#I was going to try and make 1 double sided charm. this just in drew and nevin's silhouettes are too different and it did not work lol

[onebizarrekai]

I may be making a miles charm to go with ellie and blue…………

[crowofjudgements-blog]

Shattered Vows - Chapter 1

Peter B. Parker (ASTV) x Bonnie Soileau (original character)

Important information: Bonnie uses she/they pronouns and so the pronouns used to refer to them will alternate.

Bars in New York had a certain decrepit charm to them. The bustling of patrons bumbling about, searching for their next fix of liquid courage to ease their weary souls. The Pour House was no different to this. It was just a small pub on the east side of Manhattan. It was, to put it lightly, a diamond in the rough. The inside reeked of piss and hopelessness, the creaky barstools and perpetually sticky booths were scuffed and scratched from years of misuse, and the televisions only tuned to one channel; a foreign station that only showed elaborate dog shows or promoted the next skinny tea or what-have-you. Contrary to what you’d believe, the Pour House was one of the more popular bars on that side of the city, a fact that generally meant that the tips were great.

Bonibel Soileau wiped back her sweat-soaked hair as she wiped down the counters, grimacing as they brought the cloth over a particularly nasty spot of grime. Friday evenings always drew out the crowds, and Bonnie certainly had their work cut out for them. While she had pockets stuffed with cash tips and the occasional loose piece of candy, she was worked to the bone making sure the patrons were taken care of, the bar was as pristine as its porous wood surface allowed, and their coworkers weren’t drowned in the influx of customers. To say she was stressed would be a gross understatement. They rubbed at her red-ringed eyes and tossed the cloth back into its murky solution of water and diluted cleaner. She had to practically peel their bangs from her forehead as they made their way over to a customer and took their order. The sound of trashy 2000s pop blasted from overhead speakers to drown out the sounds of petty arguments and slurred words as Bonnie poured watered-down beer from the tap before they slid it over to the customer. She leaned against the bar and sighed, rubbing at their temples to try and soothe the pounding in her head before they felt a rhythmic buzzing in her pocket.

They frowned and looked down as they pulled out their bedazzled flip phone, eyes narrowing when she saw the caller ID. She scoffed and flipped it open, blood running cold when she saw how many missed calls she had. She quickly pulled off her apron, mind racing as they quickly ran to the back, informing her boss she was going out for a smoke break. They stowed out into the alleyway and immediately redialed the number, anxiously pacing around the small alley as they went through all of the text messages. Texts demanding she returns the calls, that they needed to get off their ass and call back. Bonnie felt rage bubble up in their chest as the phone let out extended rings, blood boiling as it went on. Finally, he picked up the phone and Bonnie brought it to her ear.

“Charles, what the fuck? You know damn well you can’t call me like that when I’m at work, good lord,” they growled, southern drawl thick with her stress. She heard her ex-husband scoff on the other end, the sounds of passing cars and his turn signal beeping ringing through the phone.

“Lighten up, Bonibel, you need to fucking relax,” Charles countered, cursing under his breath, “Listen, something came up so you need to take Madeleine earlier. I’m on my way now.” Bonnie felt their chest tighten and they immediately brought a hand up to rub at the bridge of their nose.

“No- I can’t, you know I’m working a double, I’m not supposed to have her until Saturday,” they said quickly, practically feeling his annoyance radiating through the phone.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Bonibel. You need to get your ass home and be a mother before I call up the attorney,” he warned and Bonnie felt their heart pit out in their chest. Her mind raced through everything, she wasn’t even fully unpacked, Maddy wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep, she’d have to find someone to cover, she’d-

“Please just- let me finish up my shift. Please, I need to finish up and find someone to take over. Please, Charles, take her out for dinner or something, I’ve got fifteen left on this shift. I’ll even wire you the money to take her out. Just- please,” she begged quietly, holding their hand over the receiver. There was silence on the other end before she heard him grumble something to their daughter in the back seat.

“Fine, fine. You’ve got thirty minutes to get home. I don’t care what you’ve gotta do but you’ll be home or I will be contacting the custody office,” he snarled before hanging up. Bonnie quickly shoved their phone into her pocket once more and hurried back into the bar, tying back her apron as she approached her manager and hurriedly explained the situation. Jill had always been sympathetic to her situation, and though reluctant, offered to take up her next shift. Bonnie felt the tension relieved in their shoulders when she begrudgingly agreed and she quickly went back to man the bar before Jill changed her mind. Mostly everyone at the bar was a regular and had all ready been cared for, however, Bonnie saw a new face straying at the end of the bar, engrossed in the latest paraded pomeranian on the screen above his head. She frowned and approached him. Just one more customer, she could deal with one more.

She cleared her throat when they approached the man, startling him from his engrossment. He looked back at her with a deer-in-headlights expression before his face softened upon seeing her uniform. “Hey there, sugar, you been helped yet?” she smiled, leaning against the bar. The man shook his head, glancing up at the television for a split second before he turned his attention back to her.

“Nope, not just yet. Was just about to flag you down, actually,” he yawned, rubbing at his stubbled jaw as he scrunched his face, “I’ll just have your cheapest scotch over light ice,” he hummed, a request that earned a short snort from Bonnie.

“My kinda drink,” they quipped as she pulled out a chilled glass and filled the bottom with pebbled ice before they poured out one of their cheaper liquor. Sure, it smelled and tasted like battery acid but it’d get you drunk in a pinch. She slid the glass over to the guy, the latter snatching it up and immediately going in for a gulp. Bonnie watched with a bemused look, leaning against the counter as she watched his face contort, honeyed eyes widening as he took a big sip of his drink. The man started hacking and coughing in a fit and Bonnie laughed at his reaction, shaking their head as she pushed away from the bar and went to queue up a tab for him, “yeah, that ain’t an all-in-one-gulp sorta drink,” they teased as she typed up on the screen, eyes catching him watching her, “can I get a name for the tab, please?” she hummed, observing as the man set his drink down and donned a scrunched up nose.

“Could have warned me before I went all in, you know,” he huffed, taking an amble sip from his drink. He acknowledged her question with a hum, “Peter,” he offered, hearing the tap of her fingers against the little screen.

“All right then, just flag me down whenever you want another drink, all right? If I’m not there someone else will be happy to help you out,” she hummed, watching as Peter nodded and slid over a few bills. She cocked up a brow and took the two singles, thanking him as she shoved them in their apron and went to finish up her last few obligations before she left.

Peter sat at the bar and watched the dog show above, slowly sipping on his drink. The liquid burned down his throat and left a pit of nausea seated in his gut. It wasn’t all that pleasant, however, he didn’t fully mind it. He simply sat there idly and enjoyed the show, minding his own when a sudden pain shot through his head. He grimaced and brought his hand up to his head, scrunching his eyes closed as his senses went into overdrive. He groaned softly as his senses tapered off to a low hum and Peter mentally prepared himself for what was to come. He shot up, knocking over his drink in the process, and bolted out, unencumbered by the bartender calling after him to pay off his tab. He disappeared through the crowd leaving Bonnie standing there, unpaid tab and a nasty sludge of now congealed scotch running down the bar. They groaned and grabbed the washcloth, wringing it out before they went over to wipe down the bar.

“We really shouldn’t be selling this shit to people,” they grumbled.

♡♡♡

The bus pulled up a few blocks from Bonnie’s apartment, the exhausted bartender reluctantly getting up from their seat. She thanked the bus driver before they began the arduous 3-block trek back to her building. With every step their bones ached and she was thankful they didn’t have to stick around for another shift. Her building soon came into view, and so did that all-too-familiar red 2006 Ford Escape. They took a deep breath in and hesitantly approached the vehicle, catching sight of Charles’s lips pressed tightly together and his brow furrowed when he saw her. He rolled down the window and shot Bonnie a glare.

“You reek like booze, have you been drinking?” he shot her an accusatory glower. Bonnie’s nostrils flared as they went to the back door and carefully opened it, leaning in to unbuckle Maddy from her seat. The tired girl whined in protest and clung to her mom, the latter looking up to the driver’s seat.

“You know I’m not allowed to drink on the job,” she said shortly as they scooped Maddy into her arms and cradled her head against the crook of their neck, “did you end up going out?” she asked, gently soothing her sleeping daughter as she quietly closed the door and went back up to Charles’s open window.

“Just got some fast food, you know how it is,” he waved dismissively. Bonnie frowned but nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of Maddy’s head.

“Right- well, I’ll see you next Friday. I’ll have Maddy call you tomorrow night,” they nodded, earning a glare from Charles.

“Her name is Madeleine. What kind of mother can’t even call her daughter by her name,” he snarled. Bonnie bit the insides of her cheeks and simply nodded, not looking for a fight at that point. Maddy raised her head, eyes heavy as Charles beckoned his daughter towards him, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you soon, pumpkin,” he cooed, ruffling up her hair before Bonnie pulled back and watched the car pull out of the turnabout. Bonnie stared after the car for a few moments before hearing the tired croak of Maddy telling her she was cold. Bonnie gently rubbed a hand over Maddy’s back and turned on their heels to head into the apartment building, a blast of warm air immediately hitting the pair once they stepped past the threshold.

The elevator up to the tenth floor was quiet, the sounds of Maddy’s gentle breathing soothing Bonnie as the elevator creaked and hauled the duo up to her apartment. It dinged once they’d reached their floor and Bonie quietly padded over the carpeted hallway to her apartment. They shifted their hold on Maddy and carefully dug into their apron to pull out their keys, fiddling around before they found the right one and jangled the lock open. They moved to set Maddy down on the couch, helping the girl shed her shoes before they went over to the door and pulled off their own sneakers. She grumbled and rubbed at the sore soles of their feet, grimacing as they brushed the pad of their thumb over a blister formed on their heel. She sighed and sat down, looking around the apartment. Moving boxes piled on every available space. Even though it had been weeks since they’d moved in she didn’t have the will to unpack just yet. Everything still felt so fresh and raw the thought of unpacking her life and putting it back together again made them physically ill. Their eyes fell on Maddy, quietly asleep on the couch, and she smiled softly.

From another room, Bonnie heard the chaotic crash of boxes as little tiny feet barrelled into the living room. She was assaulted by the tiny yowls of her cat, Fenêtre, the black fluffball excited to see his mom. Bonnie donned a bemused grin and shook their head, scoffing playfully as they followed the beckoning cat into the kitchen. “What is it, hm? You hungry, sweetie? You poor thing, must’ve just run out,” she cooed, seeing the few remnants of kibble still collected at the bottom of the bowl. It didn’t take long for them to pour out a bowl of food for the demanding kitty. “Good grief, little love, you’re a glutton is what you are,” they snorted and gave him a few head scratches before they grabbed some clean-ish clothes and towels from one of her boxes. She was grimy and sweaty and in desperate need of some creature comforts.

Before they made their way towards the bathroom Bonnie grabbed one of their blankets from her little makeshift bed and brought it over to the couch, draping the comforter over Maddy’s sleeping form. She smiled warmly and kneeled beside the couch, pushing the girl’s hair back as they pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her daughter unconsciously snuggled into the plush fabric of the blanket and Bonnie gently ruffled up her hair before they pulled away from the couch and headed into the bathroom, running the warm water for a much-needed shower. They glanced in the mirror and grimaced at the evidence of her exhaustion; her red-rimmed eyes, sunken cheeks, dry and chapped lips, scraggly hair, it all just made her groan and attempt to wipe the tiredness from her face before she turned to strip down.

Her body trembled softly at the sudden coldness invading her senses. Their skin goosebumped and reddened ever so slightly before they stepped into the shower and sighed as the warm water flowed over their tired skin, alleviating the tension built up from the day. She just stood there for a long time, not daring to move as the water dulled her senses. Their shoulders slumped forward and Bonnie found themselves wiping at her face, feeling the beginnings of hot tears welling up in the corners of their eyes. They let out an exasperated laugh and shook her head, opting to grab her old loofah. She globbed some old children’s body wash onto the mesh and began scrubbing incessantly at her skin, mind dulling as she watched her arms redden under her intense rubbing.

♡♡♡

It was around one in the morning when Peter Benjamin Parker stumbled through the open window to his apartment, wheezing and aching after the intensity of the fight. He trembled uncontrollably as he crawled over to his mattress and sunk back onto it, letting out a pained groan as the blankets enveloped his body. He reached up and haphazardly pulled at his mask, cool air invading his senses as he rubbed at the fresh bruises and cuts on his face. Though his accelerated healing factor was certainly setting in by then, he could still feel the sting of pain as he brushed his gloved hand over the gashes on his stubbled chin.

He sat up reluctantly and pulled at the fabric of his suit, wincing somewhat as the spandex pulled away from his sore skin. He grumbled upon seeing the extent of his injuries before he tossed his suit into a pile of dirty laundry somewhere in the corner. He rubbed at his eyes as he got up from the mattress and moved to head to the kitchen, however, in his borderline-delirious stupor, Peter accidentally knocked into some moving boxes. They tumbled to the ground and Peter grimaced as the nightly silence that often accompanied such early hours was broken by the loud crash and breaking of glass. Comically, the crashing did not stop there, and like a domino effect, a few other boxes followed suit, falling to their demise and breaking whatever contents lay haphazardly shoved into the cardboard.

“Oh fuck me,” Peter growled and kicked a box out of his way. He couldn’t care to tidy up whatever he’d just messed up at that point. He tried to resume his trek to his kitchen once more, however, something made him pause. His senses tingled as something approached his door, something that clearly wasn’t happy. He flinched somewhat as that something began banging on his door. It was just a few raps, however, the boom of a fist connecting with the door made it evident enough that he really didn’t want to open up. He stilled and stayed quiet for a long while, hoping that whoever it was would get bored and just leave. Of course, he wasn’t that lucky, and the banging came back with a vengeance. He cursed silently under his breath and advised the banger that he'd be there in just a moment. He struggled to pull on a pair of grease-stained sweatpants as he hopped his way to the front. Peter took in a deep breath before he slowly turned the knob and opened the door just enough to see whoever insisted on breaking down his door that early in the morning. He was startled back at the person in front of him, a glint of familiarity shining in his eyes.

The bartender stood on the other side of the door, arms crossed underneath her chest as she glared up at Peter. Her hair was damp and clung to their neck and their face was scrubbed clean of the makeup she’d previously donned but it was unmistakably them. Peter poked his head from behind the door and looked at her, offering an expectant look as she straightened out.

“Do you have any idea what time it is and you’re makin’ that much raucous? Do you have any goddamned decency?” she whisper-yelled, face contorted into a furious scowl. Peter frowned somewhat and opened his mouth to speak, however, the little firecracker in front of him immediately shut him up, cutting him off before he even had the chance, “you need to quiet the fuck down, people are trying to sleep, children are trying to sleep. I swear to god if you don’t shut up-” she stopped and narrowed their eyes, stepping closer to the door. Peter backed up some and watched as she gripped the edge of the door and swung it open enough to see his face. Recognition spread across her features before the scowl returned, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, you’re the jackass who didn’t pay his tab, Peter, right?” they snarled, shoving a finger to his chest, “I don’t have the time nor the patience to deal with you right now. You shut the fuck up and pay your tab, that shit comes outta my paycheque if you don’t.”

“Right right, sorry about that,” Peter grunted out, watching the deep-seated frown on the woman’s face. She turned and stormed back to their apartment beside his, not in the mood to chastise him anymore that night. Peter felt a familiar bubble of sass curdling up his throat and before he could stop it he blurted out, “awe, c’mon now, don’t be like that. Does this mean we can’t be buddies? What a shame.” The woman shot a glare over their shoulder and offered up an obscene hand gesture in response, quickly opening their door and essentially slamming it shut behind her. Peter flinched at the sound and grumbled as he shut his door and reset the deadbolt, rubbing at his stubbled throat, nostrils flaring as he went back to his kitchen. He pulled out a box of day-old pizza and grabbed a slice, biting into the cold dough. He brushed his hand over his face, feeling that most of his previous bruising and gashes had mostly cleared up. He sighed and trudged back to his living room, plopping himself back on his mattress as he chowed down on his cold pizza and flipped on his television, clicking on one of his preferred nature channels.

He leaned into the bed, weary eyes fixated on the little puffins honking about across his screen. He sighed and turned onto his back, taking another bite before he set the pizza slice somewhere on his mattress, much too tired to continue eating. He felt the weight of the day crashing down on him and it took all of Peter’s strength not to start bawling out like a baby right then and there. The familiar prickles of tears in his eyes and sharp rawness erupted in his nostrils and Peter groaned softly, burying his face into his pillow as his body shook with unshed sobs. He ached for comfort as he yanked his blanket up and settled into his bed, trembling as the sounds of the narrator and puffins on his television became white noise and lolled him into a state of whatever relaxation he could achieve. He turned over and curled up into the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest as he sniffled and scrunched his eyes shut. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day? Yeah, he held out hope that the next day would be better.

The battered hero’s tears slicked down his cheeks and dried up as he nuzzled his face into the plush pillow beneath his head, taking in the familiar atmosphere and scent of his apartment. He rocked himself gently and eventually soothed himself down enough to fall asleep, the day was forgotten as he fell into a flitting sleep, Yeah, tomorrow would be better.

[willowswiththorns]

Uhm, I saw you were doing alphabet headcannons, could you do something sfw for Drew Marchal/ Rene from true blood?

It’d be so awesome but if not that’s ok, I just saw true blood on your list of fandoms 😖

Oml yes honey let me make you this. We need more True Blood content so I am here to DELIVER 😝I’m gonna do A-Z for now, but if you want anything else, please request and I promise I’ll work as fast as possible! I will say my memory of Rene is a bit fuzzy so if it seems a tad ooc I apologize. Okay enough of my rambling, thank you so much for requesting. - Willow

Rene / Drew Marshall Sfw A-Z

A = Affection (are they affectionate with you?)

Rene has always been the type of guy to use his charm and make moves on people.

His type of affection is mostly through actions and gestures.

This man will wrap his arm around your waist, kiss your cheek, your lips, you’re forehead, anywhere to show you his appreciation

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As seen with his friendship with Jason Stackhouse, he does his best to give out any advice needed for his friends. While he wasn’t the greatest friend to Jason, he was still actively looking out for him in his own way.

Definitely think any friendship would start at Merlotte’s solely because when he’s not working or at home, he’s at Merlotte’s meeting up with friends.

Rene is definitely the type of guy to send a beer over your way if he sees you alone.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man probably gives hugs where he’ll wrap his arms around you, and pat you on the back several times to show endearment.

Also he definitely gives the vibe that he’s a naturally warm bodied person and would be a little sweaty at times

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Rene is definitely the ideal husband to be around (if he wasn’t living a double life)

He’s wonderful with kids and definitely is the type of partner to help reassure and encourage his partner.

This man will repair things around the house solely because he wants to show you that you don’t need Anyone else to help when he’s around.

Rene definitely would be the perfect partner to have if he didn’t go down the path that is shown later on in season 1!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Rene definitely seems like the type to just call off the relationship in person. He’d try to be gentle about it, but also not try to lead on any possibility of getting back together.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

When this man is in love, he’s in LOVE!

He’s definitely the type of guy to know when the person he’s dating is the one, however Rene is also the type of guy to try and go slow with any form of engagement.

This man just wants to know if you love him as much as he loves you. He will most likely try to hide his true identity from you out of fear you’d fall out of love with him.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Relationship wise, he’s very gentle when it comes to his partner.

He wants to do anything he can to make his partner feel comfortable and secure in the relationship.

Rene will always try to hear you out whenever you feel insecure or uncomfortable about something.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Rene doesn’t really seem much of a hugging kind of guy. He will give hugs when asked, but he doesn’t seem like the kind to really initiate it unless he thinks it’s needed.

For when people initiate hugs , I feel like he’d do a side hug or a hug where he pats your back a bit ( as mentioned in one of the letter above)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Saying I love you is a very big thing for Rene, he doesn’t seem like the type to say those words until he’s completely comfortable in a relationship.

Once he knows this relationship is here to stay, he’s more than willing to say I love you whenever.

His fake accent is always a plus when hearing him say it

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Rene isn’t really the type to be jealous. If he’s comfortable in the relationship, he’s most likely not going to have any sort of jealousy.

Now there will be times where he’s playfully saying his jealous just to get your attention towards him. But it’s definitely not a common occurrence.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

This man goes in for the kill (literally)

He loves to grab your hips and hold you in place as he locks lips with you.

His favorite thing to do is nip at your bottom lip, just to get a small reaction out of you.

The man loves to see and hear you enjoying his love.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

As stated before, he’d be an ideal father figure if it weren’t for his double life.

Definitely the type of guy to teach kids how to do things around the house, or watch movies with them. He loves to do quality time with the kids.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

When the man is not working in construction, he loves to sleep in a little with you.

He wants to hold you in his arms while he’s resting his eyes, not wanting to leave bed until he has to make breakfast.

Can and will make you some eggs and bacon.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’ll take you out at a date night to Merlotte’s. Buy you dinner and listen to you talk about your day.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

This man leads a double life. He will never truly reveal his true identity or intentions. He wants you to love him as Rene, not Drew.

He’s worried his past will scare you off or make you turn him in to the police.

The only time he’d probably reveal himself is if he knows he’s going to be caught.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It really depends on the situation.

On minor issues, Rene can keep his cool and come off as a very level headed guy who can keep his shit together.

Major issues, especially regarding anything vampire related, hits him in a personal way. He goes after vampire lovers and fangbangers. Anything regarding those two or trying to find out his true identity, you might be sent home in a body bag.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Rene will remember the things you enjoy to make him look more lovable. He likes to remember those little things so that you’ll see him as husband material.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Definitely his favorite moment was the first time you met.

Seeing you across the bar all alone, the bar stool next to you empty.

Basically begging him to come over and meet you

He knew as soon as he sent a beer your direction and moved to sit next to you, that you were the one for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s definitely the type to pretend he’s not as protective, but this man can and will kill for you.

No literally he has the capability to kill any person that poses a threat to you.

This man will punch someone’s lights out just for not giving you the respect you deserve.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot of effort when it comes to anniversaries. He tried his best with Arlene, so I can imagine with ya’ll he’d definitely have the energy of not more.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s a liar and a murderer. You will never truly be able to get to know the real him due to him burying himself with lie after lie.

Man has blood on his hands. You will never truly be safe around him either.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s definitely not the type to be concerned about his looks. He likes the way he looks, the only time he’d have to change is when he’s on the run.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Nope.

This man loves you, but he’s pretty independent.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Man has thought about what life would be like if he could just admit his past to you. Would you accept him for who he was, for what he’s done?

He’d never tell you of course, but the thought has crossed his mind more than once.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Anyone who loves vampires or has had sex with vampires. Dude literally killed his own sister because she had sex with vampires.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man SNORES

He snores so loud it’s almost too much.

He also is very clingy in his sleep, so don’t expect to be getting up in the middle of the night to pee.

This man will never let you go.

[theevangelion]

Soulmates: Chapter XXXII

(Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31)

On Thursdays, a little late in the morning, Kara kept a rolling date.

It was less of a date in the traditional sense, more of a perpetual visit to confession. The winter had prolonged and drew out the frost. The coldness ordered the city with the skeleton of a tree on each corner, here and there, empty shrubs, flower bulbs on apartment balconies fused tightly with pre-grief, and try as everything might, the world still struggled to find bloom in the rapidly approaching mid-March, some three months since the story spread was published.

“Turns out I can be a drama queen.” Kara pushed out her cheeks, rocking back and forth on her feet. “I mean, who does that? At a funeral. Makes it about them—their wedding. Then she cancels the venue, like some perfect Princess Charming, and there I go, three days later, asking if we can rebook it.”

In her head, Kara imagined the knowing look.

“I know.” She folded her arms. “I’m getting better. At being a good girl, I mean. It just hit me hard. It felt like…how do I go through with it? Pushed all the way back to square one—worse than square one even. Just some awkward, boring, sad, hurting person, and there she is—Lena Luthor—looking at me like I’m important, and special, and like...I’m worth the wait.”

“You are worth the wait,” a voice chipped in.

“You’re stalking me now?” Kara snatched around with a glimmer in her eyes, smiling as she glanced the eavesdropper up and down.

Lena grinned and faced a headstone adjacent. She shook her head, flowers in her hand, apparently here with the same idea that some things needed to be confessed to those who would not tell secrets, and other things forgiven by those with no absolution to offer.

“I’m running a little late today. I usually come by around nine, nine-thirty.” Lena rubbed her neck. “I can come back?”

“Don’t, stay.”

“You’re sure?” Lena glanced with careful eyes, double-checking and very gentle in the way she said it. “She was your person.”

“She was your friend.”

“Still is.” Lena tilted her head. “Always will be.”

“Want to text her and tell her you can’t make brunch today?” Kara had a mischievous smile, thinking about how long it had been since they did something good and sporadic. “There’s a park nearby. Let’s get coffee and take a walk, baby.”

“Which park?” Lena offered her arm for Kara to hook into as they walked back the way they came.

“It’s not in the top five, maybe the top ten though.”

“If it’s not in the top five it may as well be a multi-level parking garage.”

“Would you still come on a date with me if it was?” Kara looked at her a certain way, as though spring had finally broken behind her eyes. “You look beautiful. I like what you did with your hair this morning.”

“Brush it?” Lena knitted her brows.

“Sure, yeah.” Kara tucked a rope of jet-black hair behind her ear.

“I would go on the date with you.” Lena pressed forward and pecked her lips, then slipped an arm around to tug and keep Kara warm in the clutch of her side. “About the wedding venue…”

“So, you did listen in?”

“A little.” Lena shrugged. “Our original date got snatched up quickly. What would you think about a June wedding?”

“June is only a little longer to wait, sure.”

“June of next year.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not in a rush.” There was a patient, radiant smile and no irritation to be found behind sea green eyes—despite the insanity—despite the nightmare Kara had proved to be in the aftermath. Lena just kept loving her in the right way. “I’m not going anywhere. I have some time on my hands, enough to waste, just to follow you places for the exercise, maybe the view of your butt too. June next year?”

“June next year.” Kara pressed her cheek to her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Lena?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you,” Kara whispered and stared ahead, clutching her arm, matching her idle pace. “I don’t just mean I love you, here and now, I mean…” She blew a little exhale, almost a whistle, like someone’s dad recounting the size of a big freshwater fish that had taken some time to reel in. “I love you in this horrifically logical, sensible, and completely thought through way. I love you the way you love someone when you look at them and your brain says…” Kara grinned. “Oh, there you are. The woman who’s going to be the mother of my children. The person I’m supposed to build a nice, good life around. Who I’m going to be sixty, seventy, maybe eighty with, and I’ll still be looking at you like you’re my best friend, my wife.” Kara held it for a moment. “My person.”

Lena nodded slightly and held open the gate, glancing at Kara with a certain look as she walked through first.

