flick of his fingers Aziraphale closed the curtains, throwing his hat to the ground. He ran his hands along the black satin of the demon’s dress, tracing soft swirls along her back. Crowley snapped her fingers and suddenly there was a change in her and Aziraphale’s bodies. The angel felt a quivering starting in his loins where previous to that he had been just as sexless as the day he was born.

Instincts took over as Crowley straddled Aziraphale, now kissing him deeply and letting her forked tongue explore his mouth. He responded back in kind, running his hands over every bit of skin he could reach along her back. The angel wondered which set of human sexes they had been granted this time, excited to try something new. This was all so public, even though no one was watching them from the darkness. He felt his own begin to rise as Crowley rolled her hips aggressively over him. Biting his neck rough enough to bruise. Pain, just the right amount sent a wonderful shudder through him. His hands wound underneath her skirt, feeling the garters and silk panties that were beyond her stockings.

Nothing was there to rise, feeling over the mound there. Good to know. Aziraphale unhooked her garters to let her stockings fall to the wayside and unclipped the belt they were attached to.

“Oh angel, the things I will do to you. Tell me, how much do you want me?” Crowley whispered furtively, her breath becoming thick with lust. Her forked tongue flickered out of her mouth.

“I want you more than I want to actually read the Dickens book that we saved today. More than an actor wants attention.” The grinding was doing its job and Aziraphale could feel his cock stiff against the suit pants. White hot need burned in the pit of his gut. He covered the demons mouth with his, reaching under her skirts to stroke at her clit through the underwear.

He needed release and he needed it soon. The pressure that was building up within him was going to be too intense and soon he would be able to bear it no longer. Crowley was relentless, unbuttoning the fly of Aziraphale’s pants and pulling them down just enough that the long length of his newfound cock could be released from within after a quick tug took down the underwear. With a decisive hand, Crowley reached under her skirt to peel the high waistband downward on her own underwear. A flick of the wrist sent it flying.

“How much do you want me again, angel?” She purred, as his fingers worked a steady pulsing rhythm on her clit.

“I swear, I will explode right here if I don’t get a chance to bed you immediately,” Aziraphale moaned as the demon’s fingers slowly ran up and down his shaft, his cock twitching in her hands helplessly.

“Oh but what is in it for me?” She guided his fingers towards her opening, putting in one of his fingers, followed by a second.

“I will make you feel…pleasant?” Aziraphale blanked, the length of his dirty talk coming to an end and just knowing that he wanted to feel her upon his lap riding him right now. To feel her breath on his neck hitch and her whimper as she struggled not to scream in the middle of the theater. “Please, I don’t have words for it, but I’ll show you.”

“Oh close enough, angel.” Crowley conceded, climbing on top of him once more and thrusting his length roughly into her. Her hips rolled and it was Aziraphale who had to fight back the urge to scream. To muffle himself he flew forward, pressing his lips into her neck and his hands into her hips. He felt her rump as she moved and undulated for a moment before she moved one of his hands to move down her dress. Soft breasts met his hands and the angel moved his fingers underneath the bra to massage them as they rolled together.

Crowley’s breath became more strained as she moaned, “Teeth. Bite me angel. On the neck. As hard as you can.”

“But won’t I hurt you?” Concern flashed across Aziraphale’s face.

“Yes, that is the point.” She growled, her hips moving faster and faster til he felt like he was about to explode.

Aziraphale obeyed the orders gratefully, biting her hard enough to bruise on the right side of her neck as he felt the sharp wave of an orgasm wash over him. Crowley’s body tensed him as he bit and she whimpered into his ear as she rode him hard.

That was not to be the end, mind you. The cycle continued three more times, til both of them felt exhausted and were very done being human and messy. With a flick of her talons, Crowley dismissed the sexual organs. Aziraphale focused very hard and they were both in a bedroom, a familiar bedroom that was draped in black.

“All the way in London, angel?” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s neck as the angel laid down next to her on the bed. They could have miracled off their clothes, but even that felt like too much of an effort after the show they had just put on. They were cleaned up and that was really what mattered. And he had his book, which was promptly placed

“Well I wasn’t going to sleep in New York. It’s the City that Never Sleeps after all.” Aziraphale joked, feeling his eyelids be awful and heavy. With drowsy hands he moved the covers over both of them, glad that Crowley had invested in soft blankets despite the fact that both of them only slept as a hobby.

“Remind me to yell at you for that joke when we wake up,” mumbled Crowley, nesting closer to his angel. Aziraphale certainly didn’t mind considering how warm he was.

“I still wonder how they got my book.” Aziraphale queried as he draped his arms around the lovely demon in front of him.

“Oh that. Right. I arranged it. Figured it would be a good way to get you in the Vaudeville show and actually in New York. You’d never go to New York otherwise.” Crowley mumbled as Aziraphale nuzzled her ginger hair.

“Oh that’s wicked.” Aziraphale answered, but without any venom to his voice.

Crowley smirked, lazy and satisfied, “It worked didn’t it?”

The angel demurred softly as they both drifted off to sleep, the sound of bombs echoing in the London skies.

[metaphoricalplutowrites]

Tea, Apple Juice And Cookies

ao3 link   |   Masterlist

Authors note: So it took me months to finally finish typing up and editing this and i think it turned out pretty good! I always see Patton being the father so i thought i'd mix it up and have Roman being Patton's dad which was quite fun! I hope you guys love this fluff fest with like that mild injury. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope it comes across as good as well :D

Summary: Roman and his son Patton spend a relaxing day at home, spending time together and enjoying being in each other's company

Pairing(s): Platonic/familial Royality

Warnings: food mention, breif injury (not talked about in detail though just mentioned)

Words: 2,503

Tags: @novagalaxy4real @tree4life25 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2  @say-no-to-this-but-its-laurens @magicmapleleaf @moxiety--sanders101 @vrexemi @theresneverenoughfandoms  @patchworkofstars @iris-sanders-athena @awkward-andanxious @ravenclawicecream

As he crept around the back of the sofa, Patton made sure to keep a close eye on his father. He was small enough to be able to hide behind the large seat without being seen, but tall enough to have to crawl, for if he stood, his head would peep over the top and his plan would be ruined.

Just as the 7 year old managed to move directly behind his target, the man stood and took off to the kitchen. Change of plan. Making sure he was distracted, Patton attempted to ninja roll across the carpeted floor to get from the sofa to the wall that was joined to the kitchen.

It ended up being more of a log roll and scramble over, but Patton was proud of it. He placed his circular framed glasses back on his face and edged as quietly as he could down the hallway to the door and peered around the corner to see his dad standing in front of the kettle, waiting for it to ding.

It didn’t look as if he had been spotted yet, so his master plan was still in action. He tiptoed on the blue checker pattered lino floor of the kitchen, crouching ever so slightly as he thought it would make him stealthier. It was what everyone did in the cartoons at least!

He inched forward, holding his breath as he crept, a mischievous grin on his face. He continued and got closer to his tall father who still had his back turned. Closer and closer until-

“Surprise attack!” The child suddenly yelled and dived for the left leg and latched onto it, wrapping his whole body around it.

Roman, having heard his son’s antics from since they were in the sitting room till now, feigned surprise and gasped. “Ack! Where did you come from? I’m being attacked!” he yelled, looking down at his son, who wore dungarees, that were cut off just before the knee and had patched sewn on from different shows and cartoons he liked (such as a Totoro, a Steven Universe gem, a cat, a heart with glasses and a few other patches as well), with a pastel blue shirt, and was currently clinging onto his leg, beaming wickedly up at him. “Have mercy upon my leg!”

The boy giggled, “Your leg’s mine now!”

Roman put a hand to his forehead dramatically, “Alas! What ever shall I do! I have a small person stuck to my leg! How shall I ever be able to survive!”

Paton pouted, “I’m a prince, not just a… person!” then his face brightened up again and he laughed, “You’re trapped now!”

“Oh no!” Roman put his hands on his hips and smiled back at the young boy. “Guess I’ll just have to find some other way to get to the teabags!” his smile grew wider and he took a step with his right leg towards the teabag tin which was on the other side of the room. Then, with what he made look like all his strength, he hoisted his left leg with the extra weight and took another step, carrying Patton with it. Instantly, the room was filled with childlike screeches and laughter. Sounds that were like bells to Roman’s ears.

“Hnng,” he lifted Patton again and more high-pitched shouts rang. “No little Princes can defeat the mighty Roman!” he then moved his arms to show off what little muscle he had there.

The morning summer sunlight shining through the large window in front of the sink to the left of the pair cast a warm glow over the two. It reflected off Patton’s glasses and made his freckles stand out, his brownish-red hair catching the sun and lightening to almost a caramel colour. He was simply the most adorable child Roman had ever had (and the only child) as the boy giggled uncontrollably from where he held tight to Roman’s leg. He gazed down at his son and could feel his heart swell with love for his child.

After a few more steps, each one making Patton cling tighter, they made it to the tin. “Ha ha! Made it! I told you I was unstoppable,” Roman said triumphantly, taking out a bag, making a mental note to put teabags on the shopping list for later.

Patton’s eyes glinted mischievously, “now you gotta go back again.”

A sigh, “you are correct young Patton. How do you suppose I get back there then, hmm?”

“Tricky! Dark blue squares have sharks! Watch out for them,” Patton stated, still smiling.

“Sharks?” Roman exclaimed, “oh dear, this shall be a treacherous journey indeed! Hold on tight!”

And with that they were off again, Roman deciding to choose a long winded path to get back to the kettle. Halfway on their way back, it dinged to signal it had finished. Admittedly, he did almost fall into a pit of sharks on a few steps, but managed to keep balance easily, so he wasn’t attacked.

It didn’t take long to return to the counter with the teabag, so when they arrived, the water was still boiling hot. Roman dumped the teabag into his red mug which had a yellow crown on the side and looked down at his leg. “Would you like a drink Patty-cake?” He asked.

Patton hummed in thought for a moment. “Apple juice!” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Please!”

Roman obliged and went over to the fridge and took out the carton of apple juice. “And which cup shall you want today?”

“Totoro please!” said cup was retrieved from the cupboard above them; where all the other mugs were held. It was a glass cup with all the characters from the film ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ around the sides. He filled it up with apple juice then returned to making his own tea. After thoroughly mixing the teabag in the hot water and squeezing it out against the side of the mug, he took both the glass and the mug over to the table in the middle of the room.

“If you want your juice you’re gonna have to let go of my leg Pat,” Roman chuckled.

“Fiiine,” Patton detached himself reluctantly and climbed onto the chair across from his dad, who had gone to put milk in his tea and returned to the table again, stirring slowly and putting a curly-whirly straw in Patton’s glass.

The two sat in silence for a good few minutes, listening to the birds chirping outside and enjoying the warmth that the sunshine brought. A squirrel raced across the grass outside and up a tree.

“Cookies!” Patton exclaimed, making his father jump ever so slightly.

“Cookies?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Patton replied enthusiastically.

“What about them Patty?” Roman queried.

“Can we make them?” the boy said, excitedly jumping up and standing.

Roman raised an eyebrow as he warmed his hands on the outside of the mug. “Now?” Patton nodded vigorously, his glasses almost falling off in the process. “Alright then.”

Roman stood up and collected the old recipe book from its place atop a shelf on the wall. It was a tad worn down and torn in various places but that was only due to how often it had been picked up and used. He set it down on the table and with Patton standing next to him, flicked through the pages till he found the cat bookmark that marked the page which held the recipe for the cookies.

They split off to gather the ingredients, bringing them back to the large table and setting them down. Roman clapped once after they’d gotten everything and then together they started creating the mixture, measuring the ingredients with weighing scales that probably should have been replaced a while ago, and adding too many chocolate chips than was needed, but it wasn’t as if anyone else was going to find out anyways.

