#Those have been sitting at Ch 15 while I tried to get other fics to 'catch up'

[ethereal-feline]

I spent my whole day editing a fic I haven't updated in *checks notes* literally almost a year (was writing other fics that I ended up dropping from rotation 😭)

but yeah think I just need to tackle this last chapter of Turtletales if I wanna get it done before I run out of backlog so Imma try to do that over the weekend 👍

[prose-priest-potentate]

In the Interim

Otherwise Known As: Beating This Dead Horse for Closure Otherwise Known As: Writing My Own Damn Fanfic

Chapter Index: Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15

Fic on Ao3: Here ______________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: Desperate Mourning. That is: Desperate AND Mourning

This fic requires a little context to get the ball rolling because it’s fanfic from a game I played IRL with my friends - so it’s got OCs and major changes to canon CoS lore. 

Having said that: Major Spoiler Warning For: D&D: Curse of Strahd.

What Happened/Why I’m Writing This: About mid-way through our game, we had a falling out with some friends, and had to quit. CoS isn’t the kinda game (at least for us) that you can run with just two players and our sweet DM playing a million NPCs. It was a rough end to the friendships and a heartbreaking game to have to abandon, so, because people mourn differently and I was just chewing my friends’ ears off asking for what-ifs and so-how-did-we answers and making us all more miserable and sore, I decided to answer my own questions and write the things I had been excited about. 

Eventually, we did all sit down and talk out most of the rest of the plot together, so some of this is definitely informed by those joint decisions, but the vast majority of it is about and surrounding my boy.

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Picking up where we left off in our last game, for the uninitiated: the party has just been forced to fight The Abbot (a corrupted deva) in order to save his “daughter” Vasilka, who he made Frankenstein-style as a gift for Strahd. 

She ran off with a boy that The Abbot took in -who the party knows as a weasley, evil kid, and the two of them are hiding in the woods. When found, the party realizes that Vasilka finally has a friend who isn’t horrified of her, and Viktor, the slimeball, is actually fascinated  by her.

Huh. Guess they could be good for each other. The party agrees to sneak them out past The Abbot if they can. Except it doesn’t work, and they’re forced to fight him to save the village. Imrath has a religious crisis and gets his shit beaten in, but they win! 

Except no, with The Abbot’s magic gone, Vasilka can’t exist. 

She dies in Imrath’s arms. He and Viktor rush her inside to set her down somewhere where she won’t fall all to pieces. Imrath lays this young girl’s corpse out in her own bed, tucking her in as best he can (because she deserves to be comfortable while she waits on them to figure out how to fix her).

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He’s had tears streaming down his face for the entire fight, through his own near death, and the waterworks started back up again as the life left Vasilka’s little body. He tries to bite his own tongue, tries to square his shoulders, tries to pull it together - by the Light Imrath you’re still at work you need to be present - but too many thoughts and emotions sear his insides. 

Again. 

Barovia was going to be the death of him. 

Rage and grief and desperation and fear all make his skin itch. 

He had been so angry at the Abbot for falling in the first place, and all the sins after, but seeing him lose control of himself like that… Imrath hadn’t missed the shaking in his hands that pulled the mace just far enough to miss him that first time. It hurt more deeply than the radiant power ever did, to know that somewhere in their the deva of the Morninglord was still there. Festering and corrupted, but present enough.

Still. He’d been ripped away from Izek and Van Ricthen like it was nothing, nearly knocked off his feet, and his whole body still ached. 

Even knowing that whatever was left of the Light in that foul creature is likely the only reason he was still alive… didn’t lessen the singing in his blood for justice, but it seized his heart. The two swirl in his chest like ice and fire and just hurt. His eyes are sore and still crying and he can’t make it stop. His blindfold is soaked through and hot on his cheeks where he stands, gripping the bedpost like it’s the only thing holding him up.

Vasilka lays too still - her pieces lay hardly holding themselves in the shape of a girl, returned to rest as they should have stayed, but Imrath cannot hold her creation against her. She deserved the life she’d been given. It isn’t right - isn’t just that she, like every other soul in this cursed valley, didn’t get any autonomy in life or death. It makes him feel like he’s falling, scrambling, clawing desperately for the rightness that is missing. The mourning for her is cold in his stomach where it sits too heavy for him to stand up right. 

Everyone moves around him. Viktor scurries away, starts making a mess of the place, but Imrath doesn’t pay attention to him - too busy trying to stop feeling the ghost of the searing radiance in his whole body from the Abbot’s mace. Wixen is outside still, with her hellhounds that he cannot bear to think about. Muriel and Mir and Van Richten and Izek are in the room too, piled in after them, but he can’t make himself see them - his true blindness returning with the pain that stills his heart.

He’s shaking and can’t keep his breathing even and he’s so lost from himself and his good reason that he turns to the only harbor he trusts. 

He should hold himself back, should reach out, should ask like he usually does, but he is hardly holding it together as he hides his face in Izek’s shoulder, clings desperately to his arm, and starts babbling, “I can’t- Izek I- I don’t know what I’ll do-o if we ca-an’t get her back. I wasn’t even thinking about the magic when we started. I didn’t- How do we even start-?”

Izek isn’t comfortable with displays of emotion, but he allows it. Rough hands awkwardly pat Imrath’s back, and he stares over feathers and horns to watch Viktor, his sort of fucked up little brother, open a book, skim it, and then toss it away without a thought. 

Viktor, the spoiled little madman, who Izek had only ever seen obsess over himself. Even when he was desperate to get himself out of marriage to that girl, it had been for himself.

This was too, of course. Viktor liked the faceless girl. Of course he did. Weirdo.

He shrugs, “I don’t think we need don’t need to worry too much.”

“Wh-at?”

“He’s been like this before, but never for someone else. He won’t stop until he figures it out.” 

Viktor’s a weaselly, evil young man with a history of obsession. Before, it was targeted by malice - he had been meticulous when he drove his betrothed insane, had used whatever leverage or force he could command to get what he wanted (he and Izek are similar in that way) but now Izek can see the same single-minded drive, and he’s confident that if it can be done, Viktor will move the heavens and hells to do it, or raze the earth trying.

Imrath takes a deep breath and tilts his head - listening as Viktor makes a mess of the books that don’t serve him. He’s not steady yet. Izek can still feel him shaking, but he’s calmer. 

He sighs and it is ragged and exhausted when he plops his head back down into his shoulder, “And the Abbot… he didn’t deserve all that.” 

Izek wrinkles his nose. “He tried to kill you.”

“He did.” Imrath groans. He goes on, muttering about how the deva was corrupted, that he wasn’t savable, should have been stronger, that he was helping them, or whatever. 

Izek stopped listening. The angel needed to die, and he’d targeted Imrath - ripped him out of Izek’s reach and flown away with him. Had brutalized him. He had looked so bad when everyone had finally caught up to them that they all thought he’d pass out any minute. Imrath had barely kept himself standing. A thought passes through his mind that Imrath shouldn’t be so concerned with what a man that tried to kill him deserves. He is brought back by Imrath’s voice.

“I think I just need a minute to- to hide. I need to collect myself.” 

Easy enough. Izek nods, and steps away. Imrath pauses like he means to say something, but eventually nods and slides down the wall. Izek takes one for the team, off to go talk to everyone else about what comes next.

The group, with Imrath, who does eventually collect himself, decides to divide and conquer: Mir will stay in Krezk to help and keep up with the Mongrels, Van Richten will head out to the Marticov’s place to organize relief efforts for the village through the upcoming Winter, and everyone else will head out to The Amber Temple, to resurrect Petrina and finish helping Kassimir like they promised. 

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Forgive me, we didn’t get to play this part out and since it could have gone SEVERAL directions, I’m skimming on purpose.

Their trip on around the mountain isn’t without its struggles, but when has a Barovian night been kind to the intrepid little band? What’s another swarm of bats or the lingering, uneasy feeling of being watched when they’ve all already faced so much worse? It doesn’t help the desperate need to cling to as much sleep as possible, of course, but the hellhounds make excellent guard dogs to keep away the creatures sniffing from the treeline so everyone manages a little more than usual. 

For the best.

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Nothing about The Amber Temple is pleasant, but it doesn’t really have to be. 

This time, with only a quick, snarling reminder that they are on decidedly bad terms, the arcanaloth lets them pass without issue, and Imrath and his giant weasel keep watch as everyone shuffles Petrina’s corpse through the crack in the wall, weary of another invisible golem.

Inside the chamber, he hovers in the middle between the other two accursed sarcophagi – still weary. Izek had been right the first time he’d said they shouldn’t have taken any deals, but they had all given into the siren song of power after having Marileina snatched from their desperate claws. He won’t regret it – having lightning at his fingertips had already proven quite useful, and he didn’t mind the disfigurement. After all, no dragonborn worth their breath dies as perfect as they hatch. 

But he’d nearly given in again, wishing after some childish dream for sight that doesn’t hurt. 

So he sticks close to Izek, and no one questions it. Perhaps they assume it’s his obvious affection for the man, or protectiveness over the one of them he cannot yet save in dire circumstances. Both true enough, and he’s happy to keep his secrets today. So he doesn’t explain to anyone – not even his darling Izek, who he’s sure has noticed his hovering – that he is depending on him to lead him through this temptation. Izek had told him not to take another deal, and he was right. No matter how much Imrath’s heart ached to take the chance to see his loved ones more than once a day.

Where they are, he cannot ‘see’ anyone, but he can hear everyone making deals and reunions. A new voice joins the familiar – thank the Light that she doesn’t wake up screaming or mad. Kassimir hadn’t been happy at the suggestion, but Imrath had kept a length of rope at hand in case Petrina came back to life as she had died. As he listens to Kassimir and his long lost sister start their emotional reunion and explanations, and introduction with Wixen, he feels Izek turn away.

Imrath smiles. Izek never did know what to do with himself during emotional moments. He curls his tail just enough to bump Izek’s waist, but otherwise remains still. Support with enough plausible deniability to be played off.

______________________________________________________________

They huddle in the same side room they had before to rest – resurrection can’t be easy on either party, and the cold outside has only gotten harsher as winter has descended on the valley. He and Izek are dutifully warming the others with their fires.

Neither of them get much sleep that night. Ironic, since their elven companions are asleep pretty quickly, all things considered. Instead they sit awake and don’t say much. Neither of them like this place, and they aren’t afforded their usual privacy for late night talks.

The morning is for business, and for Imrath to turn on his charms to ask Petrina for help saving Vasilka. Reluctant, but curious and happy enough to be alive again and thankful for them helping her brother, she agrees to try, with no promises. It’s all they can ask of her. It’s all they have. 

It isn’t enough. Somehow. Not even the breadth of magic that they all have access to is enough. He shouldn’t be surprised. It had taken a deva to create her in the first place, but that is little comfort now. 

They are forced to leave her in her bed, unable to ignore their other more pressing responsibilities any longer. Petrina and Kassimir need to return to their people and the party needs to make it back to Marileina as soon as possible, plus a million things in the middle to get ready for the fight of their lives. Still, Imrath insists and he and Willow go hunting to get food for the Mongrelfolk, who are caged and cannot be let loose, even if their madness seems to be gone, and villagers, who are starving because of the destruction by the maddened mongrels, before they head out to the safe harbor that is the winery. It’s not enough, but they do try to lessen the coming burdens as much as they can. It will have to do.

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Next Chapter - Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.15 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch is still dealing with the fallout of the last chapter. Like he needs anything else to happen right now?

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Read ‘First Step’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

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As hot as the days were, these last, lingering sticky days of summer, the nights in Backwater tended to cool off as soon as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

It made for a good time to sit out on the back porch for a quick smoke. Usually only tobacco, Stretch didn’t have Red’s resilience when it came to getting up the next day after smoking his atom bomb version of weed. The last thing he wanted was to give the local kids their first view of an ugly hangover, he’d leave that sort of education for their parents to dole out.

Most of the time, Stretch kept it to one cigarette. His first paycheck was better than he’d expected but it was still wiser to be frugal, so he stuck with his one cig and tried not to think about how that would have pleased his brother. Blue’d been trying to get him to quit for years now and in the past months whenever his bro brought it up, his ex always chimed in with a similar opinion on it, both of them citing statistics as if they were practicing for a damned public service announcement.

Quitting his smokes was something Stretch resisted for no damn good reason other than he didn’t want to quit, thanks, sorry for him trying to adult a little around here. All the nagging did was take the joy out of it and left him smoking out of resentment rather than recreation. Cutting down to one a day was milestone he’d never managed to get to back in Ebott. Not even when the Docs told him it might help with—well.

Anyway, tonight he’d decided to indulge himself; after the day he’d had, he figured he deserved to go through a whole damn pack.

The porch light was a stark, sodium-yellow and the furniture cast strange shadows in it, bones of the true darkness that lay beyond. Stretch sprawled out on the dusty old sofa, blowing lazy smoke rings up at the overhang covering the porch and occasionally tapping ash into the rusty old Maxwell coffee can that Red kept around as an ashtray. The other skeleton had already gone inside, and the living room windows were dark, a pretty big clue that he’d probably already headed off to bed. Early for him, but, eh, Stretch figured he’d had a hell of a day, too, and his guilt over his own involvement in that sat in his chest like a lead brick.

At his feet, the dog curled up in a tight little donut of fluff and Stretch absently pet him with his bare foot, wincing as strands of hair caught in his bony joints. The dog didn’t seem to care about the little yanks and tugs, only huffed out a contented sigh, pushing demandingly into the touch.

“dunno if you deserve pats,” Stretch told him absently. He tried for something resembling stern, though he didn’t stop petting, “you weren’t being too friendly out at edge’s place.”

The dog only snorted and rolled to his side, giving Stretch access to his belly for more rubs.

Stretch hadn’t even realized Red brought the dog along at first. Not until he hauled his bike over to truck bed, still flustered over the almost-could be-kinda-a-something that his boss/landlord’s timely arrival interrupted. Before he could even start heaving the bike in, the dog popped up like a slobbery jack in the box and began attacking Stretch’s face with kisses.

“wha—stop, you shit!” Stretch sputtered, laughing and trying to fend off the dog’s eager advances. The bike was heavier than a normal one and awkward to hold, and between that and the doggy love attack, Stretch lost his grip. The handbars swung into the side of the truck and shrieked their way down in a scrape of metal against metal as it fell, the rest of it finishing off with a loud clang. Not that it did any damage; Red’s truck probably only qualified as one by a technicality, held together by vague hopes, rust, and the liberal use of miles of duct tape.

Behind Stretch, Edge spoke up, “Here, let me help.” But the moment he stepped forward, the dog’s excited wriggling screeched to a halt and morphed into stillness couched with a sudden, unexpected growl.

“woah, hey, boy,” Stretch said with surprised caution. The dog hadn’t even growled when those guys in town were trying to use him as a pinata, too scared, maybe, but Edge wasn’t a threat so why the hell—

A low, deep throated snarl came from behind Stretch and the dog yelped, ducking down into the truck bed, cowering. Stretch whipped around to stare at Edge in disbelief, okay, yeah, that one wasn’t on his bingo card for weird happenings. "did you just growl at my dog?"

Edge only looked back steadily, "You have to assert dominance."

Well, uh, that was…it did seem to work, sort of. The dog chose that moment to abandon ship, scrambling up and wriggling through the little back window that led into the cab to curl up against Red. The moment he was safe, he looked at Stretch and Edge with wounded betrayal, like he hadn’t started it, the little shit.

Good thing the dog didn’t know what the memory of that growl was doing to the inside of Stretch’s pants, (fucking rawr). The pooch would never forgive him.

“quit traumatizing mutt," Red snorted. He ruffled the dog’s ears soothingly and the pup settled, resting his chin on Red’s femur as he looked up with a mournful ‘the big kids are pickin’ on me’ expression. "c'mon, armstrong, let’s hit the road, s’getting dark."

That woke Stretch up from his dual versions of shock and unf!shock. He grunted with the effort of heaving the bike into the truck bed, mumbling a grateful ‘thank you’ when a second pair of strong hands helped out, and he really, really tried not to feel the way Edge was pressed up against his back, a line of warm moving against him as both of them settling the bike securely in. It was only when Edge stepped back and took his fatal distraction with him that something clicked.

Wait. Not the mutt, but—

Stretch stuck his head in through the open window, looking at the skeleton and his dog, who pointedly weren’t looking back. “you named the dog mutt?”

“didn’t name it anything,” Red scoffed. He scruffed the dog, whose name was totally Mutt, gently.

“technicalities won’t save you,” Stretch told him gleefully, “there was a list on the counter, you had options, and you still named the dog…dog.”

That got finally got him a look, or more precisely, a glare. “could always let you walk home.”

That was true. Stretch abandoned ribbing without even getting to pun about it and climbed hastily into the truck. The door hinge squalled when he pulled open the door, flakes of rust falling in a shower as he slammed it shut. No wonder Red didn’t drive around much if this was his primary vehicle, but in the interest of not getting kicked out, Stretch decided it would be for the best to not bring up the rubber banded pile of newspapers Red was sitting on. He definitely wasn’t gonna ask how Red was reaching the pedals.

Edge rounded the truck to Red’s side, briefly outlined in the glare of the headlights. With the remains of the sun at his back, his eye lights were stark in the growing darkness. Bright crimson glaring in at his brother as he stood next to the truck, his arms crossed over his chest. “You could always come in for coffee.”

It wasn’t a question and Red didn’t answer it. “tell the kid i said hi.”

Edge replied tartly. “Tell them yourself.”

“heh.” A strange laugh, humorless and somehow still tinged with amusement. “see ya around, bro.”

Yeah, there was some kind of story there, all right, and Stretch was the guy who waited too long at the concession stand and came into the play during Act 3.

There was only one person who might give him any answers, since two-thirds of the people involved already turned him down and it was the same guy who didn’t even give Edge a chance to say goodbye, only threw the truck into reverse and with a clumsy three-point turn that barely avoided any of the flowerbeds, they were headed back down path that led to town, out of the woods.