“Your person, huh?” Lena rasped as she followed. “I think we clarified that a person is much, much, much bigger of a deal than a wife or soulmate—we did do that, right?”

“Mhm.” Kara cupped her cheeks. “And there you are.”

“You know”—Lena brushed the tips of their noses—“I think being the mother of your children might be one above that.”

“We should probably get married first.”

“Probably,” Lena grinned as she thought about it. “It’s a fourteen-thousand-dollar dress. You should wear it the way you chose it. Then we can have a baby, maybe two, or seven, what do you think?”

“Two would be nice.”

“We’re still stood in the middle of the path. You want to keep walking, save this for the park?”

“Nah,” Kara kissed her—really kissed her—kissed her for the first time in a long time like it was unavoidable and necessary. “Let’s just stand here in everyone’s way, outside a cemetery, and plan our children’s names please.”

“Boys or girls?”

“Girls.”

“Not one of each?” Lena seemed surprised but happy. “Two little girls?”

“Mhm.” Kara nodded. “Both of them with your hair and eyes.”

“I want a little Kara Danvers too?”

“Then three daughters.”

“Not two as in one little me and one little you?” Lena’s brow knitted again. She suddenly jolted forward, careening into Kara and nearly knocking her over, a busy pedestrian elbowing them out of the way unceremoniously. “Are you okay?” Lena patted. “Hey! Did your mother never teach you to keep your hands to yourself and play nicely?”

Lena went fiery and bright-eyed at the stomping man, in a way Kara had never seen before, and knew she shouldn’t feel so tight, awoken, and aroused about. It hit too quickly. Lena was so feminine and dignified, silver-tongued and faintly upper-class, but never arrogant or precise with it, and so the clenched fists and snarled bottom lip did things for Kara.

Then the man turned around.

“I would ask the same but the way your brother turned out?” He spat at her feet. “Shame it was your wife who died and not him—what a fuck piece—I would have banged.”

John, Kara suddenly realised it was her old colleague—the man who wrote the original questions and found himself fired because of it.

Kara barely managed to keep a grip on Lena.

Then she let go, in a decided and intentional way, because Lena was owed this one. She strode forward. It wasn’t some towering, terrifyingly intimidating change in her demeanour. John didn’t take a step back. He didn’t have some—or any—fear in the eyes. He just grinned, shit-eating and smug, pleased to get the reaction he wanted.

Lena said something inaudible. John’s expression flickered, softened almost. They talked. He hung his head, a little solemn. They talked for what felt like forever. It was maybe only a minute or two, but the fact they were talking the way people talked and there was no shouting or aggression proved to be equally as confusing.

Lena came back in her own time.

“What was that?”

“Karma.”

“Spill.” Kara hooked her arm again, noticing the tension of a barely cooled-off temper. “Whatever you said seemed to have an effect.”

“Apologies do that to people.”

“He apologised?”

“I did.” They stopped, largely because Kara stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t…make it a thing. I know, I know I should have defended Sam’s honour, or something.” Lena pinched her brow. “That was a very broken man who lost everything in his life because of my brother. He just…needed to feel like that mattered.”

“He was awful to you!” Kara pulled away and scanned the street, ready to give him a much harsher reality check. “He does not get to blame you for his problems—”

“I know that. Kara—stop. Kara, I know that.” Lena took her biceps firm and brought the stormy temper back to attention. “He was—is—a very broken man, and sometimes people just need to begin healing on their own terms.” Lena almost hushed it away.

“Wait.” Kara paused. “You didn’t just apologise, did you?”

Lena grew sheepish.

“Lena, what did you do? Kara glared.

“In fairness—” Lena held up her hands defensively. “He was a very good reporter. I followed his work solving the Riddler killings—it was fascinating.”

“What did you do?”

“I offered him a job.” Lena scrunched her face. “Nothing that involves interfacing with me—ever. Just, you know, an auditor of sorts.”

“Of sorts!” Kara felt furious and well aware it was not her right to be angry over this. “Lena, baby, have you lost your mind?”

“The first real conversation you and I shared” —Lena did the look, the pre-argument look, when she was frustrated and holding it back— “You asked me what I was going to do to help the Midwestern Mom who lost everything on the LexCorp IPO. Well, there is your Midwestern Mom, Kara, I’m sorry it isn’t the sweet, nice, naïve old lady who buys lottery tickets for her grandson’s college fund.” Lena tossed her hands in the air. “I said I was going to fix it and do something good for the people who lost everything, and I meant what I said, Kara. It wasn’t lip-service. It wasn’t conditional on those people being objectively good people. So, who better to judge me than my worst critic?”

“Definitely two of you.” Kara realised and said it simultaneously. “An abundance of you. I did not know you had that kind of temper, that’s the first thing. The second thing is…well you know.” Kara tugged her girlfriend’s attention with the firmest grasp on either cheek. “All of it together, combined, accounted for and on the books? I want your children. I want you, because you are very hot, and very—you know—Daddy.”

“Is that…” Lena looked around. “Is that the argument finished?”

“Mhm.”

“We still haven’t moved.” Lena observed and dipped her chin in her scarf, blinking and furrowing at the absurdity. “We just—did we just plan our children, plus all the other stuff, and have an argument, right here?”

“Mhm. Yes, we did.” Kara kissed the corner of her mouth. “I think this becomes the third, maybe even the second stop on the tour, when our kids are old enough, and they groan in the back of the car while we drive around and point our lives out for them.”

“Where’s the first?”

“I’ll show you.” Kara pushed a slow, certain smile. “June, next year.”

[theresthesnitch]

Crooked

A/N: another entry for @harryandginuary BINGO. I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you do too.

Did you know that Charlie Chaplin once came in third in a look alike contest?

Read it here on AO3.

Prompt: O 73. You've dared me to do this as a joke but there's no way I'm backing out now.

***

"You don't have to do it."

Harry scoffed. "Of course I do.

"Listen, mate," Ron said. "I realize I'm the one who dared you to do it, but you don't have to actually enter the Harry Potter look alike contest."

"You may have meant it as a joke, but I'm committed now. I'm going to do it."

They stood in line at the registration table, and Harry looked around the room. The costumes were really bad. Did people think he really dressed like that? Looked like that?

The person in front of him moved, and Harry stepped up to the table with a nervous smile. "One entry, please."

"You can't charm your eyes green."

Harry, confused, replied, "I didn't?"

The witch sitting at the registration table narrowed her eyes at him. "It's against the rules of the contest. You can charm the scar; you can't charm the eyes."

"Solid rule. Good catching this one," Ron said from just over his left shoulder.

She pointed her wand at Harry's face, and his hand twitched for his wand before she said, "finite incantatum." Harry stood there staring at her, eyes unchanged. "Fine, whatever, it's not the right color anyway, so it won't help you."

Harry wondered briefly if Ron was going to die of laughter. "Er, right. Okay. Can I enter now?"

The witch rolled her eyes. "Name?"

"Harry Potter."

The witch fixed him with such a glare that he was sure he was going to implode under it. Ron, meanwhile, was struggling to breath.

"Obviously, buddy. But I need your real name to register for the contest."

Harry blanked. "But, my name really… James. James Evans."

"Alright, James. You're going to be number 4. When the time comes, they'll call you on stage."

"Right, thanks."

Harry walked away with Ron wiping tears from under his eyes. "Merlin, I'm glad you did this. It's going to be so fun for me."

Harry smiled. "I've never been so anonymous in my life. No one's even looking at me!"

"Of course not, mate. You don't even look like Harry Potter."

"Yeah, apparently I got the eyes wrong."

Ron looked around the room that was slowly filling up. "I can't believe you let my sister judge this."

"First off, if you think I let Ginny do anything, you are very much mistaken about how our relationship works. And never let Ginny hear you say that I let her do something. Second," Harry shrugged a shoulder, "it's for charity."

"Alright, I guess that's-"

"Your scar is crooked."

Harry turned around to face a slightly short, wiry man wearing a number 6 with blond hair and the most elaborate lightning scar he had ever seen. Do these people even know what I look like? "Excuse me?"

"Your scar is crooked," not-Harry 6 said. "You messed up the charm, and it's not even straight. Sloppy work."

"Huh," Ron said, looking Harry straight on, "your scar is a bit crooked."

Harry chuckled before turning back to not-Harry 6. "Thanks, mate. Good looking out."

"You can't really expect to compete if you don't put in the effort. Better luck next time." Not-Harry 6 walked away and left Harry standing with his mouth hanging open and Ron, once again, dying of laughter next to him.

"Ron, I think I might lose the Harry look-alike contest."

"Harry, your fiancée is judging." Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're absolutely going to lose the look alike contest."

"Welcome, everyone, to this year's War Orphan Carnival. We're ready to start our Harry Potter Look-Alike Contest. Can I get all the contestants on the stage?"

Harry walked on stage with a handful of other contestants, and lined up next to a witch with a number 3 around her neck. Harry did a double take looking at her. She looked remarkably like him. He looked out to where Ron was standing in the crowd with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow in question. It has to be charms, right? Ron shrugged in response.

"Now everyone, we have a very special guest judge for our contest this year," the announcer said. "If anyone can tell us who the true Harry Potter look alike is, it would be her. Let's give a big round of applause for Ginny Weasley!"

Ginny walked on stage and immediately locked eyes with Harry. He shrugged a shoulder, and her eyes glimmered with mischief. She walked to the microphone, said a few words, and then was walking down the line of contestants. She chatted briefly with not-Harry 1, who was a tall wizard wearing Gryffindor robes, and not-Harry 2, who wore red and gold Quidditch robes and carried a broomstick.

Ginny stopped in front of not-Harry 3 and looked her up and down. She looked over at Harry with wide eyes, then back to not-Harry 3. “That’s a really impressive costume. Did you use charms?”

“No,” said not-Harry 3. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Right, of course,” said Ginny. “It’s very good. Is that your natural hair?”

“Yes.” Not-Harry 3 was not very talkative.

“Great!” Ginny seemed a little lost now. “Well, good luck!”

Ginny stopped in front of Harry and looked him up and down. “Tell me about your Harry costume.”

Harry smiled. “Apparently I got the green eyes wrong and the scar is crooked.”

“Idiot.” Not-Harry 6 was apparently listening in. “You don’t tell the judge how you messed up the costume. Amateur.”

Ginny looked up to Harry’s forehead. “Huh, it is crooked.”

“Told you,” mumbled not-Harry 6.

“Maybe I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself,” Ginny said with a coy smile.

“Oh?” Harry asked. “What do I have to do?”

“Just answer a few trivia questions.”

“Were we supposed to memorize Harry Potter trivia for this?” asked not-Harry 2 to not-Harry 1. “I don’t remember seeing that in the rules.”

“Anyone can do Harry trivia,” Ginny went on, poorly concealed glee on her face. “I’m going to ask you Ginny trivia - things only the REAL Harry would know.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “Give me your best Ginny trivia.”

“Favorite color?”

“She’ll tell you it’s blue, but it’s really green. Green like a fresh-pickled toad.”

Ginny shook her head. “Favorite food?”

“French toast, but only if it is served with powdered sugar and not syrup.”

“Favorite number?”

“Seven.”

“Favorite season?”

“Autumn.”

“Favorite flower?”

Harry froze and his jaw dropped. Did she have a favorite flower?

“I - uh - Gerbera daisies?”

“What, no. That’s Hermione’s favorite flower.”

“It is?” said Ron’s voice from the audience. An echo of laughter went around the crowd.

“It is,” Ginny said over her shoulder. “One more chance. My fiance would absolutely know my favorite flower.”

Harry racked his brain, but he couldn’t think of a single other flower. “Lily?”

Ginny snorted. “No. Daffodils. Nice try, but you are clearly not a very good Harry Potter.” She winked, and moved down the line to not-Harry 5.

Not-Harry 5 was a little child who barely came up to Harry’s waist. His hair was rumpled, and he wore black robes with a stuffed white snowy owl on his shoulder. Ginny squatted in front of him. “Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?”

“Connor.”

“Hi Connor. I like your owl.”

“Thanks. I have a wand, too.” He held up a stick that had tape and glue around the end for a handle.

“Where did you get that wand, Connor?”

“I made it,” he said. “See, I put glue and tape, and it goes swish swish.” He waved the wand around.

“It’s very good. I was afraid I was going to have to tell Harry you had his wand. It looks so much like his!”

“Thank you. Mummy drew a scar on my forehead too. See.” He pointed at his head.

“I see. Your scar is not crooked, Connor.” he nodded his head. “Connor, do you know what Harry Potter’s favorite spell is?”

“Expelli-arms!” Connor waved his wand around when he said it, and Harry’s heart melted.

“Very good! You’re a very convincing Harry.”

“Thank you. He’s my favorite.”

“He’s my favorite, too. I’ll see you later, okay Connor?”

“Bye, Ginny.”

Ginny stood up and moved down to not-Harry 6, who was now sporting a black Harry wig. Not-Harry 6 regaled Ginny with an explanation of how his clothing choice was authentic and how he had done extensive research into the kinds of clothing that was preferred by Harry when he was at Hogwarts. Harry rolled his eyes and hoped no one was taking notes on this.

At last, Ginny walked back up to the podium. “Ready to make your choices?” the announcer asked.

“I am.” Ginny conferred briefly with the announcer, then stood to the side

“In third place, Number 6!” Not-Harry 6 walked forward to accept his medal, and returned to his spot. Harry could hear him grumbling slightly.

“Second place, Number 3!” Not-Harry 3 accepted her award quietly to a smattering of applause from the crowd.

"And finally, our grand winner in our Harry Potter Look-Alike Contest is, drumroll please," The announcer paused everyone in the room drummed their hands on their legs, "Number 5!”

Connor lit up like it was the best day of his life, and walked forward to grab his trophy. He tripped over the edge of his robes a bit, causing not-Hedwig to wobble on his shoulder, and then stood next to Ginny.

“Congratulations, Connor.”

“Thank you, Ginny.”

“Connor, would you like to meet the real Harry Potter?”

Connor’s eyes were as big as saucers, and he nodded emphatically. Ginny turned back to the announcer. “Roger, I happen to know that Harry is here today, and I think I can convince him to come up and say hi.”

The announcer’s face lit up. “Oh, ho ho! A special treat indeed. Mr. Potter, are you here today?”

The crowd went absolutely silent, and Harry waited for a beat before walking forward.

“Not you, you wanker,” not-Harry 6 said. “Get back in line!”

Harry continued forward, and shot a wink over his shoulder. He walked straight up to Ginny, dipped her dramatically and pressed a kiss to her lips. The crowd went wild. He set her upright before breaking the kiss and heard, “Oh merlin. I just called Harry Potter a wanker,” from somewhere over his shoulder.

Harry knelt in front of Connor, who looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening in front of him. “Hi Connor. Congratulations on winning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” His voice came out at barely a whisper.

“Can you call me Harry, Connor?”

“Yes.” Still a whisper.

“You know, you get to go home and tell all your friends that you beat Harry Potter in a Harry Potter look-alike contest.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry parroted. “I like your Hedwig.”

“Thank you.” Connor’s voice was a bit louder now. “You’re my hero.”

“Want to know a secret, Connor?” He nodded emphatically. “You are my hero.” An “awww” went up from the audience. Connor’s face lit up and he threw his arms around Harry in a hug. “I bet your mom is here. Do you want to take a picture with Ginny and I?” He nodded again.

A few minutes later, they finished a round of pictures with Connor’s mom, and a few more for the Prophet with all three winners.

“Thank you, everyone,” Roger the announcer said. “Congratulations to our winners, and let’s hear a round of applause for Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley!” The crowd roared, and Harry and Ginny made to leave the stage when they heard a gasp.

“Oh my merlin. I told Harry Potter that his scar was crooked!”

[short-wooloo]

For funsies imma just post all of Federation of Fear here

https://biosector01.com/wiki/Federation_of_Fear

Chapter 1

Vezon opened his eyes, astonished to still be alive. The last thing he remembered, he was surrounded by Zyglak, who seemed immune to his wit and charm. Then there was a flash, the sensation of being grabbed by someone far stronger than he, a weird sensation of travel, and darkness.

He looked around. The room he occupied was a large cell and he wasn’t in it alone. Vezon didn’t recognize any of the other four occupants, all of whom stood well away from the others. By reflex, he started calculating how long it would take to disable them and how quickly he could pick the lock of the cell door.

Vezon’s musings were interrupted by the appearance of a sixth figure outside the cell. He was tall, lean and strong, wore a domed helmet, and carried a wicked double-bladed sword. The newcomer looked over the five prisoners as if they were cargo-hauling Ussal crabs up for auction.

“My name is Brutaka,” the visitor said. “I know you have questions – I’m not here to answer them. Where you are, who I work for, what this place is – you don’t need to know. What you do need to know is that there are two, and only two, ways you can get out of here.”

A Xian female stepped up to the bars and said in a dangerously soft voice, “And they are?”

“You can walk out, Roodaka, under your own power, and carry out a mission for some friends of mine,” Brutaka replied. “Or I can carry you out, plant you in a hole outside, and we’ll see if anything grows.”

Brutaka turned his attention to the others. “All of you have something in common – you have all had dealings with the Brotherhood of Makuta. Roodaka, here, betrayed them to the Dark Hunters, then betrayed the Dark Hunters as well – now both sides want her dead. Takadox and Carapar over there are Barraki, whose armies were crushed 80,000 years ago by the Brotherhood. The Makuta in the corner is Spiriah, who fouled up an experiment on the island of Zakaz so badly that his own people marked him for death.”

Vezon timidly raised a hand. “Excuse me, oh brutal, blade-wielding, lover of gardening. I have never met any Makuta face to mask and wouldn’t know one if he stepped on me and ground me into the dirt. I think maybe you wanted someone else … I’m Vezon with an ‘n,’ you see, not Vezok with a ‘k,’ and --”

The crab-like Carapar loped over, picked up Vezon by the neck, and bounced him off the back wall. “You talk too much,” the Barraki growled.

“Oh, yes,” Brutaka muttered, shaking his head. “This is going to work out just fine.”

Chapter 2

Roodaka was furious. As she walked along the waterfront, clad in a cloak made of plant fibre, she imagined over and over again all the disgusting things she would someday turn Brutaka into with her Rhotuka spinner. One way or the other, he was going to pay for this.

Brutaka and his team – Roodaka, Vezon, Carapar, Takadox, and Makuta Spiriah – had arrived on the shores of the island of Stelt in a small boat. As soon as Roodaka recognized the skyline, she began to protest. Stelt was the home of the late Sidorak, her former comrade, and his people. Worse, Roodaka had set Sidorak up to be killed, and it was likely everyone on Stelt knew that. She would be about as welcome there as a Kikanalo stampede.

But Brutaka had insisted they would need a bigger boat to get where they were going, and this was the easiest place to get one. The only other team member to voice an objection was Spiriah, who believed Brotherhood of Makuta agents were waiting in every village to grab him.

“And just how are we going to purchase this boat?” Roodaka hissed. “We have no equipment, no arms other than yours, not even those ridiculous Matoran widgets. We have nothing of value to offer in exchange.”

“Of course we do,” Brutaka answered, as he pushed open the doors of a trading house. “We have you.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Carapar had seized her from behind. The team, along with the struggling Roodaka, stepped inside the dimly lit and foul smelling shack. The proprietor was one of Sidorak’s species.

“We’re here to make a purchase,” said Brutaka. “Your fastest ship, outfitted with supplies for a long voyage to the south.”

“To the south?” snorted the trader. “Meaning I will never see my ship, or you, again? Unless you can make me rich --”

Brutaka took the hood off Roodaka, who glared at him with murder in her eyes. “Would the reward you’ll get for capturing the killer of Sidorak be payment enough?”

The trader smiled and invited the party out to view his prize craft. So excited was he by visions of the wealth that would soon be his that he never noticed Takadox had slipped away. The boat turned out to be good-sized, well armed with disk launchers, and large enough to accommodate at least a dozen beings. A crew of large, blue and gray armored bruisers were at work on it now.

“We’ll take it,” said Brutaka. There was a loud splash from the ocean side of the ship, but no one paid much mind to it.

“And I’ll take the murderer,” the trader said. “Sidorak was no prize, but we can’t let Vortixx and Rahi kill our kind and get away with it, now can we?”

There was another splash, then another, and another. Brutaka ignored them. “Of course not. But if you want people to believe you caught this dangerous criminal, you will need to look like you’ve been in a fight. A light tap to your head would do the trick, perhaps. My colleague, Vezon, can handle it – you won’t feel a thing.”

“Ever again,” Vezon chimed in, smiling.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

The trader looked over Vezon, who was nowhere near as physically imposing as the rest of the team. How much damage could he do? “All right,” said the trader. “One blow – a light one! – just to look convincing.”

Vezon’s grin grew wider. Roodaka struggled against Carapar’s grip. Brutaka walked casually away from the scene, surveying the boat. Vezon drew his fist back. Then, in one smooth motion, Brutaka whirled and whacked the trader in the back of the head. The trader crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Hey!” said Vezon. “He was mine! I woudn’t have hurt him … much … and I only would have needed three or four hours and the right tools, just to make sure he would be no trouble.”

“That’s the point,” Brutaka replied. “You enjoy your work a little too much. Now everyone on board – that includes you, Roodaka.”

They climbed on the ship to find Takadox standing alone. The Barraki took a little bow, pointed to his hypnotic eyes, and said, “The crew decided to go for a swim, all at once. Imagine that.”

“Why all the trouble?” muttered Carapar. “We could have just stormed in and stolen the ship.”

“And had all of Stelt after us?” asked Brutaka. “Not to mention every Dark Hunter and Brotherhood member around, as soon as they heard Roodaka was here?”

“But what about the trader, you fool?” said Roodaka. “He saw me!”

Brutaka laughed as the ship moved slowly away from shore. “Who’s going to believe anyone stupid enough to stand still and get hit?”

Chapter 3

Brutaka and his bizarre crew had been at sea for three days when he called them all together. “It’s time to let you know our mission. And before you ask, you were all chosen for this trip for one very good reason: You’re expendable. No one is going to care if any of you live or die, which makes you ideal for this job.”

Carapar grumbled something unspeakably foul. Brutaka chose to ignore it.

“We are going to an island far south of anything on any chart,” Brutaka continued. “But it’s not uninhabited. In fact, it has one very special resident: a Makuta named Miserix.”

Now it was Spiriah’s turn to mutter something, though his words were more in shock than in anger.

“Miserix, for those of you who don’t know, was the leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta before the current holder of that title,” said Brutaka. “He was overthrown and wound up imprisoned on a volcanic island. He’s guarded by Rahi and the Great Beings know what else – things someone figured would be able to kill an escaping Makuta. And it’s our job to break him out.”

At first, none of the team members said anything. Then Takadox spoke up. “And what do we get out of this? Money? Power? Our freedom?”

Brutaka smiled. “You get to live another day.”

“And what do we do with him after we have him?” asked Roodaka. “Hold him for ransom?”

“That’s not your concern,” Brutaka replied. “All of you have a role to play in this mission. When we get close to the island, you will be given weapons and equipment. Try to run, at any time, and friends of mine will hunt you down – friends who make me look like a big, cuddly Ussal crab.”

It was Vezon who spotted them first. A small fleet of ragtag vessels was approaching from the west. They were about the ugliest boats one could imagine, slapped together from remnants and wreckage and barely sea-worthy. But he wasn’t focused on the look of the ships, but rather the identity of their crews.

“Zyglak!” he shouted.

The others rushed to the rail to look. Sure enough, the reptilian beings known as “the Great Beings’ mistakes” were manning the ships. Notoriously violent and destructive, Zyglak hated the Great Spirit Mata Nui and anything associated with him. It was doubtful they were paying a social call.

Brutaka tried to steer the ship away from them, but the wind and waves were not cooperating. After a few minutes, he realized why: Makuta Spiriah was using his power over weather to keep the ship in place.

“Did you really think it would be this easy?” said Spiriah. “I deduced our goal days ago and passed a message to my Zyglak friends through channels on Stelt.”

Vezon looked horrified. He had spent many days a captive of the Zyglak not so long ago. It wasn’t an experience he was anxious to repeat. “Friends? Zyglak don’t have friends... just meals they haven’t eaten yet.”

“They are outcasts,” said Spiriah. “And so am I. Now, Brutaka, I am taking command of this ship. We will be setting a new course, for the island of Zakaz. It was there that I met defeat and disgrace – there that my grand experiment failed, because the inhabitants were too savage to know what to do with my gifts. It is their fault I was cast out of the Brotherhood – and now they are going to pay!”

Chapter 4

It had been three days since Spiriah’s takeover of the team’s vessel. Since then, they had steered a course for the island of Zakaz, surrounded on every size by boats filled with murderous Zyglak. Spiriah had been acting every inch the captain of the ship, ordering the others about and being particularly hard on Brutaka. Through it all, Brutaka said nothing and made no attempt to strike at Spiriah.

“To think, we were beginning to feel a little afraid of him,” Takadox said, gesturing toward Brutaka.

“Speak for yourself,” Carapar replied.

“Home,” beamed Vezon. “True, I’ve never been to Zakaz... I’m not even really one of the native species... in fact, they’ll probably kill me on sight... or worse, tie me upside down over a spiked dagger plant... but at least I’ll die at home.”

Roodaka had abandoned any hope that Brutaka was going to act and concentrated instead on Spiriah. “The Brotherhood has overextended itself in recent years,” she assured him. “Warring with Dark Hunters and Toa... they are weak. If you struck at them now with your army, you could take over Destral and rule the universe. Of course, you would need someone by your side who knows all the factions and how best to use them...”

Spiriah looked at her as if she were something stuck to his boot. “I would sooner offer my neck to a dull axe blade than trust you, female. Your name has become another word for ‘treachery.’”

“Better that than being another word for ‘failure,’” Roodaka muttered.

The conversation was ended by the appearance of land off the port bow. It was the island of Zakaz, in all its ruined “glory.” A handful of Dark Hunter vessels could be seen in the waters nearby, on patrol. At a word from Spiriah, the Zyglak vessels attacked. Taken by surprise, three of the Dark Hunter ships were sunk immediately. The others beached on the shores of the island, only for the crews to be slain by a mob of Skakdi natives.

Spiriah laughed at the sight. “The Skakdi believe they know what savagery is,” he said. “But they have never met the Zyglak. And the Makuta believe they know all the colors and shapes of revenge... but I will introduce them to a shade darker than even they could imagine.”

The mini-armada surged forward, Zyglak already preparing to storm the beaches. They were still 500 yards from shore when the first Zyglak ship suddenly lurched and began to sink. This was followed by another and still another. Soon, Zyglak vessels on every side were taking on water, gaping holes torn in their hulls below the water line.

Takadox rushed to the rail. He caught a glimpse of beings just under the water, attacking the Zyglak craft. From a distance, they almost looked like his old ally, Ehlek. Whatever they were, they moved like fish underwater and the ships were no match for their claws.