Then a baking tray was buttered and circles of the cookie mixture were placed onto it. Oven turned on, cookies placed in and timer set. Now all that was left was to wait.

And wait.

Aaaaaand wait.

Patton was growing bored by the second sitting in front of the oven, watching the cookies expand and rise slowly.

Roman, noticing his growing boredom spoke up. “Patton, would you be a gentleman and pick out a film for us to watch after these have finished baking?”

Patton paused, “but what if I don’t wanna be a gentleman…”

Roman just smiled, “then you don’t have to be, now run along you little piece of royalty and choose that film!”

The child beamed and dashed out the room racing to the DVD box and spending a few minutes deciding, then racing back to the kitchen with said DVD in hand.

“Got one!” He announced as he rushed back into the kitchen. “Can we watch Toto-”

His sentence was cut off as he tripped over his own feet and face planted into the floor. He had let go of the DVD and his glasses had come off but other than that, he thought he was ok. He got onto hands and knees, finding his glasses and putting them back onto his face. Standing back up he picked up the film and went over to his dad, who had just risen to see if Patton was ok.

As if nothing had happened, Patton smiled widely and repeated himself. “Can we watch Totoro?”

“For sure! What a brilliant choice of films! Are you ok though? It seemed as though you had a pretty nasty fall there Patty-cake,” Roman knelt down so he was level with the child to check whether he was ok or not.

“I’m ok!” Patton smiled, “though my knees do hurt a bit…”

Roman checked them and found a small graze on each. “Hmm, would you like to sit on the table while I assess the possible damage?” Patton nodded and Roman hoisted him up under his arms and sat him on the table with his legs hanging off the edge, which began to gently kick back and forth almost instantly.

He kneeled down again to have a closer look. “Hmm, doesn’t look too bad, looks like we won’t be removing any legs any time soon.” He smiled. “Although we may need to use a plaster,” he then stood up and went to the medicine cabinet. “Which one would you like?” he asked, pulling out a few tins, all of which had different animals on them.

“Cat please,” Roman nodded and brought over the pastel pink tin, putting the other ones back.

“I’m going to need to clean this first though, hold on, it won’t take long.” And then he started gently dabbing at the grazed knees, muttering encouragements as he could see Patton wincing. “You’re so brave, you know that pat?” he said as he put the biggest plaster he had over the scrapes, covering both kneecaps in a pastel pink plaster which had a white cartoon cat face in the middle of. “Want me to kiss it better?” Patton nodded. Roman did so, making as extra as he could, making Patton giggle. “May all your wounds heal again and become twice as strong!”

They were interrupted by the timer beeping at them, alerting them to the cookies being done. Patton hopped off the table to watch as Roman grabbed the pair of oven gloves and took the tray of cookies out, putting them onto a cooling rack to cool down. “Remember to wait till they’re cool to eat them, ok Pat?” Roman reminded him and he nodded.

“Yeah I know,” Patton replied with a smile.

Roman went back over to the table to pick up his mug, and then leaned against a counter, sipping the warm drink, enjoying the moment. Patton pushed himself forwards after a couple of minutes and went over to his dad. “You doing ok there padre?” Roman asked as he felt a weight on his feet and arms wrapping around both of his legs. He looked down to see Patton smiling up at him. He chuckled softly. “And now what might you be doing Pat-Pat?” Roman wrapped his arms around the child ever so gently.

“Standing on your feet,” Patton answered, smiling wider, if that was even possible.

“It seems so. Why might you be doing so, young one?” Roman replied.

“Cuz I felt like it,” Patton said. Roman hummed in thought, then started rocking from side to side like a penguin would, both pairs of feet being lifted one after the other, Patton’s feet so much smaller than Roman’s own. Bouts of cheerful glee rang like bells and the magic of a child’s laugh filled the room, Roman’s own deep laugh joining in as well. They swayed for a few minutes, ending up going in large circles in the space, turning all over the place, till they got dizzy and had to stop, but the laughter carried on nevertheless.

Then Patton lifted his arms and his dad reached under his armpits and effortlessly lifted him in to the air, much like how a character in a recent Ghibli film they’d watched was. Patton was then spun round again and dropped into his father’s safe arms, being held close, the two hugging one another tightly. There was a warm atmosphere, between the sun and their love for one another.

“You’re gonna grow up to be someone great one day, I know you will.” Roman said, eyes closed as he pressed his son’s head to his neck, holding him tighter, but not too tight, in a comforting loving way. “The road may become rough, but I know you’ll be the best you that you can be.” The two smiled, eyes blocking out the rest of the world as they were closed and they existed only in the embrace they shared. Nothing would be able to break the close bond the two shared, as father with son.

And so the rest of the day was spent watching films, in the company of each other, relaxing in the summer warmth and the glow the sun gave through the windows. Many cookies were eaten and by the 4th film, they were growing quite tired, both laying on the sofa, Patton’s head in his father’s lap.

“Hey dad?” he spoke up quietly.

Roman paused in running his hand lovingly through the child’s hair. “Yeah kiddo?” He replied

“I love you,” Patton turned to smile at Roman, rolling over to hug him round the waist. Roman leaned over and hugged Patton back.

“I love you too, Patton.” He replied, and then they continued watching the film.

Even if Patton grew older and became less dependent on Roman, their bond would never change. They would both continue loving each other, even if one day Patton might get married, he would always love his dad, the man who was there for him through thick and thin.

But for now there was the quiet moments and joys of youthful childhood, moments filled with tea, apple juice and cookies.

[ninaahelvar]

The Blood On Our Hands (3/16)

Summary: Owen is a soldier, the captain of Alpha Team. Claire is one of the leading surgeons at her hospital. When Fate pulls them together, it pulls them apart just as easily. But they never seem to drift very far.

AO3

A/N: New chapters coming in the new year! I would hope for chapter 4 this year, but gotta pace myself! Enjoy this! I love this fic a lot! So, as always, my girl Clare (@doesitsaysassonmyuniform​) fucking pulling through with the edits this time around and killing me with her beta abilities.

It felt slow, the way the hot air moved past her, as Owen took strides towards the doctors and nurses. Claire felt frozen, the heat sticking her into place. It wasn’t as if Claire never wanted to see him again - hell, she didn’t really want to break up with him, if one could call it that. For her, it was the unrealistic standards she placed - stuck between wanting him and feeling hurt by his absence. And now, he’s here…and he’s so close. Claire couldn’t even be happy about it. At least he was alive.

“Isn’t that -” Claire heard Zia say.

“Yep,” Karen replied.

“And he just -”

“Yep.”

“Oh, she is gonna love this,” Zia scoffed, covering her mouth as Owen stood right beside Claire’s scarf, it sitting right next to him as though it waited for him specifically. Putting his hands on his hips, Claire watched his back, the strong build and perfectly square shoulders of a man with control written into his body.

“During your stay in Syria, The Descendants Camp will be in charge of your safety. I’m the Commander, Captain Owen Grady. Welcome.” He nodded, and the group of doctors replied with haphazard hellos and greetings. The other soldier that Claire had met - Alec, stepped forward.

“From here to our destination with Descendants, we’ll be moving in the CH47 behind us,” he explained, gesturing to the three other soldiers to move to the group,“you can only carry what you can fit in the duffle bags we’ve provided for you,” he explained. “The rest will be flown to us tomorrow evening, so don’t worry about anything - it will come to you soon,” he reassured. “We’ll be leaving ten minutes from now, so be quick,” Owen looked down to his feet, noticing the scarf and bending to pick it up. He looked back at Claire and walked to her slowly.

“His boots hit the ground in heavy thuds, and only stopped once he was a few feet from Claire.” He looked to her before extending the scard. Claire looked down at it, reaching for it tentatively. When grabbing it, her fingers grazed his, barely even touched, but it was enough for both of them to sigh at the interaction.

Owen didn’t say a word as he handed over the scarf. Claire didn’t even know how to respond to him -  with the way he seemed to look beyond her. She felt like she was nothing in his eyes. They parted as Claire had to pack her bag along with the rest of the medical staff. She clutched at the scarf as she shoved it into her bag and did her best not to sneak looks at the man.

Karen tried to talk to Claire the entire trip over to the camp, but the roar of the engines drowned out all conversation. Through the flight, Claire looked at her hands, not wanting to face her sister, and knowing if she remotely glanced at the soldier at the other end of the helicopter that everyone would ask questions. She felt too uncomfortable to even think about looking up to anyone.

Claire walked past the soldiers, only to be led by the youngest of the five in the company. He introduced himself as Cian, which Claire managed to say correctly to his surprise. The Irish and Scottish bloodlines were strong with them, and the pair laughed at the joint connection. It felt somewhat relieving to be able to get a conversation with someone that wasn’t going to be about how awkward this was. He was nice, and seemed to have an easy going spirit about him. He seemed less strict than the others around the doctors, willing to have a laugh at this moment rather than the rest who had square shoulders and didn’t allow themselves to breathe.

The walk from the chopper to the middle of the camp was short, but worth the heat as they arrived, the waiting soldiers beamed and yelled “Welcome!” as they all appeared. The soldiers raced over, greeting each with their code name, and where they were stationed - apparently for security reasons. The women suspected otherwise. It was a lot to take in all at once, but it seemed as though all the single men wanted to chat with the female doctors and nurses amongst those stationed there. All the girls laughed, except for Zia who asked bluntly where the female soldiers were.

One of the soldiers, Barry (or Snoopy as the others referred to him), led Karen and Claire to their own tent, giving them some basic information on the camp and how it ran. Their tent was with the other doctors and nurses, and on the other side of the the med containers which would be constructed within the next day or two. At one end of the camp was the dining area with a large table for lunch, and breakfast and dinner would be held in the chapel, on the other side of the camp. After that, he saluted the women and left.

The tent was a large size - big enough to stand and walk around in, with two cots on either side and a shelves for each person to put their things in. It was a reasonable spot to sleep, but Claire fell asleep on the floor most nights, so who was she to judge. Karen heaved her duffle onto Claire’s bed and collapsed down onto it, smiling up at her sister. She took up the entire bed, and Claire rolled her eyes. Picking up her own duffle, Claire threw it onto Karen, who groaned at the sudden crash of weight onto her. Claire laughed, watching her sister curl a little.

“Not much to put away when our stuff hasn’t arrived,” Karen groaned, sitting up right as she rubbed at her stomach.

“I’m too tired to do anything anyway,” Claire shrugged, sitting down next to Karen, who looked at her through squinting eyes.

“Knock, knock,” a voice sounded, before moving past the fabric of their large tent. The sisters stood and looked to the soldier that couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. He looked younger than other soldiers. “How have you been?” he asked with a bright smile on his face. Claire and Karen looked at each other, trying to see if either of them knew him. “Don’t you remember me?” he asked, clearing his throat. He was average height, dark brown hair with golden hazel eyes. Claire felt like she... “I uh...ran away from the ER,” he said with a laugh and Claire covered her mouth.

“Oh! The phone thief!” she exclaimed. Karen chuckled, beaming as she recognised him.

“Private Rickard Dunn. Yes, that’s me,” he stated, before turning into

“What are you doing here? It’s so weird,” Karen said, looking at him fondly like he was her child.

“I know,” Claire agreed. “Jump up and down,” she nodded and Rickard frowned.

“What?”

“Was it your right ankle?” Claire tried to remember.

“Ah!” Rickard realised before jumping as high as he could up and down, landing heavily on his ankles. “Thanks to you I got fit and healthy and joined,” he said, breathing a little heavier and smiling to the sisters.

“You don’t steal anymore do you?” Karen asked, crossing her arms. Rickard waved it off.

“Nah, it was a hard time back then, but I’m living a better life now,” he explained and the sisters looked at each other before pouncing on the unsuspecting soldier. They hugged him tightly and told him to act right for the rest of the time the see him. He laughed and nodded to their request.