The ride back wasn’t exactly quiet, the bumpy road and rattling complaints of the truck took care of that. But it was wordless, for a while. Until they got closer to the main road and the bumps smoothed out a little, droning hum of tires on asphalt an invitation.

“red—” Stretch started, slowly. He wasn’t even sure what he was gonna say yet, uncertain if he really wanted any other revelations tonight. He was feeling a little epiphanied out.

Red only sighed deeply, “pretty sure you, the kid, and my bro had a helluva chat, you sure you really wanna talk to me about it now?”

No. Yes. “maybe?”

The newspapers under him made a dry shuffling sound as Red shifted his weight to change gears. “one question, kid, that’s all i got answers for. choose wisely.”

Great, now he was on an impromptu grail quest.

Stretch hesitated over his options; there were so many, how could he pick only one? Like, why didn’t Red live with Edge and Frisk, why had he refused to even go into the house, and what the hell was up with Edge being so salty about it? Hell, there were deeper question than that, if he wanted to dig. How had they gotten out of their Underground to here, what happened to Red’s leg, so many whats and wheres and whys.

A look at Red showed he was grinding his teeth, his crimson eye lights focused solely on the road and at the end of the day, there was only one question Stretch really needed an answer to tonight, for reasons he desperately didn’t want to talk about.

He ran his tongue over his teeth nervously, looking down at his hands in his lap rather than the passing blur of road in the headlights out the windshield. “you knew who i was when you first saw me here, didn’t you. edge said you watched the tv when we first came to the surface.”

The joints in his hands creaked as they went tight on the steering wheel and Red exhaled with weary slowness. “yeah, i knew.” He slanted a brief glance at Stretch, eye lights flicking between him and the road. “gave me a hell of a start, don’t mind tellin’ ya. you were busy chasin’ beer cans and didn’t notice me almost fallin’ on my ass.”

“that’s why you helped me, isn’t it, when i first came to town?” The accusation that Red was ‘adopted’ him because he looked like Edge stung, but it was true enough, wasn’t it. Someone with his kid brother’s face, someone to feed and clothe and take care of, like he couldn’t with his own bro for whatever their secret reasons were. Like he was a fucking pet, another dog, woof woof, and the care that seemed so genuine that morning felt suddenly tainted, as stifling as his own brother’s.

“heh,” Red’s mouth twisted into a sneering smile, “kid, come on.”

Stretch said nothing. He could see the neon sign from ‘The Whistling Cow’ slowly approaching, looming closer, blurring in his vision and there was no subtle way to wipe at his sockets, he could only do it quickly and hope it wasn’t noticed.

A failed hope, like most. Red made an impatient sound, loud enough that the dog sleeping his lap stirred, then he said roughly. “yeah, okay, you reminded me some of my little brother, but that ain’t why i let you stay.”

Let it go, let it go, Elsa, you don’t have anywhere else to go. “then why?”

“‘cause i like ya, that’s why!” Red snarled. His ever-present grin curled into a grimace, tight and strained, each word as sharp as one of his jagged teeth. “been rattling around alone in this old shop for awhile now. been kinda nice to have someone underfoot, since i ain’t got goddamn feet. good enough?”

“yes,” Stretch admitted, a threadbare little word. It was, helped ease some of the pained tightness surrounding his soul to know that Red wasn’t simply another person who wanted to be around him not out of friendship, but mere circumstance. He’d had plenty of that in his life and all it left him with was an empty contact list on his phone and an emptier ache in his soul.

He startled at a hand awkwardly touching his own, bony fingers briefly squeezing before they withdrew. “stretch? you and my bro ain’t nothin’ alike. c’n trust me on that much.”

“is that good or bad,” Stretch couldn’t help asking. He thought of the little borrowed room he was sleeping in at night, his part time job hawking groceries, of Edge’s home in the woods with its beautiful gardens and delicious meals.

Red shrugged. He turned the wheel, guiding the truck into a parking spot that was nearly hidden on the other side of the shop. “beats the fuck out of me, just is, and it don’t matter, anyway. don’t care what the charts and graphs and shit say, ain’t no reason to compare ya. ya ain’t the same person. you’re you and bein’ you should be good enough for anyone.”

The engine ticked slowly as it cooled and Stretch thought of the way their landlord back in Ebott kept mistaking him for Papyrus, of getting bitched at once for a window he hadn’t broken or thanked for muffins he hadn’t brought. Not anybody or nobody, only himself, at least here in Backwater. “thanks.”

“s’fine,” Red grunted. “just don’t forget i ain’t your bro.”

“oh, fuck, no,” Stretch blurted out. He winced as he realized how that sounded. “i mean, you’re more like a mom, anyway.”

“heh,” That laugh was more a little more genuine, not much, but it was something. “fuck you.”

“nah, that wasn’t in the rental agreement.”

“and thank the fucking angel for that.” With a groan of hinges and a slam of the door, Red got out of the truck, the dog at his heels. He didn’t turn back to see if Stretch was with him, only went as fast as he could, cane swishing at his side as he practically ran into the house, the screen door banging shut behind him.

Stretch followed more slowly, stopping off at the porch and that was where he stayed, thinking about having a cigarette and not at all about giving Red some time to himself after having the asshole he was trying to help question his motives, exactly like an asshole would.

Mutt hesitated, debating for a minute over choosing between them before finally decided that Stretch was the victor, and whether or not that was because he thought Stretch needed watching over more didn’t matter. Stretch appreciated the company, anyway.

That left him here, smoking and watching moths flutter suicidally close around the porch light.

Stretch dropped a used butt into the coffee can and debated lighting another. On one hand, he was starting to feel a little nauseous from so much smoking, on the other, he sort of wanted to feel nauseous. Wanted to feel something that he could name.

What was the proper term for how to feel when you were living in a weird town with alternate version of yourself and your bro, which, by the way, one out of the two has been crawling up your top ten list of spank bank partners? If there was a definition for it, it was gonna take more than a quick google search to ferret it out.

He still hadn’t decided whether or not to light another when at his feet, the dog suddenly lifted his head, ears perking up.

“what is it, boy?” Stretch leaned up on his elbow, squinting out into the darkness outside the protective ring of porch light. “if this is about a kid in a well, you can tell timmy he’ll have to wait, this is not a good time—hey!”

A threatening line of fur rose up on the dog’s back as he let out a low, deep woof, nothing like the little growl at Edge earlier. Before Stretch could grab for him, Mutt was scrambling to his feet. He leapt off the porch and ran off into the night, fuck, in the direction of the forest.

“hey, wait! no, no, no, damn it!” Stretch shoved his feet into his shoes, wincing at the friction and almost immediately tripping over the laces. “not that way!”

There was barely time to hope he didn’t break his damn leg as he chased after the dog, following the little puff of whiteness through the dark as he tried not to go facefirst into anything. It was sheer luck there weren’t many obstacles in the path; town was in the opposite direction and there was nothing much behind the shop but parched earth and dead grass. Right up until the edge of the woods where saplings rose up in clusters, little ponds of greenery that led to the ocean of trees and that was where Stretch skidded to a halt, watching helplessly as that patch of white disappeared into the darkness.

Yeah, okay, he wasn’t about to go in the woods, ignoring warnings around this place was bad for life expectancy and Stretch wasn’t the kind of guy who’d feed weird critters after midnight.

“fuck, fuck,” Stretch muttered under his breath, pacing right outside the treeline and slapping away any sapling that tried to get in his way as he wracked his brain for what the hell he could do now.

Maybe if he stood outside and shouted at the damn mutt, he’d at least have something to follow back out. He wasn’t sure there was much else he could do, the townsfolk were nice, but he didn’t think asking them out for a midnight search party for a dog would go over very well.

Overhead, the bloated circle of the moon faded in and out from behind the clouds. He didn’t even have his phone, it was still in his bag on the porch, safely beneath that splash of light that seemed so far away now. Stretch dug into his pocket for his lighter, the rasp loud over the faint rustling of leaves overhead. It flared to life and the tiny flame barely illuminating the space around him, but it was better than nothing.

“mutt?” Stretch called tentatively, then more coaxingly, “c’mon boy, come back out!” He tried a few iterations of that with increasingly sappy endearments, feeling as stupid as he had when he’d tried them on his ex. The dog responded about as well, stubbornly refusing to bow to any version of baby, sweetums, or snooky that Stretch tried.

“damn it all to hell,” Stretch cursed softly. First, he’d gotten caught nearly macking on Red’s little brother when he’d said he wouldn’t, not a broken promise but still, then he’d blunder into giving Red’s traumas a quick poke, and now he’d lost the dog that he’d only just gotten for Red. He was obviously already pretty attached to the so-named Mutt and after hearing him vague about how he’d been lonely, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

But going into the woods after him felt a hell of a lot like making a bad situation worse.

Stretch sighed heavily. Nope, better not to chance it. Maybe if he brought out a bowl of food, the dumb mutt would smell it and head for home and—wait.

…what was that? Stretch tipped his head to the side, straining to listen.

He hadn’t really even notice that soft sound at its beginning, the soft lilt of a melody winding its way through branches and leaves out of the woods, a song he almost but didn’t quite know. It was the seductive peal of a silver laugh of delight, it was the delicate caress of the wind, the chuckling burble of a cool stream pouring invitingly over smooth rocks, and the intangible caress of unearthly desires

It was the alluring sweetness of a siren, the song of a temptress calling one who was no sailor into a dry sea and doom.

His vision was cast into paleness like the bloom of the moonlight, filling him to the brim until nothing was left within but that endless song. Without a single thought of his own left crowded in amongst the tangled notes in his head taking mastery over him, Stretch took his first dazed step into the woods.

tbc

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 2

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

A/N: So, I lied. I know I said that I was looking at 10 chapters, but it’s going to be a bit longer than that. I’m thinking 12-15 now! Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Just a reminder that there is a cult featured in this fic. I am in no way endorsing cults, nor am I criticizing anyone’s religion.

CW: kidnapping, food mention, inflicted blindness

~

Patton had always been, in general, a happy person. Sure, he couldn't hear. His father, however, had always taught him that a disability was only an ability with extra letters.

He'd never been allowed to learn how to read lips—it was something he'd read about, but knew he couldn't figure out without a teacher. The one time he'd asked Father, the man had grabbed his hands and pulled him into the hall closet, quickly signing to never bring it up again.

Father had homeschooled Patton—not unusual, everyone in the Haven homeschooled, but what was unusual was that they also home-churched. Everyone else went to chapel, so why couldn't they? Father never explained why.

Patton didn't see much of anyone else. As a child, he played outside with the other children in the Haven, but soon they ignored him in favor of their hearing friends. He saw people at the socials, but Father tended to guide him away from the big conversations, letting him know that what they were talking about wasn't important.

While a little lonely, life was fine. Patton had Father to talk to, books to read, and a house to live in. He had a job washing dishes in the Haven's charity hall, mostly so that he wouldn't be alone while Father was at work. Father worked at the Lab in the center of the Haven, a very prestigious job that made him well-regarded in the community. Life was fine. Everything was fine.

Until one day, it wasn't.

That day, Patton walked home from work to find Father hurriedly packing a bag, his lab coat and tie askew.

That day, as Patton tried to get his father's attention so he could ask what was wrong, the burly perimeter guards of the Haven shoved Patton out of the way.

That day, the last thing Patton saw of his father was a quick flash of his hands as they dragged him away—I love you.

-

Patton had gotten on decently for the past year without Father. He continued to go to work, continued to study the Haven's theology. He missed dinner, where the chairs would both be filled. He missed sitting in Father's room on the bed, looking over a book together. Sometimes, Father would get out the big book of maps that he kept behind the bookcase and show Patton how big the world was.

Now Patton realized how big the world was without his father to fill it.

Patton attended chapel every Sunday now, even though he had no idea what was going on. The prayers were weird, once he realized they were prayers. It was nothing like Father had taught him—there was more pounding on pulpits and angry faces then he was used to. There was much more hand-holding, much more mouth-moving. Sometimes, there was even crying, but Patton didn't know why. Still, every Sunday morning he put on one of Father's many blue ties and walked to the center of the Haven for church, just beside the Lab.

That was how they got him.

-

It started out as a normal Sunday.

The alarm clock on the his pillow vibrated, and Patton gradually woke up. He rolled out of bed and put on his nicest clothes, brushing his teeth soon after. He didn't eat breakfast or lunch on Sundays—no one in the Haven did, that time was reserved for fasting.

It still felt wrong, disturbing the dust in Father's room just to get one of his ties. He supposed he could move the ties, if it bothered him that much, but Patton couldn't bear to move what was lodged so firmly in his memories. Hardly anything in Father's room was touched, and he intended to keep it that way. He had unpacked the suitcase Father had been hurrying to fill on that last day—it was mostly food and some clothes, with a blue pocket-sized notebook that only had nonsense scribbling in it. Patton kept it in his pocket at all times, and now slipped it into his khakis (his only nice pants, he daily wore Haven-made jeans and the khakis were one of his only possessions from outside the perimeter).

Tie tied, Patton started the short walk to church.

Church was as usual, but for some reason more uncomfortable than it had been so far—which was saying something. Now, though, Patton felt as if he was being watched. He shook it off as nonsense. Everyone knew who he was, just as he knew who everybody was. The Haven wasn't very large, after all.

Patton left just before church ended—he often left during the last hymn, it generally got very confusing after that—and discovered that he was not the only one who left early, as a sack was pulled over his head. He struggled for a moment, before the woozy smell of the inside of the sack hit him and he was out like a light.

-

The first thing Patton did when he woke up was cough.

The second thing was take in his surroundings. He was in a small room, plaster walls and concrete floor painted grey. He was on a bed, and there was another pushed up against the wall on his right. A heavy-looking door was set into the wall opposite, with what looked almost like a locked doggy door in the foot of it. Other than the beds, the only break in the monotony of the room was a curtained-off segment with a toilet and sink—if you could call it a sink. It was more of a faucet sticking out of the wall, a shelf with a bar of soap beside it.

That first day, Patton wandered the room, pressing every spot on the wall, knocking on the door, pushing at the flap in the door. Nothing budged. Eventually, he retired to the bed he'd woken up in, the true magnitude of his situation hitting him all at once. He managed to retain composure until he checked his pocket—they had taken Father's notebook. Patton cried for hours.

Every day passed similarly. At first, it took Patton a long time to figure out the day and night schedule, but eventually he trained his body to wake up when the meal that felt most like breakfast was pushed through the flap. He'd been there, wallowing in his boredom, for maybe two weeks when the man was pushed in.

Patton was on the bed when it happened. The people that dragged him in wore masks, but Patton still recognized them from their hair—Brother Gracer, from next door; Brother Hadley, from the charity hall. They left the man curled up on the floor, not even sparing a glance in Patton's direction before leaving once again.

The man was dressed in Outsider clothes—a black hoodie with purple patches, soft-looking jeans. Like Patton, he didn't wear shoes—but Patton had to wonder if they'd been taken from him too, or if he'd never had any in the first place.

While he stared, frozen in shock, the man moved. He carefully stood, wavering dangerously, and on his first step stumbled and hit the floor. Patton winced, but the man got back up and tried again. This time he managed two steps before falling. He wasn't coming anywhere near Patton—he was actually facing the direction of the door—but Patton pressed himself against the wall anyway. Everyone in the Haven had an uneasy fear of Outsiders. They were rash and sinful, and would stop at nothing to drag everyone down with them.

The man seemed to realize that he wasn't able to walk, because now he was crawling, one arm outstretched and shaking. His fingers slammed into the door moments later, and the man recoiled before falling again. This time, he didn't try to get back up, instead curling on his side. It took Patton a couple of minutes to realize the man was sniffling—maybe crying, maybe cold.

Yes, it was an Outsider, but everyone got cold or sad, didn't they? Everyone needed help. A few minutes more, and Patton had gathered enough strength to slip off the bed and pad across the floor. Before he lost his nerve, he reached down and poked the Outsider's shoulder. The man gasped and reared back, preparing to attack, and Patton jumped away. It wouldn't do to make him angry. Still, though, the man looked cold, and that was something Patton knew he could fix.

He debated for a second over whether to get his own blanket or the one off the untouched bed—but that one was coated in dust, and for all Patton knew, the man was allergic to dust, so he grabbed his own.

It was vaguely reminiscent of creeping up behind a lion, Patton thought as he held the blanket out in front of him. The man was slowly relaxing, stretching a bit as he lay his head back on the floor. Before he could change his mind, Patton threw the blanket on top of him.

The man flinched, arms raised, then slowly sat up. He pulled the blanket around himself closer, but shivered still.

Patton was enthralled by this man. He'd only met two Outsiders before, both of them looking to sell things and investigate the life of the Haven. Neither of them had ever attacked him, and this man hadn't so far. Patton sat down opposite him, then reached out a hand to his shoulder.

For the first time, Patton could see his face. Before, he'd been turned away or his strangely long hair had been hiding his features. Now though, Patton could see his trembling lips, his small nose, his pale skin, his cloudy grey eyes.

The man's mouth moved, and his eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over at the slightest provocation. Patton smiled slightly and tapped his own ears. This man, strange as he was, needed a hug, a Patton was the perfect person to give him one.

When Patton pulled back, he tapped his ears again, but the man didn't seem to see. His eyes were focused at a point slightly to the right of Patton, and one arm flailed out, as if trying to find him again. Patton grabbed it, quieting the frantic fingers as his father might have when he was signing too much in public. Could the man see him?

Cautiously, Patton waved his other hand in front of the man's face, watching for any movement from those eyes. Nothing. Now that he looked closer, he noticed that what he'd first thought were bags under his eyes were bruises. The man couldn't see.

Well, they were two peas in a pod, weren't they? Patton tried not to think about how they would communicate as he pulled the man into another hug. They'd figure everything out.