Shocked by the abrupt annihilation of his force, Spiriah was unprepared for Brutaka’s attack. An energy blast knocked him off his feet, a well-placed kick kept him on the ground, and then Brutaka’s blade was pressed against his chest armor.

“Go ahead,” Brutaka said, coldly. “Use one of your powers. Think you can do it before I rip open your armor? And how long do you think your energy will last out here, with no body to occupy? Or maybe I should just throw you overboard right now.”

“How... ?” Spiriah began.

“How did I deal with the Zyglak?” said Brutaka. “Simple. You have friends; so do I. Mine are an species of water dwellers who were specially modified by my employers to kill Makuta. They live off the coast of Zakaz, and right now they are practicing their skills on your Zyglak. You don’t want to look... it’s messy.”

“Wait a minute,” said Takadox. “Not that I am complaining, but how did you manage to get in touch with these ‘friends’ of yours? You never left the ship.”

Brutaka hauled Spiriah to his feet. All around, the ocean was littered with wrecked ships and dead Zyglak. “Spiriah had his friends following us. And I had someone following us since we left Stelt, just in case of emergency... and here she comes now.”

The others turned to see a small skiff approaching from the east. Its lone pilot was a female, lithe and well-armed. As she came alongside and clambered above the ship, Roodaka noticed that her left arm was completely mechanical. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Spiriah.

“This is the last member of our team,” said Brutaka. “Treat her as you would me... and be sure she will treat you even worse than I do. Her name’s Lariska.”

Chapter 5

Lariska stood at the bow with Brutaka, watching the ship cleave through the water. Behind them, the other members of the team were keeping a careful eye on Makuta Spiriah – not that they could have done much to stop him if he tried to make a break. But Brutaka had done a little math and explained to Spiriah how many hours he was likely to survive once the Brotherhood of Makuta knew where he was. Then he assured Spiriah that if the ship and its occupants were all destroyed, the Brotherhood would be notified immediately where to start looking.

That was a bluff, of course. But Spiriah had spent a lot of his life fleeing from his former comrades, and running and hiding get to be habits after a while. As Brutaka expected, Spiriah bought it and backed off.

The ship had veered away from Zakaz and was on its way south. There was one more stop to make before they headed for their ultimate target. This was the one Brutaka dreaded – it was time to arm the team.

The island that came into view was little more than a piece of barren rock. It was not the original site for this meeting, but plans had changed. Two Order of Mata Nui members, Botar and the nine-foot tall warrior named Trinuma, had been dispatched with a cache of weapons for a rendezvous on a small, wooded island just off the mainland. But a Makuta named Icarax had spotted their appearance and attacked. The fight was furious, but brief. Botar was slain, crushed by the Makuta’s magnetic power, and Trinuma barely escaped to tell the tale. In desperation, he stored the weapons at the first place he came to before returning to Daxia with the tragic news.

The ship dropped anchor just off the coast. Brutaka warned Takadox and Carapar he would be keeping a careful eye on them on the swim over, just in case they got any funny ideas about diving deep and escaping. Vezon was the first to react when they set foot on the rocky shore.

“There is something... wrong here,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Something beyond even my powers to cope with.”

“You don’t have any powers, freak,” Carapar roughly reminded him.

“I don’t?” Vezon said, seemingly confused. “Where was I when they were being handed out? Let me see... Makuta’s lair... Voya Nui... tunnels... prison... how could I have missed the meeting, I was always where the action was.”

“Quiet,” said Lariska, dagger drawn. “There is one true statement in your babble. There is something not right in this place.”

Brutaka approached, carrying the weapons. Takadox took a long, thin blade, while Carapar grabbed a broadsword. Roodaka pounced on a Rhotuka launcher. Brutaka handed Spiriah a projectile weapon and warned him with a cold smile not to point it at himself... or anyone else. Vezon got a spear, which he turned over in his hands with no real enthusiasm.

“What’s it do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Brutaka answered. “But with your powers, you don’t need it, right?”

Vezon brightened. “Right,” he agreed, having forgotten once again that he had no powers. Carapar growled in frustration and stalked away.

“We have what we came for,” Takadox said nervously. “Let’s go.”

“There’s something in that cave up ahead,” said Lariska. “I can hear what sounds like breathing, but it’s a... wet sound, as if the being were inhaling through mud. And there’s something else... it almost sounds like... something slithering.”

Spiriah took a step back. “I know where we are,” he said, his eyes darting from side to side as if expecting an attack. “Mutran told me of this place, though it didn’t look like this ages ago. We have to go. We have to go now!”

But it was already too late. Vast walls of rock suddenly sprang up from the shore line, forming a 200-foot high wall around the island and cutting the team off from their boat. “Blast it down,” Brutaka ordered. But even the power of his blade was not enough to penetrate the stone.

Spiriah had shapeshifted himself some wings and was trying to fly over the top. A sharp spear of stone erupted out of the top of the wall and impaled one of his wings, sending him spiraling toward the ground. Lariska ran, leapt, hit the wall feet first, and propelled herself into mid-air to catch the falling Makuta.

There was no time to marvel at her athletic feat or make other attempts to escape. For now a voice was coming from the cave, but not a voice like anyone present had ever heard before. It sounded like the slimy, repulsive sound that comes when a nest of feeder worms is disturbed. Even Brutaka had to suppress a shudder.

“Visitors,” said the voice. “At last.”

“Who are you?” said Brutaka. “Did you imprison us here? I warn you, you don’t know the power you face.”

A massive tentacle shot out of the cave, wrapping itself around Brutaka and pulling him inside. The next moment, he was in the presence of something so horrible, so alien, that it took all his willpower just to hold on to his sanity.

“Now,” said the entity that held him in its grip. “Now tell Tren Krom of your power.”

Chapter 6

Brutaka tried to close his eyes. It didn’t help. He couldn’t get the image of Tren Krom out of his mind – a writhing, crimson mass of tentacles emerging from a gelatinous central core, with two dead yellow eyes that somehow followed every movement without ever moving themselves. At least, that was what he had seen at a glance – somehow, Brutaka knew to gaze for long at Tren Krom would be to invite madness.

The entity seemed over time to have merged with the stone floor and walls of its cave, so that lurker and place of concealment were one. The acrid stench of decay hung over everything. In vain, Brutaka tried to break free of the grip of Tren Krom’s tentacle. He could feel the strange being trying to probe his mind, but so far, Brutaka’s mental training had allowed him to resist. If that should fail, he knew, the secrets of the Order of Mata Nui would be exposed to this monster.

“What wonders have come into my universe in the millennia since my exile?” Tren Krom said softly, his voice as revolting as his form. “I must know!”

Hesitantly, the other members of Brutaka’s team had entered the cave, only to wish they hadn’t. It was only Lariska, protosteel dagger in hand, who kept them from fleeing.

“You think me an alien... an ‘other’...” Tren Krom continued. “But I am of the substance of this universe, and I walked here long before you or even Mata Nui himself. Have you not heard the tales?”

“There is a Tren Krom in legend,” said Brutaka. “But... the tales obviously left some parts out.”

Tren Krom laughed. The sound made the team wish death would come for them right now. “Before the Great Spirit Mata Nui was born, the Great Beings created one being who was purely organic. They taught me the ways of the universe they were creating and they placed me in its core. There I was to remain, maintaining the heat, the light, all the forces that made their creation whole...”

Brutaka had managed to work an arm partway loose. With a little luck, he would be able to get his hand on a dagger and cut himself free... all he needed was time. “So what happened? How did you end up here?”

“My time was always to be short,” Tren Krom replied. “I was to shepherd this universe until Mata Nui was prepared to take power. A Matoran of Light came to me and said the hour had come for me to move on... a crafter of canisters he was, whose sanity did not survive our encounter. I surrendered myself to my fate, only to be exiled here by the Great Beings and bound to this rock.” His voice tuned heavy with bitterness. “The universe, it seems, did not need two entities supreme.”

“What... what do you want with us?” whispered Vezon. “And please don’t say someone to hold your mirror for you.”

“I would know what has gone on in the universe in the last 100 millennia,” Tren Krom answered. “My visitors have been few in number. You seven will remain here and I will gain the knowledge I need from your minds... of course, sadly, you may have no minds left when I am done.”

“Why ask us?” said Lariska. “You obviously don’t really care.”

“Would you shut up?” hissed Carapar. “Rule number one: don’t annoy the giant, tentacled monster, or don’t they teach that one in The Shadowed One’s school?”

“Be quiet,” snapped Lariska. “Tren Krom... your universe is in danger. It’s our job to help save it. If you keep us here, you’ll be hurting the one thing you helped bring into being.”

Carapar edged slowly to the side, sword in hand. No one paid any attention – all eyes were on Lariska, who had been grabbed by one of Tren Krom’s many arms. Without the discipline Brutaka possessed, her mind was an open book to the entity. She screamed as a lifetime of memories were sifted through in an instant, screamed as she saw glimpses of the ancient mind of Tren Krom. When he finally released her, she collapsed on the stone floor.

“Mutran,” Tren Krom muttered to himself. “So long ago now, I entered his mind … and he mine … and so he learned how best to strike at Mata Nui. He and his kind have dared reach for power that fate chose to deny them. How... intriguing.”

“It’s more than that,” Brutaka said. “Tell him, Spiriah – tell him what will happen to him if the Makuta succeed in their plans.”

“If the Plan succeeds...” Spiriah began. He glanced around as if one of his former comrades might be somewhere nearby, listening. “A shadow will fall... Makuta will rule the universe, their will enforced by Rahkshi. Anyone with the power to threaten that rule will die... and that means anyone.”

“Impossible,” said Tren Krom. Suddenly, the minds of every team member were filled with nightmarish images projected by the tentacled entity, visions that would sicken even the mad. “No one can approach without my assent. No one can fight me. No one can kill me. I am eternal!”

Brutaka had his dagger in hand now. “Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m betting there was a time you said no one could bind you... and look what happened.”

Tren Krom paused in thought. Brutaka started to make his move, then caught Carapar out of the corner of his eye. The Barraki was raising his sword to strike the entity. It was too late to shout, too late to stop him.

Carapar brought his blade down, confident he had taken his enemy by surprise. Then a third eye suddenly appeared on Tren Krom, one gazing right at Carapar. The Barraki froze in mid-blow. A shaft of energy shot out from the eye, bathing him in its glow. The next instant, Carapar shattered into fragments as if he had been made of crystal. Then there was nothing left of him but a pile of glittering dust on the stone floor.

“I helped to birth a world of order,” Tren Krom whispered. “But from what I have seen in the female’s mind... you have turned it into a universe of madness and fear. It is not worth saving. But it is the universe you and your kind deserve.”

Tren Krom hurled Brutaka at his team. Spiriah used his magnetic powers to catch him before he could slam into the wall. The tentacles withdrew then, wrapping themselves around the core of Tren Krom’s being.

“Go,” the entity said. “Take yourselves from my prison... take your memories and plans with you... for the horrors already in your minds are worse than any I could visit upon you. I condemn you to your fate – life in the universe you and your kind have made.”

No one was going to take the time to argue. Gathering up Brutaka and Lariska, they fled the cave even as the stone walls that surrounded the island receded into the sand. Only Takadox paused to look back at the cavern where Carapar had died, wondering for a moment just what it would take to end the life of a being older than the stars.

Chapter 7

Brutaka and Lariska stood together, watching Takadox standing silently by the rail of the ship. “I worry about that one,” said Lariska. “He has not spoken a word since we left Tren Krom’s island, after the death of his friend Carapar.”

“Friend?” snorted Brutaka. “Barraki don’t have friends, just people they use – and Carapar was Takadox’s favorite puppet. Besides, don’t waste your worry on him – save it for us.” He pointed off the bow. “We’ve arrived.”

Looming out of the mist was an island of black sand and jagged rock, volcanic peaks and strange Rahi arcing and wheeling through the sky. Despite the bright light that played off the waters around it, the island seemed to be in perpetual shadow.

“Welcome to Artidax,” said Brutaka.

Vezon approached, chuckling. “Hope we survive our stay.”

Brutaka looked around at his team – a Barraki, half a Skakdi, a Makuta, a former queen of the Visorak, a Dark Hunter, and himself. “Well, if we don’t, who knows? The world might be better off without us.”

Brutaka and Spiriah, being the two most powerful team members, led the way to shore. As they trod on the ebon sands, all seemed quiet. “So you know nothing about the defenses here?” asked Brutaka.

“Only what Krika sometimes talked about. Ideas he had,” said Spiriah. “You realize this whole thing is a terrible idea.”

“What?”

“Freeing Miserix,” said Spiriah. “He can’t stop the Plan. All we will find here is an early death. Listen, we -- ”

What happened next was startlingly fast. The black sands began to swirl around Spiriah, forming a hand which grabbed the Makuta and started dragging him down. Brutaka grabbed Spiriah’s hand, calling to the others, “Help me!”

Lariska, Vezon and Roodaka rushed to his aid. Takadox hung back, occasionally glancing toward the ship as if contemplating escape. The pull of the sand was too strong and Spiriah’s mask had almost disappeared beneath it. Then Roodaka fired her Rhotuka launcher, the spinner striking the living sand and mutating the grains into a swarm of fireflyers. Unable to maintain its grip in this new form, it freed Spiriah. The Makuta crawled back onto the beach, cursing.

“I’m an idiot,” Brutaka said. “I should have realized – Krika rigged this place to sense the presence of a Makuta and react. He didn’t want Miserix escaping, or any other Brotherhood member finding him and finishing him off.”

“Then I would be insane to go any further,” said Spiriah. “I brought you here – you don’t need me anymore.”

“On the contrary,” said Lariska. “I think you would be very useful. Anyone ever hear of a stalking kinloka?”

Surprisingly, Vezon was the only one who nodded. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “Vezok. He saw lots of things, and since I came from him, I saw them too. Say, when we are done here, who’s up for killing him? I’ll even clean up after.”

Lariska turned back to Brutaka, ignoring their lunatic companion. “Kinloka are rodents, found in many places, among them Zakaz. When the Skakdi need to cross land that might be booby-trapped, they send the kinloka through first. The creatures set off the traps and the Skakdi can cross safely.”

“And the traps here are sensitive to Makuta,” said Roodaka, smiling. “I see, I see. And come to think of it, Spiriah is somewhat rodent-like.”

Spiriah, back on his feet, looked right at Brutaka. “No. Not even if you threw in the chance to eviscerate that Vortixx --”

“Watch your mouth,” Roodaka spat, aiming her launcher at him, “while you still have only one.”

Brutaka put his arm around Spiriah and led him away. “You’re not looking at the big picture here. When all this is over, the Brotherhood could still be a powerful creature, only without a head. It’s going to need a new leader... and the beings I work for will remember who helped them... and who didn’t. Trust me, they have long memories.”

It only took a few more minutes of whispered conversation before Spiriah turned back to the group and announced that he would be their guide to Artidax. He immediately set off inland, with the rest following. Lariska fell in beside Brutaka, saying, “You know full well he could never be leader of the Brotherhood.”

“Let him think he might get to be the head,” Brutaka replied. “It will distract him from the fact that he might well lose his own here.”

Their path took them right up to the slope of a volcano. A tunnel had been bored through the mountain at some point, the only way to directly traverse the island. Spiriah was striding on ahead when Vezon leapt in front of him, holding up his hands. Then he pointed downward, at a razor-thin vine stretched across the path. It led up to a pile of boulders poised precariously on the slope.

Spiriah stepped carefully over the vine, followed by the others, and went into the tunnel. It was only when they were already inside that Brutaka noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Takadox?”

Lariska turned. “There! Look out!”

Brutaka turned to see Takadox bringing his blade down on the vine. In the moment before an avalanche of rocks cut them off from the Barraki and trapped them in the tunnel, they all could see his evil smile.

Chapter 8

Brutaka pushed aside a pile of rubble and struggled to his feet. Around him, Spiriah and Roodaka were using shadow energy to blast themselves free. Vezon and Lariska were nowhere to be seen.

He glanced back toward the now blocked tunnel entrance. A few blasts of power would no doubt clear away the pile of rocks and stones, but Takadox would be long gone by now. There would be time to settle with him later.

“I’ve got him!”

Brutaka turned to see Lariska holding a squirming Vezon by the throat. “I caught him sneaking down a side tunnel,” the Dark Hunter said.

“Let us track down that traitor,” snarled Roodaka. “I want his shattered body beneath my heel.”

“We’re here to do a job,” Brutaka replied. “We keep moving. All of us,” he added, looking hard at Vezon.

The tunnel proved to be far more than a mere pathway. It opened upon a vast underground cavern spanned by a narrow bridge made of fibrous protodermis. Down below, the floor was littered with a massive tangle of what looked like dead branches intertwined with each other. Deep channels had been carved into the walls by lava flows over the centuries. Strange flying Rahi hung from the ceiling, their six eyes blinking slowly at the sight of intruders into their realm.

“Remind me not to let Makuta Krika arrange for my next pleasure trip,” muttered Spiriah.

“This whole island is volcanic,” said Brutaka. “Minor eruptions over the years, but nothing major. Tahu and Kopaka are supposed to have taken care of the problem. Otherwise, we would probably be flash fried by now.”

“No Carapar, no Takadox,” said Vezon in a sing-song voice. “Who will go next? Spiriah the Sullen? Brutaka the Boorish? Vezon the Vanquisher? Or Lariska --”

The Dark Hunter whipped out a dagger and flung it into the stone right at Vezon’s feet. The mad half-Skakdi turned to her, smiling, and said, “Or Lariska, the wise, wonderful, and gloriously homicidal.”

Brutaka led the way across the bridge. At the far side, light spilled through a narrow opening. The symbol of the Brotherhood of Makuta was seared into the stone beside that portal. Someone – maybe Krika, maybe Miserix – had marked their path, so long ago.

“What are we going to do with this legendary Makuta when we find him?” asked Roodaka. “What makes you think he will help the likes of you?”

“Miserix hates the Brotherhood for turning on him,” Brutaka replied. “He would ally with three Matoran and an Ussal crab if it would get him revenge on his fellow Makuta.”

“And so what will he be for you?” Roodaka pressed. “A general? A hero? A symbol around which to rally resistance to the Brotherhood?”

Brutaka shook his head. “Nothing quite so grand. He’ll be a weapon, like a Rhotuka launcher or a ghost blaster. And we’re going to aim him right at the Makuta fortress on Destral.”

Roodaka smiled. “And who, might I ask... are ‘we’?”

Brutaka smiled back, the grin of a Kavinika about to feast. “Now, now … what you don’t know won’t cut you in two and dump you off this bridge.”

“I hear something,” said Lariska. “Up ahead... it might be a voice... or the rumble of the volcano.”

“I hear something too,” said Vezon.

“Shut up,” replied Roodaka.

“And I see something as well,” Vezon continued. “But since you aren’t interested...”

“We’re not,” Roodaka snapped.

“Personally, I always find my comments and observations most interesting,” Vezon rambled on. “You haven’t truly lived until you have seen the world through the eyes of madness. Why, half the time I don’t know if what I see is what’s really there, or what I wish was there … or what I pray, I beg, I plead is not.”

“Why did we bring him again?” said Spiriah.

“He breaks up the monotony,” said Lariska.

“I’d like to break something much more satisfying,” hissed Roodaka. “I hear Skakdi make a most appealing sound when you snap them into pieces.”

“But, since you seem to have no interest,” Vezon continued, utterly disregarding his teammates’ comments. “Well, then, I won’t tell you that the floor is moving. You can find out on your own.”

“The floor is...?” Brutaka repeated. He looked down. Far below, the tangled growth of dead branches had indeed begun to shift. The reason why rapidly became clear: they weren’t branches at all, but the twisted limbs of thousands of crimson insects, now disentangling themselves from each other. Apparently, it was time to wake up and they were ready for their morning meal.

Swifter than anyone could have predicted, they began to swarm up the walls of the canyon on every side. In an instant, they had blocked the openings on both ends of the bridge. The surrounding rock was now gone, buried beneath a skittering sea of red and thousands of unblinking, predatory eyes.

“No, no, no,” said Vezon, shaking his head. “Too late to apologize. Much, much too late.”

Chapter 9

Brutaka scanned the cavern with narrowed eyes. The glowing eyes of the insects all around made it feel as if he were trapped in some lunatic starfield. Behind him, he could hear Vezon humming softly to himself, as if out for an afternoon stroll.

“Do we fight our way out of here?” asked Lariska, hand on the hilt of her dagger.

Brutaka’s answer was to turn to Spiriah. “Okay. You control Rahi. Make them clear a path.”

“On one condition,” said Spiriah. “Once I do, I go free. I turn right around and march out, take the boat – if Takadox hasn’t already – and leave. And I never see or hear from any of you, or anyone associated with you, again.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” replied Brutaka. “I was telling you.”

“I am a Makuta,” said Spiriah. “Disgraced, perhaps; a victim of jealousy and prejudice, most definitely. But I will not be dictated to by some obnoxious, insane --”

Brutaka hit Spiriah a solid blow in the mask, knocking the Makuta over the side of the narrow bridge. Spiriah caught on to the span, just barely, and hung in space.

“I think this is what they call ‘in no position to deal,’” said Brutaka. He triggered his mask power, opening a dimensional portal in space just below Spiriah’s feet. “If I move that opening just a little bit further toward you, you’ll find yourself in a dimension full of beings made of solid light. Know what they eat there? Shadow. You’ll be a food bank for them, Spiriah, but I have to warn you – they’re always hungry. And they don’t close their mouths when they chew.”

Spiriah said nothing. Instead, he reduced his density and floated up and away from Brutaka’s portal. Then he drifted back down to the bridge and turned solid once more. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Then I leave. I advise you not to try and stop me.”

The Makuta concentrated, triggering his power to control Rahi beasts. Nothing happened, other than restless stirring among the insects. After a few moments, Spiriah gave up in frustration. “They’re already under the control of a more powerful will. It must be Miserix.”

Brutaka gestured toward the wall of insect life that blocked the way they had come. “Then I guess you’re not leaving.” He turned to Lariska. “And we’re fighting. You stay back with Vezon. Roodaka, Spiriah and I will lead the way.”

On Brutaka’s signal, he and his two powerful allies unleashed their powers at the insects who blocked the passage way up ahead. As quickly as the crimson creatures fell, more came to replace them. Worse, the ones behind were now skittering across the bridge, closing in on Vezon and Lariska.

“I have an idea,” said Roodaka, summoning a Rhotuka disk into her launcher. She fired at the insects up ahead, the power of her disk mutating them into unrecognizable creatures. An instant later, the other insects fell upon the unfortunate victims of her attack. The mutated insects were dead in seconds, killed for being different than the rest of the species.

Seeing that her ploy had worked, Roodaka repeated the process, this time focusing on the insects blocking the end of the bridge. As the mutations took hold and their former allies turned on them, an opening appeared in the wall of living creatures. With a roar of triumph, she led a charge across the bridge and into the tunnel beyond. The team didn’t stop running until they were well away from the cavern.

“Are they following?” asked Brutaka.

“They don’t seem to be,” Lariska answered. “Maybe they don’t like to leave their nest.”

“”Or maybe they just know we have to go back out that way, so they can eat us then,” Vezon offered, cheerfully.

“Maybe there’s another way out up ahead,” said Brutaka.

“Or maybe we’ll get to like it here,” said Vezon. “A few grass mats, some cave drawings, the heads of my enemies mounted on the wall … it could be quite pleasant.”

“Brutaka!” Roodaka called from up ahead. “I think you had best see this.”

The team rushed through the tunnel to join Roodaka. She was standing at the tunnel’s end, looking out at another vast chamber. More specifically, she was looking at the largest occupant of the chamber, a massive dragon-like beast chained to the stone floor. All around it flew much smaller Rahi, darting and dodging the shadow hand that occasionally shot out from the creature’s chest.

“What … is that?” asked Lariska.

Brutaka shook his head in amazement. “Well, it’s about 40 feet tall, red and silver, with four legs, a tail, and a nasty disposition – and it’s who we’re here to rescue.”

“Miserix,” whispered Spiriah.

“All right, we can take him home,” said Vezon, “but don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

Chapter 10

Vezon looked from the massive, chained form of the dragon-like beast to his partners, then back at the dragon, then over to Brutaka. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brutaka cut him off.

“Don’t say it,” said Brutaka.

“We’re going to need --” Vezon began.

“A bigger boat. I know,” Brutaka said. “Anybody know what those... things... are flying all around?”

Small, winged creatures were indeed flitting all around the dragon. Now and then, one would let out a scream that shattered rock. “They’re called klakk,” said Makuta Spiriah. “Something Mutran created a long time back – their sonic scream is formidable. They must be meant as guardians.”

Brutaka frowned. Guardians, all right, but against whom? He knew the dragon was in fact Makuta Miserix, ex-leader of the Brotherhood. He had been ordered executed, but Makuta Krika had instead chained him up here on the island of Artidax. It was Brutaka’s job to rescue him so the Order of Mata Nui could use him against his former organization.

At that moment, Miserix suddenly took notice of them. His great eyes narrowed as he spoke and his voice rumbled like a distant avalanche. “Who... are... you?”

Brutaka started to say, “Friends,” then decided he didn’t really want to be considered a friend of that thing. “We’re here to free you,” he said instead. “Can you shapeshift to a smaller form?”

“Why would I wish to do that?” asked Miserix. “Do you know how many of these creatures I had to absorb to reach a size where their screams no longer pain me?”

“See, the size is a problem, your immenseness,” Vezon cut in. “We only have a small boat, hardly more than a raft, really, and if it sinks we have to swim. Personally, I am not big on swimming – some friends of mine went for a swim, I heard, and now they look like sea snakes, just a head and a spine. And I have no spine, so I would be just a head, and --”

Miserix’s eyes glowed red. A burst of laser vision struck Vezon, sending him tumbling backwards. “Gnat,” muttered the Makuta.

Turning to check on Vezon, Brutaka saw that Spiriah had backed way up into the shadows. Miserix noticed too and bellowed, “Tell that one to come forth.”

Spiriah took a reluctant step forward. At the sight of another Makuta, the dragon smiled. “Spiriah. I do remember you. When Teridax rose against me, you were one of the first to be by his side. I have so looked forward to meeting you again.” Brutaka tightened his grip on his weapon. He did not like Miserix’s tone at all.

“Do you know I have not seen one of my species since Krika left me here?” Miserix continued.

“We all meant to come,” Spiriah said hurriedly. “Teridax wouldn’t let us. We all knew we would benefit by your experience, your power, your very presence.”

“But you did not come,” rumbled Miserix. “So now I shall benefit from yours.”

A hand made of living shadow erupted from the dragon’s chest, grabbed Spiriah, and pulled him into Miserix’s body. There wasn’t even time for a scream.