After they had unpacked their duffles, the two separated, as Claire wanted to make sure she knew the paths to take to and from each area as effectively as possible. If she could anticipate how to get places, she could probably successfully avoid a certain person. Claire wasn’t someone to shy away from people or awkward situations, but this...was different. It was incomplete from when they ended and felt even more so. They weren’t even together and it felt like they were.

Lost in thought, Claire tripped slightly, feeling the rubble of the dirt ground in her shoe. Untying her shoelaces, she took her shoe off and inspected inside, dumping it out on the ground. Before she realised it, she was being passed by Owen. In his hands he held a box, seemingly looking at the wrapping as he walked straight past her as though she never existed. He went inside the chapel and Claire lost sight of him.

Huffing, a little irritated by the non-exchange, Claire put her shoe back on and walked off to find anything else to do. Anything would be better at that moment.

*~*~*

Owen hid against the wall in the chapel, watching Claire from the mirror on the inside. It was positioned perfectly on her. He watched as she angrily put on her sneaker and move off. Owen hit his head against the wall and he looked at the box again. He really wished this was for him. Of all the things Owen knew, ignoring her was not one of them - give it up to heartbreak or a missed chance - he didn’t want to fall into those sudden feelings again. But she was Claire....a beautiful, breathtaking woman that stunned him with only a look.

Walking up the stairs to the office, seeing Alec on the computer, typing away on some report that Owen probably failed to write. Smacking the package down, Owen pushed it towards Alec. He continued to work and not pay attention to the box that sat in front of him. Owen cleared his throat and pushed the box again.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked. Alec glanced at it before going back to work.

“I’ll open it later.”

Owen clicked his tongue, “Nope. Not gonna happen. I can’t wait,” he said, hands on his hips “what if it’s chocolate?”

“It’s probably an explosive,” Alec replied, no change in tone. Owen groaned.

“You only die once,” he said, and Alec looked up at Owen, confused. Owen stepped back and said “let’s open it.”

Alec chuckled, standing and opening up the package. He started smiling, taking out some gifts. “Beef jerky for Lowery. Guitar strings for Cian. And Barry’s shows he’s missed on DVD.” Owen jumped forward, taking the beef jerky and taking a piece between his teeth, chewing on it as he looked at all the presents.

“You dumped her and yet she’s sending all of us gifts. What does she see in you?” Owen asked, sighing as he looked at the descriptions on some of the dramas Barry had got. “Where’s my present?” he asked. Alec reached in and pulled out a letter.

“Here.” Alec shoved the box into Owen’s hands. Empty. The box was empty.

“She’s unbelievable,” Owen scoffed, watching as Alec read through the letter, it seemed short - a small piece of paper with little writing on it. “By the way, she didn’t get you anything,” he mentioned as Alec folded the piece of paper back over.

“My present is on its way,” he said softly before turning to Owen. “I think Lieutenant Young is coming here.” Owen leaned on the desk, folded his arms and smirked at Alec.

“You’re shitting me,” he scoffed and Alec shook his head, handing over the letter.

See you soon - Z

*~*~*

“Sir, Lieutenant Zara Young was ordered to transfer to Syria with the Descendant company as a member of the medical team.” Zara’s father sat in his chair, looking coldly at her. When she was young, it frightened her when he gave her such a look. As she grew, she just understood that was her dad; cold, unfeeling, very protective. Being raised by her English mother, Zara had a mostly British accent, and rarely spilled to her American. Even with her dual citizenship, many people thought she was strictly from the UK. Until the army. Her father pressured her to go into medicine to work as a doctor in warzones. She complied. It was some of the only time that her father took much interest in her.  

“I’ll return safe and sound,” she commented as he remained silent. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, cautiously.

“You have to go there,”he said, and Zara knew what his tone meant; don’t go. I know who's there and I don’t want you around him.

“Yes sir, I’m happy to go,” she said, confident in her conviction.

“Like I’ve told you hundreds of times before. I like Owen Grady. He’s General material. I want him to be apart of this family,” he said bluntly, and Zara’s hands bound together behind her back. “You do realise you’re making Alec Warren’s life more difficult,” he explained, putting his hands together. Zara huffed, squaring her shoulders and challenging him.

“You can’t pull rank when dealing with this, General. Do you want to lose one of your best men?” she asked.

“He understood me and decided to remain a soldier,” he said, Zara sucked in a breath.

“I’m still mad at him about that. But he’s a real soldier, and I love him for that. I’m holding onto that man,” she said, and her father shifted uncomfortably. “If you interfere with my transfer, you’ll lose more than just Lieutenant Young, you’ll lose a daughter too,” she spat, and she finally watched Craig Young look frightened. “Sir.”

Zara saluted him, turning on her heels sharply, and walking out of his office, not waiting for his order.

*~*~*

Claire huffed, phone pressed to her ear as she walked around some of the ruins towards the fence around the camp. On the other end, Vivian talked about the hospital. On Claire’s end, she talked about how awkward this all waas. “Really? Zara’s boyfriend and that guy are there?” she asked.

“Yes! I was so nervous at the airport, I basically froze the moment I saw him. How pathetic,” Claire chuckled, feeling her chest go tight as she thought of how they interacted.

“You know, it could be destiny that you’ve been reunited like this,” she teased and Claire rolled her eyes, “aren’t you happy to see him?” Claire kicked at the ground, watching as the stones around her feet moved a few feet in front of her. She shrugged, trying to work through it all herself.

“Not really. It’s kinda awkward. The last time I saw him, I dumped him in a coffee shop before we even finished one date. It’s just sad,” she explained, sighing out her discomfort.

“Hello?” she heard Vivian say. “Claire, can you hear me?”

“Viv? Hello?” Claire said as the line failed. “Ah!”  Looking down, she realised there was no way she was getting any sort of connection back up. At least not at this side of the camp. “I guess this is the middle of nowhere,” she sighed, putting her phone away and glancing around at her surroundings. It was a dusty and barren place, where something could have grown a long time ago, but it was just dirt and dust now.

Up along the side of the camp sat an old army tank, left and now overgrown with weeds and grass. It was a stark contrast to the camp itself that lacked all of that. Across the area little kids roamed, playing with things they’d found and speaking Arabic to one another. Claire hadn’t learnt Arabic and knew very little of the language at all. She watched them happily play, until she saw one start to lick at metal from the ground, another trying to also taste the old thing.

“Hey! Hey, don’t lick that. It’ll make you sick,” Claire called out, and the pair looked to her before continuing to lick at the scrap. Claire started to climb over the fence, “wait there,” she said, jumping over and walking over to the children. Handing over a fruit bar, she took the toxic thing from the child’s hand. “Here,” she said, and the girl smiled as she unravelled the bar.

Before Claire knew it, she was being surrounded by the kids, asked something in a language she couldn’t understand. They tugged on her jacket, hands raised up to her face and the same word repeated to her as they begged for something. She couldn’t figure it out, and it felt claustrophobic to stand in the middle of ten kids, desperate for food.

“If you don’t have enough for everyone, don’t give them anything,” Owen’s voice spooked her and Claire stiffened. She relaxed as he walked over. He pointed back to fence, where a sign read ‘restricted zone’ indicating that she shouldn’t be over the barrier. “You don’t listen to many rules, do you?” he asked, hands on his hips.

“I didn’t -”

Claire didn’t get to finish what she was saying when Owen suddenly started speaking Arabic, the kids listening intently as he spoke softly. He didn’t seem intimidating, more of guidance in his words. Then, they all suddenly replied, cheering as they raced off to a section of the fence where they could get through. Claire watched them all sneak into the camp and she turned to him.

“What did you tell them?” she asked and Owen shrugged.

“If they didn’t go away, I’d start shooting them,” he said, barely changing his expression. Claire scoffed.

“Don’t lie to me, you’re not good at it,” she crossed her arms and Owen stepped in towards her, invading her space and making her suck in a breath. Why, after everything, did he make her feel so nervous, like a teenage crush?

“I call this a joke,” he said, leaning in and tilting his head to her, waiting for her response. Claire rolled her eyes and began walking away to the entrance the kids walked through. A few steps away from Owen, she immediately stopped, hearing a metallic click underneath her foot. She felt the shift and the definite click from something being pressed on.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, turning back to Owen. He was heading towards the fence they had both climbed over and turned back to her when she spoke.

“What?”

“Something made a noise under my foot,” she said, and Owen frowned, walking to her slowly. It suddenly dawned on her the magnitude of the situation. Her heart started to pound, her hands started to shake, and she was riddled with fear. A foreign feeling, but one that made her so fucking anxious she could barely get her words out. “You said this place was restricted, why is it restricted?” she asked, voice shaking. Owen replied without hesitation.

“There are landmines aro-”

“Did I just step on a landmine?” she exclaimed loudly. Owen stopped, lips pursing as he looked down at her feet. Claire couldn’t bring herself to look. “What do I do?” she squeaked. Then, Owen started to smile, standing where he was and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Owen!” Claire felt herself start to shake, everything but her foot. She could feel herself breaking, everything coming down and her whole body feeling like a tightly coiled mess. “What do I do?” she asked, a little more desperately and Owen started to crack, chuckling a little under his breath. “Please stop being an asshole and tell me what to do!” she begged, pleading with him for an answer.

“Don’t mo-” he started before cracking up again, his hands on his knees, smacking them as his laughs got harder.

“Are you laughing at me right now? Are you seriously laughing at me!” she screamed, her voice going hoarse and her eyes beginning to water.

“I’m sorry just,” Owen cleared his throat, before stepping towards her, “here,” he said, invading her space, foot shifting right next to hers, and their bodies pressed up against one another. To save herself from falling, Claire clutched tightly onto his shoulders, his hands still on his hips.

“W-what are you doing?” she stuttered.

“Getting you…” he said slowly, pushing her backwards and himself stepping with her. She was about to protest and pulled herself into his chest and braced for whatever was to come. Eyes shut, she clutched tighter to him. “To step off metal,” he finished, and Claire’s eyes flashed open.

“What?” Claire said, looking around them, untouched by anything. She looked up to Owen who was smiling down at her. “You knew!” she yelled, pushing on his chest. Rubbing at where her hands hit him, he chuckled.

“We deactivate all the mines around the camp,” he explained, and Claire huffed, the dam walls finally breaking, and the tears started to fall down her cheeks. Owen’s attitude suddenly changed, softening gently as he realised something was wrong.

“Go fuck yourself,” she swore, moving towards the fence and jumping back over it.

“Hey!” Owen said, running over and jumping over after her. Claire shoved him against the fence, pushing and hitting at him in every way she could.

“You could have said something to not make me panic! Your bedside manner sucks ass,” she said through a shaking voice, and her punches getting softer as her resolved weakened. Tears made her so fucking weak. She turned on her heels and went back to the camp.

“I’m sorry, hey!” he yelled after her. Claire hurried her steps, trying to keep a distance between them.

Claire could smell a festive barbeque raging, coming to the main area to see all members of the camp and some of the kids from before sitting around. Walking past the group, Karen called out to her, “Come join us, Claire! The steaks are amazing!” Claire let her hair fall in front of her face, clearing her throat as she called back.

“Save some for me! I’ll be right there,” she tried to sound put together, but she could hear the crack in her own voice. Moving towards the drinking fountain, she used the pump to dredge up the water and it sprayed into the large clean bucket. Claire splashed at her face as she heard a conversation behind her.

“How did you go?” Alec asked someone.

“I made her cry,” Owen replied in a murmured tone. It was a strange voice for him, somewhat ashamed of himself.

“Already. Wow. You work quick,” Alec scoffed.