~

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added!): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21

[notcanoncompliant]

A Coast That’s Unclear

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 

on Ao3 // Explicit, 18+ // TW: dubious consent (not in this chapter, and not between Tony & Peter) Pairings: WinterIronSpider

DISCLAIMER:

The 'Underage' warning is for a brief scene while Peter is 17, which is the legal age in NY. The rest of the explicit action happens after Peter is 18. It is going to get explicit. There is Daddy kink. Heed the tags, please. If you have an issue with it, don't read this fic. Don't bother with ship-shaming, I will delete your comments.

If y'all are good with this, keep going, and I hope you enjoy <3

____________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Just Typhoons and Monsoons (Intro)

Peter has always been ahead of his age group.

He's intelligent, gifted at science in general, but especially robotics.

At 14, his first year at Midtown High, he's awarded entry into an elite junior robotics club, sponsored by Tony Stark. 

In his sophomore year, Mr. Stark offers Peter a spot in the high school internship program onsite at Stark Industries.

*

The February after he turns 15, a couple months after he starts working directly with Tony at the internship, Peter's aunt and uncle die in a carjacking incident while waiting to pick Peter up.

There's no other family to take Peter.

Tony can't let him end up in foster care.

He hands the company over to Pepper and becomes Peter's legal guardian.

Tony's not good at feelings.

Peter is a depressed teenager (not good at feelings but has a lot of them).

Peter's depression drives a wedge between the two for a few months.

They fall into a pattern of nagging at each other's bad habits (they basically eat and sleep in quantities/frequencies in complete opposite of each other).

Their mutual concern leads to them dragging each other in towards a healthy middle.

(They compromise:

"I'll only sleep for 8 hours if you actually get 8 hours of sleep, you ass", etc)

They spend most of their time together, and halfway through Peter's 16th year, the kid's looking healthier and smiling more.

*

Peter goes to school and hangs out with his friends.

He swims in Tony's pool and works out in Tony's gym a couple days a week.

He still affectionately nags Tony about his habits.

They joke around with each other and share almost every meal.

They watch movies on the penthouse couch.

Sometimes, they fall asleep together.

Most of the time, it's Peter who falls asleep on Tony (head on the man's shoulder at first, and then on his lap, and eventually stretched out on top of him, head on his chest).

Sometimes, after an inventing binge or a rough conversation with Howard and Maria, it's Tony who falls asleep on Peter.

*

For the six months before Peter turns 17, Tony refuses to spoon him.

It could be so easily transformed into something sexual, and Tony doesn't want to put Peter or himself in a bad position.

Tony's worried he might feel the urge to push Peter into something he's not ready for, or that Peter might agree to something because he feels obligated or driven by hormones.

Peter just wants Tony wrapped around him, because Peter's a teenage boy with a giant crush on his older, very hot guardian.

They argue about it for the three months leading up to Peter's seventeenth birthday.

Three weeks before homecoming (three weeks before his birthday), Peter practically begs Tony, says he's fine, he's ready, he wants Tony closer...

...and Tony firmly disagrees.

They fight, and--feeling hurt and embarrassed by the rejection--Peter pulls away.

For a couple of days, they barely speak.

Peter starts asking to stay out after school.

He tells Tony he's hanging out with some friends.

Tony doesn't question it.

He trusts Peter, and...

...and he hopes that maybe Peter will give up the crush on his own, so Tony doesn't have to end it himself.

Two weeks before the dance, Peter asks if Tony will loan him money for his and his date's homecoming tickets.

His date.

His date.

His date.

Tony loans the money immediately and without question.

He shoves the mourning to the back of his mind.

He labels it 'inappropriate', where it is kept company by his fantasies of spooning with Peter.

The night of homecoming, Peter tries to kiss Tony.

Tony stops him.

Peter, hurt and rejected and angry, yells at him:

"If I can't do it with the person I love, what does it matter?

I might as well just sleep with whoever, right?

Maybe if I fuck around, I'll be experienced enough for you!"

Peter goes to the dance.

Tony panics.

Peter loves him.

Peter might go fuck strangers.

Fuck.

Tony's stuck between staying home and letting the chips fall...

...and driving to the school to bring Peter back to the penthouse and Tony's massive bed.

His biggest fear of being with Peter is that he would take Peter's life away.

Peter wouldn't get those first messy fumbles in back seats and under bleachers, with people just as nervous and unskilled as he is.

He wouldn't get to experience those awkward learning moments and memorable dating milestones that Tony had always heard were so important to Growing Up.

Tony didn't get those things.

He had the brains, but for love, he had Howard and Maria Stark: rich and powerful and distant.

He had MIT at 16, and older people who were attracted to him, but didn't give a single real fuck about him or his mental health.

Peter...

Peter is miles ahead of his peers, intellectually.

But he got to have Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

Peter was loved, treated with respect and caring.

He was raised so well that when he went through intense loss, he was able to come out the other side while helping Tony crawl out of his own hole.

He's snarky and intelligent and brave.

Peter was--is--amazing, and Tony loves him.

Tony loves Peter.

God help him, but he does.

Tony doesn't go to the school.

He falls asleep on the couch, watching a movie.

He imagines how it would feel to have Peter's back pressed against his chest.

Close to midnight, Tony wakes up.

He comes online as his arm is lifted and Peter curls up into his side, still wearing the suit he wore to the dance.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispers into the dark.

Peter clings tighter, his fingers twisting harder into Tony's shirt.

Tony wraps his arms around the teen, presses a long kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"I'm so sorry, Pete."

The kid cries into Tony's shirt, and Tony lets him; lets Peter sob himself hoarse and pass out on Tony's chest, Tony rubbing the boy's back and whispering apologies and sweet nothings in a midnight gravel voice.

The next morning, Peter wakes up, showers and brushes his teeth first.

Tony wakes up to the sound of water running and the scent of Peter's apple shampoo filling up the suite.

When Tony's done showering, he finds a fresh pot of coffee and Peter at the kitchen island, drinking tea.

It's 10:30 a.m. on a beautiful morning.

They kiss for the first time.

Tony makes breakfast.

*

A month later, Pepper tells Tony that a man lost his arm at a Stark Industries construction site in New York City, because of another laborer who was drunk on site.

Tony tells Pepper to take care of any and all expenses related to the loss, and requests the man's medical history and physical stats.

He asks that she set up consultations with leading experts in prosthetic technology.

A week later, Tony begins the biggest project he's taken on in a long time.

He's going to make James Buchanan Barnes a new arm.

*

Peter gives him room.

He supports Tony in any way he can, even if it's just to make Tony take breaks or sit down for a meal during long work binges.

Tony falls a little more in love with him.

*

Tony may be miles ahead, but Peter is a trip.

Peter's enthusiasm is infectious, his curiosity a force to be reckoned with; he keeps Tony on his toes.

Physically, they take it glacially slow.

Tony does his best to make sure Peter knows it's not rejection, but out of concern and care.

One of their most difficult conversations is the acknowledgement of Tony's lingering discomfort about the age difference, and his guilt that it hasn't stopped him from getting so close to Peter.

Peter does his best to respect the lines Tony draws in the sand for those first few months.

(But Peter is seventeen and constantly on...

...and Tony's not a saint.

There are many nights where Peter lays back between Tony's legs, his back to Tony's chest and his hand gripping his own cock, Tony doing nothing but trailing fingers up and down Peter's bare thighs, whispering encouragement and compliments and instructions into Peter's ear until he makes himself cum.

With intelligence, curiosity, and a loving partner, comes the beginning of kink exploration.)

*

On Peter's graduation night, he comes home early from the class party.

He and Tony make love for the first time.

Tony's careful, and Peter's happy (so happy), and their nerves are wiped away with quiet laughter and kisses and whispered words of love.

It's perfect.

*

A week later, the first ever StarkTech prosthetic arm is completed.

The pair celebrates with dinner in the penthouse.

They've only half-finished their food when Tony spreads Peter out on the dining room table.

*

Six months later, two months after Peter calls Tony "Daddy" in bed for the first time, and two weeks after Peter's 18th birthday, a Stark Industry employee leaks a photo to the press:

It's a grainy--but clear enough--shot of Tony pulling Peter into a chaste kiss in one of the labs.

Tony and Peter are in Seattle when the news breaks.

Two days later--after hours and hours of debriefing, legal counsel, and prep--Tony and Peter attend a small press conference in Seattle.

They tell select members of the news media that Tony Stark is in a romantic relationship with Peter Parker, the 18 year old that had been the 15 year old of whom Tony had legal guardianship.

They leave the conference to climb into a waiting car and take off towards the coast.

The media explodes.

*

They take turns driving down the scenic western coastline.

Their notoriety forces them to only stop in secluded areas and virtually unknown towns to avoid paparazzi.

It makes for a much more interesting road trip.

Four days after the scandal goes live, Peter and Tony pull up to their destination, the address for which Pepper Potts had provided:

A little AirBnB in northern California, in a town called Harvest Moon.

***

Bucky gets engaged to Steve because he doesn't know what else to do.

*

In childhood, they're inseparable, running around like hooligans, Steve getting into fights and Bucky getting him out.

Bucky adores the scrappy kid, admires Steve's conviction and bravery in the face of insane odds.

When they reach their formative teenage years, Bucky easily acknowledges his crush on his best friend.

(It's much easier than acknowledging how often he still has to clean up a lot of Steve's messes.)

*

They start dating at the end of senior year, the day after prom.

It's sealed by an emotional argument that leads to a confession of feelings and awkward, intense sex in the back seat of Steve's beat up Ford.

Steve isn't out, but Bucky's patient; endlessly so.

Steve doesn't tell his family about his and Bucky's relationship.

Bucky's just happy he's with the punk he's been following his whole life.

*

A year and a half later, Steve cheats on Bucky with Peggy Carter.

Bucky is 19.

*

Steve moves to California for a degree in art and web design.

Bucky stays in New York, splitting his time between construction and helping run his ma's diner.

*

Two years later, Steve starts writing him letters; one a month.

Six months after that, Bucky starts writing back.

Steve apologizes.

Bucky forgives him.

*

For nine years, Bucky lives.

He works, becomes closer to his family--blood and construction crew.

He's the best man at a couple weddings, and he dates around--guys and gals, nothing lasting longer than six months.

Steve writes him every month, like clockwork, and visits New York every so often.

The visits all end the same way:

with a plea for Bucky to move to California that Bucky always declines.

*

The crew Bucky's contracted with gets hired to work on a Stark Industries project.

One of the members is newer, a cousin of one of the lifers.

They give him a chance because...family.

They don't know about the guy's drinking problem.

The guy doesn't think they'll notice if he nips at a flask onsite, or if he slips off to his car to take swigs out of a bottle.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

Bucky's nearby when the drunk worker stumbles into a badly-supported beam, and part of the structure comes down.

*

The alcoholic ends his day in the drunk tank, with a court date pending, and no job.

Bucky ends his in the hospital, without his left arm.

*

Stark Industries agrees to pay all of Bucky's medical bills and any other expenses incurred relating to the loss of his arm.

Bucky quits construction.

Steve comes to New York, stays until doctors declare Bucky ready to leave the hospital.

Again, he asks Bucky to move to California, and slips a ring on Bucky's right ring finger.

Bucky says yes, as long as they can wait a bit to say 'I do'.

*

Six months later, at his and Steve's little two story in the middle of nowhere, he opens the front door to see the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts.

She's professional and warm, and the most efficient person Bucky's ever met.

Pepper tells him that Mr. Stark has finally approved a design for a StarkTech prosthetic, an arm that will function as well as--or better than--his original, and at no cost to Bucky, including the surgery to link the arm directly to Bucky's nervous system.

She passes along apologies from Tony Stark himself, for both the accident and the length of time it took him to reach out to Bucky with this incomparable gift.

Bucky signs the NDA, but he isn't asked to sign a waiver of liability.

When he asks, Ms. Potts smiles the smile of an overworked assistant to an eccentric genius billionaire.

*

A month later, a group of Stark Industries appointed surgeons and scientists, the best in the world, stands around him as he is put under anesthesia.

Bucky wakes up groggy, and with a new arm.

The arm works like a dream.

*

Post-surgical observation lasts two weeks.

On the last day, he signs the discharge forms and Ms. Potts offers congratulations, from herself and Mr. Stark.

She hugs Bucky.

Bucky goes home.

*

Steve seems like he's trying to be supportive.

He's clearly happy for Bucky, but he tells him he's worried that Bucky will want to go back to New York, back into construction.

Bucky assures him that construction is not a part of his life anymore, and he wouldn't just end the engagement because he's got his arm back.

They argue.

Steve is upset at the thought of Bucky leaving him.

He's angry that Bucky isn't asking for more from Stark Industries, while simultaneously being pissed that Stark Industries has something to hang over Bucky's head.

(Bucky decides not to tell Steve about the omitted liability waiver.)

Bucky realizes that part of his own anger is coming from guilt.

Even though he hadn't lied about being done with construction...

...he had thought about leaving.

*

He doesn't.

He shares Steve's bed, and takes care of the things that Steve doesn't:

fixing things, housework, cooking.

When Steve says he wants to offer their guest room up for rent or as an AirBnB listing, Bucky takes that up, too.

He doesn't mind the work; it reminds him a little of helping out at the diner.

The routine gives him something to wake up for, something to take pride in.

*

Steve may have suggested it, but the AirBnB project is Bucky's baby.

They're not insanely busy; they give the space out for a maximum of three nights, and Bucky vets the potential guests so they don't get any questionable people under their roof.

They mostly have one or two-night stays, and only once a week, but it more than supplements Steve's income, enough that Bucky doesn't have to get outside work.

Bucky lets the work fulfill him and distract him from his empty relationship with Steve.

*

Five months after Bucky comes home from surgery, Steve rants as Bucky holds Steve's laptop.

The article on the screen details Stark Industries' latest and greatest scandal:

The owner of Stark Industries has been sleeping with his adopted teenage son.

There are articles everywhere, examining every possible angle.

Bucky reads only from the reputable sources.

He's relieved to read that Peter is 18 years old.

He sees the picture that was leaked--a sneak shot of a gentle, smiling kiss--and the photo taken during the press conference where the pair had publicly announced the relationship.

They look nice together.

*

Steve rants.

Bucky wonders if Peter Parker is okay.

*

Bucky considers reaching out to Pepper Potts, but in the end, he doesn't need to.

Three days after the relationship goes public, Ms. Potts calls Bucky to tell him that Tony and Peter are on their way, and offers to pay for at least a month-long stay.

After the call, Bucky gets on the AirBnB listing and books out the month under his sister's name.

Four days after the scandal breaks, Tony Stark and Peter Parker show up on his doorstep.

***

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

[kerlakierloin]

Days of Pondering. Ch 2 (Snufkin x Moomin Illustrated fic)

Kay-Ray-Kú-Kú-Kó-Kex read part 1 here

"Why does it have no name? This rush of putrid joy."

song link: Múm- Kay-Ray-Kú-Kú-Kó-Kex 

AN: Moomin is like 15 and Snufkin 16 in this fic. Also I'm gonna freestyle the hell out of this work :( I've been in my new job for a year now and I just haven't had time to join a fandom properly. With that I mean i haven't had time to read the books. Job and side projects. That's all I've done.

AO3 LINK HERE

Eyes wide and body tense. Was that a- oh god that is a tongue touching his. Snufkin stayed frozen, not knowing what to do. He had dreamt about this moment, but this was against his will! And now it was becoming reality… But against his will!! Snufkin felt his heart swell up and the small moment felt like minutes, even days…

But as soon as it happened, it was gone. The lone wanderer lying on his back left to recollect his scrambled thoughts. He slowly got up to pick up his hat and stared into the distance watching his best friend who had just… kissed him run off. Yes, what he felt were Moomin’s soft lips on him.

He felt his face heat up suddenly. He didn’t recall The Snorkmaiden and Moomin ever displaying such level of affection. So why him? What made him special? Snufkin’s mind and heart were racing high speeds by the second. He was left alone on the beach and confused for some time.

After managing to return his heartbeat to normal somehow Snufkin felt his body move in autopilot. He fixed his hat on his head, grabbed his backpack and started walking. Getting farther from Moominvalley, and farther from his best friend, dear Moomin.

He had just crossed the bridge where they would meet again in the spring when a gust of wind passed by harshly and small flakes of snow started to pepper the ground. Snufkin held on to his hat so it didn’t fly away. Slowly but surely continuing his walk. He could feel winter’s cold breath against his back. He tried to focus as much as he could on walking. He did not feel like thinking right now. He focused on his steps, he counted them for a good part of the walk. He focused on the different materials and textures he came across. Anything no matter how minor to keep him from thinking about what had happened.

Sun rose yet the day remained mostly cloudy, and the wanderer kept on walking until he could no longer keep moving. He saw a nice rock to sit on, so he put his backpack on the floor, realizing he had reached the border of the snowfall. Where the snow ends and its pretty visible... you could say that the sight was also pretty. “This isn’t something you see every day.” He said to himself enjoying the view. Seeing clearly the division of where he was where no snow fell and the lone distance where his back was facing.

“Such a beautiful sight and it's only the first day, I can’t wait to tell Moomin when I go ba-.” He stopped. He warned himself that he was about to enter territory he didn’t want to deal with. He closed his mouth and eyed his backpack. He sighed and finished his small break, getting up and walking to it, beginning to set up camp. After that he started his fire and walked to the small river on his side of the area.

He was glad to see it hadn’t frozen over just yet, so he decided to fish a bit. Once the sun started setting he added more wood to his fire and prepared some soup, using some small veggies Moominmamma had given him the day before. Once he finished he went to wash his plates. He winced one his skin made contact with the water.

Oh yeah, you’re supposed to be careful around water in winter. He proceeded to wash them anyway trying to ignore the pain. His mind was of course still wired and thinking of a certain white cotton ball. Oh how he missed his warmth. But Snufkin was certain something had just changed between them and he was scared.