Vezon, back on his feet, stopped dead when he saw the Makuta consumed. “I thought we were here to rescue him from captivity,” he whispered. “Not from that mid-day empty feeling.”

“You know, we could just leave you here to rot,” Brutaka said to Miserix. “Or wait for the next volcanic eruption to rain lava down on your oversized head. Or... you could have your chance to take revenge on your brothers. What’s it going to be?”

Miserix considered. Then he leaned forward as far as his chains would allow him and said, “Make your attempt, for what good it will do.”

“I have seen those kind of chains before,” said Lariska. “They grow and shrink with him. They feed on his own power and use it to hold him.”

Brutaka hefted his weapon. “Can they be broken?”

“Not without causing him great pain.”

Brutaka gave a grim smile. “I’ll cry tomorrow. Find me a weak link. Roodaka, we are going to need your help.”

The Vortixx had been silent since they had entered Miserix’s presence. Brutaka had no doubt she was planning something. But she dutifully stepped forward and stood beside him, her eyes never leaving the chained Makuta.

“There,” said Lariska, pointing to a segment of the chain that held Miserix’s right arm. “We concentrate our fire there.”

Brutaka and Roodaka took aim, he with his blade, she with her outstretched hand. Energy and shadow bolts struck the weak segment of chain, bathing it in a continuous stream of power. After several minutes, the substance of the chain began to flake off. After a few more, it began to crack. Then the link shattered to pieces. Miserix screamed, loud enough to crack the mountain itself.

The klakk reacted instantly, flying toward the rescue team and unleashing their sonic screams. Vezon and Lariska fought them off, while Brutaka used his blade to parry the streams of sound. Meanwhile, Miserix raised his arm tentatively. Seeing that it was indeed free of its bonds, he reached over with it and tore the other chain from the ground. This time, he did not scream, but only smiled.

The klakk were gaining ground now, driving the team back toward where the insects were still lurking. Miserix watched the battle for a moment in silence. Then he opened his mouth and unleashed a power scream that felled the klakk, along with Vezon and Lariska. Brutaka and Roodaka barely remained conscious. Crawling over, Brutaka checked on his two team members – both were still living.

“Now, then,” said Miserix. “Where is Teridax?”

Brutaka laughed. “And if I tell you, you have no reason to keep us alive. Gratitude is not high on the list of Makuta emotions. I’ll show you. But you are going to need to shrink down to make it out the way we came.”

“Your lack of imagination is disappointing,” said Miserix, in as close to good spirits as a Makuta ever got. He reared back and struck the side of the mountain with all his might, once, twice, again. The rock cracked and began to crumble. Miserix followed up with his fragmentation power, reducing the entire side of the volcano to shards of stone. Beyond it, Brutaka could see the sky and the sea.

“At last!” said Miserix. “After so many millennia – I am free!”

Before Brutaka’s startled eyes, the dragon grew wings. Then Miserix turned his crimson-scaled head to Brutaka and said, “Come. Show me where my enemy hides, so I may grind his armor to dust and feed on his energies.”

“No!” shouted Roodaka. “They want to lead you into a trap! Listen to me, I too am an enemy of the Brotherhood. Brutaka wants to use you, to sacrifice you as a pawn in a war against the Makuta. I want you for an ally!”

Miserix lowered his lead and leaned in so that his massive face was up against Roodaka’s. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Little one, I am Makuta Miserix. I am no one’s pawn. I am no one’s ally.” His next words came in a roar that drove Roodaka back into the rock wall. “And I am no one’s fool!!”

Brutaka watched, looking unimpressed. “Are you done?”

Miserix nodded slowly. “Let us go. I have a universe to rediscover.”

Brutaka loaded the stunned Roodaka and the now semi-conscious Lariska and Vezon onto the dragon’s back. Then he climbed on himself. Miserix unfurled his wings and stepped out into the open air. They soared high above the island, pausing only long enough for Miserix to make a muttered vow to come back and destroy the place one day. Brutaka noted that the team’s boat was gone – Takadox had gotten away after all, then.

Let him run. It doesn’t matter, thought Brutaka. A storm is coming to this universe, and when it hits, there will be nowhere for anyone to hide.

Miserix spread his wings and turned toward the north, carrying his passengers into the unknown.

The End

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 5

Yet again two chapters in one day... I must stop spoiling you.

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Damienette arranged marriage: part 5

NEXT

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“Yes. Our little grown up girl.” Marinette smiled and was about to run, but she heard her mother continue speaking. “But you are still grounded for two weeks.”

“Mom!” She shouted, but smiled and went back to her room.

Next two weeks were disastrous. Lila used Marinette’s absence to spread some nasty rumors and lies about her. Two days. That was more than enough for the whole class to turn against her. The previous incident and Lila’s supposed ‘disability’ was never revealed to the public, so they had no reason to mistrust her. But Marinette was still suddenly ostracized. But the most painful of this was Alya. She suddenly started to despise Marinette. It was like some kind of coping mechanism. Apparently, learning she would never become Rena Rogue again was hard on her too, and then learning that Marinette run away from home (a blatant lie, but Alya did believe) was enough for the aspiring reporter to change. Abandoned by Ladybug, abandoned by best friend, she clinged to what she had left. Alya now followed Lila, who she believed would never just leave her like that. Her and Nino became even more inseparable.

Marinette wanted to give the same explanation, but Lila was faster. ‘ Oh! So even madame Bourgeois doesn’t want you now so you came back with your tail between your legs?’ This sole comment killed any credibility to anything Marinette would say. The rumors that started to spread were awful. Some just outright refused to talk with her, others went as far as to mock the girl or use some inappropriate names toward her. From a popular girl Marinette became a loner. Even her internet boutique was not safe. Dozens of negative reviews spawned out of nowhere. There were more reviews than she ever done commissions. In the end, she had to take the page down to keep at least some of her reputation.

She still had Luka and Kagami, who stayed firmly by her side. But they could not really do anything to help her at school. And then there was Adrien. He was constantly trying to stop Marinette from going against Lila and convince her to just make peace with the girl. She wanted to strangle him. He was nothing like the charming boy who offered her an umbrella on the first day. Something has changed in this forty-eight hours. There was this… weight on his shoulders that was not here before. 

Another matter was Chat Noir. When she first met him during a patrol, he threw a hissy-fit that she disappeared for several days. After she (truthfully) explained that she got married, the cat frowned and ran away. Since then, he was not seen. Ladybug had to manage on her own, with occasional help from Viperion and Ryuko. She had to manage. Red Robin would not help in the field, but he kept a steady eye on the city, working day and night trying to figure out who was Hawkmoth. Marinette was actually worried about Tim after she witnessed him drink coffee straight from an ancient jug. He said something about ‘needing inspiration from his ancestors’ which was quite hilarious since the vase was a cheap knock-off bough in one-euro store the previous day.

After a month of this kind of incredible hardship, Marinette had enough. She wanted this school-year to finally be over, but she still had seven more months to go. It pained her that school instead of offering her some help decided to instead follow up on Lila, making it seem like they forgot about her ‘disease’. Madame Bustier constantly demanded of Marinette to be the bigger person and ignore the taunts and headmaster few times threatened to expel her after Lila or the others reported her for bullying.

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Right now she was sitting in the back of the class when Madame Bustier walked with a boy in tow. Marinette instantly recognized him. Damian. He was wearing a dark-gray turtleneck jumper, dark-blue jeans and had his hair gelled back into spikes, revealing his forehead. Strange thing was that he carried a sword with him in addition to school bag.

“Students. Meet Damian Grayson. He is a member of exchange student from United States. Our school was chosen to participate in special program with Gotham Academy. Damian will be learning with us for this semester, and in exchange we will be able to all spend whole next semester in Gotham Academy to see how education differs between countries.”

Immediately, several hands shot up. Teacher chose Alix first, much to Lila’s anger. “It seems strange that just one student comes to us and in exchange we are all going there. Why are you alone?”

Caline was about to speak, but Damian was faster. He answered in perfect French. “Because only I volunteered to leave for half a year. Others were scared when headmaster announced that participants would at the end of semester have to take qualification exams.” His voice was cold and he made it clear he didn’t want more discussion.

“Don’t worry kids, on our side there is no such requirement, but you will have to still take the final exams to graduate into Lycee. Next question? Adrien.” She pointed to the blond boy.

“Why do you carry a sword with you?” He asked, pointing at the long weapon attached to his backpack. It was sheathed, but it was clear it was some eastern sword.

“Because I practice swordfighting.” Was the sole answer.

Marinette could hear some whispers. ‘ Whoa. He is almost as mean as Marinette’. She noticed he also picked this up and growled.

“What can you tell us about yourself?” Nino asked, not waiting for teacher to choose him.

“I am your age. I will be staying with my brother who works in Paris. I like art. I hate physical contact. If you try to touch me, I will throw you out of the window.” He said in completely emotionless voice, almost like this was casual speech he heard every day. 

“Wow. You are almost as mean as this bully Marinette.” Alya commented. Damian gritted his teeth. He knew that Marinette was anything but a bully. He checked the files Tim pulled and it only strengthened his opinion on the girl. She was dealing with being bullied by a spoiled brat since she was six, yet she chose not to retaliate and instead try to make friends with the gil. She was class representative, took care of all the trips, volunteered at every possible action. She won several amateur fashion contests and most likely had at least a dozen famous people at speed dial. And yet, no one knew that. She worked under pseudonym to avoid attracting attention. And she was Paris greatest superhero. That was no bully material. 

“Alya! Don’t say such things.” Lila scolded her friend. “Just because he is a bit harsh does not mean you should compare him to Marinette.”

There were still several hands in the air and teacher was about to choose next person, but Damian ignored them and walked to the back of the classroom and sat next to Marinette. There were several menacing stares in their direction and Damian held back the urge to scowl. So just because he took the only free place that just happened to be next to this girl, he was now their enemy? His hand kept twitching toward the blade, but he felt Marinette’s hand grab his under the table. She looked him in the eyes like she was trying to tell him that they are not worth it. And to his surprise, it worked. They silently turned back to the teacher who kept explaining the details of the exchange program.

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

After the lessons were over, Damian started to pack his bag. His tracer rolled under the desk and he leaned to get it. There were steps rapidly approaching the desk.

“Listen here, Marinette. If you think just because this guy is new you will get him to be your friend, don’t even think about it. Either you stay away of him or I will make both your lives insufferable. I am the queen of this school and you will not oppose me.” The double-faced harlot tried to intimidate his wife. Damian, still under the table grabbed the sword, but from his place he could see Marinette’s face. She was giving him a side-glare telling him that it’s not worth it.

“I don’t control him Lila. Even if I wanted, I think he will do as he please.” Marinette was holding back a smile.

“Face it. I won the war. You have no friends, no name, no business, not even a boyfriend. I took everything from you. And if you continue, I will take your parents’ bakery next. You…” At this moment, Lila saw a silver blur and suddenly she had a blade pressed to her neck. Damian got out from under the table, drew his sword and pinned the girl to the wall in a matter of seconds. 

“I think that’s enough. You will leave Marinette’s parents alone and you will not speak to her like this again. Otherwise, you will learn just how proficient I am with the sword. Did I make myself clear?” While Damian was ready to spill some Italian blood, one look at Marinette told him that she would’ve not forgiven him. 

Lila eagerly nodded. When he let go of her and sheathed his sword, she scowled at the couple. “Ugh! The two of you are worth one another. It is not over. I will get back at you for this!” And with that, she run away as fast as humanly possible wearing stilettos. 

Damian turned to see frowning Marinette. “I had it under control Damian. And what are you even doing here?”

“Sorry I protected you.” He snarled, but then he calmed and his face took more friendly look. At least by his standards, but to most it was still the ‘get the heck away from me if you value your health’ face. Luckily, Marinette wasn’t like the most. “I… I wanted to meet you. As a person I mean.” He said. The french girl looked at him, but said nothing. He decided that it would be best to get this done with. The classroom was a place as good as any. “Look. I know we met in… unusual circumstances. For better or worse, we are now married. But… I wish to try and actually build this relationship.” He spat it out of himself and looked at Marinette.

For a moment, she was confused at what he said, but then it clicked. “Wait. Are you… asking me out?” She said in disbelief

“um… Yes?” Damian said timidly. Why does it have to be so hard?!

“Then okay.” Marinette smiled. This took him by surprise. He half-expected her to reject him, to hate him for this, or to just run screaming like his brothers kept telling him all girls would. 

“Really? Just like that?” It was now his turn to ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. I don’t really see why not.” She said smiling. “But I am paying. I don’t want anyone to think I am using you.” She stated firmly. This newfound confidence was a pleasant surprise for Damian. He noticed that while a bit shy and withdrawn, there was a heart of gold and nerves of steel underneath this. Happily, he took her hand and led her to the streets of Paris. Neither of them noticed a teenager in catsuit following them on the rooftops.

“I already lost my Lady. Nobody will take away my princess!”

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn 

[artbyalyanna]

Addictive - Ch. 1 of Guns and Roses

Summary: A Mafia AU with Khun as a mob boss and Bam as a cop who may or may not take on the role as his bodyguard in the future.

Word Count: 2,367

---

Bam never had a first love. He was the top of his class, graduating at a police academy with exceptional grades and excellent combat skills. Though he knew exactly what he fancied when his gaze lingered on a particularly handsome man passing by, the kind of job he had left no room for romance.

Bam had never known failure. He handled his work with diligence and all of his cases so far had been handled successfully. It was true that he had his fair share of problems, but with the help of his clever captain, no case of his was left unsolved. 

So on one fateful night, he had the pleasure of experiencing two things he had never felt before.

It all began with a heist and a plan that went wrong.

After a case was assigned to him about the development of a mafia gang, Bam had spent the last two weeks meticulously gathering information. All he had were photographs and names of some of the supposed members, but he knew he needed more.

Captain Hwaryun had arranged for him to go undercover as a dealer in a gambling den that all of the gang members would be at. It wasn’t clear what their objective was, but since he had never been able to see all of the members at work in the same room, Bam was ecstatic.

He struggled to keep his cool as he folded the collar of his button-down with trembling fingers. Bam stood in the break room and contemplated his outfit in the mirror, hoping the clothes Hwaryun picked for him were fitting for the occasion. Glancing at his watch, he grabbed his suit jacket and tossed it onto his shoulders before exiting the room.

Bam approached the woman he was covering for, who retreated from the table and left him to set up. He worked at a leisurely pace, trying to focus more on counting the playing chips rather than his jittering nerves.

Once he had settled into a game of poker, Bam let his eyes slowly wander the room. He was intent on recognizing the familiar faces from his case files, and sure enough, he spotted the charming con artist who went by Endorsi and her fellow pickpocket, Shibisu. Those two were the only ones who had been seen by the public eye on multiple occasions but were not caught by the cops. There was a third member who Bam had very little information about because he was pivotal to any robberies that took place. While the gang’s thief was busy picking locks, Endorsi and Shibisu served as distractions.

However, their boss was nowhere to be seen.

There was no sign of the infamous, cutthroat man who left an officer in the emergency room after they crossed paths. His name, Khun, was the only thing known about him, and that was the information given to Bam when he took over the injured officer’s case.

When Bam spotted Shibisu making his way to the bathroom, he quickly finished his game to pursue the brown-haired man. He opened the door and locked it just as Shibisu was walking over to the sink. Bam rushed forward, unsheathing a knife from his pocket and pressing it to the man’s back.

Before Shibisu could make a noise, Bam snatched his earpiece and crushed it under his foot. “Don’t move.” He ordered.

“W...What do you want?” Shibisu managed through gritted teeth. He lifted his hands, bottom lip quivering as he did so.

“Why are you here?”

“As if I would tell y-”

Bam interrupted him by slamming the knife’s tip on the sink. Shibisu inhaled sharply, eyes bulging when he noticed how close his side had been from being stabbed. 

“Please choose your answer carefully.”

“A heist,” he blurted out. “We’re stealing from really arrogant people so if you’re looking for money or retribution, we-“

“That’s not necessary. I’m not here for the money.” Bam cut him short, pausing to choose his next words. He swallowed before asking, “Where is your boss?”

“On the second floor.”

His stomach dropped.

No..that couldn’t be. Their boss never went on missions with the other members. He never needed to. The job always got done. Why was...he..here?

He had to find out himself. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

Bam tied the man’s hands to the faucet with his belt, making sure the knot was tight and secure. He discarded Shibisu’s phone in the garbage and gagged him with the handkerchief in his breast pocket. 

He hurried outside and rushed to the elevator. Passing by a hallway full of doors, Bam stopped in his tracks when he heard a scream. The door was ajar, allowing him to peek inside, where a man was being threatened by someone with black hair. The frightened man was revealing a code and Bam was suddenly torn between stopping a robbery and confronting a mafia boss.

Then Shibiu’s words echoed through his head and his mind fixated on the phrase ‘arrogant people’. Bam made his decision, letting out a sharp huff before spinning around and pushing the elevator button.

As soon as the doors opened, Bam was tugged inside and engaged in a fight with two heavy-set men in black suits. The elevator rocked under his feet as she darted from side to side, blocking punches and delivering jabs to the neck. As soon as he saw an opening, he whipped his leg around and kicked one of the men right in the jaw. He crumpled to his knees and Bam flung his heel over his head, knocking him out.

He took out his knife and eyed the remaining man expectantly. Bam wiped the sweat off his forehead, springing into action with a swing of his blade. One second he was ducking his head and the next he was standing over two limp bodies. The ding of the elevator signaled the end of the bumpy ride and he walked out, leaving the knife lodged in the man’s throat.

Bam stepped forward and surveyed the room. His gaze passed by the door to a bathroom, the bed, and the window until he caught the dazzling blue eyes of a man sitting down on a sofa.

The man was currently preoccupied with snipping off a rose’s stem, leaving the petals to lay on a nearby table next to two glasses of dark wine. Locks of silvery-blue hair framed his face, curling around his broad shoulders and brushing against the pearls dangling from his ears. His navy blue vest clung to his hips, the silky fabric shifting as he leaned back into the sofa’s plush cushions. His lips were painted with a cherry red and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He ran his fingers along his cobalt necktie and gave a radiant grin, adjusting his leg to cross it over his other one.

Bam forgot how to breathe.

He lost all reason when the question slipped out of his mouth, “Who are you?”

He wasn’t thinking clearly. Bam knew the answer, but he needed to be sure. He wanted to be certain his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“My name is Khun Aguero Agnis.” He spoke, picking up a wine glass in each hand and standing up. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

The click of his heel snapped Bam back to reality. He drew his gun from the inside of his jacket and pointed it at the man. Khun simply continued walking, his footsteps bold, despite his threats. Bam stood his ground and cocked his gun, arching an eyebrow.

Khun stopped in front of him, sighing loudly. “You can put the gun down. Look, I don’t have any weapons.” He gestured to his empty belt with his hands, which were currently occupied by wine glasses. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re too valuable.”

“Valuable?”

“I’ll cut to the chase since you’re itching to leave.” The man flashed him a devious smile, offering a glass to Bam. “I want to recruit you.”

Bam eyed the drink curiously and remained still. “I refuse.”

Khun raised his arm. The sudden movement made Bam’s finger fly to the trigger, but all the man did was down his glass in a single gulp. “I thought you’d say that. I suppose you need some convincing.”

The last thing Bam saw was his wink before he got blinded by a wave of dark red liquid. 

The wine burned his eyes and he squeezed them shut, grunting in annoyance. His hands, which were cut by the glass, throbbed with pain. The gun slipped from his fingers and Bam quickly swiped his sleeve across his face. He bent down to pick up the gun when a kick to the stomach made him double over. A frustrated noise erupted from his throat as he moved to attack Khun with swift punches. Bam’s fists made contact with air and it was confusing him that Khun was now taking the defensive, dodging with his hands tucked behind his back.

When Bam paused to catch his breath, Khun was back on the offense without a second to spare. His fighting style was something foreign to him-polished to perfection and incredibly unpredictable. He didn’t want to believe it, but he began to tire, his muscles taut and overworked. 

Khun wasted no time to take advantage of this. He landed one solid punch and Bam was knocked onto the bed, clutching his side.

All of a sudden, Khun was on top of him, grabbing his wrists and slamming them onto the mattress. He tried to move his leg, but Khun was quick to pin him down, the heat of his thigh causing Bam to tense up.

“What is your name?” He demanded, leaving no room for negotiation or defiance.

“I...I’m Bam.”

“A cop.” Khun spat with a viciousness that made him shudder.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I started working there recently.”

“So you’re a newbie. How interesting.” The anger Khun previously displayed had dissipated, replaced with a thoughtful sparkle in his eyes. “I think you’re wasting your remarkable talents.”

“So...what do you want from me?”

“You,” Khun spoke, his voice a velvety purr. 

The gentleness of his words greatly contrasted the powerful grip on Bam’s wrists.

“...What?”

“Be my bodyguard.”

Bam stared up at him. The shock in his expression brought on Khun’s laughter.

“If you worked with me, I could grant you the freedom that the police could never provide. There would be no more of those pesky rules to hold you back. All I ask in return is that you fight for me. I don’t need your protection, but I have a feeling that I’ll enjoy having you by my side.”

“But...I-“

“You can’t say no.”

“Why not?”

“I won’t allow it. I can’t let something so...impressive out of my sight for a second longer,” Khun leaned in close, his floral cologne tickling his nose. The more Bam fought against his grasp, the tighter he clutched his wrists. “Besides, I know you want to. I can tell.”When Bam stopped struggling, he let go of him. Khun’s fingers trailed down his arms until he got to his cheeks, which he cupped in his palms.

“All of your desires are displayed right in front of me-from the clenching of your jaw to your erratic heartbeat,” Khun smirked, bringing their faces closer together. “I could hear it from a mile away.” His thumb lightly touched his bottom lip. Bam shivered under his warm body and bewitching stare.

Khun’s head dipped and Bam squeezed his eyes shut. He let out a shaky breath as he felt Khun’s lips press on the corner of his mouth. His fluttering eyelashes grazed Bam’s cheek and his breath was hot against his neck.

Khun murmured into his ear, “Join me. I could show you a fun time.”

Enthralled by the softness of his voice, Bam barely registered the faint click of handcuffs from the bed frame.

Wait.

Wait, wait...handcuffs?

“I’ll give you a day to think about it.” Khun sat upright, slipping a card into his breast pocket. “Give me a call, will you?”

Bam frowned silently. He knew he had lost, but that didn’t mean he liked it at all. The man slipped off the bed and Bam felt his eyelids close, the scent of sleeping gas and a hint of roses being the last thing she remembered.

---

Hours later, Bam regained consciousness. A woman stood over him, shining a light in his eyes and giving a relieved sigh when he stirred.

“So...did you finally..get some?”

Bam gave a pout and Hwaryun responded with a lighthearted chuckle. As she picked the lock of the handcuffs, he tried to wrap his head around everything that happened. Once his wrists were free and he was sitting in a police car with Hwaryun at the steering wheel, Bam came clean and confessed to his captain about meeting Khun Aguero Agnis. He told her the important details, like how he got his ass kicked, skimming over the part that made him blush. Bam left out Khun’s offer entirely.

“I should stay away from him.”

“Yes.”

“He’s dangerous and I should avoid him at all costs.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s a problem,” he thought to himself.

Bam brushed his finger along the corner of his mouth, where Khun’s scarlet lipstick stained his skin. His fingertip lingered for a moment before he bit his thumb, the heat burning from his flushed cheeks.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered.

He was charmed, intrigued, but worst of all-

-he was addicted. 

---

Later that night while Bam pondered over his decision, he fished the card out of his pocket, blue rose petals spilling out when he did so. He gaped at the petals sitting in his palm and let a small smile rest upon his lips.

The rose was a symbol of the mafia gang. Khun had claimed him as his own.

Bam grew flustered at the thought and left the petals on his desk. He fell asleep with a pounding in his chest and the realization that he had been marked by a mafia boss.

[doublegrinch]

Charmed! 2021 con log

takes out a chair and sets it down, sits on it backwards

Alright, shouting void, we need to talk.

So...last weekend, I attended Charmed!. Me, a tenured lurker who only a few short months ago was struggling to say one (1) thing in a Discord.

I can't tell you what that means to me.

(I mean, um. I'm gonna try. This is a con log.)

Now, obviously I can't name names, because of the private nature of the event; I'm gonna err on the side of caution on that one, as I understand one is meant to do. Some people reading this* might recognize themselves – and if you do, hi! You're awesome! – but I'll keep all the non-public details vague enough.

Thursday!

No, actually, things started the night before for me.

Wednesday!

As the server opened, people were posting intros, and after obsessing over mine for mumble I posted one. I'm sure glad I did, because a wonderful person decided to reach out to me.

Like...what? Someone wanted to talk to me? Just like that? I had gone into this thinking "oh these social rooms are so intimidating, welp guess it's wallflower time" but then this person just ups and talks to me. And we totally clicked! We'd end up chatting all through the weekend and beyond.

Like...what?! It's not even day one and I'm already making friends?

What?!

Thursday (for real this time)

Came right out of work – which was not a productive day, lemme tell you; somehow I was distracted – and into the 101. Four hours of intense learning goodness, and a perfect introduction to the wonderfulness that was that weekend.

I stayed engaged throughout – a testament to the skills of the presenters! – but socially crashed right after. That would become a running theme of the weekend; turns out even after being deprived of social contact for a whole-ass year, I am very much still an introvert.

Friday

Started the day off right with a class on consent. Not only was this very useful info and a great class, it was smaller and much more chill than the previous one, which was a perfect start for the day.

Then, I went to the coolest class on behavior and conditioning. Seriously, it was so informative. And funny! I kinda know the presenter too, and it was their first class, so I was all like "get it!!!" I came out of it with two main takeaways:

A whole new lens through which to view behavior and how it's influenced. Like, all behavior

A powerful need to buy a particular pen

Then the class on Imposter Syndrome. This was honestly just a balm on a lot of old fears. Not really about kink, because I'm so new I'm "pre-imposter", so to speak; but about writing, and work, and life in general.

I expected to come out with a better understanding of my feelings; I actually came out with not only that, but also some actionable techniques I could use to help with some of my nastier brain goblins. Seriously, if that class's presenter ever reads this : thank you, sincerely.

(Also, seeing some actual living legends attending that class drew in sharp relief what I always suspected to be true : we're all like this sometimes. We're all in this together.)

And then – are you exhausted reading this? Cause I sure was living it! – I went to my fourth class that day, and watched two presenters with such obvious chemistry demonstrate clearly how to Do Things and how Not To Do Things. It was funny, it was instructive, it was lovely. There was a cat at one point.

(Seriously, how is everybody at this con so nice?)

Then in the evening, I was the only one who showed up to a card game (I think everyone else was just exhausted). Only instead of having an Awkward Social Moment I ended up having a lovely chat with someone I'd seen in passing on the Discords but never really talked to before. I dunno what it is about the con atmosphere that just allows these connections to be made; just the tiny push you need to go out and meet people. It's great.