“Shut up,” Owen spat back to Alec’s laugh. Claire dried her face before walking to the tents. She just wanted to hide for now. “Hey,” Owen called behind her and Claire rushed off, only to have her elbow pulled back softly and Owen to barge in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised and Claire rolled her eyes.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped, and Owen kept getting in front of her, walking backwards and eyes pleading with her.

“I’m used to fooling around with the guys. I crossed a line,” he explained, and Claire didn’t want to fall for those green eyes that mixed with worry and sadness. She could forgive them a thousand times if they looked at her anymore. But at that moment, she couldn’t. She had her pride wounded, and he laughed at her worry.

“Yeah, you did!” she replied.

“I’m really sorry,” Owen defended, hands raised slightly. She could attack him, beat him, and she would guess he’d still apologise to her.

“Okay,” she nodded.

The national anthem started to play, the sound ringing over a loudspeaker in the camp. Every soldier suddenly stood and saluted. Claire was about to walk past Owen when he raised his arm to his forehead, staring off into the distance. She looked at this man - someone she knew to be completely full of himself, out for a laugh and joy radiating off of him, to someone who stood so proudly, he couldn’t be anything other than a strict and noble soldier. Owen suddenly took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards the flag that hunt over the chapel.

There was silence as no one sang, the song continued to play, and the rest of the staff stood, watching the flag solemnly. “It’s really good seeing you again,” Owen said softly, an affection in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. Owen had usually flirted with her, or been outright unfeeling to her. This, a moment of clarity or desperation, he confessed when she couldn’t see him. Maybe it was the only way he could be truthful with her - when her eyes didn’t burn into him, trying to see beneath the surface.

She could relate.

It was the same way for her.

Claire wasn’t sure how to respond, so she stayed silent, letting the anthem finish and staying as close to him as possible. It was her way of saying the same thing. She just couldn’t get her voice out.

Not now anyway.

They managed to stay apart for the remainder of the day, Karen taking Claire aside and talking with her for the rest of the night. Claire didn’t mind - she actually found it rather comforting that her sister was here too, just so she could vent about all this mess instead of holding it all in.

“So, wait, he tricked you?” Karen asked, and Claire huffed, her head in Karen’s lap and looking up at her sister. They shared their large container of twizzlers, Karen putting a piece of her butterfingers bar in between her teeth as she looked down at her sister. Claire’s teeth tugged on the twizzlers, chewing on it as she got more comfortable.

“He just laughed, he didn’t warn me or tell me, it felt cruel,” she said, crossing her arms, and her brow furrow tightly.

“Well, to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Karen said and Claire sat up abruptly. “He’s been out here for eight months, he knows this camp better than anyone, and he’s used to it being safe,” Karen explained, and shrugged, “and he’s used to joking with guys...who are generally dicks,” to which Claire laughed, concealing her squeaks as Karen shrugged, “...he probably didn’t realise you’d act like such a little bitch.” Karen smirked, biting at her lip as Claire grabbed at a pillow and swatted her sister with it.

“Hey!”

“Look, Claire,” Karen laughed, taking the pillow and protecting herself, “sometimes your walls are so high, it’s hard to see past them,” she said and Claire sucked in a breath, “he saw you with your walls all the way down, and he liked it,” Karen smiled, leaning on the pillow.

“Yeah, men always like a vulnerable woman,” Claire scoffed.

“I think Owen knows you don’t need saving, but maybe he just liked seeing you a little more human,” Karen laughed, throwing the pillow back to Claire, and moving off of Claire’s cot to move to her own. Claire was left in her bed, their lantern dimming as the night drew in, and she was left with her thoughts, wondering if every day was going to be like her first. Clutching to her pillow, Claire cuddled it, hoping her time here would go as quickly as possible.  

In the morning, Claire, Karen, and Zia stood around, brushing their teeth as the soldiers were coming around for their path. Their chanting had woken up the girls, and admittedly, the sisters had been watching them go around the last four times. And each time, the soldiers smiled and waved to the doctors. Zia had even eyed her own soldier at the back.

“I think they do this every morning,” Karen said, leaning on the gate of the medical staff zone, her teeth freshly brushed. Claire spat out the excess toothpaste in her mouth and joined Karen.

“If they do this every day, I’ll never leave,” Claire sighed dramatically. Karen laughed and continued to watch the distant soldiers as they were coming closer. Shirtless, beautiful soldiers. The female soldier wore a tank top, but Zia didn’t seem to mind. She had a good imagination.

“Let me know what your plan is so I can move into your old apartment,” Zia laughed behind them at the large bowl of water, still trying to find the soldier of her liking. She was washing her face that morning, and squinting without her glasses.

They didn’t notice the captain walking up to them. He met at Claire’s side on the other side of the gate, and he waved in her face as she continued to watch the men. Then, Owen got into her line of sight, and blocked the view completely.

“I guess they woke you up,” he said, almost like an apology.

“Yeah, can you just move to the side a little bit,” she said, going on her toes, looking past his soldier as they started to run down the hill and wave to the ladies beyond the gate.

“What’s the schedule for the medical service team?” Owen asked, and Claire ignored him, paying closer attention to the men jogging by.

“Morning or afternoon?” she said, absentmindedly, and caught the sight of amazing muscular backs. God they were beautiful.

“Everyone,” Owen suddenly ordered and the group stopped.

“Sir!” They all replied in sync.

“You’re dismissed, stop running for the day,” he said, and the group saluted him.

“Yes sir!” The soldiers all started to run off, keeping their attention on their destination and were clear from Claire’s vision in only a few moments.

“You’re a buzzkill,” Claire grumbled.

“Both morning and afternoon, what’s your schedule?” he asked, his smirk making sure she knew; I’m your centre of attention now.

*

The medical team all loaded into the med centre, a collection of shipping containers all opened up to create a working space for a little clinic, as well as an operating room towards the back in its own container, in case of major injury. In a nice white and pale blue striped dress, covered by the medical team vest, Claire was feeling a little more in her element. Claire and Zia went over the day - blood tests for all the soldiers, making sure they’re fit and healthy, as well as treating minor injuries and concerns from the construction crew working on the power plant.

Walking to her desk, some soldiers already sitting at clinic tables with respective doctors, and a bunch more waiting, Claire noticed them following her to her table. Sitting down, she realised that the horde of them followed her and were begging for her to treat them.

“It’ll hurt a lot more if I draw blood,” she laughed, as Cian poked out his arm to her.

“I don’t mind pain, ma’am,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Cian, I think you’re a flirt,” Claire rolled her eyes, getting the instruments ready in a tray.

“Naturally,” he winked, before suddenly freaking out, “don’t tell my girlfriend, I flirt with everything,” he shrugged, and Claire shook her head. Then, the sea of men parted for Owen, who walked in behind them.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sir,” The group saluted, and he nodded his response. He saw Claire and turned, moving slowly to another desk.

“Excuse me! Yeah, Captain, you,” Claire called and Owen turned back, “don’t just leave, everyone needs blood drawn,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of her, and Owen walked awkwardly back to her. Claire put a tourniquet around Owen’s bicep, and prepped his arm.

“It’ll sting a bit,” she said, looking for the spot on the ridge of his elbow where she could stick the needle in. She jabbed at one point and Owen hissed suddenly, “that’s strange, I can’t find a vein,” she said, and Owen leaned in slowly, glancing around to the men that were watching this all very intently.

“I always carry a gun. A fully loaded gun,” he whispered to her.

“Do you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then shoot me,” she shrugged and Owen straightened as Claire tried again.  “is this it?”

“Ah!” he hissed, “if you’re still mad at me about what happened yesterday,” he said slowly.

“I’m not as petty as you think,” she smiled, looking down at his arm again, “is this it -”

“It’s here,” he said, sticking the needle perfectly into his arm. Claire sat stunned, looking back to him and he smiled to her, “put the blood bottle in already.”

“Right,” Claire said, clearing her throat, finding the blood bottles and putting them at the end to finally draw the blood. Owen watched her, and a wave of embarrassment washed over Claire - she concentrated on his arm and nothing more.

As Claire was putting a bandage on his arm, there was a loud crash somewhere near the camp that made the entire med centre jump. Doctors became more alert and the soldiers seemed a little more at attention - two different responses, but one of instinct in both regards. Owen got his communicator, patching through to a desired frequency and called to the receiving end.

“This is the captain, what’s happening at the front gate?” he asked sternly. Claire watched Owen as his features changed. She wasn’t sure how he had so many different sides of him; playful and stern, kind and unfeeling, joy and void of emotion. Maybe it was how he felt when he saw her the day before; the sides he never got to see, he enjoyed the more.

“Front gate is fine. There’s been a car accident on a mountain road,” Alec’s voice radioed through from the other end.

“One of the construction crews trucks may have rolled,” Cian offered and Owen took in a deep breath. He gestured to his own team and a few others, making his way out of the med clinic and having the other soldiers in toe. Claire watched him

*~*~*

They came upon the crash site quickly, the van turned over several times and down an embankment. They drove there quickly from the camp, and hopped out to try and assess the damage from the top of the ridge. There was little smoke coming from the van, but they couldn’t be sure from the distance they were. From where they stood, it looked to be a UN truck, tipped onto its side.

“It looks like a UN cargo truck,” Alec said, “we’ll approach and see if there are any survivors,” he said to the following soldiers. Owen nodded to the orders given. He and Alec thought alike - their orders were always the same. Walking down the steep incline, Alec went ahead and saw one of the doors opening on the side of truck.

“Freeze! Hands up!” he ordered, gun at the ready. On the ground, a little battered and bruised sat a young person, fair skin - probably American. Owen couldn’t see him fully, only from behind as he went to the other side, and saw the other UN worker. Dead in his seat. Tattoo on his arm - one he recognised. T-shirt too tight. Glancing to the other, his shirt was far too loose.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m UN. UN.” He raised his hands. Owen snuck inside the truck, past the dead driver, and unhooked the keys from the ignition. “I’m hurt, treatment,” the UN worker told them, reaching inside the trust and going for the opposite side. He was reaching for the keys. When he saw they weren’t there, he groaned.

“I’m going to assume you’re looking for these,” Owen said, tossing Alec the keys. Owen took Alec’s place as he rounded the back, opening up the padlocked trust. They seemed to be tossing a lot of stuff around - heavy equipment. Before they could investigate themselves, the UN worker turned to them abruptly with a gun in his hand. Owen disarmed him quickly, smacking the gun across the man’s face.

“Isn’t he a UN relief worker?” Cian asked, cautious of the situation. Owen had seemingly just struck a civilian.

“Relief workers aren’t allowed to carry firearms,” Owen corrected, disassembling the gun, “this doesn’t feel right,” he said, looking down at the disgruntled man.

“The guns shipment in the back doesn’t either,” Alec said, holding up a SCAR-H sniper.

“Call local,” Owen ordered and Lowery moved to action. Cian took out his gun and aimed it at the UN worker.

They waited for the local police to come, radioed ahead and gotten all the information they needed. Everything else was up to the police, and the US had no more jurisdiction on the matter. The minute they handed everything over, it was no longer their concern.

“I checked with the UN and their IDs and vehicle are all fake,” Owen said in Arabic - or as close to the phrase as he could.

“We appreciate all your help,” The officer replied, saluting Owen, and he did the same. As they parted ways, the fake UN worker in the backseat almost seemed pleased….and Owen’s gut twisted as the car pulled away.

“We have to report this to headquarters,” Alec reminded Owen, to which he sighed.

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Owen scratched his head and Alec shoved his shoulder, shaking his head back to his captain. Owen smiled.

*~*~*

Claire’s day felt long, one soldier after the other, construction workers coming in with small injuries and just little things that took barely any of her attention - it was slow, and so unlike what she was used to. She liked the rush of emergency, the ache in her back even when she hated it - she liked the blood of it all. This, this foreign country provided worse material than what the TV gig was doing for her. Claire went to the water fountain outside, pumping the water into the large container, and washing her hands. She pushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, letting herself bathe in the sun, sweat beading on her skin in odd spots.