Once inside his tent Snufkin changed into his more comfortable sleepwear. He lied down and debated whether he should reroute and skip Moominvalley next spring or come back. He felt cruel just considering it. He knew it would break Moomin's heart. He brushed the thought away knowing that if he gave in to guilt he would not be able to sleep. He was just scratching the surface of his thoughts. But he was too tired to keep worrying about those things. So he decided to leave those decision to his future self.

And so Snufkin dreamt. He dreamt that he was on his way back to Moominvalley. To Moomin’s house. To him. His… home as well. He guessed he could call it that. In his dream he saw himself in third person. He was trailing behind himself, seeing the confidence in each step his dream-self took. He looked around, noticing how with each step dream Snufkin took, snow melted, and flowers bloomed under each step he took and after a brief moment he could hear it. His spring song. His dream self was making his presence known by playing the mouth organ. He knew that would get Moomin's attention once they got close enough.

It was as if he was bringing spring to his dear friend to wake him from his deep slumber. A gift for Moomin. They both walked until reaching the all too familiar house. He felt his heartbeat rise. Could it be? Maybe everything is back to normal. Snufkin thought. Although he realized something felt odd… He never went towards Moomin. Moomin always came out to greet him. He never felt the need to do that himself because it's just the way things were. So why?-

The door slammed open and there he was. Moomin stood in the entrance, his tail wagging excitedly behind him Snufkin noticed. He saw his dream-self and the troll hug in a warm embrace. Snufkin couldn’t help but smile at the sight. And then the troll started nuzzling Snufkin’s face gently with his snout. Snufkin felt as if he was encased in ice at the sight.He took a step back apprehensively. Honestly scared of the display of affection the two figures of his wandering imagination were having. Sure, he's held Moomin's hand before, even hugged the troll as well. But now, it almost seemed that there was a different meaning to those gestures. He didn’t want to look, in part because he felt it wasn’t his place to do so. But he was frozen.

Suddenly, he saw chains slither out form inside the house like snakes. Starting to wrap around his dream-figure. It was odd because he could feel the coldness of the chains even though they were not pressing directly against his own skin. The chains came out and kept wrapping themselves around the other Snufkin, meanwhile Moomin was looking at him adoringly and pleading him to stay. ‘Stay with me Snufkin. Forever and ever… Because I love y-‘

Overwhelmed, Snufkin woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He Took a time to collect his surroundings. He gulped trying to keep the tears sprouting from his eyes from falling. Wiping his face with his pijama’s sleeve. Rubbing it all over trying to feel a sense in reality.

The dream had helped him realize. He wasn’t against loving his best friend. Except Moomin already had The Snorkmaiden so why him!? But he also realized that even though he was here, thousands of steps away. He was dreading getting to this conclusion but he realized… even though he was all the way out here, he had left his heart in Moominvalley.

Snufkin looked around inside the tent for his mug and got out as fast as he could, going to the small stream only to noticed it had already frozen up. He knocked on the cold surface with the bottom half of his mug and managed to break the solid but not thick film of ice that had covered the stream. He collected some water and put it near his fire, opting to start his campfire again, for the water was too cold to drink.

After warming it a bit and waiting for it to cool down again, he chugged the liquid down and wiped his mouth once more with his sleeve… He should probably stop doing that. He went back inside to into his normal clothes. He needed to keep walking since the snow would catch up to him in no time.

While he was getting dressed, Snufkin accidentally pulled on his coat a bit too harshly, making a button pop out. His buttons were special, the kind you couldn’t find in town stores anymore.Purchase aside, he was a being of little to no possession. To Snufkin the very clothes he wore helped him remember all the good times spent his friends. He believed the small button contained many happy memories of him in the valley. He didn’t want to carry it around and risk losing it. He stared at it for a while thinking oh how he wished he had asked Moominmamma for a spare roll of thread.

Snufkin packed his things, the button being stored neatly into a small metal case where he kept needles and other useful small things, and bid farewell to the temporary resting spot and started walking. Feeling at peace yet uneasy how he realized he wouldn’t mind kissing Moomin again. But it was his friend’s expectations and desires to stay what made him scared. But deep down he was happy, he knew he was.

Snufkin kept walking absentmindedly until reaching a small glen, devoid of its usual flowers because of the weather and looked up. The sun had been out when he woke up, but it was gray now. At least he didn’t have to worry getting sunburns in the winter he thought trying to justify walking in the now colder atmosphere. He looked out in the distance and could make out something. A small town. Maybe he could find a roll of thread there. As long as he didn’t feel overwhelmed by its residents, everything should be just fine.

Next Chapter: Beyond Moominvalley 

[winryofresembool]

Love Can Melt the Ice, ch 23 (the Grande Finale)

Summary: I think the title says it all ^ it’s time for the goodbyes ;___;

A/N: This is it. The final chapter before the epilogue. I can’t believe we have finally gotten here. I’ve had a bit of a skitty day but at least I finally managed to finish this so I’m very happy about that. Please, please, review because now that we are at the end, I really want to hear your opinions. I guess that’s all for now. I’m probably gonna repeat this once it’s time for the epilogue, but thank you to everyone who has supported me and this fic through this long journey! Without the lovely comments, I wouldn’t have been motivated to continue. Oh, and special thanks to the amazing @roboticrainboots for the amazing art ♥ 

Now, get ready for a monster chapter (I will post this on ao3 tomorrow!). But make sure to read A Letter to Winry before that if you haven’t, because it has a role in this chapter.

Previous chapters:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 pt 1, pt 2, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Next chapter: coming

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Words: 5700+ (yup.)

Genre: mostly floof.

Warnings: there is one scene where things get p close to M-rated but... there’s nothing explicit imo...

Most of Ed’s team plus Winry and Gracia gathered together to watch team Amestris’ ladies play for bronze. Winry was wearing her green jersey again, earning a cheek kiss from Ed, even though he refused to tell her what the kiss was for. Alphonse, who was sitting next to them, just giggled at his brother’s behavior before turning his attention back to the ice.

The first two periods of the game were even, with team Amestris tied 1 – 1 with team Drachma at the end of the first 40 minutes. Apparently, coach Olivier Armstrong managed to encourage her team in just the right way during the intermission, though, because in the third period the audience got to see a whole new team Amestris.

“Is it just me, or do they look like they’re almost ready to kill?” Winry asked when Rebecca Catalina gave a Drachman forward a particularly powerful tackle. A few moments later, Riza Hawkeye shot the puck from a spot she had never failed to score from, and the Amestrisian side of the audience got a reason to get loud.

“She’s better at that than I am,” Roy gawped at his long time “friend” who coolly fistbumped her teammates after the goal.

“That doesn’t really mean a lot, though, Mustang,” Ed remarked and made everyone laugh. “Isn’t your shooting percentage like… 0,05?”

“Funny how you remember stats like that… but you don’t remember how much I’ve sat in the penalty box because I’ve had to defend you.”

“Now now, everyone cool down a bit!” Hughes yelled over the roaring audience. “Ross is on a breakaway!”

And she was. She had managed to outspeed two Drachmans and was just about to get face to face with the goalie, when someone tripped her. A penalty shot was called, and Maria Ross used the opportunity to her advantage, making the situation 3-1.

“You guys could learn a lot from them,” Gracia teased, and the men around her couldn’t help but agree.

At some point Ed and Winry started wondering why Al was being so quiet, but when they turned to look towards him, they noticed Mei had finally arrived. She and Al were throwing disgustingly sappy looks at each other, something that Ed would probably call “eye sex” when Al wasn’t hearing.

Riza scored one more goal (from the corner of his eye Ed could see Roy’s badly hidden excitement), and team Amestris ended up winning the bronze medal with a 4-1 game. As they got their medals, no one on the ice looked prouder than Olivier Armstrong, and Ed guessed she would soon start sending smug messages from their celebrations to Roy. They had a weird rivalry going on, having known each other since they were kids. Ever since having to finish her playing career early because of an injury, Olivier had acted bitterly towards Roy and used every opportunity she could to brag him about her coaching achievements.

Roy didn’t care about Olivier’s expressions, though, because his and Riza’s eyes met and his expression turned softer than Ed ever remembered seeing.

“Could you be any more obvious?” Ed asked with annoyance, but then a familiar arm wrapped around his, making Ed forget all about the googly eyes around him.

…

Ed tried to talk himself out of the ending ceremony of the Olympics, because having played only one game and having to walk on the crutches, he thought he would feel out of place there. However, his teammates kept insisting, and when the goalie Armstrong offered to carry him on his back at the stadium, he knew he was fighting a lost battle.

Since it was a known fact that these were Gracia’s last Olympics, she got the honor of carrying the flag of Amestris as one of the most successful figure skaters the country had had so far. Her fiancé was next to her the whole time, gesturing towards her every time a camera went past. Winry, who also walked near her, glanced at Ed on Alex Louis Armstrong’s shoulders every once in a while. He looked a bit embarrassed but was still smiling and waving at the audience just like everyone else in their group. Winry knew he was actually happy to be able to participate and grinned at him when she noticed he was watching her.

A bit later, they were sitting in the stands next to each other, and when the fire on the giant torch went out, and the final fireworks formed colorful shapes above, Ed said: “Can’t believe it’s over.”

“Yeah,” Winry agreed. “But let’s not be sad that it’s over, let’s be happy it happened, right?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ed looked briefly down and saw Winry rubbing the knuckles of his real hand through the glove. Something warm that he couldn’t describe started bubbling in his stomach, making him happy he was there in that moment.

…

”Hey, granny!” Winry answered her phone at the airport. It was a day after the ending ceremony, and everyone had packed their things and left the hotel after the breakfast to start their trip back home.

”Hey, dear.” Pinako Rockbell greeted her granddaughter. “Are you on your way home yet?”

“We just arrived at the airport. Uh, that’s sort of why I’m calling.”

“Oh.”

“You see…” Winry started a bit hesitantly, “we get back to Central City quite late and there aren’t any trains leaving to Rush Valley until tomorrow…”

“And? Are you going to stay at the hotel for the night?” Pinako asked.

“Actually… I was going to stay at Ed’s place. If that’s OK with you.”

Pinako had to admit she still saw Winry as her little girl, but it was a fact that she was already 18 and way smarter than Pinako had been at Winry’s age. So in a way, it would be hypocritical of her to deny her this.

“Ed’s? So, are you two a couple now?” Pinako asked curiously.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Winry still blushed when she stopped to consider the fact that she really had a boyfriend now.

“Oh. I hope that runt is treating you well,” Pinako stated coolly.

“He is! I mean, he’s nothing but respectful…” Winry reassured her.

“Good. Well, you are an adult now so you have to make your own decisions. But remember to be careful. And use protection!”

Winry’s eyes widened. “Granny! Just because I’m staying a night there doesn’t mean… ugh… Sleeping is all we are planning to do. He’s recovering from a pretty bad injury.”

“I believe you,” Pinako said. Winry thought she could hear a bit of laughter in her voice. “Somehow, I still have a feeling that’s not the only reason why you are calling. You wouldn’t listen to your old granny even if I had said no. So, what’s on your mind?”

“Granny… I think I’ve made my decision about the next step in my career. But I want to hear your opinion before telling anyone else…”

“Go ahead, tell me.”

The two women spent a good while chatting about Winry’s plans before finishing the call. When Winry joined the others in the waiting area, Ed asked what Pinako had said.

“She called you a runt,” Winry snickered, loving to tease her boyfriend.

“She what?!” Ed looked mortified.

“Oh relax.” Winry waved it off. “She didn’t mean it like that. In fact, I think she approves of us. At least she allows me to stay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like we…” Ed stammered.

“I know, Ed.” Winry sighed. “Anyway, I’m quite excited to see where you live. Although… I bet you don’t remember to clean and have sweaty clothes all over the floor.”

“Oh? I’ll prove you wrong then.” Ed smiled at his girlfriend mischievously and grabbed her from her shoulder, so she had to face him. Before he could pull her closer, though, Winry stopped him.

“Ed… There are cameras everywhere. Are you sure you want to do this?”

He looked around quickly, noticing that she was right. Clearly their group drew a lot of attention, with two Olympic figure skater medalists and two well known hockey player siblings in it. Sighing, he admitted: “Fine. Let’s save it for later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Winry ruffled his hair and turned her head to see what Al and Mei were doing. Clearly, they didn’t have any problems showing public display of affection. It looked like they had known each other much longer than the 5 days they had actually spent together. Mei was hugging Al tightly, and it wasn’t until then that it properly hit Winry that once Mei would leave to her own flight, they probably wouldn’t see each other in months. She and Ed had it easy compared to those two; at least they lived in the same country.

“So, how is it going with you two?” Ed asked when Al returned from the gate behind which Mei had disappeared. “Plans to move to Xing yet?”

“C’mon, brother, we haven’t known each other that long yet. I did promise to visit her in the summer, though. It’s not that far anymore… After that, who knows. She is from a wealthy family that is expecting her to make a name for herself… it’s not that simple for her to move to Amestris. Not that I’ve seriously considered asking her that yet,” Al blushed slightly. “It’s way too early. But I guess the summer will tell a lot…”

“I can’t wait to see dad’s expression when you just one day announce you’re going to move to Xing,” Ed teased. “Make sure to tell him when I’m there too.”

“Don’t be mean, brother. It might bite you back one day.”

“Har har. Anyway, we should go,” Ed nodded towards the gate where people had already started gathering to show their passports and tickets.

 …

“So, this is where you live?”

“Yup.”

Winry looked around with mild surprise. She didn’t know what she had expected. A mansion? A penthouse in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in Central? Wasn’t that what most rich hockey players bought? She wasn’t stupid, she knew Ed’s salary had at least one 0 more than hers, because unfortunately female athletes still didn’t receive the appreciation they deserved. But when she stepped into Ed’s apartment, it was almost like she had come back to Resembool (if you ignored the view from the window); it was surprisingly modest, with only the “necessary” furniture such as a small wooden dinner table with a couple of matching chairs and a black leather couch for two in front of a TV and a video game set. The bed in the bedroom was thankfully big enough for two to sleep, Winry noted happily. The cover on it wasn’t the most charming, though; it was black and had skulls printed on it.

“Where have you gotten that from?” Winry pointed at it, looking quite amused.

“Do I sense a Judgey McJudge raising her head?” Ed set his hands on his hips and tilted his head a bit. “Anyway, I think I got it when I first moved away from home but it’s been a few years so I don’t remember which store it was anymore. Why? Do you want to buy one too?”

“Nah, just wondering which store I should bribe to never sell anything to you again.” Winry retorted and stuck her tongue out.

“Is this it?” Ed pretended to be shocked. “Our first real fight as a couple, over my bed covers? I guess it was fun while it lasted.”

Winry pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such a big baby. Keep that thing if you want, but please let me bring my own pillowcase and duvet cover here so I won’t have to see nightmares.”

“Y-you’re already considering bringing your stuff here?” Ed asked, this time actually surprised.

“We agreed to be a couple, didn’t we?” Winry asked pointedly. “Couples visit each other sometimes. So yeah, I’m just meaning my visits. I’m not planning to move here any time soon. I have my career and friends in Rush Valley.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” Winry softened, covering his cheek with her warm hand. “I know you don’t just magically get over your fear of commitment even if we did agree to do this. I… should also be better at remembering to not push it.”

“You’re pretty wonderful,” Ed gave her a gentle smile, very different from his usual one that went from ear to ear and often implied mischief.

“Thanks. I’m trying my best,” Winry said happily and continued taking in the rest of Ed’s apartment.

“I have to say, I’m surprised it’s this clean here. I expected a huge mess. You know, based on your hotel room and stuff.”

“Nah, it’s only because Al was staying here before the Olympics. Don’t get too used to this.”

“I’ll try to remember to thank him the next time we see him,” Winry noted. “Hey, is it OK if I use the shower? I’m feeling quite gross after that flight.”

“Yeah, go ahead. There are clean towels in that closet there if you need any.” Ed showed her the right door.

“Thanks,” Winry said before leaving her stuff in Ed’s room, grapping a towel and disappearing from his view.

Ed remembered the similar situation from a good week ago, when he and Winry had shared their first night together. Back then his thoughts had immediately gone to the dirty track, and he had secretly wished his leg wasn’t in a cast. But something had changed in such a short time. He understood now that what he felt towards Winry wasn’t purely physical attraction anymore. He respected her, admired her skills and personality and wanted her to be happy. Preferably with him, of course.

So while he still blushed fiercely at the thought of his naked girlfriend in the shower, he could focus on the more respectable details: the content smile on her face as the warm water eased the stiffness of her muscles after a long flight, the way she hummed happily one of her favorite songs while she rinsed off the soap (not that he’d admit ever hearing her humming).

Ed started taking in his surroundings, and something caught his eyes: a picture of his family, all together before his mother had fallen ill. For a long while Ed had hated that picture because it reminded him of what he could never have, what he so deeply wanted; a full family. But suddenly his parents’ looks towards each other caught his attention; their smiles told him they must have loved each other a lot. Briefly, he wondered if he and Winry could achieve that…

Love was something Ed understood only vaguely. Apparently, when you’re in love, your brain produces certain chemicals that makes you act like an idiot (or that’s what it sounded like in Ed’s opinion). Thinking back to his recent behavior, he certainly had acted quite weirdly (even more than usual, Al’s voice said in his head). He was blushing and stuttering and sometimes even sweating for no good reason, and he wanted to do things he had never wanted to do before (simply kissing had felt a bit absurd in his head). In Ed’s opinion, it was against all the chemistry rules he had learned so far. How could simply being with another person make your brain go drugged? But now that he was falling into that “trap”, he supposed not every reaction had to make sense. If being with Winry made him feel this happy, then to hell with equivalent exchange.