And then I went to bed EXHAUSTED, but so happy.

Saturday!

My brain woke me up at 6 am that morning. Which, since I live in the same timezone as the con, and had planned to skip the first round of classes, it did NOT need to do. Thanks, brain.

Classes!

Since I was up, I went to a class on safety. Good info, cause safety's important, yo.

I went to the Ace and Kinky roundtable! This was such a moment for me. Just sitting around and sharing experiences with people. Just...wow. As I said at the time : I am experiencing validation. Still processing what it means to me actually.

A class about how different dom styles are all valid! As someone who's very insecure in their toppiness, that's a wonderful help

And then, in the evening, the actual card game. Like any good Cards Against Humanity game, this had

Lots of people saying "oh no"

Being kind of skittish about being really awful, then getting a round so horrible you go "oh wow, people came to PLAY huh?"

"That one's too real"

Saying stuff aloud you really wish the neighbors don't hear

A whole bunch of quotes that #overhead-at-charmed was mercifully spared from

Laughter

Human bonding. From my end, at least

Then after we gave the winner the Shame Crown, I went to bed with an even bigger smile on my face. I mean come on! I'm supposed to be Double Grinch, no fair making me all happy and shit.

SuNdAy!

(Can you hear the exhaustion in that title?)

Started the day off with a writing class. Y'ever sit in on a panel of your favorite hypno-smut authors, some of whom have had a direct hand in your own work finally getting read after years of anxious avoidance, and watch them talk about a whole bunch of stuff that makes you go "they're just like me" among other wisdoms? Cause it's a weird, wonderful feeling

Also of note is I was "chatting in the back of the class" a lot of the time on Discord. Which was the best, most belonging-est feeling. And since it wasn't IRL, it didn't bother the presenters!

Weird non-convention pocket of time

So I was torn between which class to attend on the next block, or whether I should take it easy cause I was so tired you guys, oh my god, but then that choice was made for me when a friend from real life – remember real life? – called me to chat. I had A Real Time™ booting my brain in normal human mode for the duration of the call.

That call lasted until five minutes before the block after that one – I talk a lot. You're shocked, I know.

End weird non-convention pocket of time

Aaaand we're back in con space! Last class of the con was...intense, to say the least. Like not even in a bad way, necessarily, but with the exhaustion and all eventually the demo got to be Too Much and I had to bail. It was still good and informative and I took down lots of notes, but yeah, weird feeling.

And then, just like that, it was over! Just like my social meter.

When I went in to this, I had two goals:

Learn things

Be social

That's absolutely a check and check. Gotta think of some more ambitious goals for the next one. But keep those, too.

So, shouting void, what have we learned?

We've learned that I Can Go To Cons™. And that they can be wonderful, intense, magical, intense, spectacular, intense moments filled with learning and human connection.

And to the community builders out there. You know who you are. You folks made the spaces that felt safe enough for this aging fool to dust off an old dream. Thank you.

* except nobody reads this, right? Right.

[yzafre]

when you find me free-falling (out of the sky) Ch 1

AO3

Sora is born into a world where your heart has wings.

This does not make things better.

The children of Destiny Island dreamed of the day they’d find their Flight and take to the sky, as all children do.  Mostly, however, they were content to leave those thoughts as dreams of the future.  In the meantime, they had sand and sun and sea, and that was enough.

Sora especially, knowing his Flight would consist of Riku and Kairi when he’s grown, was content to spend his time on other pursuits.  He leaned into mock fights and races and sandcastle building competitions.

He couldn’t beat out Riku in a fight, where the older boy’s strength and skill were only augmented by his ghost-wing’s ability to shield him.  All the other kids despaired over their planned critical blow being turned aside by a shower of blue sparks, and Sora commiserated right along with them.

In a race Kairi reigned supreme, her quick feet and air-boosting ghost-wings leaving the crowd behind in a shimmer of pink.

Sora’s own yellow ghosts helped him a bit.  The brief moments he could pull them out gave him better stability and balance and recovery from falls than either of his friends, but it was never quite enough to bring him to the top.

He was content to let them lead as the winners of fights and races; he’d take his title as king of naps instead.

That’s how it starts.

  Sora dreamed of stained-glass light in an endless void.  A voice calls for him ceaselessly and shadows gain form, clawing at him with hungry eyes.  There was a weight in his heart and a pressure at his back, and a sense of dread lingering over everything. A last monster grew, stretching from his own shadow, larger and larger, until –

He woke with a jolt to Kairi’s laughter.

That’s how it begins.

  After a long day of collecting supplies and sparring with the other kids, the three of them rested together against a twisted palm tree as they watched the sunset.  Sora listened to Kairi’s teasing giggles and Riku’s passionate questions as they all mused on what they’d find once they get on the raft and set sail.

Riku’d been really focused on that, lately, the idea of leaving the islands.  He’d always been interested in setting off, in finding “real adventures”, as he called them.  Sora was excited too, of course.  He wanted to see new worlds, new sights, meet new people. Riku’s all-consuming focus on leaving was different, though, and its presence drifted behind him in everything he did.

It reminded Sora a bit of when he had too much energy and couldn’t sit still, only with Riku all that energy was trapped behind his eyes where he couldn’t get it out, no matter how much they ran and jumped and swung their swords around.

Sora thought it would be fun to see new places, to go on a big adventure, but Riku had a whole other level of determination.  He and Kairi couldn’t just let Riku go alone, though, and in the end they could always come back home, just like Auntie Emi.

  The next day, Sora found Riku sitting thoughtfully back in the cove.

“We still need a name for the raft,” Riku muttered, “What about… the Highwind?”

“I think Excalibur would be better,” Sora replied.

“How bout-“

“-the usual?”

Kairi came to supervise their little wager, and the two started moving to the starting line of the race.

“Alright, if I win, I’m captain,” Sora said, “and if you win –“

“I get to bring the paopu fruit to Kairi.”

“What?” Sora spluttered and came to a stop, a flush rising on his face.

“The winner gets to be the first to share a paopu with Kairi.”

The paopu fruit – a legend of their small island, a tale that said sharing one with someone would tie you together forever.  Sora couldn’t help but glance over at Kairi, who was waiting for them to finish whispering and start the race.

“Fine,” he muttered, ignoring Riku’s smirk as his cheeks got even warmer.

They approached Kairi, who cocked her head with an exasperated huff, “Are you two finally ready, then?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Riku said.

“Okay, on my count – go!”

The two of them took off immediately, shoving for space on the narrow bridge.  Sora just managed to get ahead of Riku, but on his next step the board beneath him fell through with a startling crack.

Riku’s laugh echoed above him as he pulled himself back to his feet, spitting up sand, and scrambled to try and catch up.

Despite his best efforts, though, he never quite managed to make up the difference on that lead.  Riku, of course, rubbed it in by sauntering casually through the last stretch, smirking over his shoulder as Sora pushed to try and eke out a win.

  After Sora finished nursing the wound of his loss, he went to find Kairi for the next step on their sailing plans.  She handed over the list of items, and he made quick work on collecting most of the food.

Apparently Riku required mushrooms for the last of their supplies – ew – so he headed to the secret cave.  The cool, damp air was a nice change from the outside heat.

The walls were covered with drawings, the work spanning back years.   The three of them had carved into the soft rock over and over, filling every last inch with pictures and plans.

Sora found himself drawn to an old sketch, one of his and Kairi’s faces turned towards each other.  These two sketches were put up years and years ago, the very first time he brought Kairi there.

  During those first few weeks when Kairi moved in, when she was still distant and hazy and quiet, there came a day when she seemed… off.  Riku had just beaten all the other kids in a fight, and now the four were squabbling in the sand.  Kairi stood off to the side of it all.  As he watched, she drew more and more into herself, hands clutching at her elbows and shoulders turning in.

A glance confirmed that the others would be busy for a while, so Sora slipped over to Kairi’s side.

“Hey,” he whispered, “come with me, I want to show you something.”

Kairi blinked at him, long and slow, but she unraveled her arms and Sora took that as agreement.  Grabbing her hand, he led her away from the shore with a mischievous smile growing on his face.

He brought her up to a corner of cliff walls and brushed away a covering of vines, “In here.”

The two made their way through the hole and down the hall to the open cavern at the end.  At the time the drawing collection was only just beginning, a few scattered sketches here and there.  He brought her over to the wall and picked up a sharp stone from the floor.

“Here,” he said, “like this.”

Sora kneeled down and began scratching at the wall.  After a moment, he heard the rustle of cloth and saw Kairi crouch down beside him.  He peeked at her from the corners of his eyes and shot her a bright smile. She blinked back for a moment, before turning her eyes to his drawing.

Humming to himself, he kept chipping at the wall, even as matching scraping started up next to him.  When he finally finished, he leaned back and turned to see what Kairi had made.

He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him – her drawing was amazing, with nice smooth lines and filled in hair.  Kairi froze, glancing over at him.  It’s only when Sora’s smile turned into a wide grin that she relaxed.

Her tense expression melted into a small but glowing smile.  Sora’s breath caught in his throat as an answering warmth bloomed in his chest.  In that moment he knew there was more hiding behind Kairi’s hesitance, and he couldn’t wait to see it.

Riku could say whatever he wanted, but Sora knows: he chose Kairi first.

  Now Sora returned to these old drawings, running his fingers over his messy lines and Kairi’s neat ones.  On a whim he sat down, adding to the image – a hand held up between them, offering Kairi a paopu fruit.

Riku was his oldest friend, and he couldn’t imagine his future without him, but he’d always had an all-consuming energy to him that Sora couldn’t quite comprehend, and lately it had become something sharp and almost cutting.  Kairi, on the other hand, had always been warm and bright, and Sora was captivated.

He turned from the wall and did a double take when he spotted the figure in the corner.  It loomed, a tatty brown cloak draped over a tall figure, with deep black wings draping behind.  Beside them stood the strange door – one without any kind of handle – that had long confused Sora and Riku.  The exchange that followed was strange, nonsensical, and brief.

When Sora stepped back into the sunlight, blinking against the sparkle of light across the ocean, the memory of that conversation faded like a dream.  For better or worse, it would be forgotten.

  Sora returned to Kairi with his haul.  Dropping them into the sack at her feet, he found himself distracted by the bundle of materials in her hand.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a charm - to help us find each other if we ever get separated,” Kairi held up the half-formed star, letting it dangle from the cord, “After all, the three of us will always be together.”

Sora grinned back up at her, fireworks bursting in his chest the way they always did when their future as a Flight was brought up.

The two of them moved to the edge of the nearby pier, sitting side by side as the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon.  Kairi finished the charm and set it aside.  Together, they watched as the sea was stained in warm hues of pink and red and orange.

It was Kairi that broke the silence.

“You know, Riku has changed.”

“What do you mean?” Sora asked, even as his mind shied away from the question.

Kairi hemmed and hawed for a moment, before turning and leaning into him with burning eyes, “Sora, let’s take the raft and go, just the two of us!”

“Huh?”

“Just kidding!”

Kairi pulled way, leaning back on her hands with a strange smile on her face.

For a moment Sora’s stomach churned, a chasm opening inside, but –

He turned his face to the sea and sky, and let the fading light wash it away.

  Next >

[jtargaryen18]

The Shape of My Heart

Chapter 15

Warnings: Violence, Threesome, Smut, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, Polyamory, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Double Penetration, Anal Sex, Voyeurism, Stucky, Spanking

A/N: One of my resolutions in 2020 is to finish this story. It’s on AO3 but I thought I’d bring it here to pull me back into it. I’ll be posting new chapter when I get to that point on both platforms.

This is not a dark fic and there’s an OC instead of a reader.

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown, tumblr or fanfiction.net, it has been reposted without my permission.