It felt like a long day - but it wasn’t even midday. Claire sighed, bringing herself to sit next to the water basin, and sighing. Maybe she craved the chaos of it all, the simplicity so mundane to her now that she couldn’t live without the anxiety of a messy accident. Maybe it was wrong to wish for an accident - but she wondered if she’d get any of that here, or if she would merely suffer through this experience from start to finish.

“Sir,” Soldiers saluted and as Claire’s attention rose up, she saw Owen walking beside Alec, quietly discussing something amongst themselves.

“Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?” Claire asked, walking quickly over to them.

“It was a simple traffic accident. No need to worry,” Owen said, hands on his hips, and Claire was suddenly aware of how broad he was. Had it really never occurred to her before this moment that Owen was actually built to look like a marble statue? He stood tall with his stance strong and all his features carved to perfection. It was unreal.

“Are you okay? We’ve all worked in the emergency room before, so we’re prepared,” she asked, looking back to his face and trying to remain calm. She was barely holding it together. She should have been better at this. Owen smiled, nodding along.

“That’s good, I need to get going though,” he said, clearing his throat and looking towards his partner. “I’m off to headquarters,” he said to Alec and Claire nodded, trying her hardest not to say goodbye - she didn’t have to be polite.

“Alright,” Alec replied.

“Sorry. Alec, right? Can you tell me the wifi password?” Claire asked, reaching for her phone. Alec’s brow furrowed.

“Wifi password? Sorry, it’s against regulations for civilians to use army Wi-Fi,” he explained, and Claire grit her teeth.

“Ah, okay,” she sighed, kicking her foot in the dirt.

“There are internet cafes in town if you need them,” Alec explained, and suddenly Owen started to walk over, eyes wide and expression stern and angry. “Captain Grady is going past and can show you,” he said, looking to his captain, saluting him. “Sir,” Alec smiled and Claire could tell this was Alec’s way of shoving the pair together. Owen cleared his throat before gesturing towards the car. Claire nodded and headed over to it.

The car trip between them was mostly silent. It felt as though the two didn’t want to speak to each other - air so thick with tension that it made both of them cling to their side of the vehicle. Claire called ahead, trying to avoid the awful way the car fumed with this energy. She was messaged by Vivian, giving her contacts to lease a small clinic around Jacksonville. Calling the number, Claire talked at length with the woman on the other end.

“Yeah, I can send a deposit now,” she said, “I’m out of the country but I can do it online,” explaining further, “I’ll send it within the next hour and text you.” After all the details were confirmed, Claire put her phone in her lap, sitting back in the stewing tension.

Owen cleared his throat. “Are you moving?”

“No, I’m opening my own clinic,” she explained.

“Because of the fling with you and the owner?”

Claire turned to him sharply. “How do you know about that?”

“Whenever you’re not around, that’s all the rest of them talk about,” he said and Claire huffed, sinking down into her seat. “Heard from Karen that you kicked him in the crotch. Nice,” he said and Claire couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah well, that kick sent me here,” she said, scratching her face. Hiding her face from Owen, she looked out the window, seeing a small painted billboard on the side of the road. It advertised a beach with crystal waters and something on the crescent sands. “What’s that?” she asked, Owen peered to her side of the window and shook his head.

“It’s too far,” he said back. Claire folded her arms.

“I didn’t ask how far.” They sat in silence, driving past the billboard and continuing into town, the sea nearby and the air so crisp, it made Claire want to jump straight into it. Owen gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly, keeping his concentration on the road, and it seemed inappropriate to interrupt whatever he was thinking about.

In the town, Owen’s car came to sudden halt and Claire jerked in her seat. He glanced over her until his hand pressed to her forehead and pushed her back to see past her.

“You just need internet right?” he asked, and Claire shoved his hand from her skin. She cleaned her head as much as possible - the faint feeling of dirt or sweat sticking despite her efforts. She gave up, and turned to glare at him.

“Can you not put your hand on my head?” she spat and Owen turned off the car. He was already out of the car before Claire could ask him what was going on. He rounded the car, and opened the door for her.

Leading the way, Owen brought her to a one story building, with a patch of grass in the front as though it were a residential area. It wasn’t like the rest of the homes, just a little ways out, kind of out of sight but still accessible by the public. Pushing the door open, they walked in. Across the room were metal shelves lined with car parts, medical instruments, different currencies and passports to be made on location. Owen didn’t seem phased by any of it, but Claire looked through the mess with curiosity.

“This isn’t the cafe I had in mind, but it’ll be much faster,” Owen said, turning to Claire, still looking around the store. Then, a woman came around one of the many shelves lining the shop. She was blonde, not too tall, but pale - seemed American.

“Ah, the asshole soldier,” she said and Claire scoffed out a laugh, concealing it with her hand and feigning a coughing fit. Owen’s eyes narrowed on her but he still seemed amused by it.

“You have a good reputation, I see,” Claire said, clearing her throat.

“Where’s the owner? I thought Bellamy worked here,” Owen asked, scratching the back of his neck. The blonde rested a bucket full of assorted things on her hip as she leaning her hand on the front counter.

“Bellamy and I own this place together,” she corrected him.

“Where is he?”

“He’s currently held somewhere. If you know him, you’ll know he’s banned from most countries. I’ll kill him when he gets back,” she spat out and Claire raised her eyebrows, surprised by her willingness to confess as much to a soldier, “who is she?” she said, pointing to Claire.

“Doctor from the medical service team,” Owen said. Then, she suddenly stepped into Claire, breathing in deeply.

“Ah, that’s where I smelled the ethanol,” she replied and sighed.

“Who is she?” Claire whispered to Owen.

“Her real job is a nurse with another guy I know, I think this is her side job in the country,” he said, and the expression on the woman’s face changed, shifting to an uncomfortable and scared expression.

“How do you know who I am and what I do?” she asked.

“Bellamy told me once...about his wife, Clarke,”

“I’m not his wife! We’re just...co-workers,” she said, clearing her throat and tucking hair behind her ear. “What brings you here? I have everything except Bellamy,” she said, expression returning to a cold and stern facade.

“She needs to use your Wifi,” Owen said, pointing to Claire. Clarke seemed to think for a moment before rushing around the back of the store, settling things down and outwardly throwing things as she searched. Claire grimaced as she watched Clarke and turned to Owen.

“Are you sure I can use it here?”

“If you look closely, you can find missiles here,” Owen winked and Claire groaned at him, “wait here when you’re done, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said and turned to Clarke. “Keep her here for a while, and don’t fight,” he warned and Clarke shook her head, to which Owen leaned in extremely close to Claire again, “she’s got a gun,” he whispered, winking and leaving her in the company of the smiling blonde. Claire nervously smiled back.

*~*~*

Owen stood in front of Simon, his stance a perfect distance apart, and hands behind his back as he began to explain himself and his team. “At 10am this morning we transferred over one body and a member of a black market ring from the area to the local police, everything was under control,” he said, going back to ease.

“I’ve already been briefed,” Simon replied and Owen’s chest deflated, “you don’t know how high up this goes,” Simon warned, standing up and moving around his desk. It was when Simon came face to face with Owen did he realise what this all meant - that what they had stumbled upon was far out of Owen’s jurisdiction. Even so, Owen knew he couldn’t let it slide, that he could just watch this all play out for some fucked up gain on people exploiting those in the area. Either way, Owen was getting his head chewed off.

“I know you idiots in alpha team have no fear. But they have no fear and no law,” Simon continued to explain, “they smuggle weapons. Stay away from them,” Owen cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. Then, Simon nudged at Owen’s forehead - making him look directly at his superior. “You and I know you don’t have much time left here. Don’t get involved. When we get transferred back to the states, we’ll be promoted. Keep our hands clean, and everything will be okay,” Simon nodded, expecting Owen to agree. And it was an order. Owen clenched his fists behind his back and nodded sparkly.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Write a thorough report,” Simon said and Owen lost his will to stand tall, shoulders sloping and hands feeling tight. Fuck reports. Stupid, long, boring reports. He wondered if he could pass it off to Alec. “And take this,” Simon said suddenly, handing over a sheet of paper. Owen started to read it when Simon spoke. “One soldier is being transferred from Descendant company.”

“Sergeant Warren?” Owen asked.

“He’s being transferred to special forces in training. It’s a direct order from the General,” Simon replied and Owen sucked in a breath.

*~*~*

It was dusty in the old building, hard to breathe in and the police vehicle rolled in. Standing there as the police officers brought out a young man in a UN shirt and three boxes of heavy material, he watched it all. They set them down in front of him. Slicked back hair, dark clothes, pale skin. Removing the scarf around his face, a deep and nasty scar ran up from his jaw to the middle of his right cheek.

The chief of police, who not hours before lied through his teeth to American soldiers, stood in front of the man. He cleared his throat as the man remained unmoved. “You cannot pretend to be the UN to cross the border anymore. They know now and have even dispatched the Americans. They’re patrolling the border now!” he said angrily, his English stunted by his own accent, but he was dealing with Americans.

And if there was one thing he knew about Americans - they don’t do anything that isn’t on their terms. The man in black moved to the boxes, removing the lid from one and grabbing a handgun. Then, he cocked it and pointed it at the chief of police.

“We switched over,” The man in black said, American accent so thick compared to the Syrian police officer.

“Take it easy!” The chief said, removing the handcuffs from the subordinate. “If things go bad there’s only so much I can do,” he replied nervously, and the man shrugged.

“Well, you know I have my people in high positions,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bundle of bills. “Dead presidents?” he asked and the chief lit up. If only he had known better. The man in black threw the cash at him, and the chief fumbled it. As he reached for it on the ground, the man in black fired his weapon and the chief was dead. He was a skilled shot and always had been. The other officers stood in shock as the chief laid dead on the floor. “Congratulations, you just got promoted. Don’t forget your present,” The man said, the bundle of money sitting beside a pool of blood, almost touched by death - and the man just watched.

He never cared for the police chief anyway.

*~*~*

Alec sat in the chapel office, staring at the piece of paper and wondering why Owen didn’t deliver it himself. He was always a slacker, handing things off to others. Alec deserved to get this from his captain. But at least Barry didn’t ask questions and knew when to leave when he wasn’t wanted. “You’re excused,” Alec replied softly. Barry saluted before he stopped himself.

“Sorry, sergeant,” he said back and Alec nodded.

“Me too.”

In the back of his mind, he knew where he went wrong - he knew exactly what he had done to deserve this. But he wished - oh god, he wished - that she never found out.

*

“Everyone stop!” a superior yelled in the mess hall.

“Attention,” General Young said and Alec stiffened.

“Sir,” said one. Alec could hear the voices behind him. He knew why the General was there, and everything in his gut twisted, everything feeling like someone was reaching inside him and rearranging all his organs for the fun of it.

“Battalions three and five are having lunch, sir,” said a captain in the area.

“At ease,” General Young said, walking the length of the mess hall. “Keep up the good work. I’m here to eat with you all today, don’t mind me!”

“Yes, sir,” replied the battalions. Then, General Young sat down opposite Alec. He didn’t move, he stayed at attention. As the mess began to empty and it was left with only Alec and the General, there was silence between them. The General had finished his meal. Alec’s went untouched.

“Sergeant Alec Warren,” General Young said.

“Sergeant Alec Warren, sir!” Alec replied promptly.

“Are you seeing my daughter?” he asked. Alec’s mouth went dry.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m worried about Zara’s future. I hope you consider her future too,” he paused and Alec sucked in a breath, “don’t hurt her when it all falls apart.”

Alec’s hands bound in the material in his pants, fisted so tightly, he could feel his nails digging in through the material. “Is that an order?”