Was he ready to use the big and scary L-word yet? He was worried he would freak out both her and himself if he said it out loud (after all, it had only been 3 weeks since they were reunited), but he wished his actions were clear enough that she knew how he felt even without saying it. Winry had already been honest about her feelings and he felt he owed her for it…  

Suddenly Ed remembered his letter. After Winry had asked for the break before her competition, Ed had decided to write down some of his thoughts to clear his mind, and wrote a letter for Winry that he however had never intended to give her. But with them leaving to their separate ways tomorrow, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. He hopped to his suitcase that was yet to be unpacked and found the slightly worn piece of paper from one of its pockets. He added a couple of lines at the end of the letter before he heard the shower turning off, making him push the paper into his pocket. Soon Winry stepped out with only a towel around her, a smaller one around her wet hair. She sneaked behind Ed and wrapped her arms around his torso before leaning her head against his shoulder blade.

“That felt nice,” she mumbled. “You should probably take a shower too, though… You smell like sweat.” She let go of Ed and started drying her hair with the towel.

“Hey, it’s just my masculine scent!” Ed tried to protest but pulled his bandage protector and a folding shower chair that he had gotten from Drachma from his luggage and focused on getting the protector on. When he got up, he noticed Winry was sporting a silk robe she had gotten from Xing, only underwear under it. He may he already seen her nearly naked, but that didn’t stop his mouth from going dry as the robe didn’t really leave too much room for his imagination.

“You’re staring,” Winry pointed out suddenly, not knowing how she should react to the fact that her form seemed to cause quite some interest in her partner.

“Can you blame me? You are hot as… OK, let me rephrase that: I am one lucky bastard to have a girlfriend like you.”

“You hockey players are so cheesy,” Winry said as she ran a finger on his cheek briefly. From her expression, though, Ed read that she was actually quite pleased by the compliment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’mma take that shower now.”  He hopped into the bathroom with the chair in his hand.

Once he came out clean and refreshed some minutes later, he found Winry watching the picture of his family curiously.

“Why are you looking at it?” he asked.

“I’m just… trying to remember what it was like when we both still lived in Resembool,” Winry answered dreamily. “Do I remember correctly that you used to walk with stilts a lot? Because I was nagging about you being shorter than me.”

“I was not shorter than you!” Ed protested immediately.

“You were too!”

“Was not!”

“OK, let’s finish this before it stops being fun. I also remember your mum baking a lot of delicious pies, and my favorite part of hanging out at your house was always when she called us to get inside to taste them.”

“Yeah… it was nice,” Ed admitted, although there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

Winry sensed the change in his energy right away. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about… I mean, it must be super painful to you… I should know.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry because I sometimes forget how much you have gone through too because you are so positive and helpful and energetic most of the time.”

“I… I don’t know how I do it sometimes. Maybe I’ve gotten good at putting on a smile even when I hurt. But I’m lucky to have such supportive people around me. It’s you guys who keep me going.”

She turned embrace him and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. Ed’s face heated again when he felt the silk against his bare skin and remembered she was wearing very little under it. He had to take the situation in control before something else would happen, so he broke the hug and tried to change the topic.

“So… Would you like to see more photos? I have some from our old house. Haven’t really looked at them since we moved out, but… who knows? Maybe you are in some of them too?”

“Are you OK with that, though?” Winry asked, trying to read his expression. What if the photos triggered some bad memories in him?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Maybe it’s time for me to face the past…”

“In that case, we can do it,” Winry accepted and soon Ed pulled a photo album from one of the drawers.

They sat down on the couch and started flipping through the pages. On one of the first pages, there was a picture from Ed’s fourth birthday party, and Ed recognized a familiar blonde-haired girl among the guests.

“That’s you! I can’t believe I didn’t remember…”

“You didn’t remember me when we first met at the Olympics, right? Well, we were really small back then…”

“True… Woah, look at this! Did you… did you just throw that piece of cake on my face? What did I do to deserve that?” Ed asked, faking offended.

“You were probably the same brat as usual…” Winry said with amusement. “We had played the donkey’s tail game and you were bragging because you managed to get the tail closest to its rightful spot… because you peeked. I couldn’t accept that.”

“Sounds like something I would do,” Ed laughed and turned the page. Suddenly he exhaled sharply, and Winry didn’t have to look at the photo too long to understand why. In it, Ed was around 15 years old, and he was smiling widely at a little girl playing with her big white dog. Winry guessed Al must have taken that pic when visiting Ed, because she doubted Ed would have saved anything that Tucker took.

“That’s her, right?” Winry asked, and instinctively took Ed’s hand into hers, to comfort him.

“Yeah, she is…”

“If you want to… I would like to know more about her. Some happy memories?” Winry thought that maybe remembering the happy times could help Ed to get over the guilt he still seemed to carry.

“Well…” Ed seemed to consider it for a moment. “When it was her 4th birthday, her biggest wish was to get a birthday cake. With a bastard father like that, and mother gone, it was no wonder she hadn’t ever gotten to eat birthday cake before that. Since I had no games that day, I had plenty of time in my hands and decided to make her wish come true. Yeah, you probably guessed right that I hadn’t ever baked before that. But I decided to take it like a chemical experiment, and weirdly enough, it became edible. When Nina saw the cake, her expression… it was the happiest I had ever seen on her face. She came to me, hugged me and said: “Thank you, big brother.” It was the first time she called me that. This picture was taken that day, Al came to help us eat the cake too and he had a camera with him. I didn’t expect that picture to… I mean, Al must have put it there.” He continued to stare at the living room wall with a blank expression.

“That was very sweet of you. You look happy in that photo,” Winry noted calmly to drag Ed from his thoughts. “You must have really cared about her a lot…”

“Yeah… Ugh, dammit!” He slammed his fist on the couch suddenly. “Even now when I see this… it makes me so fucking angry… It makes me wish there was something I could do, but…”

“Hey, what if I told you maybe there IS something you can do for her?” Ed threw Winry a suspicious look, so she continued: “I mean, I know they both are long gone, but… I’ve been thinking… we can still help to prevent other kids from suffering the same kind of fate.”

“How?” Ed asked curiously.

“Well, I was thinking of giving some of my prize money to this organization that helps kids of abusive parents… They search for kids who might be in need of help, offer therapy and just talking company, a safe place to be… and so on… What do you think?”

“I think that sounds amazing… So, can I ask you how much exactly you are planning to give away?”

“Well…” she blushed. “Most of it… I mean, it’s not like I need…”

That was all she managed to say before he crashed his lips against hers. This kiss was more passionate than any of the ones they had shared before that, stirring a brand-new feeling inside them. At some point the album fell on the floor because the couple’s attention was elsewhere. They leaned against the arm of the couch, Winry sitting between Ed’s legs trying to avoid touching the cast, her upper body pressed against his. As Ed deepened the kiss, his hands started traveling on her robe, going from the waist towards her chest. Before reaching her breasts, he stopped to meet her gaze.

“Yes, Ed, you can touch them,” Winry confirmed even though Ed hadn’t voiced the question. She raised herself from her spot to give him a better access.

At first he just felt them through the fabric, but the small gasp Winry made encouraged him to inch his fingers under the garment. He seemed a little too proud of himself when he noticed how much Winry seemed to enjoy the automail hand, but suddenly he stopped and put his hands down.

“Not this chivalry again,” Winry sighed. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then how about you let me take the charge? We don’t have to go all the way, but a little exploration won’t hurt, right?”

The eagerness from before returned to Ed’s face. “You’re right.”

Winry stood up from the couch and offered her hand to him. “Should we go to continue in your bedroom? This couch is kinda small and uncomfy…”

Ed agreed, letting her help him up. She gave him his crutches, and he hopped into the bedroom after her.

They didn’t sleep for quite a while.

…

The next day, Winry, Ed, Paninya and Rosé all gathered to the Central Station, where the train to Rush Valley was waiting for the figure skaters. Ed was planning to travel to Resembool once he had gotten his leg rechecked at the Central hospital. Paninya and Rosé were already looking forward to the next Grand Prix that would be held in North City, Amestris in a few weeks and they wondered if Garfiel would give them any time to recover from the jet lag before they would be forced to return to the ice. Winry just shook her head at their attitude; while she admitted she was pretty tired too (the reason for which was probably something entirely different than jet lag, though. She blushed as remembered what had happened last night. They hadn’t gone “all the way”, but their physical relationship had still taken a step forward), she was also excited to return back to the regular life, with the familiar people and tasks around her.

Suddenly, she felt Ed tap a finger against her arm and saw him nod to the side, trying to tell her he wanted to say something without the others listening.

However, the words seemed to have a hard time coming out. Ed just stared at his feet for a long while, so Winry finally decided to break the silence:

“I know I’m not your mechanic yet but remember to take care of your arm! It frustrates me to no end when people don’t…”

“Automail geek… just listen to what I have to say, OK?”

“Ugh, Ed, I’m listening the whole time, it’s you who doesn’t say what’s on your mind…”

Ed shifted in his spot uncomfortably. “You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“When have I ever done that?” Winry asked sarcastically.

“I wrote you a letter,” Ed pushed an envelope into her hand, ignoring her question. “I didn’t know if I should give it to you or not, but… I think it might open my mindset during… this all… a bit. I wrote it before your competition. But I also added something new into it.”

“Oh… thank you…” Winry started opening the letter, but Ed stopped her.

“No, not now. On the train. Or whenever you have a peaceful moment.” Ed glanced at Winry’s two friends briefly. They had started gossiping about Garfiel’s new boyfriend and if Ed had to guess, that chatting wouldn’t end in quite a while.

“OK. Will do.” Winry put the letter into her bag , wondering what exactly Ed told in that letter that he couldn’t say aloud…

It was quiet again for a while. Suddenly Winry realized she hadn’t told Ed about her plan yet.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Hmm?”

“My parents, they always put helping other people ahead of anything else. I want to do the same. That’s why I’m thinking I’m taking sort of a break from figure skating once this season is finished.”

“What? But I thought you love skating?” Ed asked with disbelief.

“I do!”

“What about all those people who come to see figure skating shows because they want to see you?”

“Just because I want to have a break from competing, doesn’t mean I’ll completely stop skating,” Winry pointed out. “No, I’ll still make sure to stay fit, and if someone asks me to take part in their exhibition, I might do it if it fits my schedule. There’s also a good chance I will continue competing after that year is over, only time will tell. But after hearing your story, I feel I want to do something more than just performing. I want to learn to make the best automail there is, to help the people who need them to smile again. Besides… Since I won’t have to travel that much… Maybe I can visit Central City more often.”

“I won’t complain about that.” Ed grinned.

“So… what do you think of my plan?” Winry asked cautiously.

“I think if that’s what you want to do, then I think it’s great!” Ed reassured her.

“Thank you.” Winry gave him a relieved smile.

“Now that we are on the topic… I have some plans too.” Ed noted suddenly.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

Ed started explaining his plan, and Winry had to brush a few tears away when she understood what the plan meant for him.

“So… will you be a part of it?” Ed asked finally.

“Gladly,” she answered before burying her face into his collar, smelling the earthy scent that she would sure miss while they were apart from each other.

It was so comfortable in that spot that Winry didn’t want to move for a while, until she heard Paninya and Rosé talking about the train leaving soon. She disentangled herself from Ed and took a few steps back so she could look at him in the eyes.

“I guess this is it…”

“I guess so…”

“Uh… you know… I had an amazing time at the Olympics… lots of it thanks to you… I know your tournament was a…”

“Disaster,” Ed helped. “No need to deny it.”

“But I selfishly hope I managed to make you feel a bit better.”

“You did. More than you know. And you taught me something important. I explain it in that letter.”

“Ok,” Winry said quietly, on the verge of tears again. “I’ll… I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But hey, didn’t someone say phones exist? I think I managed to figure out how to use it… Maybe.” Ed gave her a crooked grin, trying to comfort her.

“Idiot.”

That was all that was said before Winry closed the space between them again and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It was entirely different from the kiss the previous night, which had been needy and passionate. Instead, with the kiss she was trying to tell him how happy she was to have met him. With the way he reciprocated, she realized he was probably trying to tell her the same thing. When she tried to pull away, he grabbed her arm, making her stop in her spot.

“Thanks. For everything. Let’s not say goodbye, let’s say ‘I’ll see you soon’ instead.”

“That does sound better,” Winry agreed and started fiddling with her bag to find her wallet. When she finally found it, she let out a small yelp.

“What’s wrong?” Ed asked.

“I think… I think I forgot to get cash before coming here… I was so sure I had some… How will I get my ticket now? They only accept cash…”

“I may have some…” Ed said slyly as he withdrew his wallet from his pocket. “But you will have to pay me back one day. Actually, I’m gonna make you buy me a ticket to Rush Valley at some point.”

“Huh?” Winry stared at him with confusion for a moment before she realized it was his way to promise her he’d visit her soon enough. “Oh! Right. You and your equivalent exchange…” she pretended to be annoyed as she accepted the money, even though she was happy to buy him that ticket. “Thank you. I really need to go now, though, so… see you soon.” She gave him one last kiss on his cheek before climbing into the train and turning to wave at him.

“See you!”

Ed was already about to leave the platform when he saw Winry looking at him from the window, and some weird urge made him yell: “Don’t you forget that promise! And read that letter!”

Winry just waved at him until the train started moving, and soon she didn’t see him again. She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and started reading.

“… I could continue longer, but Al is waiting, so I should stop writing. Just know that somehow, you have managed to break my shell even though I’ve tried to rebuild it so hard. But I’m not gonna do that anymore. It’s still too early, and besides, you need to focus on your competition, but one day, I hope I’ll be able to be brave enough to tell you this: I’m falling for you too.

Edited 23.3.: I realized I never said those words back to you, so here we go. You deserve them. And more.

To quote Mr. Magpie: “It’s funny how sometimes you have to fly away, so you can find your real home.” I think you know what I mean there.”

Winry pulled her phone from her bag quickly, and typed:

“I do know.

♥”

A/N: Here we are! What is Ed’s plan though? Find out in the epilogue!

[occasionalfics]

into you // p. 14

main masterlist | steve masterlist | taglist | ko-fi | playlist | ao3 | p. 13 | p. 15

Summary: Just as Steve begins to wonder why he’s been sent on a mission well below his pay grade, a mysterious, unscented woman steps in and does his job for him. He’s immediately drawn into her allure, and he needs to know who she is, why she’s on a mission to take out some of the city’s most powerful alphas, and why he can’t get her off his mind.

A/N: I feel like there’s a pattern of villains in my fics just kind of making threats and not actually causing harm and like maybe I’m just too soft for that? Does anyone mind?

Also I 100% forgot to post this yesterday? Maybe that means you’ll get ch 15 sooner than you expected? We’ll see. But we’re almost done so...just bear with me, even though I keep breaking your hearts!

Warnings: Violence, blood (a little bit), reader’s in terrible shape and Steve is ALL OVER the place with his self-loathing. So that’s cool.

Word: 3,878

“Man, you have got to stop this fascination you have with Nazi prisoners,” Tony says as they board the quinjet. Steve knows it’s a misguided joke, just like most of his “jokes” about Bucky, but something about it really sticks at Steve.

All he does is glare and move to the far back corner of the jet.

It doesn’t help that his distress call from the night before bore no fruit. He was right in that he only got a few hours of sleep before the team was ready to head out, but the fact that he woke up with nothing useful form (Y/N) only soured his mood.

He’s not mad at her. He can’t blame her at all. He is genuinely infuriated with himself, might never come back from that, knows how dramatic he’s being and doesn’t give a flying fuck.

As Sam takes a seat next to him, he circles back to wondering what the hell Ophelia could want. If she’s not with Hydra anymore, then she’s running this illegal operation of hitmen herself, for her own reasons. He doesn’t want to know what those reasons are, but he knows he needs to find out.

If he’s ever going to feel like a competent alpha again, if he’s ever going to feel confident in his protection of (Y/N), he has to know what he’s going up against, how he can take it down.

--

Viper’s got herself quite a nice office building. Steve can’t fathom how she gets actual murder business done in a pristine, glass-covered, asymmetric building like this. But he doesn’t really care; he climbs the stairs two at a time, listening to Sam’s whisper-screams in his comm because he’s going too fast.

If he goes in without any backup, he could die. He may as well have come alone.

So Steve slows, despite every alpha instinct in him telling him to get in there - wherever there is - and save (Y/N).

He hits the sixth floor before he picks up on her scent. Not her smell. Her scent. Ocean and jasmine, mixed in perfect harmony, pulling him along up another flight and another, getting stronger the higher up he goes. He’s sure everyone else picks up on the scent too, but he’s the only one that really knows its her.

Even though she’d spent more than a week in the tower with no suppressants in her system, none of them know it’s her. Tony’s craftsmanship made sure that no lingering scents could follow anyone they weren’t meant to follow. Every apartment has its own air conditioning and filtration system on top of a soundproof setting, because the last thing the tower needs is one heat setting off every heat.

So Steve pushes his finger into his ear and says, loudly, “She’s here. Probably eleventh or twelfth floor.”

His teammates caution him to go slowly, proceed with caution, wait for one of them god damn it! But he doesn’t. Can’t actually hear them through the single-minded haze in his brain. All he can see is the hurt look on (Y/N)’s face when he told her to get out of his apartment, the cut over her eyebrow from the night before. All he can hear is the frantic speeding of her heart as she looks him in the eye and cowers, because he’d never used his power as an alpha over her before that.

He continues to ignore the team as he steps up onto the twelfth floor landing, where the scent is strongest, and knows just how much he hates himself. Not because of some romantic idea that he’s hurt the woman he loves and can somehow make it better, but that he’s hurt her for no reason at all. And that she’s in danger because he hurt her, because she had nowhere else to go but right into the arms of the Viper.

Viper, who smells of lemongrass and eucalyptus, who stinks up the whole floor to the point that Steve has to fight his own brain to focus on seaspray and jasmine.

He takes a deep breathe, kicks in the door to the twelfth floor, and marches into an empty hallway. Steve pauses, listening closely down both ends of the corridor, but there is nothing. He pulls the comm out of his ear, lets it hang around his neck, and focuses.

Very faintly, if he closes his eyes, there’s a small thumping somewhere. It’s slow and steady, and it turns his blood cold. It’s too slow.