A day just for Chris and Steve.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

~~~

Steve realized two things when he woke up the next morning. First, he’d overslept. It was well past eight in the morning and he didn’t think he’d moved once. Second, he was tangled up in the two other people in his bed and well, that wasn’t a bad thing at all. Steve didn’t often indulge himself in sleeping in but at the moment, he wondered why that was.

Bucky was awake and grinning at him. Stretching up to kiss Steve’s mouth, Bucky then reached over the table on his side and grabbed his phone.

“When did you get in? We must have fallen asleep,” Bucky scrolled through his phone, much more comfortable with modern technology than he was.

“Late,” Steve told him in a rough voice. “You two were out cold when I finally made it up here. How’s the leg?”

Bucky pulled the covers away from his knee to reveal yet another scar but otherwise, a healed wound.

“Good,” Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris’s head. She was sprawled out across him, her head on his shoulder, slender limbs thrown over him. She looked completely comfortable.

“Oh, wow,” Bucky drew his attention away from their girl. “Nat needs to go meet someone from the old days and she’s asked me to go with her.”

Steve didn’t approve, and Bucky knew that. “Why?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “Something she’s trying to score for Wanda. I’ll be with her to keep her safe.”

“Something better be worth putting your lives at risk,” Steve warned.

Bucky sighed. “I’m going because if I don’t, she’ll go alone. You know that.”

Steve did. He still didn’t like it, but he knew Bucky was right.

“When?”

“Leaving here in a few minutes,” Bucky said with a wink as he climbed out of bed.

Steve stared up at him, realizing that left him with Chris. Alone.

“You said you wanted to convince her to give you a chance,” Bucky reminded him. “Here’s your chance. You’ll have our girl all to yourself. You can be charming when you want to, Stevie.”

Bucky laughed when Steve flipped him off.

Chris still hadn’t stirred when Bucky came out of the bathroom from his shower, pulling his robe out of the floor and hanging it up before he got dressed.

“I’ll be back later today.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Chris’s cheek, one to Steve’s lips. “Be good to her.”

Steve nodded, watched Bucky leave.

Just him and Chris. Okay. Steve hadn’t been prepared for that.

Now he was too nervous to just stay in bed, so he threw on his robe, curiously it smelled like Chris, and situated her in bed with his pillow at her back. Then he headed for the kitchen to make breakfast.

Steve had just finished pancakes with scrambled eggs and sausage links when she quietly walked into the kitchen, smiling at the table he’d set with a tablecloth and nice linen placemats and napkins. Her pretty face colored slightly as she took in that there were just two places set.

“Where’s Bucky?” Chris asked, nervously pulling at the edge of Steve’s t-shirt that she’d slipped on.

“Out on an errand with Natasha,” Steve admitted. “Something for Wanda.”

Chris nodded, swiping at her eyes as she moved closer, looking unsure of what to do.

“I thought maybe since it was just us you would like to have breakfast with me?” Steve flashed her with what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Oh wow.” Her blush deepened, making him wonder just how far it extended. “Thank you, Steve. This is wonderful.”

He motioned for her to sit and she did, pulling the napkin from her setting and placing it on her lap. Steve poured them each a glass of orange juice and joined her at the table, feeling pretty proud of the way she dug right in to her breakfast.

“You’re a really good cook,” she said after a moment. “First the lasagna and now this. Do you bake too?”

It was Steve’s turn to blush now, grinning as he said, “a little.”

“What else can you make?” Chris wanted to know.

“I can make a lot of things,” Steve wasn’t bragging. “When we were younger, Bucky was the breadwinner, I made what I could, but I was usually the one home to do the cooking. You try really hard not to mess up when you don’t have anything else to make if you burn dinner.”

“Ah,” Chris said in response.

“Do you cook?” Steve asked her.

Chris shook her head. “Not really. I can open cans and microwave. That’s about it.”

“Who did the cooking when you were younger?” Steve realized he knew next to nothing about Chris’s back story.

“My Aunt Jenny,” she admitted after a minute. “She felt so bad about never really being home with me that she did everything. The cooking, the cleaning. Laundry. It was a rude awakening when I started UVA because I had absolutely no survival skills when I started out.”

Steve didn’t like the sad note her voice took on as she explained that.

“What happened to your parents?” he had to ask.

Chris’s gaze met his and he started to tell her that it was okay if she didn’t feel comfortable telling him but then she answered him.

“They were killed in a car accident when I was a baby,” Chris explained. “Jenny’s an ER nurse  and she was at the hospital when they arrived. Dad was dead on arrival and Mom, she made it a few days.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Which was her sibling?”

“My Mom.”

“Your aunt stayed single?”

Chris nodded. “There’s a reason I’m bad at relationships. I had a very good role model.” She laughed, thoughtful eating a forkful of pancakes. “Jenny has terrible taste in men. She’s never had a relationship that I’ve known of that lasted longer than a few months.”

“Wait, so if she was your role model,” Steve pointed out, “and she has terrible taste in men, what are you trying to say?”

Chris laughed, turning red. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. Any woman would be very lucky to have either one of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve held her gaze, loving having the advantage of her discomfort for the moment. “What about both of us?”

Chris shrugged. “It’s different… but in a good way. You’re both alike in some ways and very different in others.”

“How are we alike?”

Her expression sobered at that. “You’ve both been through so much, Steve. I remember when we had to read about you guys in history class and just what you experienced in the war was unbelievable to me. I don’t know much about your lives before you became Captain America, but I’m guessing it wasn’t an easy time of it. The museum mentioned you were ill most of your life up to that point. Then you lost Bucky and… “

Steve didn’t know what to say to that.

“I know you’ve both experienced a lot, but I have to admire you. Despite it all, you’re here still trying to make our world a better place. Trying to live a somewhat normal life. You’re broken, you have nightmares, but you don’t let it defeat you. There are days I want to bitch about things or complain but when I think of you two, I realize I have no reason to. You inspire me, I guess.”

Now knowing how she saw things helped him. At least she didn’t feel sorry for them. Considering her own upbringing, it sounded like she could relate.

“You’re different too,” Chris went on. “Bucky is tenacious, and charming. He never forgets a damn thing when I screw up but he’s the first to defend me if I need him. He’s too hard on himself about his past, doesn’t think he deserves a damn thing in life, but he does enjoy what he has. I love that smile he gets when he’s really happy. I mean really happy like after sex or ice cream. His eyes sparkle and he does that little thing with his nose.”

Steve burst out laughing, thinking he was the only one who noticed that Bucky scrunched his nose like a content bunny sometimes.

“You know I’m right,” Chris told him.

“You really are,” Steve told her, laughing. “What about me?”

Chris just studied him for a moment, propping her chin on her hand.

“Steve, you just really are that American hero we all believe you to be,” Chris told him. “You always do the right thing, think of others before yourself. You always put me on Bucky’s right because you’re so worried my hair will get caught in his arm again.”

He laughed. She had him there.

“When I had that panic attack after meeting with Tony, you just marched down there to my apartment,” Chris told him. “You look after me – and him – even if we don’t want you to. But yeah, we usually want you to. I do, anyway.”

Steve’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“You came to me with just the craziest proposal ever after I’d hooked up with Bucky and now that I know you better, I’m a little shocked because you don’t seem like the sort of guy who does threesomes,” she explained. “Once someone realizes how big your heart is though, well, then it kind of makes sense. You’d really need two people when it comes to a heart like yours.”

Tears stung the backs of his eyes at her words.

“Gorgeous as you are, though, I gave this a chance because I knew we couldn’t make Bucky choose between us,” Chris admitted. “I wanted you to be back together. God, the way you look at him with your heart in your eyes. Always wanted someone to look at me like that. Before this I thought that if I held him off long enough, I’d give you time to get in and he’d forget me. But you wouldn’t let me off the hook. And now? Well, it sucks keeping it all a secret but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”

Steve reached across the table to take her hand in his. “We want you to be happy with us, Chris. It’s not just me and Bucky. Not anymore.”

The smile faded from her eyes and lips. “I’m scared though.”

“Sweetheart, why?” Steve gently pulled her up and around the table to sit in his lap. It felt so good to hold her there. “What are you scared of?”

“Are you two even going to age?” she asked, trying to sound like she was joking but not quite hitting that note.

“We are,” he told her honestly. “The serum enhanced us both, but it didn’t grant us immortality or eternal youth. It might be slowed down, but we’ll get there.”

“What if something happens to you? Either of you?”

“That could happen with anyone you love,” Steve reminded her. “We all face that risk.”

“You two face way more danger than the average person, Steve.”

“We’re also way more equipped to deal with it.”

“What happens when one or both of you get tired of me?”

He hated how small her voice sounded when she asked that question.

“Don’t.”

“Why? It’s possible, Steve.”

“We’re not like anyone you’ve dated before,” Steve said, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “We’re actually pretty set in our ways. We don’t like change.”

“I’m not like you,” Chris pointed out. “I’m a loner who gets depressed and insecure. There’s going to be times I won’t want to talk to you and you might forgive me, but will he?”

“He will,” Steve said quietly. “He has his moments too. We all do.”

Turning on his lap, Chris pressed her palms to his chest, sliding them inside his robe to touch his skin.

“There are going to be times when it’s just me and you,” Chris told him.

Steve nodded, wrapping his arms gently around her.

“I think this is going to be okay,” she said. “There’s bound to be stuff we have in common or can do.”

“We can cook, you could teach me how to use a computer or a phone because I struggle,” he replied. “We can train or watch a movie.”

Nodding, she slid her hands up around his neck, stretching up to kiss him slowly.

“So many places we can go,” she said thinking out loud.

Just the flash of something crossed his beautiful eyes but it was gone just as fast.

“Is it selfish of me to have both of you?” she blushed as she asked. “Seems any number of women would cheerfully kill me for being with either one of you, much less both.”

Steve shook his head. “Is it wrong of us to be together and both get to have you too?”

“Well, if you save the world regularly, maybe you deserve a bonus?” Chris laughed, shrugged.

“Maybe,” he told her. “You’re quite a bit more than a bonus though.”

Winking at him, she said, “we’ll see.”

They made out like teenagers for a few moments before clearing the dishes. Chris stretched before heading into the bathroom, searching through his cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” he called.

“You don’t happen to have any bath oils or bombs?” she asked.

Steve grinned. “A bath? That sound pretty good. Hang on.”

She watched him pull on a shirt and shorts and head out of the apartment. He was back in ten minutes with a bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath and she made a happy sound as he poured a generous amount into the water she’d gotten just right.

Stripping off, he placed a hand in the large tub and frowned. Chris liked her showers scalding like Bucky. The water was warm but not too bad. Climbing in the tub, he got comfortable, watching as she pulled off his shirt and climbed in with him, her back to his front and they talked about everything until the water cooled.

It was then as they climbed out to dry off that she thought to ask. “Where you’d get the bubbles?”

Steve grinned. “Nat.”

“She’s going to get you back for that,” Chris warned him playfully.

“Maybe.” Steve was determined to dry her off with one of his huge, fluffy towels. Once he was done, Chris made her way back into the bedroom, looking indecisive.

“What?” he wanted to know.

“Just trying to decide if I should go back to mine to get dressed and get a few things done or…”

“You could bring some stuff to keep here,” he was barely keeping the hope out of his tone. “I have several drawers I’m not using so there’s plenty of room.”

“Wow,” Chris teased him with a blinding smile. “I already get a drawer?”

Steve was a little confused and she seemed to realize it.

“Nowadays, someone giving you a drawer in their place is a huge relationship milestone,” Chris explained.

“It is, huh?” He sat on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What else?”

“What do you mean what else?”

“What other milestones do you do nowadays?”

“Why?”

I’m hoping in time you’ll see me as more than what you got in a package deal with Bucky.

“Because offering a drawer isn’t enough for one day?” Her smile hadn’t faded.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Chris swallowed hard, sitting next to him on the bed and adorably naked. “Well, there’s giving someone a key but here we don’t use those, so…”

“I could still give you access to come and go as you like,” Steve said nodded. “Bucky has access.”

“There’s having someone move in with you,” Chris went on, glancing up at him. “I think those are the only ones we’ve added, and you know the rest, getting engaged, married and such.”

Gently he picked her up, situating her on his lap.  She smelled so good from the bath and he couldn’t resist running his lips over the soft, moist skin along her throat and shoulder. He made a circuit, down and up, several times until he just kept going up to claim her lips. When she slid her arms around his neck and began to return that kiss with everything she had, Steve lowered them back onto the bed. His heart raced in his chest. Maybe it was just that Chris accepted him to avoid making Bucky choose between them. Maybe, just maybe, she wanted Steve too.

When she indicated she wanted to turn, Steve let her maneuver him onto his back with her above him. Chris dazzled him with kisses, working her way down his body until she situated herself between his thighs and began to work him with her mouth and hands.

“Chris?” Steve panted. “Sweetheart? You don’t have –”

She cut him off by taking him into her throat and Steve clutched at the sheets, trying not to lose his mind. Her small hands worked his sack, what she couldn’t get into her mouth. Constantly changing tactics, Chris kept him on edge for long minutes while he clutched at her hair and fought to keep himself from snatching her up, pressing her into the bed, and fucking her like there was no tomorrow.

When he finally couldn’t hang on any longer, Steve let go with a shout, still amazed at how good Chris was at that. Steve drifted off into a nap shortly after and woke up to find that Chris had covered them up, her head was back on his chest and she was sprawled across him, just as they were when they woke up.

Now it was dark outside, his stomach was growling, and someone had just walked into the living room.

Bucky looked surprised when he strolled back into the bedroom. Tilting his head in surprise, he just stared.

“You never left the bed?” Bucky said with a teasing tone.

“We did,” Steve sounded unconvincing to his own ears. “We just ended up back here.”

“Okay,” Bucky didn’t sound like he believed them. “You’ve fed our girl, right?”

Steve tightened his arm around her while she slept. “We had breakfast.”

“Want me to order Chinese for dinner?” Bucky offered, hanging up his jacket.

Chris hummed contentedly on Steve’s chest. Bucky climbed up on the bed to spoon up behind her.

“Chris, how are you feeling?” he whispered in her ear.

Steve watched her shiver.

“I’ve had a really good day,” she told him, snuggling closer to Steve.

“Did Stevie treat you right?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Chris murmured.

“How did it go?” Steve asked quietly.

“Everything was fine,” Bucky told him. “Except I missed my best guy and my best girl.”

Bucky got up, stretched. “I’ll go order dinner. You two could at least get on your pajamas,” he said then winked.  “If not, I’ll enjoy the view.”

Chris lifted her sleepy head off his chest to smile up at him and Steve’s heart just melted.

This might work out after all.

@jennmurawski13 @what-is-your-plan-today @badassbaker @caffiend-queen

[pookapics]

Way down to Hadestown - MafiaBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

The 1930's has its own challenges for a young singer like (YN) but when she finds her lover with another girl, she has no choice but to hustle to get the money to get the hell out of dodge. But what happens when a mysterious blue eyed strangers enters the club she sings at and gives her a ticket out of this place. Will she take the offer, especially after she realises that the offer is coming from Steve Rogers, Leader of the Avengers Mob and the 'King of New York'? She's desperate and heavily drawn into Steve's charms but will she go? And is there a catch in this chance for freedom? 

Warnings : Mafia!SteveRogers, Mobsters, Heartbreak, Cheating, Eventual romance, Sexual innuendo, Age-Gap (Reader is 21 and Steve is 30 so 9 year difference), Hints of violence

Masterlist - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189126314108/way-down-to-hadestown-masterlist-mobbosssteve

Next Chapter - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189109817228/way-down-to-hadestown-mobbosssteve-rogers-x

Chapter 1 : Hey Little Songbird

 New York, 1933 - Wintertime

Your POV

Smoke wafted in your face as you entered the club you worked at, your tattered brown coat wrapped around you tightly as your shoes stuck to the sticky floors of the club where drinks had been dropped numerous times, stains upon the floor. Times were tough, simply not enough money for anything.

  Living off scraps from the club like a stray dog. 

 Empty promises raised their nasty heads as you entered the dressing-room round the back. The empty promises that once escaped your high-school sweetheart’s lips. Promises of a better home, better food and the wedding you always dreamed of. But he was a singer, singers like him liked to butter up a girl until they got bored or famous. 

 Both happened to you and your lover. 

 The sweet harmonies the two of you once sang together long forgotten . What remains now is a cold bed, an empty stomach and having to witness your boyfriend sleeping with some other girl. 

The sweet puppy love was gone, it was now tarnished and unable to return to what it once was. Tears began to form in the corner of your eyes as you saw Wanda, your long-term friend and colleague. You pushed them back as you saw her open her arms for you, last night when you found out about your boyfriend and his little thing on the side you’d called Wanda from a payphone near the affluent bar your ex worked at, Wanda was working at the time but rushed to the phone when she heard the bouncer calling her over about how you were crying and needing Wanda. You knew that the whole club knew what happened but you in your tearful state the night before could not stop yourself from crumbling down as soon as the Bouncer answered the phone. Wanda’s voices pulled you back from reflecting on what happened just the night before

 “That scumbag will get what’s coming to him! I promise!” her accent thickened as her rage increased, you giggled weakly and smiled slightly “Thanks Wan, I’m just going to work my ass off for those tips and save to get my own place.” You couldn’t stay at your shared apartment anymore, too many memories that would make you crumble. 

 He cheated on you, there is truly no going back from that betrayal. He pushed you away for his fame and career and slept with another girl. You couldn’t stay with a man who broke your heart in two ways. He was one of those faux-rich kind of men, ass-licking the big dogs in the most luxurious spots in town, enjoying the high-life. Meanwhile, you’re stuck singing in a sleazy club for a few dollars here and there. 

 He abandoned you, and you wanted out.

 Reaching for the clothes rack in the dressing-room,you picked up a long white dress which trickled to the floor elegantly. The fabric was silky and ornate in its intricate design details, this dress was a hang-me-down from the previous girl who worked here before you, a girl called Birdie if you remembered correctly. Going behind the changing-screen, you slid the dress on, it accentuated your figure in all the right places. With a glance to the mirror, you smiled, the dress made you look heavenly in aura, graceful like a swan in flight. Over at the vanity, you picked up a handful of bobby-pins to slide into your hair, smoothing down the frizz and stray hairs which you tamed with a waft of your finger. The final touch was the lipstick, a splatter of red tinged your lips, it was a deep red which complimented your skin tone divinely, the one luxury you bought for yourself in this troubling time of economics. 

 You were ready to start your set of songs, before that you decided to peek through the red curtains of the stage to see if any patrons were sat at the booths, you usually took requests from them for an extra dollar or two, made sure you came home with a heftier amount of cash than if you didn’t. It was early in the day for the club so it was quite barren, bar the boss, Big Louis and his gaggle of goons who smoked close to the bar as Pietro, Wanda’s twin mixed drinks quicker than it took to neck a shot. 

 But that’s when you noticed in the corner of your eye that one booth was taken, one booth which held one man on his own. A man you’d never seen before round the club. He sat on his lonesome with a glass of whiskey in hand, staring deeply into it. You had to admit that this man was beyond attractive, he oozed a sense of power and control and as if the whole bar and everyone in it was at his command, that power made you subconsciously bite the corner of your lip out of nerves and out of another emotion you couldn’t pin-point exactly. His suit was perfectly pinched and altered to fit the man’s form which was built like a god, like one of those Greek god statues you’d seen in a Museum of history once.

 You pulled back slowly from the curtains, cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink which you’d just put down to the rouge you applied to your cheeks. Mentally, you prepared to head out there just when Ricky, one of Big Louis’ goons turned the corner and squawked “Oi! The Boss wants ya!” you turned to face him “But I’m about to start my se-” you were rudely interrupted by him “The Boss wants you now!” he snapped and insisted, you sighed and walked round back to get to the bar, not wanting to face the stranger in that lone booth just yet. 

 “You needed me, Sir?” you spoke shyly, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress, watching as Big Louis turned around, cigar in one hand and a drink in the other “Yeah Toots, I was hopin’ you could entertain our ‘guest’ up front?” he asked which made you frown “Just him?” you could see Big Louis visibly gulp as he glanced to the stranger’s booth “Yes. Just him. Do whatever he asks. I’ll pay you double hey triple! IF  you do this for me. A small favour really!” There was a flash of desperation in his eyes, you’d never seen Big Louis so shaken before, he was the big boss of this place and took no funny business from anyone. Yet this new patron had him physically shaken and desperate? Briefly, you nodded in agreement, you needed that cash and it would get you the hell out of dodge. 

 Turning on your heels, you headed straight for the booth which is where the ‘guest’ was seated at. Glancing to the doors for a small moment, you saw the bouncers guarding the door alongside four new men dressed in full suits, not letting anyone enter or exit. As you approached, you felt the stranger’s eyes on you, they were a striking shade of blue you noticed as you got closer to the booth. His eyes never left you, you’d never felt so anxious or intrigued by a man before. The blue-eyed stranger took a swig of what seemed to be whisky, letting it swirl in the glass slightly, his eyes never left you as he cleared his throat to speak “Hey little songbird~” you froze, his voice was as alluring as his eyes, it had a hint of danger interlaced in its melodic tone but that only further drew you in. 

 He spoke up again “Gimme a song? I’m a busy man and I can’t stay long.” He cracked his knuckles “I’ve got clients to call, I got order to fill… I got walls to build.”  he smoothed out his jacket for a moment and reached his hand out in your direction as if motioning for you to sing for him. And in that moment, your mouth went very dry. 

 ‘I got riots to quell

And they're giving me hell back in Hades...’

 How could one man have such power and control over you, it was baffling. From what he’d said, you knew he was a man of power. That was already evident when you first laid eyes upon him and from just seeing his mannerisms and the perfectly pinched and altered designer suit. But you couldn’t tell or know just how powerful he was, you drew a blank when you tried to comprehend that. 

 Suddenly, you realised you’d been silent and had let your mind drift astray and didn’t return to the current conversation till he spoke again “Little Songbird, Cat got your tongue?~” he teased which flustered you, leading to your fingers playing with the material of your dress as he began to chuckle “Always a pity for one so pretty and young~”  he tapped his fingers against his glass, the rings he wore clinked against the glass gently. 

 ‘When poverty comes to clip your wings

And knock the wind right out of your lungs

Hey, nobody sings on empty’

 You’d recently turned 21, in this man’s eyes that meant you were young still, you could tell he was older but not drastic. You could tell he’d been aged by the world because of his eyes, they withheld pain and sorrow which could only be fully seen in the eyes of those who’d experienced the horrors of the current real-world of New York that everyone was trying to survive in. If you had to guess, he seemed to be at least thirty, definitely aged and in your eyes aged like a fine wine. He’d seen the world in ways you hadn’t and that further drew you in a led you to open your mouth and begin to sing for him “Strange is the call of this strange man, I want to fly down and feed at his hand, I want a nice soft place to land, I want to lie down forever…”  You could feel his gaze upon your face, eyes were softly closed as you sang, you tried to keep yourself from shaking.

 The man softly clapped, your eyes opened to see his face, his golden hair in the light reflected and made it resemble a halo or a crown as they were shrouded in dim lights, he reflected like a beacon. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before the drifted gently to your figure  “Hey little songbird, you got something fine~ You'd shine like a diamond down in the mine~” He gestured to you with his hand before reaching into his jacket pocket with his other hand, retrieving a small white card and placing it on the table as he spoke up “And the choice is yours if you're willing to choose… Seeing as you've got nothing to lose~” he chuckled and reached to touch your chin with his thumb and forefinger, the feeling of the cold rings that were upon his fingers on your face made you shiver as he continued to speak as he held your chin “...And I could use a canary~”  His voice resonated and grumbled which twinged something inside of you, something raw and unrefined. 

 Out of pure nerves and feeling the eyes of Big Louis on the back of your head you continued to sing, pulling away from his grasp on your chin “Suddenly nothing is as it was… Where are you now, Oscar? Wasn't it always the two of us? Weren't we birds of a feather…” the words which left your lips, the man’s expression changed for a moment, as if analysing your words in his head, before long he pat the seat beside him, motioning for you to take a seat beside him “Little songbird, let me guess he's some kind of poet and he's penniless?” He questioned as you sat beside him, you shyly nodded and stared down at the floor, how did he know that? It was as if he’d read your mind. 

 ‘Give him your hand, he'll give you his hand-to-mouth

He'll write you a poem when the power's out’

The blue-eyed stranger was sat close to you as he kept speaking to you, as if reassuring you, the man which terrified Big Louis, was being compassionate to you? You felt his breath upon your shoulder, you shivered as he spoke again  “Hey, why not fly south for the winter?” he motioned for the card which lay face down on the booth’s table in front of the two of you with his finger. You glanced to the table but your eyes fell upon a shape in his pocket, the shape of a gun on his thigh, you played with your hair out of nerves. He had a weapon and if he was as powerful as you’d thought, he had no qualms about firing that weapon in here… 

He saw your gaze upon the shape in his pocket, and as sensing your nerves he smoothed his pant leg as if trying to brush it off. 

 The atmosphere in the club could be cut with a knife.

  You were intrigued and scared of the man who was sat so close to you. But you were more intrigued and curious of the stranger, probably foolish of you but it was true. Feeling his hand upon your clothed back, it was a gentle touch as the other hand slowly reached to touch your chin, giving you enough time to pull away from him if you wanted, he waited to see if you pulled away from him. He sighed as he spoke “Little Songbird, what’s your name?” he asked, holding your chin gently as he awaited an answer, eyes locked on yours, your whole body tingling from the interaction, his voice soft and tender which danced in your ears, he felt strangely safe. Though he was dangerous, clearly, you still felt safe around him as if he could protect you. 

 “(YN) (LN).” You introduced yourself to the stranger, he nodded and hummed, it made a grumbling growl sound in his chest as he spoke once more to you “(YN), look all around you...See how the vipers and vultures surround you.”  He motioned to those at the bar who stared at you intently, watching like a predator in the grass, you’d never been that observant to notice the type of looks they would give you. Only Big Louis seemed disinterested, knowing that in this moment you were protected by his ‘guest’. You felt a chill run up your back, how had you not noticed you were like prey to them. Memories of work-shifts when there would be sneers and glares and touches which lasted too long for your comfort, the smell of cigarettes lingered on your dresses on nights like those. How could you have been so oblivious. The only people you could maybe  trust here was Wanda, Pietro and maybe this new stranger? Something was forming, was it trust or something else? 

 “They'll take you down, they'll pick you clean~ If you stick around such a desperate scene.” The stranger spoke, his voice in your ear which sent shiver down to your heart and made your body quiver, could you trust him? You looked at him, your lips slightly parted as he stared down at you.

 Could you trust a wolf among a pride of hungry lions? 

 He whispered into your ear  “See people get mean when the chips are down…”  He growled which made you bite your lipstick stained lips. You stared up at him, you felt his breath upon your skin, eyes wide as he picked up the card that he’d placed on the booth’s table and handed it to you 

  ‘SONGBIRD VERSUS RATTLESNAKE’

  “What is it?” you asked, keeping your hand back until he answered you, the card still turned so you couldn’t see what was on the other side, your eyes glanced up to his and he held the card out to you, holding it between his forefinger and thumb “Your ticket.” He flipped it around to show his name on the other-side and a number. Your eyes widened as your eyes fell upon the name on the card

  ‘Steve Rogers’ 

 The notorious leader of the Avengers Mob, he’d been involved with mob activity in the city since he was in his teens. From the Howling Commandos, to Shield and now the Avengers. He’d risen into power over the years. He was feared and loved by the city, depended on who you were and who’s territory you were living inside of. Your eyes fluttered up to Steve Rogers, who’s eyes were on you. You’d gained the interested of a notorious Mob Boss. 

 The interest of the ‘King of New York’...

 And here he was. Giving you a ticket to his secret paradise. It was only spoken about in rumours about the secret underground run by Steve Rogers and the Avengers Mob. Anyone who wasn’t a part of the family wasn’t allowed in or out, that’s why it was only myth and rumour. No-one in the Avengers Mob was brave enough to rat out the location as they knew it would mean there would be hell to pay if they ever did. 

 Steve Rogers didn’t know you, why would he let you in? You reached for the ticket and stared at it, your finger brushed against Steve’s, you grasped the ticket as Steve’s hand picked your other hand up and brought it to his lips, laying a kiss upon your knuckles “The choice is yours. Just know this… I desire to learn more about you, to know you. To learn your quirks.” he stopped speaking for a moment and stared at you “I want to know your dreams and goals.” his voice soft and sounded like poetry, like the promises your ex used to make. You stopped that train of thought as he spoke again 

 “I could give you anything you desire, anything you ask of you could receive. Treated like the little goddess that you are turning into~ But… That choice is up to you.” He pulled back from you and rose to his feet, leaving you sat there in the booth, his finished whisky glass upon the table. You were frozen to the spot where you sat, clutching the ticket in hand. Steve bowed his head slightly “Thank you for the song, Little Songbird...” he winked and wandered over to Big Louis who simply shook his hand and spoke briefly. The voices of everyone was muffled, it was most likely the shock of all of this. He was giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, to get out of your old apartment where memories of your ex lingered and to be whisked off to what Steve made out to be paradise. You pondered what could be the catch, there was no such thing as true paradise on earth, there would always be darkness. 

  (YN) was a hungry young girl and Steve Rogers gave her a choice to make...

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.12)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: Complicit

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. After two days of “late night babysitting” preparing for this…mission, she was about to actually undergo it. She was kinda freaking out deep down, but her Redfield nerve and composure never broke a sweat on the outside.

She lingered, eyes firmly set on the double glass doors and the welcoming signs, faint traces of snow dancing around her. Would she be able to do this?

“Losing your nerve already? Pity. Thought you redheads had more spunk than this...”

Wesker’s velvety voice crept through the tiny headphone hidden in her right ear. It wasn’t the only thing he attached to her. There was a video camera, the smallest and most advanced she had ever seen, and some kind of tracker, like he needed another way to keep her under his thumb. All to “help” her during this important task at hand that he so generously gave to her. And by generously, there were implications if she didn’t go through with this, that Chris would have a bad “accident”.

“The only nerve I’m about to lose is my last one with you,” she muttered, careful to not talk too loud as a few people slipped by her to enter the building, eager to get out of the dark evening's cold. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wesker’s low laugh through the earpiece made her shiver more than the icy wind blowing the snowflakes around. “I’m always ready, Claire. You should know that by now.”

“Whatever.” Ignoring the dark implications behind his words.

“I have the utmost faith in you, my dear. Do not disappoint me. You know the consequences.”

The younger Redfield took a deep breath. This was it. She would do this…she had to, for Chris.

She headed up the concrete steps and entered Raccoon University, bypassing the positive and welcoming signs advertising “Exclusive Open House for Umbrella’s Future Leaders!”

Claire immediately took notice of all the college students her age and even some older people here. The large, fancy lobby was decorated up for the occasion. There were balloons, finger foods and drinks, more signs and several tables for information on Umbrella programs, internships, scholarships, and grants. Distracted by all the dress up and people, Claire paused to get her bearings, only for someone to bump into her.

“Oh…sorry,” a girl around her age mumbled, wearing a green jacket and looking of Japanese descent. She smiled apologetically and readjusted her backpack strap. Claire noticed right away she seemed a little spacey, but didn’t think much on it.

“All good,” she replied and allowed the girl to pass. Claire watched her walk over to the corner by some of the many leather lounge chairs and tables, sitting with a girl in a yellow hoodie with a long braid and glasses.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Umbrella’s Open House!” The voice immediately drew Claire’s attention and she turned towards the front desk of the lobby, where three men stood in suits. She immediately recognized them from the research and planning she had gone through for the past two days in order to do this assignment. The man speaking was Greg Mueller, a professor here at the university that also worked for Umbrella. On his right stood another professor and Umbrella researcher, Simon Lowery. The man on the left was well-known Umbrella researcher and medical doctor, Nathanial Bard.