“I hope not, but if it has to be, it will. It’s up to you how you and I can keep our relationship honourable,” he said, and left Alex alone.

He didn’t feel like eating, and instead, he rested his head in his hands.

How the fuck was he going to do this?

She was going to kill him.

*

Alec was in the barracks, his duffle freshly laid out and his things began to pile in slowly. It was mainly his uniforms, a few different books and all the toiletries he had needed over the course of his stay. It felt strange to leave without the rest of his unit, but he couldn’t disobey orders.

Then, the only thing that was left was the letter that Zara had left in his parcel. He sighed as he looked at the writing on the inside.

Your present is on its way! I miss you so much!

Oh, she was definitely going to kill Alec.

He sat on his cot, and stared at her hand writing.

It was the closest he could get to her.

And he missed her so much.

*~*~*

There was now a silence in the car ride that was not like the one this morning. It was different - not an awkwardness that either of them wanted to avoid, but rather, an anger that brewed from something that she had not impacted on. “Did something happen?” she asked cautiously.

Owen sighed, letting one hand go of the wheel and let it rest on the window of his driver side door. “One of my men is being transferred back home,” he explained. Claire knew who would trouble him like this. And she couldn’t just let him stew in something like this. She may not be a jokester like he was - but she could try to be funny. For his sake at least.

“Square jaw?” she asked, and Owen scoffed, nodding.

“Stick up his ass,”

“Alec,” she corrected them both and Owen nodded slowly, letting out a long breath. “Are you mad because he gets home before you or sad to see him go?” she asked and Owen shook his head.

“I’m frustrated because it’s an unfair order.”

“Soldiers have to follow the orders from their superior,” Claire reminded but the way Owen rolled his shoulders made it seem like it made him even more uncomfortable.

“This isn’t an order from a superior. It’s from a father,” he said and Claire remembered. Zara was an army doctor for a reason. She tilted her head and looked to Owen, positioning herself between the

“I was wondering how Zara and Alec met. Was it through the army?”

Owen suddenly chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that,” he smirked, looking back to Claire and gripped back into the steering wheel. “He was doing this four hundred kilometer walk. Lieutenant Young was put on the medical team,” he began to explain, the depth of it was like he had been told so many times by Alec - it felt like Claire was being told directly by Alec himself.

*~*~*

Alec watched the private collapse in the river. Although it was only knee deep, everyone seemed to be struggling to stay up right with their kits on their backs. He didn’t want to wade through the water again - his ankles felt raw and limbs felt far too tired. He glared down at the private before sighing, taking a step back into the cold water. He was too nice for his own good. He pulled the private to his feet and took the kit off his back. Hoisting it onto his own, he stared down the private.

“I’ll carry your kit. If you give up, I’ll kill you,” he warned and the private yelled back.

“Yes, sir!”

“Keep walking!” Alec ordered. The private raced ahead and Alec sighed, fixing up the packs on his back and began to job up to the riverbank. There, one of the medical team members walked forward and got in his path. She wasn’t particular tall - she had to look up to see him, but she looked like every other military woman; hair pulled back in a bun, hidden under her cap and her shoulders square like a man’s.

“This is your third time coming back, right?” she asked.

“What do you want?” he snapped. He wanted to get this trial over and done with, and she was interrupting his plan.

“Take off your boots,” she ordered and Alec’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms and stood her ground. “You love your fellow soldiers and you want to win, but if you keep this up, you might have to accept a medical discharge, Sergeant Alec Warren,” she remarked, jabbing a finger into his chest where his name tag was sown into his uniform.

“Even if I have to accept a medical discharge, I need to win this thing,” he snapped. She scoffed and smiled through his ridiculous idea.

“You’re trying to win so you can get leave to go to your ex’s wedding and make a scene?” she asked, and as he looked at her with shock, she shrugged. “Everyone talks.”

Alec straightened his shoulders and pulled away from the medical team member. “Exactly.” And he continued on, still feeling her eyes watching him as he ran off towards the other troops.

*~*~*

“Really?” Claire exclaimed and Owen smiled as the car stopped.

“Really,” he replied. “Let’s get out.” Undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car, Claire realised where they were. Well, not really. She was just so engrossed by the story, that she didn’t realise how far they’d gone from the camp. They were at the docks, where little speed boats and rowboats sat with paddles dangling in the water.

“What are we doing here?” Claire asked as she closed her car door.

“We’re going to the beach we saw earlier,” he explained, pointing to a sign by the entrance of the dock. The same picture from the sign earlier. Claire looked back at Owen. “I want to take you before you start getting too busy,” he said walking ahead of her.

“You said it was too far,” she reminded and he shrugged.

“That’s another reason. I want to spend time with you a little longer,” he said and Claire sucked in a tight breath. “Can you blame a guy?” he asked.

“I want to see a beach and hear the rest of the story, so no, I can’t,” she said back and Owen looked like he suffered a blow to the gut, but still had a smile pressed to his lips. Sucking on her teeth, Claire kicked at the dirt and cleared her throat. “So how did the rest of the story go?”

“Alec went to his ex’s wedding. With Zara,” he explained, and started down to the docks again.

“Why did Zara go?” Claire said racing over to Owen, and he looked proudly with his chin raised and smug grin on his face, walking to a particular part of the dock.

*~*~*

Alec had put on his suit, tie in hand and jumped into his car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned his rearview mirror towards him. He really wished he knew how to tie a fucking tie, because he felt ridiculous by the fourth time he attempted. Huffing, Alec swiftly tugged on the tie, flinging the material to the other side of the car and undoing the top button of his shirt.

As he did that, the back door opened in his car, and the doctor from earlier stepped inside, sitting promptly behind the passenger seat. “What do you want?” Alec asked, pivoting around in his seat to see the doctor.

“Congratulations. You’ll be able to ruin your ex’s wedding. And what do you know, I have the day off,” she remarked, feigning a smile, but there was a secret in her eyes - something she needed from him, and something she needed him for.

“I asked what you wanted, not what you’re doing,” he repeated. She sighed, moving forward in her seat and challenging him by getting closer.

“If you go and make a scene, she’ll be glad that she left you,” she said, and Alec’s brow furrowed, “but if you go with someone else, she’ll regret leaving you. That’s my plan,” she said, sitting back into her seat and waiting.

“I..” Alec thought for a moment and then stopped, “like it,” he couldn’t help but smile.

“On one condition,” she said, the mood shifting as she pointed into the front seat. “Is that mirror turned away from me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she said as she started to unzip her uniform jacket. Alec felt his face grow hot and he turned around completely in his seat. Eyes forward, keep the mirror where it is. “You know who I am, right?” she said.

“Zara Young. Your father is General Craig Young,” he replied, a crack in his voice that he had to cover.

“You see, my father wants to set me up with your company commander. Owen Grady,” she said after a moment, a little flustered and moving as she spoke.

“He’s here, came two days ago,” Alec corrected and she gave a frustrated groan before handing Alec some white heels. Climbing over the gap in the chairs, Alec noticed her dress - a simple, white dress that hugged at her waist and revealed just enough to make her appear delicate, yet beautifully sexy at the same time. Alec’s mouth went a little dry.

“Anyway, tell him you’re going out with me,” she said, sitting in the front seat and putting down the visor.

Alec wasn’t sure how to tell her that Owen wasn’t that bad - but at that moment, he didn’t want to bring up that guy at all. “You don’t like him?”

“He’s too much like what my father wants, not what I want,” she explained, letting her hair fall out around her shoulders, fixing it to the way she wanted. And for a moment, Alec thought he felt his heart stop. “Deal?” she asked.

“Deal.”

He didn’t need to hesitate.

*~*~*

“So, what? Are you in some kind of love triangle?” Claire asked as Owen lead her to the boat. He got the keys off the owner - seemingly already talked to him at some point due to the friendliness between them - and he jumped on board the small speed boat. He turned back to her, frowning, but he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Is it still going on?” He returned a nod again.

“Does that bother you?” he said, tilting his head. Claire cleared her throat as Owen offered his hand. She took it, and he pulled her straight up onto the boat.

“I was just curious,” she said, trying to find her footing, but failing on the uneven surface of the boat and the waves around it. As she stumbled, Owen pulled her into him, steadying her out and their bodies pressed up against one another. Then, Owen leaned down to her, eyes focused on her.

“Looks like it bothers you a lot,” he challenged and Claire swallowed hard.

“Does not,” she said, clearing her throat and finding the seat at the back. Owen smiled to himself as he stuck the key in the ignition and drove the boat to where he was headed. Claire couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the engine, or the crashing of the waves against the boat’s hull, so their conversations were limited to just pointing and staring off at the blue vista that befell across the area.

The wind roared in her ears, hair flung across her eyes as she gazed out across the deep blue water. It was so clear beneath them, growing lighter and lighter as they approached the sandy crescent of the island - shallow depths glimmering in the sun. Claire huffed, pushing the hair out of her face yet again to get a glimpse of the mysterious object that sat on the shore. With a clearer eye, she made it out finally, an abandoned shipwreck. It was gutted through the middle, all rusted metal and ragged edges - but it was beautiful despite its wear.

The boat stopped on the shore and Owen tied it to one of the waiting posts to keep it from floating away. He helped her down from the boat’s edge and she walked across the sand. Her shoes sunk into the uneven ground and she made her way closer and closer. The shores here were different than back home - a combination of the fine sands she was used to, and pearl like rocks that were littered amongst the rest.

“This is oddly beautiful,” Claire breathed, combing back her hair into a manageable place. It wasn’t long before Owen stood by her side, watching her as she marvelled at the wondrous carcass.

“The wreckage?” he asked, and she nodded as she moved forward. They moved in step with each other, their footsteps so in time, that they echoed as one sound.

“It’s…” she started before she became embarrassed. “I’m not going to say that,” she laughed, walking into the threshold of the aching ship and Owen following behind closely.

“Say what?” he said before moving in front of her, their path cut short in the middle of the wreckage. “Come on, Dearing, you aren’t holding out on me now, are ya?” he said, raising his brow in jest. Claire laughed, walking around the edge. Inside the ship sat white stones, large and small, all surrounding the hull on any flat surface that could hold them. It was the specks of white amongst the rusted brown that made her heart feel warm.

“It’s like a body….the bones left after everything inside has just….fallen away. Bones tell you so much about a person. If they’ve been broken, if they were fed, if they hurt. Everything about this ship tells a story of how it got here,” she explained, walking along the row of stones, wondering how they managed to find their way inside this beautiful, hollow body.

“You have a nice way of looking at the world,” he said, following after her. Claire laughed.

“I’m a doctor. Everything I know is biology. I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, a tenderness in his voice that had Claire weak at her knees. He had a charm - there was no denying it, but Claire ended things for a reason.

“Why did you become a soldier?” she asked, and Owen suddenly stiffened, taken back by the question.

“My dad was a soldier, and I always wanted to be like him. The minute I could, I joined up,” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. He wandered his own path, and Claire found herself following after him this time.

“So, family trade?”

“I guess so,” he said, looking down at his feet and bending to get something. He picked up a rounded rock on the sand and handed it over to Claire. “Here.”

“Thank you?” she said, “I love rocks,” she tried to smile but it was an odd gesture to her.

Owen laughed, holding her palm open and the rock sitting perfectly in the centre. “It’s a tradition, amongst locals,” he started, “if you take a rock from the beach, you’ll return with the one you came with.”

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Claire said, trying to hand it back, but Owen’s hand folded her own, making her grip onto it and hold it tightly.

“Just….keep it,” he replied, “let’s see if it’s true.” With a smile, she was sold.

“Why is this ship here anyway?” she asked, pulling away and walking the length of the ship.

“Washed up wreckage, I suppose,” he shrugged, walking beside her again. “Haunted by the beauty around it,” he said, and Claire scoffed, an unexpected view from a man that didn’t seem all that poetic.