Above it, the only sound is a second heartbeat, stronger and more sinister in its pattern. He hates how overpowering she is, how clearly she displays her alpha traits. He hates it most of all because all he wants is to find (Y/N), to save her - he doesn’t care what the fuck happens to Viper.

That’s new. He’s always been focused on taking out the threat, not ignoring it.

“Jesus, Rogers,” Sam whispers, breath heavy as he steps over the remnants of the doorway behind Steve. “Could you listen to us maybe just this once?”

Steve hushes Sam, giving him a strict glare, then reminds himself that he’s not angry with Sam. He forces his face to relax and gestures for Sam to follow him as he heads down the hallway to his right. He puts the comm back in his ear, presses in, and tells Tony and Nat, “When you get up here, go left.”

Sam follows him, neither saying anything while Steve tries to listen for that slow, steady heartbeat. It doesn’t seem to get fainter, nor does it get stronger. He wonders if the floor is set up in a circle, if the hallway he’s going down will only lead him back to the stairwell without him having to turn around.

But then, after a few minutes of slow, careful surveillance, the scents pick up. Sam notices them too, shivering behind Steve for a reason he won’t ask about until they’re out of this building. Steve only turns back to him to motion that he’ll go first, as if he hasn’t been doing so already.

He follows the scents as it brings him and Sam down a separate hallway, in another direction. He hears Sam two-fold tell the others where they’ve gone, then Tony responding with, “Yeah, I’ve got a heat signature on the both of you. Now stop talking and find the girl!”

Steve can almost feel Sam roll his eyes.

He listens to Tony without any quips back, surprisingly. He should’ve known Tony’s keeping an eye on anyone ahead of him - if there’s one thing Steve can give credit to Tony for, it’s that he’s always tried to make sure the team stayed alive.

Steve slows as he and Sam follow the curve of this hallway. Gets up on his tiptoes and creeps, because the heartbeat is louder now. Still slow, still faint in its repetition, but clearer in its closeness. And the scents are overwhelming - Steve has to force himself to shut his nose and follow the heartbeat so that he won’t fall victim to his own instincts.

They turn once more at the end of the hallway and face a glass-walled office.

And there she is. There they both are.

Viper is at the head of a long conference table, facing the other end of the table. She swivels in her chair, but never looks out to Steve and Sam. Her heels are so sharp, Steve wonders how she’s able to walk on them, even though she’s still sitting.

(Y/N) faces the hallway, her head hanging over the table. She’s tied to her seat with rope - thick rounds of it hold her in place as she notices Steve for the first time. She looks up, eyes wide and bloodshot; her skin is sallow and covered in a sweaty sheen. The cut over her eyebrow has scabbed over, but it still unsettles him. He sees her lips form his name through the glass, hears her heartbeat speed up.

He’s in the room before he can think twice about it. Viper laughs a low, obnoxious chuckle, but it doesn’t draw his attention. Steve takes a step toward (Y/N) as if he’s going to walk out of the office with her without causing trouble, as if Viper...Ophelia isn’t there at all.

“Oh, I wouldn’t touch her if I were you,” she calls in a heavy Slavic accent.

Despite his nature, despite his desperate need to touch (Y/N), he listens. Because the last thing he wants is to put her in any more danger.

“Why’s that, Greeny?” Sam asks. Steve’s grateful he has someone there to speak for him when his brain is shouting to get (Y/N) out, get her to safety, apologize and beg for her forgiveness until she deems him worthy of it.

He glances at Viper out of the corner of his vision and realizes her suit is green. And shiny, like scales.

Like a Viper.

“A depraved little omega, in the hands of an enhanced, hyper-masculine alpha?” She sits forward in her seat, elbows on the table as she puts her chin on her knuckles. “You’ll only do her more harm than good.”

Steve is far enough away that, normally, he shouldn’t be able to hear (Y/N)’s breathing. Especially if he’s not focusing on it.

But he can. Everything about her is labored, fighting to stay awake and alive and in control of herself. He doesn’t have to look back at Viper to know that depraved means off her suppressants, and that without a heat to fall into, she really is going through withdrawals. And if Dr. Helen Cho had been concerned with the dose (Y/N) was on…

A shudder runs through him, then through (Y/N), like she can feel what’s happening inside his body. Maybe she can. He growls at the thought.

“What do you want?” he asks, feeling pathetic even as he says it. Even with as much alpha power as he can put behind the words, his command does nothing to her.

Sometimes he’s noticed that other alphas cower at the sight of him because he’s Captain America, not because he’s an alpha. This is one of those times, only instead of cowering, Viper shakes her head in defiance.

She stands from the table, walks over to (Y/N) and runs a single finger across her arched shoulders. Steve growls, low and deep in his chest, his body refusing to give up the fight, refusing to back down.

“I thought it was quite clear, Captain,” she says, coming closer to Steve and Sam, the latter of whom has backed toward the door.

Steve wonders where the hell Nat and Tony are. They couldn’t have been that far behind him and Sam.

But he can see in Viper’s eyes - her vertically slit pupils, again, like a Viper - a sprig of mischief.

“I want you.” She dares to reach a manicured hands - green fingernails - out to Steve’s face, but he’s fast. He catches her palm, twists her arm, and holds her against him, his chest to her back. She laughs as if she’s expected this. “You’re so predictable,” she roars, not even bothering to fight back.

He lets out another growl, this one so powerful that (Y/N) whimpers at the table. The sound cuts off in Steve’s throat, and when he looks at her, she casts her eyes as far from him as she can get.

She’s scared of him, he knows. And it breaks him just a little.

“You lured me here just to torture me?” he asks Viper, tightening his grip on her arm.

“Oh, no,” she says, fake-innocence on her tongue. “I lured you here to kill you, Steven Rogers.” She wiggles in his grasp just to rub it in.

His blood boils under his skin, burning as anger fills him. If Viper’s not careful, he’ll do something he regrets.

It occurs to him that maybe that’s what she expects.

Something sharp bites into the skin of his wrist - just the little bit between his sleeve and his glove, just where Viper can reach. The sting is enough to let out the steam from his skin, loosen his grip on her, and bring him to his knees. It takes over his entire system, far too quickly for his liking. He bends in on himself, maybe yelling out in pain, maybe doing nothing but shutting his eyes, gripping his wrist with the opposite hand, and holding both to his stomach.

There isn’t much blood. The second he forces his eyes open, Steve can see little drops, but no gushing. She hasn’t hit a vein or anything - so, he wonders, why does it hurt so fucking much?! He has no idea what’s happening around him. His ears are ringing and his mind is racing and his whole body is inflamed in pain and heat, but he still manages to pull his arm out to examine his wrist.

She’s barely scratched his skin, but the mark is red and irritated already. A little line of blood drips onto the floor below him, but it’s slowing, the wound healing itself already. Not closing, just clotting.

A scream that shatters all the thoughts and feelings in him stills the room. He takes in a deep breath and looks up to see Viper, across the room with (Y/N)’s hair in one hand, the other wrapped around the chair and her torso. She’s brought the whole thing over with her to the window, has the chair tipped back toward the glass, and that same easy, teasing smile on her face.

“Tell your flightless friend to put his weapon down, Captain,” she says. “Or your little omega meets the concrete, twelve stories away.”

He winces as he sits up enough to look at Sam over his shoulder. He’s got a glock pointed at the women, and it takes everything in Steve to nod, a Do as she says, please gesture that he knows Sam won’t miss. Knows doubly that Sam won’t like it, either.

Slowly, hesitantly, Sam puts the gun down but not away. Just at his side. Just in case.

Just as slowly, Steve forces himself up onto his knees. He uses the edge of the conference table to push up, nearly turning the table over before he gives up on it. Sam catches him - barely - and helps him onto his feet, though he can’t force himself to stand any further than hunching forward.

Viper puts the chair down on all four legs, but she doesn’t let go. (Y/N)’s heart is beating so fast, Steve can almost feel her pulse vibrating out of his wrist. Or maybe that’s just his own pulse, his own body dealing with whatever infection Viper’s passed to him.

“They don’t call me Viper for nothing,” she says, almost too conveniently.

Steve doesn’t bother taking note. He steps forward, falters, and grunts out, “Let. Her. Go.”

Viper pops her lips, hums as if she’s considering the command, then shrugs. “I don’t think so.” Her hand leaves (Y/N)’s hair, grips her chin tightly, and forces the omega to look at Steve. “I’d rather let her watch you die.”

“Now what’s the use in that?” Sam asks, sarcasm lining his every word.

“There isn’t one,” Viper responds. “And there doesn’t need to be.” She repositions her hand on (Y/N)’s chin, forcing her to look at Viper now. “Poor little Reaper. A bringer of death, still unable to stop it.”

Steve is almost proud of the glare Viper gets. He thinks If looks could kill, this mission would be so much easier.

“On the other hand,” the green woman cuts in, “won’t it be so sweet watching the man who broke your heart and left you vulnerable to me die? Call it poetic justice, my girl.” She presses the pad of her pointer finger to (Y/N)’s nose like she’s speaking to a doll or a dog, and Steve struggles in Sam’s grip before his body is ripped apart by more pain.

“Cool. So we’re doing this the hard way,” Sam mutters. Steve thinks he’s the only one that’s heard.

He takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself. Stands a little taller, pushes Sam’s arms from his shoulders. He feels his nose flaring as he asks, “What is it that I’ve done that makes you want me dead, Ophelia?”

That gets her attention. Her head turns sharply to him, and she grits her teeth. “I think you know, Captain. You’d have to be more daft than I’d given you credit for not to.” Her arms fall from (Y/N) entirely, and she takes one daring step toward Steve. “I was Hydra’s best. I did my work, groveled and fought and bartered my way for years. And when I reached the top, they gave me the Asset.”

He quickly realizes, through context clues alone, that she means Bucky. And his body flares with pain again, but this time, he holds it in, keeps his breath in too.

“And at every turn, whether from the inside or out, there was one thing standing in my way of doing my job the way it was meant to be done. Any guesses?”

Me he thinks. Steve knows he was Bucky’s link to escaping Hydra. They’ve had long conversations about their meeting on the bridge in D.C. before.

“When the Winter Soldier escaped, I was sent to find him. To bring him back, wipe him, and put him back on ice. To bring him back to the life he was always meant for.”

Steve’s one good fist clenches at his side. He has a thing about hitting women, but this one is so fucking close, running her mouth about Bucky that way.

“When I returned empty handed, Hydra shut me out-”

“Hydra was gone after he left.” It takes Steve a second to realize Sam’s spoken up, not himself, and that Sam has moved to his opposite side, as if he’s making a circle around the room.

Viper shakes her head, chuckling maniacally, never looking from Steve. “Hydra survived the Allies winning the war. Hydra survived Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, and 9/11. Hydra will never die. Not truly.” She takes another step forward. “Even without the Asset, Hydra survives. Only I will pay a price for his desertion.” She laughs - no longer a chuckle, but a throw-her-head-back-and-cackle laugh - and something on her sharp, pointed nails gleam in the white light of the room.

Vipers are venomous Steve thinks. He looks at his wrist, which still hasn’t closed but is no longer bleeding. It still pulses and shoots out pain in droves, though. And he knows - she paints her nails with venom.

“Hydra will never have me again,” she continues, rather mindlessly if Steve’s opinion is concerned. “And so, I’ve made it my mission to take out any alpha who’s made that so.”

Steve’s mind immediately goes to Bucky. Viper, apparently, expects that, too.

“Without Hydra, your friend is nothing. Get over yourself, Captain.” Her face turns dark, and she stomps toward him in her loud, dangerously sharp and impractical heels. “I formed the Reapers to take out the alphas who wronged me. My girls grew into much more than I could ever have expected - much more than Hydra ever would’ve allowed me to become. And yet, it still is not enough.”

He’s only hated a handful of people more than he hates Viper. And yet, he continues to listen, hoping that if he stalls and hears her out, Tony and Nat will burst in and help him sometime this year.

And he sees that Sam has moved to be equidistant from him and Viper.

“My heart will only fill when your head is served to me on a Vibranium platter, Captain,” she says. “The satisfaction of knowing the woman you love watches helplessly as you die is a nice addition, don’t you think?”

Steve knows he’ll regret it, but with her so close, he has to take a shot. With (Y/N) across the room, he has to.

He takes a heavy, jagged breath, and launches himself at Viper, yelling all the way as his body ignites again. Pain spreads from his wrist outward, but he moves anyway, mostly kicking, keeping his hand in close to chest. If he could coordinate his good hand without leaving his bad one vulnerable, he’d reach back to grab his shield, but he can’t let her make him any worse than he already is.

He still has to get (Y/N) out. Still has so much to say to her, so much to apologize for, so many I love yous to whisper to her. And he has no idea what the venom in his system will do to him first - if it’s real or something synthetic and what that might mean.

But it doesn’t matter, because it only takes one hit back from Viper to wipe him out. Steve slides back across the floor while Sam charges forward, and the world swirls between dark and light, sound and silence, confusion and stability. Steve isn’t sure how much time goes by before he finally sees a bright blue beam of light flit across the room, then Nat is leaning over him, her bottom lip split but otherwise she looks fine.

He tries to say something to her, but she doesn’t let him finish. Or his body doesn’t. It’s really hard to tell what’s happening.

“You need to get up,” he hears her say. “I can’t carry you twelve flights down, Rogers.”

Flashes of memories fill his head - of Bucky pulling him from water, mostly - and he groans because everything is happening and nothing is being processed. He has no read on (Y/N); there are too many people in the room now, too many bodies moving, and he’s too weak to focus on her.

All he wants is to be wrapped up in her. That’s it.

But suddenly a second set of hands are on him, and they’re definitely not (Y/N)’s. They glow red - red not green he thinks - and suddenly his legs weigh nothing. They feel nothing. No pain, no strain - nothing. He realizes he’s glowing red, too, and he shakes his head.

“No- I,” he gets out, but Nat glares at him. Wanda does, too, from his opposite side, as they work in tandem to lift him onto his feet.

“We’re getting her out,” Nat says. “But it won’t mean anything if we don’t get you out, too.”

He knows that’s not true. (Y/N) would be alive, with or without him. That means something.

But his heart is racing, and all he can imagine is (Y/N), tied to a chair, scared out of her mind, completely out of control of herself and undeniably in withdrawal. In pain. Suffering, because he was too stubborn, stupid, and quick to anger to think. Wanda keeps her hands on him, keeps his feet light and numb, manages to make him walk despite weighing twice what she does easily.

What good is this stupid fucking alpha body if I can’t even save my omega?

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[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 21

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 1516 17 18 19 20

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          Eggsy found he had allowed himself to settle into domestic life. It wasn’t really the kind of thing he’d ever thought about- he’d never let himself think too far into the future while he was stuck with Dean, and that hadn’t changed once he’d become a Kingsman. The reasons changed, went from his own not being worthy to the potential safety of whatever significant other he had, but the end result was the same: the future just didn’t matter as much as the now.

           But the routine of his and Harry’s life was nothing short of perfect, to Eggsy. There were awkward silences and petty spats, but there were quiet nights in the sitting room and laughter over meals, too. He’d never wanted a life without conflict, you can’t have the good without the bad after all, but all he’d wanted growing up was a life where the bad was worth enduring. Worth getting through and learning from.

           But for that to be the truth that he had to come clean to Harry about Haz; about how much of Harry’s life he’d been privy to through the program. How much he’d not gotten over or through Harry’s death, as temporary as it ended up being.

           ‘Harry, why’d you put those holograms in your house?’ Eggsy spoke softly after dinner, staring at the telly and refusing to look at the man sat beside him. Harry figured this was a week for difficult confrontations about things surrounding himself, and wondered why- but that didn’t really matter, did it?

           ‘If you ask Merlin, it’s because I’m too dramatic for simple ink and paper.’

           ‘I didn’t ask Merlin, I asked you.’

           ‘... I suppose,’ Harry began slowly, looking at the glass in his hand, ‘I’d better start at the beginning. The first time I nearly died, I still had the odd relative here or there that would have had to be notified- but I’d never bothered writing a will. Didn’t see much of a point, frankly- I’d already tied the majority of my accounts to Kingsman, I was living in a home owned by Kingsman so it was fully secured, and the people in question barely knew me anyway so why would I have left anything to them?

           ‘Merlin changed that. I’m sure I’ve told you about our humble beginnings in one fashion or another, but the short of it is an instant connection that neither of us realised until the first near-death of the other. I resolved not to leave something as impersonal as a will for whoever was left behind in the case of my expiration. Even if that were only Merlin. It began as personalised letters and packages, a small collection of things to be opened only at certain times, and changed as technology did. Eventually ending up in what you encountered.’

           ‘So you didn’t just make it cos of me, then?’

           ‘Oh certainly not, I’m not in the habit of making things for a singular purpose, but I definitely made more than a few adjustments once you came along.’

           ‘Like?’

           ‘Well, the most obvious is that there was only one set of actions connected to the program originally- the hologram would give the instructions to gain access to the will, reveal the information I needed Merlin to know, and repeat that process until either the system was disconnected or it had remained idle for 6 months after having given the information to the proper sources. If, for whatever reason, Merlin and I passed within a few months of one another, or he never activated them at all, then there would be an automated will sent to the Merlin, Arthur, and Galahad lines.’

           Eggsy was simultaneously disappointed and relieved that he hadn’t been the primary cause for the digital haunting Harry had designed.

           ‘One less obvious, but more personal, change was simply how much there was.’ Harry paused there, and Eggsy had to use every piece of himself to keep from interrupting and asking for more. Whatever Harry shared with him at this point was a gift. ‘I began adding more and more to the program, so much so that what had been a set of two servers ended up being nearly fifteen by the time Kentucky happened. It became routine to write out the things I thought you’d need to know and some general responses, try and predict what you would say and respond preemptively.’

           ‘If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said you was writing those responses in real-time, with how easy conversation was.’ It was close as Eggsy could admit to having spent an ungodly amount of time with the holograms.