“We hope you are enjoying the delicious food and beverages catered to us by our local favorite restaurant, Grill 13,” Mueller continued. “And of course, staying warm from good ‘ol RC snow. Now, before we begin with tonight’s exciting tour of our historical university, introductions are in order! I’m Dr. Greg Mueller, head of the Research and Lab department of the University and I teach several courses. With me is my colleague and good friend, Dr. Simon Lowery. He’s essential to my team here and makes sure that everything runs smoothly and you have him to thank for some amazing programs to help you on your journey to a brighter future here. Last, but certainly not least, our special guest tonight is the revered Dr. Nathanial Bard of Spencer Memorial Hospital, whose achievements are nothing short of ground-breaking, and he will help you get started on which of Umbrella’s programs will serve you best. I’m going to hand the mic to Simon now.”

Lowery looked to be the younger of the three and wasn’t shy when he took the mic from his colleague. “Thanks Greg. Hello everyone! You know, this is the third year Greg and I have helmed this open house in search of bright pupils with a future at Umbrella Corporation. We have fun every year, and it’s always great meeting every single one of you. Now take your time, visit, mingle, get to know each other, make yourself at home and help yourselves to all this delicious food - I personally recommend the smoked sausages, they’re my favorite! - and please check out each booth we have set up for more information on what programs Umbrella has to offer for you, and we will go into depth later on after the tour. Dr. Bard, would you like to say anything?”

“Of course,” he said and snatched the mic with a wide, fake grin. “There’s something for everyone here. You absolutely will not leave empty handed. Umbrella cares about each and every one of your futures, and we are here to help. It’s my personal mission to make sure every individual will get the help and information they need to ensure a prosperous future. You have my word! Welcome to Umbrella’s open house!”

The three men put up the microphone and split up to join the chatting groups of visitors. Claire kept her cool, getting herself a cup of spiced cider and checking out the information booths just like everyone else.

She could certainly understand why Wesker was using her in this infiltration. There was no doubt she blended right in with the crowd of college ready young adults. She could tell by overhearing bits of conversations that many were already students here at the university while others were newcomers.

The hardest part was waiting. She couldn't get to the next step of the plan if they didn’t go on the tour around the university. So the younger Redfield put on a charming smile and worked the crowd, pretending to be one of them, fishing for information as she waited.

"Such a charmer you are, dear heart. But be careful of whom you charm. Some snakes are immune to the flute."

"Like you?" Claire whispered.

"I'm impervious to the charms of nearly everyone. Most people are just so predictable and boring. Thankfully, you are not ‘most people’...”

Is he really flirting with me over the radio or am I just hearing things? Claire sighed. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate at the moment!

“Oh! Tell her to sneak some shrimp into Nate’s food. I wanna see the dickhole swell up like a balloon and choke.”

She stood corrected, instantly, after William talked smack on the other side. But his big mouth didn’t get to say anything else before a loud yelp rang her eardrum and all became quiet again.

Claire shook her head, but soon a tall figure slipped around from behind her and greeted her with a smile that was more lecherous than cordial.

“Good evening! Dr. Nathanial Bard, how are you, Miss?”

He extended his hand. Claire panicked for a moment because she never came up with a fake identity even after Wesker’s insistence upon it. He had said the chances of her being approached were slim, but not impossible.

“Do not give him your real name. You’ll want to drop conversation with him as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible.”

As Bard frowned, the name finally hit her and Claire eased a fake smile that looked natural. “Elza. Elza Walker. Nice to meet you, Dr. Bard.” She took his hand and shook it, internally gagging.

His eyebrows rose high. “That is such a pretty and unique name. You from Raccoon City?”

“No, sir. In town visiting family. I was thinking about transferring to Raccoon University and a friend told me about the open house. Figured I’d give it a try and see.”

She could feel his eyes skim over her, not near as clandestine as Wesker was, and, dare she admit, not near as tantalizing as him either. Claire squeezed the cup of hot spiced cider in her hand, restraining herself from splashing it in his face.

Bard’s smile widened. “Well, I think you’re in luck, my dear!”

The younger Redfield didn’t realize how much she secretly liked Wesker’s pet names for her until it came from someone else’s tongue. She internally shook her head. Now was not the time to start having the warm fuzzies for that asshole. Claire could hardly believe she was even thinking in this direction. Had to be the stress of going undercover while quite literally having Wesker breathe down her neck...yes, that was it. It had to be.

Get it together!

“There’s a program for everyone! Umbrella Corporation wants you to succeed! Grants, scholarships! Umbrella will even pay for everything for you to transfer. There is no shortage of bursaries here. What kind of field are you looking to get into?”

Bard leaned in closer, suave and friendly. It would’ve fooled anyone else, but not Claire. This man was digging for something. She could only hope that he was being a lecher and wasn’t seeing through to her true motives.

“You’re stalling. Get out of there.”

Wesker sounded annoyed, but she couldn’t determine why. It wasn’t as though she had messed up the mission...yet.

“You know, I’m still on the fence,” Claire made up, slowly backing away.

Bard chuckled. “One of those, huh? No worries. When I was your age, I didn’t have a clue either. But do not fret, Miss Walker, my colleagues and I are here to help. There’s no need to decide right now. After the tour, we can sit down and talk it over. We can still find something right for you even if you haven’t decided on a major.”

“Oh, the tour...right,” Claire faked ditzyness. “I better go to the little girl’s room before it starts!”

She beelined for the restrooms just to the side of the information center in the lobby, even as the doctor told her directions. She sat her cup down on a table as she passed by, glancing over her shoulder. She spotted Dr. Bard motioning her way to the younger Dr. Lowery, the two men speaking quietly.

There were a few other girls in the restroom. One student flushed a toilet and came out, washing her hands and leaving quietly. A couple fixed their makeup while gossiping. Since Claire didn’t need to go, and wasn’t about to while Wesker was able to see everything, she pretended to check her face over too. She fluffed her hair, left down in long waves for the occasion.

“Worried about looking good enough for me, Claire? Don’t be. You still have work to do, and it doesn’t matter to me what your hair looks like while doing it. Just do it.” Wesker mocked. The biting humor in his admonishment was hard to miss.

“Geez, you really need to be nicer if you want to get laid, buddy!” William muttered in the distance. “OW! Fuck…”

Despite the wheeze of pain and cursing, distant chuckling sieved through the earbud. But Claire ignored it, instead nearly bristling and turned on the tap to wash her hands as the girls left back out to the lobby.

“I am doing it, asshole. Even with lecherous old men hitting on me, which wasn’t a part of the plan, by the way! No need to be so pushy. If you want me to go under cover here and make it believable, then let me handle it. It’ll get done, stop riding my ass!”

There was a moment of silence before William snorted loudly in the back, laughing. “That’s what she said!” He cackled loudly in amusement. “Man, I like her more and more every day...the girl has balls.”

Wesker's laughter was quieter, colder. “If you insist, dear heart. I’m just offering my humble assistance to make things go over smoothly. Just get the job done and we’re fine.”

Humble, my ass! Claire thought sourly.

The Redfield sister heard them announcing the tour. She quickly dried her hands and exited the restroom, melding herself into the back of the group. This would be the slowest process, she knew, but kept her wits about her even as she only half-listened to the doctors as they rattled off trivia and history over the university.

They took the upper floors first, pointing out classrooms that covered the liberal arts and the professors who taught them. Dr. Mueller told them the history of the iconic bell tower.

“Jesus, Greg, you’re putting me to sleep over here, put some life into it!” William huffed. “You seriously make me want to shoot myself.”

At least Lowery had a bit more spunk and spirit as he raved about the college’s sports teams, particularly the football team, the Raccoon Sharks. Which Claire never understood why they chose “sharks” and not, well, “raccoons” for obvious reasons. But hey, at least the sharks were colored up like raccoons.

They returned to the first floor and continued the tour. There was the fancy cafeteria, the huge library, and more classrooms. The doctors talked about more of the programs and classes, semester activities, and the following herd asked questions in return.

They left the main establishment to take a walkway to a neighboring building. It was still lightly snowing, but the walkway was covered. It was also illuminated by soft, yellow lights. Claire could hear the Circular River rushing nearby, as the institution was built along its path.

This was the building she had been waiting on. It was essentially its own facility, running classrooms, laboratories, and other departments, doubling as a school and a research center for Umbrella.

Claire used to not think anything of it, even admired how much Umbrella helped out the city between their programs at the university and hospitals, as well as their charities and large scale employment. Now, the deeper she went down this rabbit hole being dragged by Wesker’s leash, she started to wonder what was really going on.

Men like Albert Wesker, William Birkin, and Sergei Vladimir were not the type to work for “good guys”. Even the three doctors Mueller, Lowery, and Bard were all hiding something, that much was certainly clear.

So, what was Umbrella hiding? What were they hiding that required the Captain of the elite S.T.A.R.S. force and the Police Chief to control the city? That required them to murder people once they knew too much? And what about that top-secret underground Umbrella facility that William reigned over?

Claire had a flashback of Wesker pulling the trigger on Finley’s head, the blood spraying across fresh snow; how his fate was completely covered up with no one to question or oppose it. She recalled watching the news just the other day reporting on how his body was discovered and ruled a suicide in his car.

What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me. Wesker’s voice echoed in the back of her head from that fateful day.

Maybe Umbrella were still the good guys. Maybe Wesker, Irons, William, and Sergei were the infestation of corruption, growing and taking control, like weeds strangling a fruit tree from its roots. Yeah, surely that was it.

But deep down, she didn’t believe herself.

Once they were inside Dr. Mueller’s state-of-the-art laboratory that connected to a classroom laboratory through two automatic sliding doors, the professor slash researcher began boasting with a lot more pride and spirit than his lecture on the university’s trivia earlier. He showed off some equipment in his place between Lowery and Bard.

Again, Claire only half-listened, her eyes scanning the area for her objective.

“In short, there is no other research department like this in the country. My laboratory is vital to Umbrella’s key studies on disease prevention and cures.”

“C’mon Greg, you’re a glorified babysitter with a sandbox! Mine’s way better!” William hollered, sounding like his mouth was full. Coffee break between two sessions of unethical lab work, she supposed. Just another day at the office, between blackmailing and killing people. Nothing to write home about.

Wesker sighed. “If you wish to do a dick measuring contest with someone, at least choose some actual competition.”

“My dick’s bigger than all three of theirs. I got pics to prove it. Don’t ask. I have my sources. Courtesy from their parties with the senator. I will nail those dick pics to their corpses when we’re done with them too.”

And yet I wondered how these two are best friends…silly me.

“Claire, as soon as they leave the laboratory, the power failure will engage. Be ready. The laboratory’s backup power will switch on, but the security systems will remain down.”

“Got it.”

Still, William’s words hung her up. There was nothing stated in all the planning that anyone would be killed...but what if she was setting it up for these three men to die? No, she specifically remembered Wesker wanting to gain control over them. They were useless to him dead. But that didn’t mean their value to him didn’t have an expiration date…

Claire shook out the thoughts and trailed after the rest of the group once more. The double doors to the neighboring classroom laboratory slid open and the mass of people passed through, the doctors taking turns to address their followers. Some of the crowd whispered amongst themselves, but they were mostly quiet.

As the last few went through the doorway, Claire purposely slowed herself down to where the door slid shut inches from her. The power instantly went out. Total darkness and stillness swallowed her for only a moment before the laboratory’s backup power switched on. But just as planned, the double doors were locked, glowing red above.

She barely heard the mumblings of surprise on the other side before turning and speeding towards the main computer in the back, located near a single locked electronic door with a sign that stated, “Authorized personnel only!”

Claire reached inside her parka pocket and pulled out the computer disk. The same, unmarked one she got the other day when Wesker was using her to fetch from his informants. She pushed it into the drive, fingers itching to get this over with.

“You have just under four minutes, Miss Redfield. Don’t drop the ball now.”

She ignored him and typed away, putting in the passwords and entries she had memorized from the planning process of this infiltration.

The spyware program uploaded onto the mainframe in a timely fashion. What took a bit longer was it copying information back onto the disk, whatever that was. While it processed, the younger Redfield moved to a nearby set of drawers.

“You sure it’s the bottom one?”

“That is what my source informed me.”

“They better be right.”

Claire retrieved her lockpick from her pants pocket, the one gifted to her from Jill, the same one she used to break into Wesker’s house. She carefully worked the lock, listening, feeling, remaining focused. It finally gave and she pulled the drawer open. Inside was what she was looking for.

"Looks like the "master of unlocking" taught you well. Shocker. Guess you stumbling into my affairs paid off in the end, in more than one way... "

The sealed yellow envelope inside looked harmless enough. But the label printed on it in red ink chilled her to the bone. Requested research for THANATOS PROJECT.

The name sounded ominous to her, and she couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this.

Claire retrieved it from the drawer, looking it over. It was heavy, full of papers and what felt like maybe a USB drive. There was a white sticker in the bottom right hand corner that read, “Paid in full. - AR.”

Those initials had to be Aaron Roth. If only Wesker wasn’t spying on her and she had the time...she would’ve ripped into the envelope to see what they were all hiding.

She slid the drawer shut and returned to the computer. The disk was ready to be removed. She took it back and returned it to her pocket. Taking a step back, she looked it over once more. Everything was in place and didn’t look disturbed.

“Finished in a timely fashion. I’m impressed. You’re certainly talented in more ways than one. I’m almost tempted to hire you again, dear heart. I’m sure I could find some use for you...”

“You didn’t hire me, asshole, you blackmailed me.”

“Semantics. What matters is a satisfying outcome...wouldn’t you agree?” Wesker purred in her ear.

Oh God. Was it just her or was there a double entendre somewhere in there? Sweat broke out on Claire’s forehead even though she had managed to keep her cool until now, but Wesker making ambiguous remarks was getting to her. Nervously (and not just a little bit annoyed with herself), she discreetly wiped her sweaty bangs from her forehead.

Let’s get this over with, she admonished herself. The sooner her dealings with the corrupt STARS Captain were over, the better.

The college student stuffed the envelope inside her jacket and under her arm since it was too big to put in a pocket. She hurried over to the double doors, knowing time was almost up. If it all went according to plan, the doctors and their party would still be in the dark locked in the next room. The backup power in this area would be cut off and the doors would open just long enough to allow her back with the others before all power returned.

When the lights went out, Claire barely heard the doors skim apart, courtesy of whoever was controlling the university’s power system. She stepped over the threshold into the classroom, moving further in, careful not to run into anything. This particular laboratory for regular classes had large windows on the opposite side, but it was so dark outside, it barely helped light anything.

But soon it didn’t matter. The power returned in an instant, back to normal, as though it had never been touched. Claire wasn’t far from the group and quietly joined them as everyone got their bearings, blinking to adjust to the sudden bright lights. Startled voices talked over each other.

“Everyone, everyone, settle down. Everything is fine!” Mueller announced. “Just a small power failure. Let’s return to the lobby and I will have someone look into it!”

Relieved, Claire followed along as Mueller and Bard escorted everyone out of the classroom while Lowery remained behind by the door checking on the visitors. That was normal and understandable enough until his brown eyes pierced her. Watchful. Suspicious. She kept her composure, offering him an innocent smile as she slipped by him and out the door. He didn’t say anything, but Claire felt his eyes on her back until she caught up with the others, heart slightly racing.

Surely, he wasn’t onto her. There could be no way.

"Think he's onto me," Claire whispered as voices boomed through the massive hallways, the herd migrating back to the lobby.

"Irrelevant," Wesker answered. "As soon as you return to the lobby, make your leave. Without notice, preferably."

"Don't worry, Claire. Lowery's a nerdy bag of stress and paranoia. Nothing to fear there," William added.

"Like you?" Wesker mocked.

"You know, I’m half-tempted to empty one of my petri dishes into your coffee next time you’re not looking. Don’t push your luck, jerk. Annette always says you wouldn’t like me angry. And you know how Anne’s always right. Even she says so!"

Amused chuckling was all he got as a reply from Wesker.

Claire rolled her eyes at their continuous banter. God, she swore these two were like old marrieds.

Once they all filed into the lobby, most visitors either took a seat or went and got more food. She soon noticed a couple heading for the front doors, sliding on their coats, and took advantage, inconspicuously joining them.

"Hold on, please, you three," Bard hollered, making the trio pause and look. "Before you leave, let us make sure everyone is accounted for from the power outage. A small safety regulation we must abide by."

Claire inwardly groaned and moved away from the doors with the others. Bard and Mueller finished speaking together in a hushed huddle and went opposite ways.

"What are you doing?" Wesker asked.

"You said to leave without being noticed. Did you not hear him?"

"Then find another way out. Do it quickly."

Claire ground her jaw but didn't answer. She looked around, thinking of a way she could escape. More university workers were showing up now from other hallways, probably disturbed by the power failure. Lowery had yet to return.

She watched Dr. Bard set a plate of food down on an empty table and left it to go introduce himself to another pretty face, using the same charm he had used on her.

Apparently, the prick was only interested in helping students he found attractive. The girl obviously looked uncomfortable but smiled to be nice, and that didn't sit well with her one bit.

But since kicking him where it counted would cause a scene, the younger Redfield soon found herself scheming up something better.

Casually, she went over to the buffet of refreshments, picking up a plate and grabbing a few random foods. She sat down at a table close to Bard's plate, eyes scanning. People were talking or reading while they ate. She de-shelled one cold shrimp and broke it up into chunks.

She had only a tiny window of opportunity here, and it all determined on the selections of food on his plate. Pulse racing but outwardly composed, she discreetly took a stroll over to his plate. From afar she analyzed what was on it, and what would best conceal her ticket to freedom.

“HOLY SHIT, SHE’S GONNA DO IT! I LOVE THIS GIRL!” William squealed in delight.

She winced, retracting the urge to rub her eardrum. Her deft hands quickly stuffed the pieces of shrimp into a club sandwich triangle. It was pressed back into place with the toothpick and then she was off, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been caught. Everything went on as normal. Claire got some more spiced cider and returned to her seat to wait.

“Don’t tell Anne, but If I wasn’t already married...” William softly laughed in her ear. She could tell he was trying to whisper, but the eccentric, mad scientist didn’t realize he was louder than he thought. “She’s a keeper, Al. Don’t screw this up!”

Screw what up? Keep me...for what exactly? Stop giving him any ideas, William! God, this is really getting out of hand...

Claire facepalmed as she started to feel hot under her collar and blamed the thrill of committing a heist under everybody’s noses for it.

The Redfield sister didn’t have much time to dwell on it before she spotted Dr. Lowery emerging into the lobby. She instinctively made herself smaller as he marched across the room, going straight to Dr. Mueller.

He pulled the older man aside, whispering urgently. Claire started sweating in serious now. Especially when their eyes scanned the full lobby until Lowery pointed her out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. She pretended not to notice them, her nerves beginning to rattle a little. She reluctantly called for help. “Wesker…”

“What is it?” Claire wasn’t sure if it was just her hearing things, but he actually sounded a little concerned.

And then she was saved. Not by the bell but by commotion. People shouted and pointed, some moving in closer to watch or help as an individual choked. Dr. Bard was turning red, red like the shellfish he had just unknowingly consumed. Mueller raced across the lobby for him, Lowery right behind him after giving her one glance.

Claire took her chance. She sprinted for the doors and was out, taking the concrete steps two at a time and bolting across the front courtyard through the snow flurries with only the college ground lights to guide her.

When she made it through the opened gates and took a sharp turn on the sidewalk, she collided straight into another person and nearly lost her footing. She dropped the enveloped stashed inside her coat.

“Sorry, Miss. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” the young man said with a charming smile, stooping to pick up the envelope for her.

He slightly flinched when he picked it up and noticed the label, as though he recognized it. But it was gone in an instant and he presented it to her with a warm smile and twinkling green eyes.

“What the hell is he doing there?!” William demanded.

Wesker ignored him and promptly spoke to Claire. “Take it and leave, do not engage in conversation with him, Claire. That is an order.”

“Leave?! This may be our only opportunity to kill the bastard!”

“Are you okay, Miss? Do you need help?” the man asked.

She silently obeyed Wesker, snatching the yellow envelope back and hurrying past him. The redhead didn’t look over her shoulder, but she could feel the man watching her until she turned down the next block.

Panting, the icy wind cutting her throat, she finally slowed to a walk, heading for her next destination. Traffic rolled by her, beams of headlights stretching down the streets and making the falling snowflakes sparkle. There weren’t many other pedestrians out walking the streets, but she did spot many inside buildings shopping or having a coffee.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Aaron Roth,” Wesker answered nonchalantly. “He’s not someone you should involve yourself with.”

“Oh, but I should involve myself with you?”

Wesker chuckled mockingly. “Wishful thinking, Claire? I’m flattered. Then again, I’ve been known to have that effect on redheads...must be genetic.”

Claire bit her tongue. She pulled her parka hood over her head, bundling up from the cold. After passing by the empty elementary school, she cut across the parking lot to the bus barn next door.

Her ride would arrive here to pick her up. Unfortunately, Claire wouldn’t be going home just yet. She had to meet Wesker in person first. She just hoped that Chris wasn’t getting worried...or worse, suspicious.

The bus barn was a large depot and mechanic shop for all the schools’ buses. Rows and rows of parked long, yellow buses slept quietly. It was dreary and quiet, with snow falling lightly all around. A person could easily get spooked by themselves here, as though they were trapped amongst sleeping giants.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Wesker announced. “My main liaison will not be picking you up. Instead the collaborator that worked the power outages at the university will. He should be there shortly.”

“Okay,” Claire mumbled through chattering teeth.

“I’m going to sign off for now, dear heart. Well done. See you soon.”

She was relieved for the silence. Claire waited with her hands in her pockets, back against a cold bus, shivering, watching the snowflakes swirl around. The lights of Raccoon City at night were beautiful to look at, some of the skyscrapers in the distance were lit up in Christmas colors. The younger Redfield was so lost in observing the serene scenery around her that she did not hear the pair of feet that had slowly walked closer to her.

"Found you!"

The voice startled her and she pushed away from the bus, whirling to confront them. Shocked, she didn't say anything as Lowery cautiously approached, encased in shadow from a looming bus nearby, and sounding a little out of breath.

"The hell?" Claire hissed. "What do you want?" She reached for her knife in her pocket.

As Lowery stepped into the light, speckles of snow in his brown hair, she noticed the gun pointed at her chest.

“Lucky shot!” Chris whined.

Jill laughed, moving around the pool table to take her next move. “Suck it up, buttercup! You’re about to lose to a girl!”

“It’s these beers. They threw me off my groove.”

Jack’s Bar was crowded tonight. The bar was full and so were most of the tables. Music played on the radio, but it could barely be heard from all the talking and laughter bouncing around. The bar-and-grill was decorated up with Christmas decor and lights, looking quite festive and bright.

His partner made the winning shot that cost him this game of pool. She won the last time they were here too.

“Whoo!” Jill exclaimed, arms shooting in the air and grinning at him. “You know what that means, partner!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grumbled, fishing for his wallet. He looked around him and then spotted the familiar face he was seeking. “Hey, Cindy! C’mere!”

The favorite waitress of J’s came over, an empty tray under her arm. The young, pretty blonde smiled and giggled. “Let me guess, lose again, Chris?”

“Hey, I’ve won before, okay?!”

“A Mai Tai then?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered, giving her a $10 bill. “Here’s for another plus tip...because I know Miss Sharpshooter here’s gonna want seconds.”

“Why wouldn’t I when your pouty ass is buying?” Jill snickered.

They made faces at each other, and then Chris spotted the rest of their party arriving. “Oh, bring the drinks to our usual table, the guys are finally here.”

Cindy nodded. “Will do. You want your usual?”

“Yeah, add it to my tab.”

Chris and Jill joined the others at their usual table. The STARS teams came here often to wind down and have fun, different mixes of teammates each time from differing schedules. Hell, even the Captains came once in a while.

Wesker was a pro at pool, too. And Jill had been on his team a few times. She said he taught her tricks...something about math and trajectory or some shit. Who does that? Didn’t people just point and shoot at the balls with their cue sticks?

The gang tonight consisted of Chris, Jill, Barry, Joseph, Forest, and Richard. Tagging along with Barry was Robert Kendo, which wasn’t uncommon. They ordered their food and drinks, a perfect view of the hockey game playing on the hanging box TV. While waiting, the group of friends and colleagues joked and small-talked.

“So, Kendo, how’s that new assault shotgun model coming along?” Richard asked.

Kendo cracked a grin as he took a swig of beer. “You ask me that every damn time you see me, Rich. Look, I’ll personally call ya when I make a breakthrough, alright?”

“You better! I’m excited!”

“Coulda fooled me!”

Cindy and her friend and co-worker soon brought their food and drinks. Chris could never remember the young lad’s name...Bill? No...Will. It made him think of William Birkin again...the mysterious man that Claire was babysitting for. The past couple of nights she had stayed out late babysitting, and it seemed as though tonight would be the same. He just hoped that’s what she was really doing…

“Cindy, babe, could you please turn the station? I cannot stand these damn Christmas tunes anymore!” Forest complained.

“Aw, c’mon, Forest. Get into the holiday spirit!” Cindy exclaimed. “Don’t be a grinch!”

“Don’t insult the Grinch like that,” Joseph joked.

Cindy gave him a look. “Don’t be a meanie, Joe.”

“Eh, he’s just jealous of my hair, Cin. That’s why he fucking hides his under that stupid bandana all the time.”

“You wish.”

Cindy casually shook her head, used to their antics, and left them to their meals. The gang discussed their plans for the upcoming holiday, after work of course. Most of the STARS team had family here to celebrate with. If Chris remembered correctly, only he (other than Claire), Jill, and Captain Wesker didn’t have any family.

Soon, they got on the topic of gifts.

“I finally found Claire’s Christmas gift. She’s gonna love it. I picked it up the other day. She’ll never find it!”

Jill laughed beside him. “That’s because it’s at my house!”

“Your house is the safest place! She’s a sneaky little brat and will find it!”

“Speaking of which,” Barry interrupted, dipping a couple fries into his ketchup. “I figured you wouldn’t be coming tonight because Claire’s in town. She make you come out?”

“Probably,” Richard snorted. “I’d need a break from him too.”

“Nah, she’s been babysitting for someone. Last few days she’s had to babysit well into the night.”

Joseph snickered. “That’s what I’d say too if I was messing around with a guy I didn’t want my big brother to know about.”

Chris shot his colleague a glare that almost dropped him dead. Joseph stuffed his mouth with a big bite of hamburger.

Kendo cleared his throat, pushing his empty beer bottle up to the middle of the table. "Oh! That reminds me, Chris. Did Claire get into trouble?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I was on the other side of town yesterday evening picking up Emma’s medicine and I saw her with the Captain. He opened his car door for her and she got in.”

“Which Captain? Enrico? Or Wesker?” Richard asked curiously.

“Yeah, cuz that determines how much trouble she must’ve been in,” Forest teased.

Kendo half-rolled his eyes, sighing. “THE Captain, ya idiots. Wesker. I saw her with Wesker. She got into his car and they drove off.”

“See? I told you there was a guy she didn’t want you to know about!” Joseph laughed. “They must’ve hit it off after she went down to the station to give him a piece of her mind. Bet now she’s giving him a piece of something better!” Barry slugged him hard in the arm. “Ow!”

This was new information to Chris. He sat there, dumbfounded, at a loss for words as his mind processed exactly what Robert had said. “She didn’t get in trouble...that I know of. Wesker would’ve called me, for sure.”

Barry frowned. “For sure…But then why else would Claire be with him?”

“Chris, buddy, I love you, but let’s be honest here, they’re probably doing the nasty.”

“Jesus, Forest,” Jill growled, facepalming. “Don’t be starting those kinds of rumors.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, s’all I’m sayin’.”

Chris glared at Forest. “Between you and Joseph, I’m gonna shove those beer bottles so far up your backdoor you two won’t be walking straight. Ever. Again.”

“Sorry,” Kendo interrupted. “I didn’t mean to get everyone so riled up. I was just curious. Looked harmless to me.”

“Dumb and Dumber here like to start shit,” Barry explained, glaring at Joseph and Forest. “I’m sure it was harmless. It is Wesker, after all. Maybe she just needed a ride.”

“Or maybe he offered her one,” Jill added. “He’s quite the gentleman.”

“Gentleman?!” Forest scoffed. “The guy’s a hard ass and a dick to us most of the time!”

“I mean, yeah, he kinda has to be. He’s our boss. But really, he isn’t that bad to most of us. You two just get on his nerves all the time,” Richard admitted.

“Hey, who’s side are you on, Aiken?”

“I’m j-just s-stating the facts!”

“Alright, alright, knock it off, all of you,” Jill ordered in her “mom voice”.

“It’s all harmless joking,” Joseph defended. “And Chris knows it, right bud? I mean, how often do I joke what if Wesker is actually a sociopathic supervillain on a quest for power? Of course he isn’t...but I sometimes wonder!”

Chris shook his head. Joseph and Forest were frustrating at times with their nonstop jokes, but he knew it was never mean-spirited. They all ribbed each other all the time; it was their clique’s twisted way of showing they cared about each other.

“You and your weird conspiracies, Joe...But really, let’s just drop the subject, okay? I don’t care why Claire was with Wesker,” he lied. “Because I know it doesn’t mean anything. Got it?”

“Got it,” they all agreed.

“Good. Now can we all please get along, drink some beer, and talk about something pleasant? Like the weather or something?”

They all looked to the front of the bar, where the windows were. Snow fell just outside, looking to have picked up since they arrived at the bar.

“Oh yeah, pleasant RC snow...love it,” Jill quipped dryly.

Chris scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. He had even more worries on his mind now, thanks to their earlier discussion. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push them away.

His overreacting, protective brotherly instincts had continued to gnaw at him, making him wonder about the integrity of this “babysitting job”. Claire had never given him a reason to doubt her, but still he worried.

There was something going on with Claire. She was definitely hiding something, and his innate detective instincts kept putting together the clues, all starting over a week ago. Some kind of worry or panic she hid from that jog on the mountain hiking trails, her quiet, wandering thoughts, some questionable explanations, the injuries she hid on her hand and ankle...and then this Wiliam Birkin came out of nowhere with a babysitting job for her. “A friend of a friend.”

And now she was with Wesker on the other side of town when she was supposed to be babysitting? That set off a whole wave of bad thoughts and red flags in his mind.

No, he told himself firmly. It’s Wesker. There has to be a logical explanation! I bet it’s all harmless and I’m worried for nothing.

Captain Wesker may have been a hard ass at times, and he and Chris bumped heads occasionally, but they respected each other and got along great most of the time. He was one of the best men he knew. A damn good leader and boss, too. After his big screw up in the Air Force, not many were willing to give Chris a chance, and Wesker did.

There was absolutely no reason to worry about Claire being with him. If anything, it should have relieved him...knowing his little sister was in good hands. Wesker would take care of her.

But deep down inside, something small, some miniscule but insistent doubt ate at him. A growing part of him was questioning whether everything was as innocent as it seemed...

[punkpoemprose]

The Love Talker- Chapter 1

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU Rating: T (currently, expect M in time) Length: 2580 

TW (for all chapters): Curses, Suicide, Murder, Dub Con (technically but not really)

A/N:Was this supposed to be a oneshot for KA Week where I was writing monster AUs? Yes. Did I do that? No. Of course I didn’t. I’m me. So here’s what you need to know if you don’t have the background knowledge: Gancanagh (Ghan-canna) are male fae from Irish legend who can addict humans (usually human women) to them with a single skin to skin touch. Addicted humans, once out of the presence of these fae, lose their minds and can kill themselves. This fic is going to be quite dark. It’s highly self indulgent because I LOVE this stuff. Blame Melissa Marr.

[Next Chapter]

[Master Post]

She ran. Her slippers were lost among the weeds as she picked up speed, her hair flowing loose around her like a wild thing. Her mother would have been so ashamed. Her sister would be if she were still around, but she didn’t fear their judgement. There was no sense in fearing the dead and the gone when there was something much more real, something more solid, to fear. Someone was trying to kill her.

It hadn’t been a whim when she’d chosen to read her fiancé’s journal. It had been a nagging voice in the back of her head that told her that even though everything was perfect, there was something he wasn’t telling her. Of course, she’d thought that it was going to be something not so terrifying, like that he had a gambling habit or some sort of secret hobby he didn’t want her to know about.