“Have you been haunted?”

“I have,” he said, “I’m sure you know.” Claire avoided his eye and clenched her jaw. He just had to be the charming type, didn’t he? “Are you still sexy in the operating room?” he asked suddenly and Claire’s stomach dropped.

“I’m not here to make a difference, I was pushed here against my will and…” Claire took a deep breath, her body bound in discomfort and her hand curling around the rock in her palm. “I don’t operate anymore. It’s not taking me anywhere,” and as Owen’s brow furrowed, Claire felt more ashamed of herself than usual. She wanted to get out of his eyeline - to stick to the corners and not be the centre of his attention. “I have to get back to the camp now,” she said, walking back to the boat without him.

“Right,” he said from afar, walking behind her. They didn’t speak the entire way back. The silence was needed, a finite time of joy was spent before their rift reformed and lines became clearly divided once more. Claire felt closer to Owen here...but at the same time, she couldn’t allow herself the joy of his company. It was all limited. They wouldn’t spend days like this - together and possibly happy. Countries and duties would always separate them.

Back at the camp, they saw a frantic Franklin, trying to pick up a local - and unconscious - Syrian boy but was failing to do so. Claire and Owen both rushed out of the car and brought him to the medicube, Owen laying him down on a bed. Claire listened through her stethoscope and when she heard no abnormalities, put them back around her neck.  

“He just threw up and fainted?” she asked Franklin. He nervously rubbed at his arm as he remembered the events.

“Yeah, it might be malnutrition, so I put him on an IV,” Franklin explained, but Claire already knew that, “he sounded okay though,” Franklin tried to reason and Claire touched his hand to comfort him.

“It’s not pneumonia, but if it’s anemia cause by malnutrition, his condition is quite critical,” she explained, moving forward over the boy. She touched at his stomach, finding a spot where the boy physically winced, even in his weakened state. “Pain between the liver and spleen?” she muttered.

“What about lead poisoning?” Owen interrupted and Claire felt something in her gut twist. She looked at Owen, and he had a disapproving look smeared across his face.

“Lead poisoning doesn’t show acute symptoms like this kids has,” Franklin tried to reason. But Claire thought of the day before. The kids...licking and sucking at the metal she took off of them.

“Was he sucking something?” she asked Franklin and he perked suddenly.

“Yeah, he was asking for food, I think and sucking on his fingers,” he explained and Claire rubbed at the bridge of her nose.

“We should detox him first,” Claire explained, “give him high doses of vitamin C and EDTA.”

“Is it lead poisoning?” Franklin asked.

“He’s anemic with malnutrition, and he’s consumed lead, his blood cells may have mistaken the lead for food and absorbed it,” she sighs and Franklin nods frantically.

“I’ll get the medicine,” he said, rushing off to the supplies.

“Let me know when he wakes up, I can speak a little of Arabic,” Owen said, hands on his hips as he began to walk away. Claire turned and sucked in a breath.

“Thank you for your help.” She knew he was angry with her - annoyed possibly - that she wasn’t seeing something that was so obvious to him. She didn’t like how he looked down on her in that moment.

Owen stopped in his tracks. He seemed to be contemplating something, the knot in his shoulders evident from even a short distance away. “You should know the common things that afflict kids in this area,” he said sternly and Claire straightened, “you’re a good doctor, but you should have looked this up. You can’t rely on a soldier,” he said and before Claire could even retort his statement, he was gone. Claire’s hand bound tightly and she so desperately wanted to punch something. Instead, she sighed, sitting down next to the child and going over his vitals.

Putting her hand to her head, she tried to forget the frustration that was built in her now.

*~*~*

Back at the chapel, Owen started a slow walk up the stairs. I’m a dick, I’m a dick, I’m a massive dick! God, why did he have to say it like that? Why was he being like this? Everything was going well, they were enjoying each other, then one conversation happened and it derailed all the groundwork he had put in. He had to stop on a stair to just mentally kick himself over this. He really was a fuck up. Couldn’t charm the pants off a fucking mannequin.

Then, as Owen started up the stairs again, alarms started to blare around their camp. Owen looked around, unsure of anything, and before he knew it, Alec was rushing out to find him. They met on the catwalk over the chapel floor and Alec seemed agitated.

“FPCON is now in affect in the medicube,” he said, and Owen’s eyes widened. The alert went out to all soldiers. Putting on bulletproof vests, arming themselves with guns and automatics, the soldiers lined up, and Alpha team remained in the chapel as they set up all the information they needed.

With faxes being sent through, everyone printing out information that may be relevant, and Owen on the phone with headquarters - it was working chaos. Alec rushed around him, getting Rick to head down and gather the medical team, more reports and documents being sent Owen’s way.

“Is the medicube hospital our operation zone?” he asked over the phone.

“A VIP patient is on his way to the medicube,” Simon replied, his team tracking the patient from his end. It was a while before Owen heard any more news from Simon - telling him ETA and who the patient was.

“Yousef Rahal. The chairman of the Arab League was coming back from his unofficial visit to Syria to sign a middle east peace treaty and suddenly collapsed. They say his vital signs are chaotic and can’t get him to stay conscious,” Simon said over the phone and Owen got the medical documents sent through. Going through this at a glance….it made no sense. He wasn’t a trained doctor, but he had some medical knowledge for field first aid, and what he was reading didn’t make sense. Hopefully it did to the professionals. “He’s an influential person with political and royal ties, and has had a number of threats against him in the past for his views,” Simon reiterated and that was Owen’s part done. Simon was patched into the comms system, and Owen’s direct line to headquarters.

This needed to be clean.

He couldn’t fuck this up.

Paper in hand, Owen went down to the medicube, the soldiers and doctors all assembled in the one place. In the front of the pack - leader of the entire medical team - was Claire, arms crossed and avoiding his gaze at every moment. He couldn’t blame her, this was all beginning to be a fucking mess. Owen put his hand on his hip, handing over the paper to Claire.

“These are the medical records of the patient,” he said. She snatched it from his hand and turned it around.

“Thanks.”

The medical team all came around Claire, crowding her and reading all the information over her shoulder. Karen’s head met Claire’s shoulder, a frown deep in her expression. “Everything is blacked out,” she groaned.

“What information can we get from this?” Franklin asked.

“We could misdiagnose him anywhere,” Zia said, poking her head around, examining the page herself.

“Are they just lies? See here? He can’t have both,” Xander pointed out.

“I’ve had to do this,” Claire said and the group shifted. Owen wasn’t expecting her to say something like that - but she seemed ashamed of having to know it at the same time as understanding it. “Powerful enough people can fake anything. He wants to hide something about his health, and not just anyone can know his true conditions,” she explained, “with that information it could be incredibly harmful.”

Owen nodded as the cars spend up past the gate and before the medicube. Claire selected her team and rushed in with the patient in toe. Owen and Alpha team followed the Chairman’s security team.

With the chairman wired up to all the monitors and everything starting to relax - well, as much as an emergency situation could relax - Owen got contacted by Simon. “How are things?” he asked.

“Nothing abnormal,” Owen replied, looking to the security team that seemed on edge, “he’s getting first aid treatment.” The security team, black suits and strong willed men, were standing at ten feet from the chairman’s bed, with Owen and his team standing to the left of it, standing near the medical team. Owen was the closest, Claire an arm reach away.

“Report back to me if anything happens,” Simon ordered.

“Yes sir.”

Turning to the team, Owen watched them diagnose him. They read over his vital signs, each trying to come up with possible solutions to the distress they were seeing.

“Blood pressure 175 over 110, pulse rate 100,” Zia said.

“His BP is high and his pulse is fast and erratic,” Franklin analysed. Claire seemed tense, her hands bound in the bed’s barrier. She looked back and forth, hair bouncing across her shoulders as she finally took a moment to breathe. In the second, she combed back her hair, pulling it into a ponytail. It was odd to watch - prepping for battle with something far bigger than herself.

“He’s drowsy, I think he may be hypoglycemic,” Xander said, hand on his chin, scratching it across his beard.

“He’s diabetic by the chart,” “we could give him insulin,”  

“Let’s treat what we know right now,” Claire said, moving

“Wait,” Said the leading security member. Owen motioned to the team to stop and Claire turned to him. “This is a prescription from the president's doctor.” Although Owen could speak little Arabic, he understood it well enough. He got handed a bottle of something and he handed it to Claire, explaining the situation quickly. She stared at the label and she wrinkled up her nose.

“Nitroglycerine?” she muttered.

“Why a blood thinner?” Franklin mumbled back. “He’s diabetic. A side effect of the insulin?” he asked and Claire huffed, shifting the weight on one hip.

“We can’t trust the chart,” she reminded and Owen watched the group intently, hands on his hips, but still maintaining a strong view of the security team that seemed ever more eager to start something, “give them to him, it’s the only shot we have right now.”

Handing off the medicine to Karen, she pushed it through his IV, the liquid pouring in. And the machines going haywire. The soldiers and security in the room straightened and hands went down to hips. The one place they could protect what they needed to. Owen remained calm, he couldn’t act on his instinct - he had two teams that would react wildly if he seemed stressed or agitated. Owen couldn’t risk that.

“His blood pressure is dropping too quickly,” Karen explained, the drastic change in his blood pressure even clear to the soldiers in the room.

“What the hell?” Zia cursed and Claire’s hand went to her forehead. Claire started to feel at his stomach, the obvious presence of bloating, or something similar through his abdomen.

“What’s going on?” Simon yelled in Owen’s ear.

“Claire, what’s the situation?” Owen asked stepping close to Claire. She shook her head, running through possibilities and trying to work it all out.

“He’s got a whole bunch of secrets. With his abdominal distension, blood pressure deterioration, my educated guess would be…” she started, her hand pressing to his stomach in multiple areas, “Hemoperitoneum,” she turned to him. Owen sucked in a breath.

“Layman's terms, please,” he asked, and Claire chuckled softly. It was odd to be in a situation where someone would have to say it. But, they both enjoyed the humour in the morbid, it seemed.

“There’s blood accumulating in the space between the abdominal wall and the organs inside,” she explained.

“What does that mean?”

“I need to open him up,” she said and Owen nodded, “We’ll perform a laparotomy. Prepare the operating room,” Claire ordered and medical team went into action.

“Yes, doctor,” the group replied.

“Hands off!” the leading security member said, gun raised and Claire’s team stopped. “Tell her to stop what she’s doing,” he said and Owen felt his hand shift down to his hip.

“What is he saying?” Claire whispered to Owen.

“You cannot operate on our president,” The man replied again, “The president’s doctor will be here in an hour.”

“The doctor will be here in an hour, we won’t allow you to operate,” Owen explained. Claire stepped forward, arguing her point.

“We can’t wait that long,” Claire said, looking up at Owen, “He will die in twenty minutes if we don’t operate,” her voice cracked, pleading with him and Owen nodded to her softly. Owen translated the phrase back, and the man stepped forward.

“I cannot allow just anyone to put a knife to the president,” he said, gun aimed directly at Claire.

“You are not listening, he will not last twenty minutes,” Owen retorted, and suddenly felt a hand bind into the back of his shirt. Claire sensed his anger, and though she was still concentrating on her patient, she seemed worried for him. Maybe it was the guns pointed at him.

“Only Arab doctors can operate on the president!” He argued and Owen assumed Claire understood, because she tugged on the back of Owen’s shirt softly and she seemed to relax slightly.

“Everyone stand down,” she ordered, “As soon as I take my hands off….he’ll die,” she said and the room went tense. Owen wanted to grip onto his gun, make sure this was an even fight - he couldn’t do that right now. Alarms started to become more erratic, a warning of the impending chaos that might ensue.

“His BP is dropping again,” Karen reiterated, and the room stood still, not moving and listening to a man dying.