           ‘Well, actually, in one case you wouldn’t have been entirely wrong about that.’ Harry knew there’d been a purpose when Eggsy brought all this up, but felt he needed to be open with him in turn. Perhaps it would aid in whatever goal Eggsy had in mind when he’d opened his mouth, perhaps it would hinder, but Harry knew that now that he’d started he could not stop.

           ‘Wait, what?’ Eggsy’d given up all pretense of watching the telly, eyes wide as he turned bodily toward Harry. ‘What d’you mean not wrong about that? You was in a coma.’

           ‘For a long while, yes- but as I mentioned to Merlin some time ago I did not wake up and immediately send for evac. I confirmed the stories about V-Day that the nurses had spun, ended up in a reddit thread your mother had posted to, and on something barely more substantive than a whim I remotely accessed the house servers.’

           Eggsy sucked in a breath through his teeth, stiffened his shoulders, and clenched his hands in his lap, eyes closed. Maybe he didn’t have much to fear of censure from Harry after all, but there was no telling what Harry had seen. What if he’d seen the breakdowns, the crying, the times he was weak and scared and helpless? What if he’d seen Eggsy doubting and seconds from turning tail and running as far as he could? What if-

           Harry’s hand landed on his leg, large and warm and reassuring on his thigh where it squeezed once but remained after. Eggsy forced his eyes open, met Harry’s reassuring gaze, and tried and failed to smile. ‘Sorry, wasn’t expecting that, is all.’

           ‘There is no shame in being startled, or having weakness, so I see no need for the apology. But,’ He continued, eyes kind, ‘I accept it nonetheless.’

           ‘Thanks.’

           ‘Think nothing of it- we all must harness weakness to find strength at one point or another. Are you ready for the rest?’

           Eggsy didn’t want to admit to where his thoughts jumped, despite the circumstance at hand, so he ignored the way his stomach swooped and nodded.

           ‘I caught you mid-conversation with myself. Talking about guilt.’ It took everything Eggsy had not to hide his face, buoyed only by the fact that Harry seemed inordinately pleased about that. ‘I didn’t know whether you were talking about the V-Day tragedy or something more recent and personal. I had no way of knowing- I’d forsaken live-recording memory for hologram-recording memory, you see- but what I came into… I couldn’t allow you to continue looking that desolate if I could help it.’ Harry smiled softly, squeezing the hand Eggsy had only just realised had not removed itself from his leg.

           ‘I pulled up the script I’d recorded, and began adding to it- I can’t tell you what it was I’d originally intended to say, but I’m just lucky that you weren’t looking too closely at the hologram- else you may have realised the lips didn’t match the words. I attempted to keep things in the past tense, but I wanted to be sure that you knew I heard you. That you weren’t talking to the air.’ Harry shook his head, as if to clear it, and then looked away from him for a moment. Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to breathe too loudly, let alone speak, but allowed himself the luxury of focusing on the weight of Harry’s hand upon him. Of drinking in the light hitting Harry’s face just so and the crooked way he smiled as he came back from wherever he’d gone in his head. ‘You turned my world on its head, Eggsy.’

           ‘You fucked about with my worldview, too, y’know,’ Eggsy whispered, ‘thought my dad was just some guy in the army who died as cannon fodder; thought there were no such thing as knights and gentlemen. Thought there was no way out from where I’d been stuck- and I ain’t talkin’ about lock up.’ Half his mouth ticked up, barely able to believe even now just how much his life had changed. They sat together a moment, comfortable in the silence despite what should have been an uncomfortable circumstance.

           ‘I meant it.’ Eggsy stated, boldly placing a hand atop Harry’s, and Harry looked startled for a fragment of a moment before meeting Eggsy’s gaze directly, unflinching. ‘I meant it,’ he repeated, ‘when I said it was worth it. I don’ really have the words to say how happy I am now, how grateful that shit played out how it did- not sure I’d appreciate all this if it’d happened any other way.’

           ‘I’m still sorry for the part I’ve played in your hardships.’

           ‘As a wise friend once said: I see no need for the apology, but I accept it nonetheless.’ Eggsy put on his best Harry impression, unable to take the desolate look on Harry’s face; it worked, and Harry choked out a chuckle. The hand beneath his own flipped over and for a moment they were palm-to-palm, the slightest shift would have their fingers interlocking- neither man took that step, despite both wanting to. Harry covered Eggsy’s hand, sandwiching it between his own, and looked earnestly into his face.

           ‘I know Lee would be proud of you, but at the moment I want to be sure you hear me clearly: I am so incredibly proud of you. Your actions at the end of… before,’ Harry stumbled for a moment over his words, ‘are nothing short of commendable, and I was simply blinded by time. Your strength of character reminded me of all the things I became a Kingsman to do; you lifted a curtain I hadn’t realised had fallen. If there was one thing that motivated my return it was to see and get to know the man you’ve become in my absence. The rare and beautiful person who came through all of this adversity and remained above all himself.’

           ‘Like in Mulan.’

           ‘... I suppose so, yes.’ They returned to the comfortable silence, hands now resting on the sofa between them, still connected. The television ran idly in the background, white noise beyond the thoughts running unvoiced between them.

           ‘Harry?’

           ‘Yes, Eggsy?’

           ‘I never really believed you were dead. I saw that bullet comin’ straight at the screen and I still didn’t believe it.’

           ‘Well that’s fortunate, seeing as I’m not dead. A little worse for wear, I’ll admit, but in one piece despite all odds.’

           ‘... You don’t think it’s weird that I talked to Ha- the program so much?’

           ‘I know you spent a fair bit of time with him, it’s only natural that you formed an attachment- after all, we didn’t part in the best of circumstances. And, you’re forgetting- I was there for the butterfly conversation. Haz, was it?’ It sounded unnatural coming from Harry, and Eggsy nearly giggled at the absurdity of it all.

           ‘I had to separate him from what was real- I was pretty sure you’d never let me call you that, so it helped to separate him from you. He… he was all the pieces of you I missed out on knowing when you were alive, but he wasn’t a substitute, if that makes any sense?’

           ‘Well, I’m glad you were able to benefit from him in the way I’d intended. I wanted you to have the same kind of resources, the same kind of mentorship, as the others- even if it were only posthumously. After my encounter with Professor Arnold I wasn’t certain I’d survive the Valentine case, but you deserved more than the scraps of knowledge I’d been able to impart to you.’

           ‘Can’t guarantee I won’t slip at some point.’

           ‘If you happen to do so in front of Merlin I’ll let you burn that awful candle in the sitting room for a week.’

           ‘Done.’

[alisayamin]

When You Hurt One Of Us (Sheith Secret Santa Fanfic)

Okay I think its been more than a year since I last posted a fanfic here but since my giftee is here so yeah! Here is my (VERY LATE IM SORRY) Sheith secret santa gift for Lucia-ik!!!! I hope you enjoy it dear~

Summary: There was a group of children at Hogwarts that never really fit in their houses. When these children bonded, they knew where they finally belonged, with each other. They were very protective of their small family. Very. Protective.

Notes: I’ve never read the Harry Potter series, only its fanfictions lol so I’M VERY VERY SORRY IF ITS NOT ACCURATE and I changed the school years a little. My version of Hogwarts enrolls students from age 11-20 because in my verse, they’re not encouraged to leave the school until they come into their magic which is roughly when a wizard is around 17-20 years old. 

O.W.L’s and N.E.W.T’s are taken at the same age as usual. Students who have taken their N.E.W.T’s and have come into their magic can graduate or they can stay the extra 2-3 years at Hogwarts that will help fully prepare them for the working universe. In this story:

Ravenclaw - Lance (16 - halfblood), Matt (18 - muggleborn) Hufflepuff - Hunk (16 - pureblood) Gryffindor - Shiro (18 - unknown), Allura (18 - pureblood) Slytherin - Pidge (15 - muggleborn), Keith (17 - unknown)

All aliens in VLD are just a different type of magical creature in this fic.

Read on AO3

Lance peeked his head out of the corner, “Okay, coast is clear.”

“Y’know Lance, maybe tonight we shouldn’t head to the kitchen?” Hunk suggested with his shoulders hunched and his forefingers touching in small rapid movements.

“Pfft what are you talking about? We’re almost there.”

True enough, just one more turn into an empty corridor and they were standing in front of the infamous painting of fruits. Lance tickled the pear and heard it giggle before a knob magically appeared in a shimmer of gold dust. He turned it with a smile and opened the door to the kitchens.

“Lance-“

The ravenclaw glanced back at his Hufflepuff friend, “Hunk, c’mon.” He took one step into the kitchen still muttering under his breath, “What’s gotten in to you toda- OH MY GOD"

The kitchen didn’t have any elves at the moment since no meals were necessary so late into the night and they were too busy cleaning up the castle probably. Pidge was sitting at their usual wooden table in the middle of the deserted kitchen, legs crossed as she leaned her chin on right hand. Her latest crossover tech (combining muggle technology with magic) was left idly on the table as the Slytherin was smiled at the very thing Lance was gaping at.

Shiro was ravishing Keith’s lips but that wasn’t the (only) reason Lance was so shocked. It was more because of the position those two were in.

Keith’s back was pinned against the solid wall, thighs being impossibly pressed against his chest as Shiro hoisted him up with just his bare hands on Keith’s supple butt cheeks, supporting all of Keith’s weight. Keith’s black dragonhide pants left nothing to the imagination as his knees were bent over Shiro’s shoulders, ankles crossed and urging Shiro closer.

There was something aesthetically pleasing about the pretzel knot position Keith was in but Lance would rather ask Allura to the Yule ball before he even dared to admit that to Keith. Still, he wondered how flexible Keith really was since he wasn’t completely human.

Shiro, the supposed golden boy of Gryffindor and head prefect, didn’t even pause kissing his boyfriend breathless when they both heard Lance’s exclamation. And to be honest, if Shiro did stop, Keith’s fingers that were lost in Shiro’s hair would probably pull him right back in.

When the noises started to get a little obscene and Shiro’s fingers couldn’t help but squeeze those cheeks in his hands, Lance called it off.

“Okay that’s enough. KEITH, unpretzel yourself right now! SHIRO, you were supposed to be patrolling with Matt!”

Shiro bit Keith’s bottom lip one more time when Keith started leaning his head back to part their kiss. They shared a loving stare, admiring the other’s disheveled appearance. Shiro’s hair was a mess from Keith’s grabby fingers and Keith’s neck was adorned with various marks. Both their lips were red and plump from a very satisfying snogging session. Just as an afterthought, Shiro leaned into his boyfriend’s neck and began slowly kissing each mark he made. Watching from over Shiro’s shoulder, Keith wanted to laugh at the look on Lance’s face.  He could tell the Ravenclaw was going to explode soon. Before Lance could physically pull them apart, Keith started stretching his legs out and did a semi split to untangle his limbs from Shiro’s shoulders.  

When Keith was on the ground again, Shiro wrapped his arms loosely around Keith’s hips and kissed him chastely on the lips before they were both staring at each other again, smiling.

Lance groaned out loud at their inability to part from each other and the wave of magic that was constantly present whenever Keith and Shiro were in the same room. He deadpanned at Hunk and Pidge’s adoring expressions, “You guys knew they would be like this didn’t you?”

Hunk shrugged, “I tried warning you. My cousin couldn’t stop for at least a month after she found hers.”

Pidge just sighed happily, “It’s their honeymoon phase~”

“It’s not a phase if they’re never gonna get out of it.” Lance grumbled. He sighed as he looked at his two friends. He was happy for them, really he was but they were getting ridiculous with the love-struck staring.

It took a little over 10 minutes before Lance was finally able to usher Shiro out of the kitchen. Hunk started making use of the elf-less kitchen to make some late night snacks while Lance urged Keith to do some poses with him to test his flexibility.

“I’ve honestly never seen anyone do that before.” Lance referred to what Keith just did with Shiro. Lance took off his robe and draped it over one of the chairs at the table, leaving his skinny pants and plain prussian blue shirt on, “Let’s see how flexible you really are. No one can match me back at home.” Lance smirked with crossed arms.

Taking it as a challenge (like they do with everything), Keith agreed and took his own robes off. Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith’s neck and decided to cast a quick spell, changing Keith’s emerald shirt to an emerald turtleneck instead to cover the marks.

Keith deadpanned, “Really?”

“Really.” Lance theoretically gestured to Pidge, “KEITH, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!”

Lance was zapped with a wordless and wandless spell by said ‘child’ for that comment. Soon, they were both on the mats that Lance helped transfigured from two plates. Lance started with some stretches to loosen himself.

Starting with an easy pose, Lance asked, “Did you even warm up before you decided to pretzel?”

“Yeah.” Keith answered distractedly as he copied Lance’s split stretch, “Shiro helped-“

Lance pushed a forefinger to Keith’s lips, “Never ever tell me what it is that you and Shiro do.”

Pausing from continuing her project, Pidge grimaced from where she sat at the table, “I get sore just looking at you two do all that.”

Currently, both Lance and Keith were supported by their chins and shoulders as their body bent forward till the tip of their toes touched the mat, right in front of their faces. Keith had a relaxed expression on his face. He usually was after being with Shiro. Lance was both intrigued and a bit put out that Keith could match him and was basically as flexible as he was.

“Remind me again why you’re here tonight?” Pidge said out loud as she continued tinkering with two small devices, “I thought our match tomorrow would make you hang out with the lions tonight.”

“Actually…” Lance easily untangled himself and sat up straight, “I want Gryffindor to lose. They’ve had the quidditch cup for too long.”

At hearing that, Pidge smirked, “Why Lance! I didn’t know you were such a cunning raven! Are you actually suggesting of assisting us serpents against the battle with the lions?“

Hunk suddenly showed up with a tray of… some kind of food, “Why am I not included in all this?”

“You don’t play quidditch, Hunk.”

“Neither do you!” he frowned at Pidge and set the tray down on the table just as Lance helped Keith to stand up.

Pidge was still smirking, saying, “Yeah but Keith does.” As though that answered everything. In a way it did because Pidge didn’t like losing so she would find ways to make her quidditch team win. Unfortunately, against Gryffindor with a keeper like Shiro, a chaser like Allura, along with formidable beaters, not even Slytherin’s prodigy seeker could best them. Despite Keith catching the golden snitch in every single game ever played, it was never good enough to win them the cup.

"Well I have a few plans”, Lance sat down in front of Pidge and took out a parchment and quill from his robe that was still draped on the chair he was sitting on, “Okay, listen up…”

When Lance was done, Keith nodded, “It’s perfect.”

Lance’s head whipped so hard, it even surprised Keith, “Wait, really?”

Keith frowned and gestured at the parchment Lance had written his strategic play on like it was obvious, “Duh.” He pointed to one of the Slytherin chasers Lance had drawn and started explaining why Lance’s plan would work. Enthusiastic that someone like Keith actually liked his plan, the two of them started exchanging more and more ideas.

Meanwhile, Pidge was studying Lance. His plan was practically fullproof. Why didn’t he become the strategist for his own team? At the moment, Lance was only a reserve chaser for Ravenclaw. Before Pidge could ask, she felt Hunk nudge her side. She turned to see Hunk slowly shake his head. Pidge crossed her arms. She knew a little about Lance being ostracized for not being the right kind of Ravenclaw but how could anyone deny his plans? Heck, Pidge knew even Allura consulted him and that’s how they had been winning since three years ago.  

Pidge sat back in her chair and took a good look around her. Lost children, that’s what they were. Didn’t really fit in anywhere. Hunk was a Hufflepuff that was almost too Ravenclaw with all his vast knowledge for both potions and magical theory. Lance was a Ravenclaw that wasn’t book smart but street smart instead with the courage of a Gryffindor. Herself, a Slytherin attitude with a very Ravenclaw brain. And then Keith, a Slytherin that wasn’t liked by anyone from his own house despite his contributions in both quidditch and studies. She would say Keith was a Gryffindor if she didn’t know any better but despite Keith’s reckless bravery, he was as loyal as a Hufflepuff, as sharp-witted as a Ravenclaw and with a deep-sated understanding of self-preservation only a Slytherin could have. Keith’s decisions sometimes made him seem heartless when in fact his ideas were the most practical and logical ones. Arguments with Keith usually led him to drive others away.

However, watching Keith and Lance banter lightly about other possible plays with Hunk on the side trying to cool them down made Pidge smile. She was glad they had each other. The misfit always fits with other misfits. They weren’t like Allura, Matt and Shiro who basically embodied their houses. Still, she was thankful for them. Matt who always supported them, often discussing animatedly about possibly new spells and potions with Hunk and helping Pidge with her latest projects, Allura who admired Lance’s brilliant mind and never took him for granted, and Shiro… Shiro who was always coaxing Keith out, always teaching him new moves on the broomstick, always teasing him and caring for him more than an older sibling, more than a friend. Despite all the shit that their houses sometime put them through, Pidge was glad they were all together.

Everyone had a different magical signature. It fully matured when a wizard was fully harmonized with their magic. Since children and adolescents were still volatile in regards to their emotion, their magic would not fully mature until the age ranging from 17 to 20 years old.

Keith, unlike most children, did not have the liberty or the freedom of a normal childhood. As an orphan under the care of the Blade of Marmora, Keith had matured much earlier and was able to fully control his magic at only the age of 12. However, before that age, Keith’s magic was too volatile to be enrolled into Hogwarts with the other first year 11-year-old children, thus the Marmora and the headmaster agreed that they would wait for Keith’s magic to fully settle before he was allowed to learn magic at the institute. Keith was the only one to begin his first year at Hogwarts at the age of 12.

Shiro, like many others, came fully into his magic at 18. The day that he did, he felt an itch under his skin. He ignored it and went through his normal routine. At breakfast, he joined the little group sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table. Despite the tables being assigned by houses, not many of the students followed unless it was the grand dinner at the start or at the end of the school year. Any other time, they would sit wherever with whomever they wanted to. The staff didn’t seem to mind and there were no rules for seating placements at the Grand Hall.