She hadn’t expected to see a list of women, deceased women, numbered down the page, the numbers corresponded to a ledger, each woman tied to two separate amounts, a dowry and an inheritance. Despite her seemingly miraculous ability to misjudge the intentions of people in her life she wasn’t stupid. When she saw her name and two blank spaces for what she was going to be worth wed and dead she’d taken off as fast as she could.

She couldn’t bring the book to the lawman in town, not when she knew that he was known to frequently share a pint with Hans, her evidently serial murdering fiancé. Either he’d brush her off, or he’d be in on it, and she was terrified about what that meant for her in any case. So she’d taken off into the woods with the book and little else. He’d be after her soon, she was certain of that much. She didn’t have much of a plan, but the woods were safer than the village and if she was lucky enough to not be eaten by wolves as she crossed the way, she might be able to make it to the closest town within a few days.

She wished she would have had the thought to bring her horse. She wished that she had worn her boots, her slippers already lost to her, and adrenaline carrying her past them. She wished that she had brought something to eat. The journey to the closest town was two days on foot, and she simply had to hope that he wouldn’t be bright enough to set out on horse to get there first and tell the sheriff there that she’d lost her mind.

Tears streaked down her face, her chest ached, and her sides were cramping. She’d already been running for a fair distance, but it didn’t feel safe to stop yet. She was strong, she’d always been, but this taxed her more than anything she’d ever attempted before. She wished that she’d never met Hans at all while she was making impossible wishes.

When she started to cough, her overexertion catching up with her in a way that made her guts wretch, she stopped. She had no idea where she was, but she knew that if she didn’t know where she was, Hans certainly wouldn’t. She’d grown up on the edges of the forest. Her parents had been well off and her nannies had kept her out of its clutches for most of her early life, but she had spent far more time in it than Hans had. She knew it’s landscape for the most part, and she knew its stories.

Hans had come to the village when Elsa was preparing to leave for the city. Someone had to take care of the family trading company, and with Mama and Papa gone, unable to make the week long trip back and forth between their quiet village and the port city where their empire had been built, Elsa had decided it best to move there herself. Anna was supposed to join her after not too long, but when Hans had come to town, all charming and debonair, she’d thought that for the first time in forever she’d not feel so isolated and alone.

Her vision streaked a bit as she tried to breathe in and out. Hyperventilating and passing out would do her no favors here. She hadn’t run from a murderer just to die in the woods.

“What are you running from in such a rush?”

A chill ran up her spine as Anna turned towards the voice. It wasn’t familiar, which was far more of a comfort than it ought to be, but her heart still was in her throat as she saw that she wasn’t alone.

Sitting on a stump just a bit behind her was a man smoking a pipe. His face was obscured by the brim of his hat and by the distance between them. His voice was level and calm, a bit curious, but not demanding. She clutched the book in her hands.

“Who says I’m running from something?” she asked I return, panting as she did so, “I could be running towards something.”

He nodded and she knew that although she couldn’t get a good look at him from where she was standing, he was certainly watching her. The smoke from his pipe trailed off in the opposite direction, carried by the lightest of breezes the likewise shook the leaves from the autumn trees. It served to bring her attention to him even more so, with everything moving away from him, he became the focus of her vision.

He chuckled. It was a rich warm sound, cheerful, liked she’d pleased him with her response.

“Well then, what are you running towards?”

She huffed out a breath, her lungs finally seeming to be able to take air in and out somewhat normally.

“Safety,” she answered honestly.

Her mother had told her to never talk to strangers, but there was something about the wat he was sitting, relaxed, low, like he wasn’t going anywhere. It was comforting, like his chuckle, like his voice.

He hummed in return, as if he’d somehow suspected as much.

“Well before you run to safety, maybe share why you’re running?”

He sat up and set down his pipe on the stump next to him. She hadn’t noticed that it had stopped smoking, which seemed odd, but when he looked up, she stopped thinking about it so much.

He was handsome. Not in the sort of devilish, posh way that Hans was, but in the strong, natural way that the forest made men. He looked like the sort of man who might busy himself with chopping wood or tending to horses when he wasn’t sitting on a stump.

She approached him, he had broad shoulders, he wore a flannel frock coat which accentuated this and as she drew closer, she saw that under the brim of his hat he had a mess of blonde hair and deep brown eyes.

As she approached, he stood and reached his hand out to her, and she reached out in kind.

He frowned then, and he pulled his hand away quickly.

“You’re much too trusting.”

Anna blinked, confused, but then looked down at her feet. There were mushrooms at her toes, a ring of them around the stump. She knew the stories of the woods, the rules to follow that she’d been told in her childhood tales, and so she took a step back, confused and a bit frightened.

He gave her a wry smile when she looked back up at him, but his eyes showed something like disappointment. It didn’t make any sense. He’d almost had her, and then he’d pulled away.

She choked down her horror and realized that he was giving her an expectant look.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

He nodded and sat back on his stump, regarding her from a safe distance. She knew that the space was for her benefit, not his. She had no iron, no salt, no silver on her person. She couldn’t hurt him, but if he was fae, which all signs pointed to, he could hurt her in hundreds of ways without putting much effort in.

“So trusting girl, why are you running to safety?”

She felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about her answer. Displeasing him probably wasn’t a good idea. He’d shown restraint, but she wasn’t sure if she could run fast enough that he couldn’t do anything to hurt her. She had the oddest sense that he wouldn’t try to at any rate, but still, she knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Would telling you be a wise decision?” she asked in return, her mind rushing through everything she knew about faeries. They were tricky, powerful creatures. They couldn’t tell a lie, but they would tell you the truth in deceitful ways. Faeries double talked and stole children, they tortured men and women for the momentary joy it gave them in their endless lives, they were not to be trusted.

He grinned again, looking pleased. “Trusting but not entirely foolish then. I won’t insult you. Yes, telling me would be wise because I mean you no harm.”

Maybe it was the sudden softness of his expression, or the way he said it so meaningfully, but she believed him. She was trusting, too trusting. He might still kill her, so she asked him for clarification.

“You mean me no harm, or you will do no harm to me? You can do something to harm someone without meaning to.”

The wind shifted. There was a sweetness on the breeze, like spiced wine and tobacco. It was intoxicating. It was him.

“I will do you no harm. You have my word…” he paused, looking at her expectantly. He was asking for her name.

She shook her head. Names had power. She remembered that much at least for certain. The rest of the rules were somewhat foggy with age, but the most important ones were there. Faeries can’t lie, but they’re tricky. If you step into a faerie ring you can become trapped there if the faerie it belonged to caught you. Eating faerie food binds you to them. Names give power both ways, so never give yours away.

She thought for a moment about what he could call her. She’d never had a nickname or something that wasn’t a direct attachment to her. Hans had called her many names, “pet”, “lamb”, “darling”, but they all left a bad taste in her mouth now. She settled on the first name she could come up with.

“You may call me Kjekk.”

He laughed, “Handsome?”

It was her horse’s name. It was Norwegian, her father’s native language.  She spoke some, but not as much as she would have liked. Elsa was the better speaker.

His laugh was warm, and she felt the strange desire, despite all logic, to step back up to the edge of the ring. He was drawing her in, but she stood her ground.

“Du snakker norsk?” It was a simple question, if he could answer it at all it meant that he was answering affirmatively.

He grinned, “Some. You are a handsome woman.”

Her cheeks flushed despite her best intentions. He was being very plain spoken for what she had been told to expect, and she secretly appreciated it.

“I won’t hurt you Kjekk,” he continued, “And I would like it if you told me why you’re running. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested to know.”

She nodded at that. It was all she needed to know at the moment really, she just had one question left before she told him.

“May I have your name?”

“You’re trickier than I gave you credit for Kjekk,” he said, picking up his pipe which was smoking once more, but only lightly, as if it were still deciding whether or not it wanted to be used. “You may call me Gancanagh. I won’t give you my name, but you may call me that which I am.”

“Gancanagh,” she breathed. It made a terrifying amount of sense, “love talker.”

It wasn’t Norwegian. It was Irish. She’d had an Irish nanny once when she was eleven, and she’d told her the tales of the woods that hailed from her native home and land. Gancanagh were seducers. They brought humans, particularly women, into their rings and kept them there, spoke sweet words to them, and did all sorts of things her nanny had refused to explain until they tired of them. It seemed on the surface like something almost harmless for a faerie to do given the other things their various types were known for, but the sinister aspect was there, hidden. Gancanaghs are addictive to humans. For a person to touch a Gancanagh and go too long without their touch again would drive them mad, would drive them to suicide.

She stumbled back and fell unceremoniously on the ground; she’d almost touched him. She still wanted to.

He hadn’t touched her though. Why she couldn’t imagine. Maybe he had his current fill of mortal women to torture sweetly, or maybe she wasn’t the sort of woman he wanted. She wasn’t sure, maybe he had simply allowed her to be untouched on a whim.

“I won’t hurt you Kjekk,” he repeated, “I’m impressed you understand. Now that I’ve been honest with you, will you be honest with me?”

She shook her head and scrambled to stand back up. Her heart was racing and her head was a mess of conflicting interests. She wanted to run and she wanted to stay. He promised not to hurt her, but what was his definition of hurt? Was her killing herself in the future as a consequence of his whims something he counted as him harming her? Should she tell him that she’d already left worse than that behind?

“My fiancé is planning to murder me.”

The words escaped her mouth frantically. It wasn’t because of anything he’d done. He was attractive to her, on the surface trustworthy, but he held no power over her. She gave him the information nervously, but of her own free will.

His face went dark, and he set the pipe down once more. The wind shifted again and a cold breeze hit her back as leaves dropped from the trees more rapidly than before.

“The book you’re holding, is that the proof? May I see it?”

She clutched it tightly.

“Will you return it to me?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Will you return it to me promptly Gancanagh… and I mean once you’ve seen why I’m carrying it… and will you take it and return it without touching me?”

He nodded, the darkness not leaving his expression. He was angry, not at her though, of that much she was certain. In his dark eyes there was still something gentle when he looked upon her. It wasn’t pity, it was understanding.

“I swear it.”

Cautiously, step by step, she approached the circle and stuck only the corner of the book into the circle. He took it from her slowly, to his credit, and did not reach out to touch her. He played no tricks, but instead began to flip through and observe what Anna had already seen for herself.

Anna realized a bit too late what she’d done when he said her name.

“Anna Arendelle,” he looked from the book and up to her, “That name suits you.”

[prettyboyswow]

Given It All (pt.5)

Catch Up Here:

Given It All 1 2 3 4

Author’s Note: I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged any of my works! I appreciate you all more than you’ll ever know! I hope you enjoy the fifth and final part of Given It All!

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, few curse words

Tags: meatballevan,  woeisbutwoe,  barikawho

After you ended the call with Thomas, your body was tense. Your muscles were aching and so was your heart. You’d decided that a warm bath would fix at least one of those things. So, you drew up a warm bath, lighted a few candles and soaked until your skin was shriveled up and the water had turned ice cold. Your muscles hurt a little less but your heart was still an issue. 

Your brain and heart had been at war with each other since the moment you’d left him. Your brain, obviously being the reasonable one, urged you to leave him completely. Divorce him. He had changed too much. At one time he was a charming, kind, loyal man. He loved you and his family so fiercely. He’d do anything to protect the lot of you. Now, he was a greedy, vicious, detached gangster who would watch his family rot to get what he wanted. 

Your heart, on the other hand, saw Thomas. It saw your Tommy Shelby, the man that stole your heart the moment you met him. Your heart reminded you of all of the times Tommy caused it to flutter - all of the kisses, gifts, stolen moments, I love you’s, tears, laughs, etc. It reminded you why you loved him and why he deserved another chance. Even if “another chance” meant 1,000 chances. Anytime you thought about him (which was basically all of the time) your heart skipped a beat. 

So, just like every day since you’d left in tears, you still didn’t know what to do. You were hoping that the logical thing to do would overpower everything else. But, you knew the moment you locked eyes with him tonight, you’d be a puddle. 

You didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. You didn’t know if this would be the last night you spent with Thomas, or if it’d be the night that you finally forgave him and let him wrap you up into his arms and never let go. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what he was wanting either. His confession over the phone gave you a few ideas, but Tommy was complicated. 

Once you decided to let tonight go however it was meant to go, you started getting ready. You pushed every thought you could out of your mind. Instead, you focused on swiping mascara onto your eyelashes and applying the perfect coat of lipstick. You went through the motions of getting ready, humming a song to yourself to distract you from everything else. You curled your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders. By instinct, you found yourself pinning the front pieces away from your face, the way Tommy always loved. You decided to wear an older dress, one you hadn’t worn in years. You’d always loved the subtle pink color and the simple beading on the collar. It was one of your favorite dresses. Once you’d put your shoes on and grabbed your small clutch, you walked downstairs to find Polly’s living room full of Shelbys.

Finn was the first to notice you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He’d never admit this to you, but you hadn’t looked this nice in ages. Once John and Arthur noticed the look on Finn’s face, their eyes were on you. 

“Oi! Look at you,” Arthur was the first to speak, his hand reaching out to grab yours. You took it, a small chuckle escaping your lips as he spun you around. 

“Looks like someone has a date,” John grinned as his eyes scanned your body, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

A bubble seemed to be caught in your throat as you suddenly began to panic. Maybe you were dressed too nicely. Maybe you should go change, take your lipstick off, something. You cleared your throat as you scanned the curious faces of the Shelby brothers and Polly, who sat on the arm of her couch smirking at you. 

“Uhm...I’m actually going to uh meet with Thomas,” You let go of Arthur’s hand and smoothed your dress out. Their faces went from playful to shocked. 

“Thomas Shelby,” John’s face twisted up in confusion. Arthur quickly smacked his shoulder, “Of course, Thomas Shelby. Idiot,” he shook his head and opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by Polly.

“Have you made a decision,” she stood, putting her cigarette out in a nearby ashtray as she made her way to you. 

You only shook your head, your heart racing as you began regretting the phone call you made this morning. 

She nodded in response, hugging you tightly as she whispered for only you to hear, “Whatever happens, we’re family.”

With that, she shoo’d you out of the door, ignoring the overlapping voices of the other Shelby boys. 

The drive to Arrow House was long, possibly one of the longest drives you’ve ever experienced. Your mind was racing with a hundred different scenarios. You weren’t sure what to expect from you or Tommy. You didn’t know if you’d fight or if you’d make up. You didn’t know if you’d cry. You were hoping you wouldn’t, you didn’t want to seem weak. You were running through every possible scenario, and praying that whatever happened would be less horrible than what you were imagining. 

Once you pulled into the endless stretch of gravel leading up to the house, you took a deep breath. You tried to repeat Polly’s words in your head like a mantra. You needed something to ground you, to hold you steady to some kind of reality. You knew that seeing Tommy was going to mess with your head and your heart, and you needed something to snap you out of it. 

You had finally reached the end of the driveway and parked, repeating Polly’s words in your mind. You grabbed your clutch off of the passenger seat and got out of your car. The sound of gravel crunching under your heels was the only sound surrounding Arrow House. It was daunting, to say the least. You had walked up the steps leading to the mansion, taking a deep breath to relax your body and mind. Once you finally felt like you wouldn’t pass out, you reached your small fist up, ready to knock on the large wooden doors. However, before your fist could hit the wood, the door opened, revealing Mary.

“Mrs. Shelby, we’ve been expecting you,” she smiled sweetly and stepped to the side, allowing you access to your old home. 

You smiled politely back at Mary, trying to stay task orientated as you walked through the foyer. “Is Mr. Shelby in his office,” you questioned, taking a few steps towards the massive oak doors. 

“Yes, Mrs. Shelby. He’s expecting you.” 

You turned, your back facing Mary, and put your trembling hands on the door handles. Now or never. You pushed the double doors open and stepped into the office where all of this mess had started. 

You cautiously walked into Tommy’s office. You hadn’t spent much time in this room even when the two of you were happily married. So, being here in this situation now was stressful for you. Nothing felt familiar yet everything felt familiar. You could still see the shocked faces when Tommy broke the news. You could still hear yours and Esme’s cries as they dragged your boys away. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

When you opened your eyes again, Tommy’s eyes were watching you closely. He was sitting in his office chair, his glasses perched on this freckled nose. He was still, watching you so intensely you almost flinched. You cleared your throat, moving towards the chairs opposite his desk. You quietly took a seat, crossing your legs and placing your hands in your lap. Finally, you moved your eyes up to meet his and it felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. His eyes were just as mesmerizing as they were the last time you had seen them. 

Without a word, Tommy removed his glasses and stood. He walked to the drink cart by his desk, fixing two small glasses of whiskey. Once he sat back in his chair, he placed one of the glasses in front of you, keeping his in hand to take a sip. You picked the drink up and took a large sip, trying not to show how much you hated it. You needed to loosen up. 

You flinched in your seat when Tommy’s voice broke the silence, “You look good,”

“Thanks. You too,” you finished off the rest of your drink far too quickly, your stomach still feeling in knots. 

“So, d’ya just come over so we could sit in silence,” he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. 

You rolled your eyes, smoothing your hands out over your dress, “I don’t know why I came, Thomas. Honestly, I thought about turning around multiple times.”

“And why’s that?”

His face, as always, was completely emotionless. This is one of the many reasons you don’t work as a couple. He can’t be vulnerable. And when he finally shows any emotion, it’s always when you’ve hit your breaking point. It’s like a game to him. Push you away until he’s about to lose you, then drag you back in again with a few tears or some bullshit. It’s an endless cycle.

“I think I want a divorce,” the words tumbled from your lips much calmer than you had anticipated. You tried to copy his steely demeanor, squaring your shoulders back, making sure to make direct eye contact.

You’d never seen Thomas Shelby so caught off guard. His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed. He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows placed firmly on the desk, “No you don’t.”

You scoffed and opened your clutch, you pulled out three different business cards, all of which belonged to different attorneys. You tossed them onto the desk, “I’m serious, Thomas. We obviously can’t fix us.”

He picked the cards up, his shaking hands giving away his anger. He was trying so hard to keep calm, to show you he was indifferent. He was failing. 

He stayed silent, so you continued, “It may be the best thing for us. We can move on, find people who really work for us.” You trailed off at the end, his eyes shooting up to meet yours at the mention of moving on. 

He decided the moment those words left your mouth that he didn’t care. He didn’t care about being calm or having the upper hand. He didn’t care about how a “man” should act, especially a man in Thomas’s position.

“You want to move on? Want to leave me for someone else,” he tore the cards apart, into a million little pieces. 

You were trying to process all of this. You had expected a fight, especially once you had mentioned a divorce. But, all of this was blowing up much faster than anticipated. Your silence only fueled Tommy’s anger, his eyebrows raising up. 

“Have you already moved on? Huh? Your little boyfriend pushing you to get a divorce,” his voice was angry and accusing, but you knew Tommy. You could hear the pain he was trying to hide. 

You knew what you were about to do wouldn’t help anything. You knew it. But, for the first time in your relationship, you had the upper hand. And after how much he had hurt you, it felt good to watch him squirm. 

“And, what if I have?” 

Tommy pushed out of his seat so quickly it made you a little dizzy. In the blink of an eye, he had picked up his half-empty glass of whiskey and thrown it at the wall. Shards of glass flew from the impact and scattered the floor. You stood quickly, throwing your hands up as you screamed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

His hands ran furiously at his hair, tugging harshly at the brown strands. You stalked towards him, shoving his chest lightly, “Thomas?!”

“You can’t do this, (Y/N). Don’t do this,” he moved his hands out of his hair, placing them on your shoulders in a sharp grip. His eyes were wild and wide, searching your face for some sign of compliance. 

Your brows furrowed and you shook your head, pushing his hands off of you, “And, why can’t I? We haven’t been working for a long time, Thomas. Don't  you want to be happy?”

“You make me happy,” his voice was gentle, and his features softened entirely, "I don't know what happened to us."

You took a step back, trying to give yourself room to think, “You changed, Thomas. You stopped being there for me, stopped telling me you loved me, stopped being the man I married. This business has changed you.”

You watched him take a few cautious steps towards you, reaching out for your hands. You kept them by your side but allowed him to grab them anyway.

“You know that I love you. You’ve always known that I love you,” his hands hold yours tightly, rubbing small circles on your knuckles. “We can work through this.”

“How can I know you love me when you rarely say it, or show it for that matter,” you could feel yourself get worked up, the tears slowly starting to build. But, you choked them back. You were done crying, especially in front of him.

“Do you know how many times I went to bed praying that you were really working, and not out with some girl? How many times I hoped you’d remember my birthday or our anniversary, and you never did? You only care about me now because I’m willing to leave.” He watched you closely, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying.

He didn’t think he needed to tell you that he needed you, that he loved you. He genuinely thought you knew. He thought the two of you had an understanding. He didn’t think he was hurting you. He’d admit that he wasn’t as thoughtful as he used to be but he didn’t think anything of it. 

Once you had finished speaking, he nodded and took another step towards you. He removed one of his hands from yours and moved it to cup your cheek. “I never meant to hurt you. You’re the only person on this planet that I truly love, (Y/N). I’m a shitty husband, and I’ll admit it. But, I love you. I need you and I need us to be okay. These months without you have been the worst months of my life. All I do is think about you and how much I miss you. I love you so much, baby. So fucking much.”

It had been years since you’d heard anything like this come out of his mouth. And, if you were honest, you were a goner. You knew at this moment that there was nothing this man could do, except cheat on you, that would make you leave him. You truly believed you were meant to be together. You could work this out, and the two of you could have your happily ever after. 

You stopped trying to hold your tears back as you wiped a few stray tears off of Tommy’s face. You didn’t know if what you were about to do was the right decision but it was what felt right to you.

“Don’t make me feel this way ever again, Tommy,” with those words, you leaned up, slowly closing the gap between the two of you. And for the first time in a very, very long time, your lips met Tommy’s. 

The kiss was meant to be slow and sweet, but the moment your lips touched his, Tommy’s body was on fire. He wrapped both of his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You moved your hands up the nape of his neck and through this hair, loving the familiar feeling of this exact moment. His lips parted from yours and began placing small kisses over your jaw and neck. Your eyes closed and a smile spread across your lips as he moved you to lean against the bookcase. 

He spoke softly in between kisses, running his hands up and down your sides, “You’re my girl. I love you, baby.”

You hummed in response, moving your hands to his chin to make him look at you. “I love you, too.” 

He kissed you roughly, a small smile dancing on his lips as he pulled away. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he whispered, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

NOTE: Thank you all so much for all of your support on this mini-series. I have loved writing it and seeing your reactions!! I hope you all enjoyed the final part of Given It All! 

Let me know what you think, please!!

[ai-katsuu]

Jack and Frost (2/3)

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“What am I doing here? Let’s hang out, Auds.” he chuckled. Jack frowned at this but before he could do anything Audrey raised her arm and water splashed on his face, letting go of Audrey as she fell to her feet. “I thought I told you to never carry me like that.” she said sharply

“Charming,” he chuckled, “Audrey, are you okay? What is he doing here?” Jack moved towards her. “Oh, you made it past the barrier.” the snow haired boy remarked “Wasn’t that hard,” Kio mumbled. 

“Ah the Fearless 7, long time no see!” he winked, “You guys know him?” Audrey turned to the group. “Uh yeah. This guy messed with several of our missions by altering the weather.” Arthur drew his sword. “You made me lose several of my spells during that storm!” Merlin accused. 

“Haha, fun times yes.” he stood up dusting himself off “Now if you excuse me I need to take my dear friend on an outing for just the two of us.” “Haha um, Jack,” the two boys looked at her. Startled Audrey looked back and forth at them, “Oh, that’s awkward.” she rubbed her head. Merlin snarked in the background only to be hit by Snow. 

“Frost,” she looked directly at him “You may have not heard the news since you’re all over the place but-” “She’s engaged,” Jack stated flatly. He walked beside her and threw his arm around her shoulder. His other hand took a hold of her wrist and showed off a beautifully forged ring on her finger. He proceeded to raise his up as well. 

Frost looked taken aback for a bit. Audrey looked carefully and saw that his grip on his staff had tightened. She was about to ask before he laughed, “Of course I knew!” Jack squinted his eyes, “It’s just that I don’t know if you knew but we happen to be childhood friends. I simply wanted to treat her as a congratulatory present!” he smiled.

 To Jack, it was a sinister, evil, taunting smile and he only frowned back. Through all the cold, the group could still feel the tension. 

“Hey! Why don’t we all go inside and we can all calm down in there!” Snow said looking directly at Audrey. She was trying to bail her out which Audrey understood and thanked her with her eyes. 

“Yes! Great idea, Snow.” she approached her and linked her arm with hers “Could you come with me to my room?” “Of course!” she said quickly and the two trotted off to the doors “Merlin, could you give Frost a room to rest in? Thanks, we’ll meet for dinner!” and they left, leaving the princes outside. 

It was quite for a bit, “Alright, Frost. What is your game?” Jack marched up to him “Woah Woah wait!” Merlin got in between them, “Frost, let’s get you to room first, ladies orders.” he nervously chuckled. “Triplets come with me.” they nodded  “Yeah Jack, come with us!” Hans grabbed his arm and walked to the other pair of doors, albeit it was difficult due to his resisting and remaining eye contact with Frost. Merlin ushered Frost to the right side of the hallway while the others went the opposite way. 

“Well, well, looks like you’ve got some competition.” Arthur teased. “A competition which I won far before it even began,” Jack responded with a frown on his face. “A childhood friend huh, that’s tough,” Hans pondered. “Did Audrey ever mention him before?” “A couple of times I think,” he wondered, “She said they used to travel together but then they stopped around a couple of years ago.” “Traveled together? So they must’ve spent a lot of time together, late nights and all,” 

Jack stopped and he and Hans gave him a look which took Arthur a bit of time to notice “Oh, sorry.” Hans whacked him on the head. 

---

“Snow! What am I going to do?!” Audrey paced around the shared room of Merlin and Snow. The former sat on her bed. “Well, how long have you known Frost?” she asked, “Childhood. We met around ten years ago when I was just learning about my powers. He fooled around with my powers with his ice.” she told her 

“He always made these pick up lines, but honestly I don’t think he was ever serious about them. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not all he does.” she held her hands up “He has a good heart and is a good friend. He just likes to mess around a lot.” Snow White chuckled, “Well someone seemed to be jealous.” Audrey turned around and put one of her hands on her mouth and cheek, “Oh Jack..” she mumbled, “I should talk to him, shouldn’t I?” Snow nodded,

 “He might be feeling angry or insecure, it’s best to go settle those as soon as possible before any ideas get into his head.” At that moment Merlin had entered the room, “Well someone’s become the belle of the ball.” he joked. Audrey sighed, “How is he?” Merlin’s puffed out a breath of air “He’s in your room now. As for Frost, I gave him a spare room, he seemed fine and aloof, but Jack was oddly quiet.” Audrey moved her hair back, “I’ll go talk to him now. Thanks, guys.” she looked at them. 

“It’s no problem, Audrey.” Snow waved as did Merlin. She closed the doors and quickly made her way to her shared room. Running through the large halls was always one of her favorite things do to when she was exploring the large castle. She would enjoy it more had the situation been different. She didn’t stop as she approached her door, opening it to see Jack on the vanity combing his hair. She slowed down as she closed the door. Audrey didn’t say anything as she walked behind him. He had a frown on his face as he refused to make eye contact with her.

 “Jack..” she began, “Why is he here?” he asked sharply. She sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t even know where he's been for the past few years but-” she looked at the mirror to see that he was now looking at her reflection. She took the comb from his hand, placed it on the table, and instead placed her hand with his and he willingly held it, “I promise you there was never anything between Frost and I.” his grip tightened at the mention of his name, 

“We were childhood friends and he pulled this all the time. Constantly.” she rolled her eyes, “I like him as a friend because he is a good one, but that’s it. It was never anything more.” she assured him. Jack sighed and turned around from his chair, “I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m mad at you. I know you love me, I never doubted that.” he looked at her sympathetically and she smiled a bit “It just made me uncomfortable and insecure.” he mumbled.

Audrey’s laugh filled his ears, the one that made him weak every time. She gracefully sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “Just forget about it, darling.” Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes “Remember when Arthur heard me call you that for the first time?” he laughed “He was mortified!” she giggled. 

Jack sighed dreamily. “I love you, Jack. No matter what.” a light pink made its way to his cheeks as he smiled. “I love you too…” he mumbled as he closed his lips on hers. A meaningful kiss, just like the one they gave each other the day Jack’s curse was broken. 

The following evening Jack had eaten dinner in their room as did the others. While he was in the shower Audrey decided to go and visit Frost. “Frost?” she entered the room. “Yes, Frost is here.” she looked up and saw Frost hanging from the ceiling with his staff. He was making little snowflakes and blowing them to the window. Her gaze went to the hot soup and rice that was sitting on the table. 

“I know you don’t need to eat but if you just leave the food untouched it’ll send the wrong message to the cook,” she told him. “Depends who cooked it. Was it that ginger-haired member? Or the cute little bear children?” “I think you know who,” she sat on his bed. “Then no, I won’t eat it.” he smiled and sat upon the ledge.

 Audrey sighed and ignored that comment, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months.” “Same as you, just around the world. Well, maybe not like you anymore.” he eyed her finger. Audrey looked at him sympathetically. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He eyed her “You know you could’ve just sent me a message through any body of water.” Audrey shook her head “It wasn’t something I wanted to tell you through message. This is important, I wanted to tell you in person.” “Well you could’ve called me about meeting up!” he raised his hand up. “You’re right! You’re right, I have no excuse,” she gave in looking at him, “This was a new life and I just got caught up in it.” she stared at the room then snapped her fingers all of a sudden. 

“Let’s go on an adventure,” Frost lifted his head up, “What?” “Like before! Let’s go from town to town, cause some trouble, make more memories. Three days.” she offered. Jack jumped down from his staff and couldn’t hide his grin, “You’re serious? Really?” Audrey nodded “Yeah! Think of it as one more hurrah before I’m married.” Frost paused and raised his eyebrow, Audrey saw through his question and agreed “Yes, we’ll still have these adventures after I’m married.” he had a contentful smile and nodded his head. 

He finally went to the food that was prepared and took a sip of the champagne “So you’ve talked to blondie about it?” “Ah,” she raised her shoulders “No I just thought of it now. But we’re going that’s for sure,” she pointed. “Afterwards it’s back to wedding planning and all that fancy stuff.” 

Frost put the glass down and took a bite of the rice and soup “Wow, this is actually really good.” he slurped it loudly. “Alright,” she stood up. “I’ll go talk to Jack, we can leave tomorrow morning, and you should get some rest right after you finish making love to your soup,” she stated, eyeing him out the door. 

When she entered her room she saw Jack with a bathrobe on, dabbing his fingers on a face mask he had put on. “Jack, hey! I need to talk to you about something.” “Oh no,” his eyes went wide and turned to face her, “Okay I had to throw away those creams of yours, they were a scam and they do nothing for your skin.” 

“No I meant- you threw away my creams?” she took a double look at him. Jack looked to the side, “Oh that’s not what this is about?” “Yeah no,” she glared at him while he nervously laughed, “I need to ask you something,” she took his hand “Of course, is everything alright?”