Owen’s comms started to pick up, crackling in his ear as Simon patched himself through. He knew what Simon was like - efficient work, no headaches. Everything in his books needed to be perfect. Owen’s jaw went tight as Simon spoke.

“Listen to me, saving his life is not our concern. Our concern is who is responsible, do whatever the Arabs want,” he said and Owen agreed with him. “Even if the patient dies, it’s entirely the doctor’s responsibility for not operating on her patient.” That’s when Owen’s stomach sank. He shifted his gaze to his shoulder, seeing Claire’s red hair out of the corner of his eye. She’d be the one to blame. Owen swallowed back his anger as Simon said, “We shouldn’t get involved, that’s an order.”

Alec looked to Owen and he stared back. Could he trust his friend to know what he was thinking. Owen nodded and Alec....Alec shifted his weight on the balls of his feet.

I’m about to do something stupid. You in? Owen said in a glance.

Kill me. Yeah, I am. Alec said with a roll of his eyes.

They had sealed their fate.

“Do you think you can save him?” Owen asked, and Claire stuttered.

“What?” she said, muttering to herself before she formulated the words. “Well first I’d need to open his stomach, but somewhere along the -”

“I don’t need you to explain. Tell me if you can save him or not. As a doctor,” he asked, and Owen’s comms blared with Simon’s yelling voice.

“What do you think you’re doing? That’s an order, Captain!”

“Answer me, Claire,” Owen pressured. Claire jumped slightly, the tension in the room thick like a smog falling on a city. They were surrounded by it, unable to escape it without Claire’s answer. Claire chewed on her lip for a moment, quivering as she looked at the armed men behind him. “Claire,” Owen whispered and she looked back at him.

Her shoulder squared, her lip stopped shaking. As her chest rose, Owen could see the determination in her eyes.

You got this.

“I can save him,” she said. Owen sucked in a breath, turning back around. Switching his radio off, taking the earpiece from his ear and letting it rest around his shoulders, Owen took a breath. Hand ready on his hip.

This is it, dude.

Don’t fuck this up.

She’s on the line.

“Then save him,” Owen ordered, and Alpha team were in time with him. In a split second, their guns were out, cocked and primed towards the security team. Guns were aimed and ready at everyone in the room. Owen glanced to the side and the medical team were scared out of their wits. And behind him - Owen couldn’t risk it. Shifting his weight, Owen shielded Claire with his body, covering her completely. They were barely a few inches apart, but Owen needed to do this.

He was risking everything here.

Even his life.

For her.

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Speech Impediment - Chapter 3

Ships: Romantic Logicality, pining prinxiety, platonic dlamp 

Summary: Halloween is just a few days away and the deadline for his project is nearing. Deceit wants nothing more than to work on his story, but things get in the way when the others invite him to a Halloween costume party. There’s only one problem... Deceit’s never been invited to a party. In other news Dexter discovers he hated almost every single type of alcohol in existence except one.

AO3 - Here

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Dexter sat comfortably at his desk as he worked the hours of his Wednesday afternoon away on his creative writing project. His snake, Dee Dee, made herself comfortable wrapped around his shoulders, content with watching her owner work on his computer.

After two all-nighters and much help from his new friends, Dexter was able to come up with a story idea. It was under the prompt ‘it was all just a dream’ to write a mystery, horror, suspense short story. It took place with a woman named Abigail who woke up in a small, coffin like, box; a voice speaking to her through a speaker directing her to escape with only a few tools before all the air was sucked out. When she made it out she was in another box and so on.

He was at the part when Abigail was about to drown as water filled the room from the bottom when the door opened, and in bounded Patton with his normal energetic behavior. Not long ago, last week, Dexter learned that Patton had ADHD, so the way he acted was no longer surprising to him and now expected.

“Hey, hey Dexter! Dee Dee!” The bubbly artist greeted with all the cheer of a thousand saints.

Dexter turned around in his chair and said hello before turning back to his story, determined to finish this chapter today so he could edit it tomorrow. One chapter to finish, another to start, and two chapters to edit before the due date in five days.

Patton, noticing his work ethic, strode over to peer over the smaller, younger, man’s shoulder to read his writing so far. But before he could get past the first sentence, Dexter covered the screen with his arms, crying “Please read it, it’s finished!”

“Sorry, there kiddo,” Patton said slightly dejected, “I was just curious.”

A pang of guilt seeped into the writer’s confused heart, regretting the tone he used with his first friend-adoptive-dad-person-thing.

“I’m not sorry, Patton. I just love it when people read my work before I proof read it myself.”

“That’s okay, but can I read it after you’re done?” Pat asked before gasping and hopping up and down in an excited dance, “Maybe I can be you’re editor!”

“...But you adore horror.”

“Oh yeah... maybe Virgil can be your editor? He’s getting his bachelors in poetry so he know English stuffs.”

Dexter thought about it for a second. He’s never been around Virgil with just the two of them, but he was able to pick up on the emo’s love for creepy and dark things. But his horror novels might trigger his anxiety, and Dexter didn’t want to give him a reason to hate him.

“I won’t think about it.”

“Yay!” Patton cheered and pulled Dexter into a hug, being careful not to squish Dee Dee. Dexter awkwardly stood there for a moment, still not used to receiving physical contact out of kindness let alone how to react to it. Eventually he settled for a pat on the head. Patton seemed pleased with the gesture and let go.

By the time dinner rolled around, Dexter had finished his chapter, saved it, then turned off his computer. About thirty minutes ago Patton had ordered pizza from Big Julius and invited the rest of the gang over. Logan had arrived first, but the two allowed him to work in peace as Logan read his textbook, and Patton played an assortment of games in his lap. When a call from the bottom floor came, Patton was notified that their pizzas had arrived, so he and his boyfriend left to retrieve it, coming back with both Roman and Virgil in tow, who had arrived around the same time as the pizza guy.

By the time they walked in with food and drinks-- cola for Virgil and Patton, wine for Logan, and beer for Roman --he had already put away his computer and set Dee Dee back in her terrarium; the poor little noodle got scared around too many people. Dexter had never had alcohol before, but he decided to give it a try to see if he’d like it. He knew he wouldn’t be pressured as there were two who didn’t drink, and that made him feel more at ease.

“Let’s get this party started bitches!”

“Roman language!”

“Don’t bother Pat, the idiot’s already in his own little world.”

Whelp, seemed like the others were already tipped off, if not from alcohol then from sugar.

“Mom! Virgil’s being mean!”

“For the one hundredth and fifty third time, don’t call me mom.”

Dexter sat on his bed with a small smile as he watched them interact with each other. Most times he was content just watching them talk and not saying anything himself, like now. When they all filled in, heading for their now usual spots-- Virgil and Roman on Patton’s bed, Logan and Patton on the beanbag, and him on his bed --Roman finally acknowledged him, handing him a bottle of beer.

“Here, it’s my favorite brand, and I went for something soft. But if you don’t like it I’ve brought an assortment of different types of liquor for you to try.”

“And I had to by it all.” Patton sighed, being the only one who was twenty-one in the group. Logan would be twenty-one in November, which was just around the corner so...

SHIT! Dexter would have to get him something! But he’s never bought someone a birthday present before. He only ever wrote poems or drew pictures for his parents that would make them even more afraid of their son. What the dang diddly heck could he get him?

Before he cold panic anymore, Dexter pushed all his dread down to feign composure. Taking the bottle in his hand and taking a brave swig, but nearly spat it out as soon as the liquid touched his tongue.

“It’s so sweet.” Dexter had never tasted anything so bitter in his life, it was worse than dried plums, his most hated food.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d like the sweet stuff, But this one taste like apples.” Roman said and took the bottle away, giving him a new one. Dexter tried it.

“It’s so smooth against the throat.” It was like he was drinking acid.

“Maybe you’re not a beer person, let’s try something else.”

And so they went through a list of different types of alcohol; some wine, nope; champagne, burn it; whiskey, pure toxic waste; vodka, how is this from a potato? Now it all came down to the last drink, Dexter already felt light headed and dizzy, but he was willing to try one last time. If he didn’t like it then he’d just join the ranks with Patton and Virgil and have soda.

“I don’t really drink this stuff, so I bought just a small bottle in case you didn’t want it.” Roman said setting a small bottle of ale into his palm. With a breath in and a gulp, Dexter took a chance and had a small sip. It was pleasant. It was sweet, but not overly so; it was sooth down the throat with a nice burning feeling; the aftertaste was bitter, but he oddly enjoyed it.

“This is horrible.”

“Really?” Logan asked, a light glass of peach wine in his palm.

“Nope, would never drink this again.” He confirmed and took another sip.

“Well good, Jackal and Lied, finally you like something.” Roman sighed, glancing at all the rejected drinks off to the side.

“Roman be nice, Dexter doesn’t have to like the alcohol you do.” Patton lectured him gently, mouth full of pizza. 

Now that his choice of drink was settle, they settled into light banter and talking, a detective crime show on in the background. Dexter spent a while just drinking water, trying to re-hydrate from all those drinks.

He noted off to the side that Roman was eating the vegan pizza and Virgil was eating the meat lover’s pizza. He chuckled at the irony that two people so different could like each other. Roman was really loud and obvious about his affection for the precious emo that needs to be protected, but Virgil was much quieter. Over the past couple weeks since that day in the coffee shop Dexter had spotted multiple signs that Virgil was crushing on the regal boy just as much as the prince was on him. That only made Dexter wonder if Virgil thought that he was being a flirt, or if he took him seriously and chose to ignore his advances on purpose. Whatever the case was, he just wished they would stop being dumb and get together, their needless pining was beginning to drive him insane, and he had only known them for a little less than three months; Dexter can only imagine how Logan and Patton feel.

Eventually the conversation shifted away from whatever it previously was, Dexter accidentally spaced off and missed everything, and turned to the upcoming holiday.

“So a theater buddy of mine invited me to his costume party this Saturday and said I could bring some friends. How ‘bout it?” Roman inquired of them, looking extremely hopeful in Virgil’s direction.

“I’d love too! Logan wouldn’t that be fun? We could go as a matching pair!” Patton hastily agreed, loving the sound of a Halloween party.

“I don’t object.” Lo replied with a loving smile, nuzzling his forehead against Patton’s, earning a giggle from the latter. “How about you Virge?”

“I dunno, large crowds aren’t really my thing.” He said uncomfortably, playing with the zippers on his jacket’s sleeves. Roman immediately lost his smile, moving in his spot on the bed to better face him.

“You won’t have to talk to anyone, we’ll all be there and if you want to leave I’ll take you home.” He compromised eagerly.

Virgil still looked unsure, but was unable to resist the magnetic pull of Roman’s puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine.” He caved, “But only for a bit.” Roman readily agreed, giving Virge a large hug that he didn’t try to escape from. Virgil may have thought he was slick, but Dexter noticed his grin and blush. Goodness, he wished he had a camera, his ship was finally leaving the harbor.

“What about you Dexter?” Logan spoke up again, turning all eyes in the room to him.

“Yes I’ll go, I’ve been to tons of parties before.”

“Ah, come on kiddo, it’ll be fun! And just like Virgil, you won’t have to push yourself.” Patton told him, trying to persuade him.

Dexter took a second to ponder. He’s never been invited to a party before, not even for birthdays, so he didn’t know what to do. His friends would be there to help, but he still felt like he’d mess up somehow. He had a project due in five days, but it was nearly done, and perhaps he could work at the party as well. He still had to think of a present for Logan in eight days, but he could ask Patton for ideas and stop by the shops next week. He could make it work, but Dexter couldn’t help but feel like he was about to agree to torturing himself. He’ll see how it goes.

“No.”

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I orginally was going to end it with chapter two, but i just loved it too much to let it go so soon. Plus you peeps seemed it like it too. Tell me what’cha think. See Ya!

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