It was a day like any other but for Keith and Shiro himself, it was the day they found each other. Shiro had sat in front of Keith that day, not noticing Keith’s wide eyes when he felt Shiro’s magic. Reaching out, Keith’s magic curiously touched Shiro’s and then they both felt their magic pulsing happily, twirling around each other.

Shiro and Keith stared at each other in a different light. It was Keith who spoke first. There was just a soft trace of laughter in his voice as he said, “It’s you..”

There was a foreign fondness in Keith’s voice when he said those words, making all their friends turn to look at them in surprise. As a Slytherin, Keith was often quiet unless prompted to speak. That didn’t count the snide remarks and petty fights he often had with Lance though. Still, even Pidge, Keith’s first friend and housemate, had never heard nor seen Keith exhibit such a soft voice and expression.

Shiro reached his hand over the table and entwined his fingers with Keith’s. His fingers squeezed and massaged Keith’s hand intermittently with gentle circular motions, both of them slowly smiling and just…letting their magic do the work. Allura was the first to gasp when she noticed their magical aura combining. She was the only one with such a gift for the past 5 generations of her family and what a gift it was, to witness Keith and Shiro’s aura wrapping around each other until they formed a new colour completely.

Pidge and Lance had stared at the entwined hands before they both shouted, “NO WAY” and just like that, the whole group was celebrating for their two friends.

The magical combination of compatible auras were in some way, similar to what the muggles often coined as ‘soulmates’.

At age 18, Shiro knew exactly who he would be spending the rest of his life with.

Shiro took his place as keeper and kept a vigilant lookout for the Slytherins throwing around the quaffle.

“Come here often, sir?” he heard a teasing voice from somewhere above him.

Shiro was already smiling before his eyes tracked down the opposing player in green. Keith was just lounging on his broomstick somewhere above the goal rings, that pretentious brat. Honestly, if Keith wasn’t such a good seeker, Shiro would have said that insult out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling for that little snitch?” Shiro teased back.

Keith rolled his eyes, “Does it matter if I go look for it now rather than later when it actually shows up?”

No it didn’t. In fact, rumours were that Keith was almost in tuned with the golden snitch. Matt and Pidge were the ones who offered the theory that Keith could actually hear the frequency of the golden snitch’s tiny wings due to his partial galra heritage and the only thing that would stop Keith from catching the small thing was if they were forced to wear noise-cancelling headphones during quidditch, which was never.

“AND THERE THEY GO!” Coran’s booming voice resounded throughout the pitch. Truly, there couldn’t be any other that suited as the commentator.

“Swift pass from red number 7 ther-! OH! STOLEN BY GREEN 19!!!”

Shiro braced himself as the Slytherin players approached. He was used to stopping their throws but at the final stretch before the ‘scoring area’ where only one chaser was allowed, the two Slytherin players initiated a very effective feint move involving a short throw-and-catch play, fooling Shiro easily before they scored the first goal of the game.

The crowds reacted in a mixture of awe, cheers, and disappointed grumbling.

The game continued with a change of momentum from all other previous Gryffindor-Slytherin matches. The Slytherin beaters seemed to know exactly when and where to time their hits, aiming the bludgers swiftly to the Gryffindor chasers who were about to catch the quaffle.

“Watch out for those bludgers!” Coran warned just as Allura herself had to back out from catching the quaffle in order to avoid a powerful hit from the bludger.

The quaffle was yet again stolen by the Slytherin chasers and despite experiencing the feint before, Shiro fell for it again, letting Slytherin gain 10 more points.

He could hear Keith’s muffled laughter from above him. There was something going on. A new play- Shiro looked up to Keith again and he knew what that mocking smile meant. They had the game all figured out.

After the next consecutive five goals, Keith called out, “Can’t keep up, old man?”

Shiro gripped his broomstick so hard he thought he could hear the wood start to crack. That brat was infuriating. Shiro adored him.

Too bad for the Slytherins that Shiro was quick to adapt after seeing the play again and again. They next feint was countered with Shiro’s own feint, effectively allowing him to block the quaffle from being thrown into one of the hoops.

Even Coran cheered for the Gryffindor keeper who finally managed to overcome Slytherin’s newest play.

Shiro smiled up at Keith, “What was that part again? Old man?”

Keith simply smiled back, posture stiff and threatening, “Just you wait.”

With Shiro’s save lifting everyone’s morale, Gryffindor finally had the strength to initiate counterattack.

Pidge adjusted her glasses from where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw tower stand. Since Matt and Lance were the majority (in term of house), Pidge and Hunk decided to join them instead of choosing to sit at other houses. Besides, the Ravenclaws were pretty much neutral since not many of them cared much for quidditch matches not involving their team, except Lance.

Whom by the way, was grumbling because of course Shiro could overcome his play after just 7 goals.

Matt just shrugged, “It’s Shiro. He practically raised all of you in quidditch. Can’t blame him for being able to overcome that. But it really was a good play. I’ve seen other teams try to perfect that but they never could because of the scoring area rule.”

“Thanks.” Lance smiled sincerely, “That’s the thing though. Number 19 and 20 from Slytherin, they.. Keith said they followed the rule book to a T. Obsessively. So I figured, if anyone could pull a feint before that line, it’d be those two. ‘Cuz they’d rather lose the game before breaking the rules.”

Hunk was happily looking through Matt’s self-made binoculars, “I think Keith just challenged Shiro or something. They got that weird ‘I’m-gonna-bring-you-down’ look they always make during practice.”

Pidge snorted, “Of course they would. After all…” She smirked up in Keith’s direction, “This isn’t over yet.”

Matt leaned towards his sister, “Careful Pidge, your Slytherin is showing~”

Gryffindor managed to score three times before something changed again. Keith mounted his broom properly before flying in front of Shiro to give him a mock two-finger salute, “Try to keep up, old man.”

Shiro was not at all expecting Keith to suddenly kick into overdrive as he dove straight into the game. At first, it seemed as though he was just flying in swift circles around the players. Keith moved so fast, Shiro saw him only as a green object. It looked as though Keith was chasing the golden snitch amidst the players. But even the Gryffindor seeker was looking incredulously at Keith, so that meant that the snitch was still not spotted yet. Again, Keith’s flying seemed harmless to Shiro. Except… it wasn’t.

“OH IT SLIPPED AGAIN!” Coran shouted with a little exasperation, “Perhaps the quaffle is a little slippery…” he muttered as an afterthought.

Shiro watched closer and then realization dawned on him. He only noticed after hearing Coran’s comment. Allura always caught the quaffle perfectly during practice but ever since Keith started circulating the pitch, Allura and the other two chasers failed to properly secure the quaffle in their hold, three out of five times losing it to the Slytherin chasers.

Finally, Shiro understood.

It was just a subtle thing that Keith was doing but it worked. Merlin, it was genius. Shiro let out a chuckle. He hadn’t ever seen this kind of play before, only heard of it.

Misdirection was a funny thing.  And Keith, the swiftest flyer Hogwarts had ever seen in the past 50 years was definitely capable of initiating this play. He was fast enough to distract the chasers for a split second and was skillful enough to navigate, pause, break and turn his broom at will.

Heck that little green brat even affected Shiro at the goal post. All it took was a distraction close enough in Shiro’s eyesight and suddenly, he was fooled by the feint he had just learned to overcome earlier. When Slytherin scored again, Shiro could hear Keith’s laughter. And he couldn’t help but laugh along. Even though Shiro had never lost to Slytherin before, he felt as though he wouldn’t mind losing this game. The play was too good.

When he caught Keith’s attention, Shiro smiled in defeat while shaking his head slowly. And Keith, the mature brat that he was, gave Shiro his cheekiest grin.

Lance and Hunk were the only ones standing in the tower stand as they cheered for Keith. It was old news that their group rarely supported the housing system, just each other. Lance got a glare from Allura when she heard Lance cheering for her current enemy.

“Whoops.” Lance grimaced before he shouted in Allura’s direction, “YOU’RE STILL THE ONLY ONE FOR ME, ALLURA!” and then he added as a whisper, “…even if you lose this game, haha.”

Pidge was smiling at her fellow housemates. They didn’t even practice this play. It was just explained earlier in the changing room and yet they were pulling it off as though they’d been practicing it for months. Even she couldn’t escape from cheering for them every time they scored. She was surprised Matt wasn’t laughing at Shiro or something.

When she turned to her brother, she noticed him scowling.

“Matt? What’s wrong?”

“Katie…” he started without looking away from where he was scowling, “Remember those lions that I told you about? The ones who accused Keith of manipulating Shiro’s magic to bond with Keith’s?”

Pidge started frowning. Those prats were the worst kind of people. Prejudiced and so insistent on taking the house traits seriously. They never liked Shiro befriending Keith or herself but it got worse when they found out Shiro and Keith’s magic had officially bonded.

“’Course I do. Why?”

Matt finally looked at his sister, all seriousness in his eyes, “They just left their stand. And they’ve been glaring at Keith throughout the whole game.”  

Keith loved flying. He never enjoyed quidditch much. Most of his love for the sport was an extension of Shiro’s own feelings. The game was so strange to Keith but who was he to judge that? Still, flying was Keith’s favourite pastime and only hobby. He almost hugged Kolivan when the Marmora presented him his first own broomstick. It meant a lot when Keith knew that the Marmora themselves weren’t big on ‘gifts’. He was able to train with Shiro much better after that. The school broomsticks didn’t move quite as smoothly as the latest ones that had a more aerodynamic design.

As Keith once more distracted Shiro from blocking the goal hoops, he heard the familiar fluttering of the golden snitch. He couldn’t see it yet but it was definitely released already. Keith smirked. As long as the Gryffindor seeker didn’t spot it yet, they could prolong the game for as long as it was necessary to keep the quidditch cup out of Gryffindor hands. If Keith could just… get them more than 300 points ahead, it should be enough. Besides, if they could repeat the current strategy against the other houses, they were a shoo-in to win the cup.

He kept distracting the chasers and Shiro all the while keeping an eye on the Gryffindor seeker. After Slytherin scored 3 more times and Gryffindor scored once, the red seeker finally spotted the golden snitch.

With an easy-looking maneuver, Keith swiftly flew towards that annoying fluttering sound. It would only be about a 250-point lead but that was better than what they originally expected. Without Lance’s play, Gryffindor would have won whether or not Keith caught the snitch. He was so gonna get those stupid (yet really expensive) ingredients Lance always wanted to create the perfect face mask or whatever it was that he used before bed time. It was a tradition he learned from the muggle world. Keith never knew why some wizards hated the muggles. Those people built buildings with their bare hands (indirectly but still using their hands nonetheless to create those…. ‘machines’ Pidge called them) and created weapons to fight for them. Muggles were impressive.

Getting his head back in the game, Keith had already outflow the Gryffindor seeker and he could finally see the fluttering golden snitch.

Keith reached his hand out. He could feel the cool golden metal despite his thick gloves as his fingers wrapped around the snitch.

“Gotcha” he whispered to himself.

All of a sudden, Keith’s outstretched arm exploded in sharp pain. Keith let out a hoarse scream as he felt himself swerve to the left from the massive impact. He was disoriented from the pain for a few seconds before he managed to balance his broom again.

His right arm was broken and was resting at a very odd angle.

Keith gritted his teeth. Then, the shouting started. Keith looked up to see more than a dozen bludgers moving all over the pitch. The students were screaming as some bludgers went through the tower stands and others were trying futilely to stop the rogue bludgers with ‘finite incantatem’ spells. The beaters from both teams were shouting for their teammates to dismount as they deflected what they could with their bats.

But four beaters couldn’t honestly battle more than 12 rogue bludgers.

Despite the pain in his arm, Keith flew. He was their fastest flyer, he had to help. Before three bludgers could hit Allura, Keith swiftly tackled her and practically pushed her with her broom towards one of the exits.

“KEITH!”  

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

Allura’s eyes were wide with fear when she saw his arm, “Y-Your arm-“

“ARGH!” a loud cry from the pitch broke off Allura’s sentence.

Keith’s head snapped at that sound. He knew that voice.

Turning away from Allura, Keith quickly flew towards Shiro. One of the bludgers had hit Shiro’s broom, breaking it into two.

On any other occasion, Keith would have enjoyed the exhilarating wind against his face. But at that moment, all he wanted was to go fast enough to catch Shiro.

“SHIRO!!”

Keith didn’t even care that one of his arm was broken. He reached out his uninjured arm and-… “GOTCHA!” Keith gripped Shiro’s arm and let them descend towards the ground.

Shiro’s momentum from falling off his own broom pulled them quickly towards the pitch but it was at a speed that they would survive from. Around 10 of the rogue bludgers were finally tamed by the professors by then. Unfortunately, Keith was not so lucky.

Just a few feet more from reaching the ground, Shiro saw it coming from his left. In that split second, he could tell by the speed they were moving that it would hit Keith. He could only look up at his bondmate, pure fear in his eyes when he shouted, “KEITH LOOK OUT!”

It hit Keith on the side. And in that short amount of time, Keith knew to let Shiro go so that he wouldn’t be dragged along for the ride. Shiro fell the last few feet and landed on his back with the wind knocked out of his breath. But he couldn’t care less about the trauma as he immediately sat up to look for Keith.

The hit from the bludger made Keith lose control of his broom, causing him to land roughly onto the pitch, breaking his broomstick and other parts of his body as well. It wasn’t just his arm in a weird angle this time.

The final bludger was tamed. The teachers were running towards the pitch. Pidge, Lance, Hunk and Matt were running down the stairs of the tower stand. And Shiro was running towards Keith. At first, there was no sound. And Shiro felt dread fill him. But he could still feel their bond. Keith was still alive. Shiro begged that Keith was just unconscious. That’s why he was so quiet.

But suddenly, Keith screamed.

It was a long cry of strangled pain, over and over again.  

It was a sound that Shiro would never forget.

It was a few hours before they could finally see Keith and Shiro at the hospital wing. Shiro was admitted overnight as a precaution for the trauma from his fall. And Keith was admitted, obviously, for his multiple injuries, not limited to broken bones and crushed organs.

“Hey guys.” Pidge was the first to approach the only occupied beds, Lance and Hunk close behind her.

Shiro was out of his bed, opting to sit on the chair beside Keith’s bed instead. His hand was tenderly gentling Keith’s uninjured left hand.

“Hey.” Keith croaked weakly at his housemate.  

Pidge quickly jumped to sit on Keith’s other side, carefully avoiding his arm. She smiled softly at Keith, “You look like shit dude.”

Keith snorted.

He did look like shit. His whole torso, right arm, pelvic region and left leg were completely wrapped in bandages. They had to save his crushed organs first from the second bludger hit. That took more than two hours. The rest of the time was used to setting his bones again before administering the skele-gro potion to allow the bones to reconnect properly.

Lance and Hunk hovered at the foot of Keith’s bed. Hunk raised a small pouch and dangled it, “Made your fav cookies! Shay helped pack’em. This pouch is much bigger on the inside than on the outside, fyi. And I made around 5 batches. Coated them all individually with that white chocolate Klaizap sent to you, it was on your bed I hope you don’t mind. Of course, I had to melt them first before I could coat the cookies and then leave them on the drying tray, I mean, THAT was how long we had to wait to see you.”

Keith gave a weak laugh. Only Hunk would stress-bake 200 cookies for him and nervously rant about it, “Thanks Hunk..”

Lance hid his sadness at seeing Keith sprawled on the hospital bed by pretending everything was fine, “Dude. You were awesome. If it wasn’t because you were practically fighting against your own quidditch mentor here-“ he gestured his head towards Shiro, “-you would have easily scored that 300 lead.”

Shiro shook his head slowly with that same smile he gave Keith after the misdirection play, “That was the best play I’ve ever seen.” He turned to Lance, “Allura’s gonna be pissed you didn’t share it with her instead.”

Keith croaked out with a soft sneer, “Heh. Good luck with that.. Only someone as fast as me can run that play.”

Lance raised his hands exasperatedly, “Obviously he’s fine enough to compliment himself, ladies and gentlemen.”

They all laughed at that, all of them ignoring that rogue bludgers almost killed their friend. Ignoring that Keith could have died. Ignoring that they had all heard Keith’s pure unadulterated screams on that pitch. Ignorance was bliss. They could share this small moment, just making Keith smile.

After a few minutes, they all heard a woman clear her throat.  

Lance was the one who pouted at the matron, “Just 5 more minutes please~? I promise we’ll go to dinner in just fiiiiiivvveee more minutes!”

The matron did not look happy at Lance, Pidge and Hunk. In the end, Shiro was the one who encouraged them to go get some dinner before everything vanished.

“Fine.” Pidge grumbled, “But we’re coming back tomorrow.”

Shiro chuckled, “We won’t stop you.”

Keith inclined his head towards his friends, “..see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye mullet head.” Lance gave a small wave.

Hunk placed the pouch of cookies on Keith’s bedside, “Goodnight Keith.”

Pidge didn’t say anything from where she sat beside Keith. Instead, she just gently caressed the back of her fingers against his cheek. All she could think was that those people had hurt what was theirs. Pidge knew that none of them ‘belonged’ to their houses because their houses didn’t fully accept them, so alternately they belonged to each other. And those people had hurt their Keith. Then her eyes met Shiro’s in a silent reverent stare.

Shiro nodded and said, “Have fun.”

The matron quickly ushered the trio after that. She locked the hospital wing to avoid any more visitors. She approached Keith’s bed and gave Shiro a disapproving glare, “I would urge all patients to sleep on their own beds, Shirogane.”

“My magic helps him heal, madam.”

And it did. Their magic had bonded. Physical touch between bonded wizards helped to heal injuries by distributing their magical core.

The matron’s expression soften when Shiro reminded her of their bond, “Yes yes… That would help greatly. Nasty little thing that skele-gro potion.. They still haven’t made a pain reliever to go with it.”

“Thank you, madam.”

Excusing herself for the night, she left to stay in her office. It would be another 5 hours before Keith could take a pain reliever potion. Once her door closed, Shiro cast a muffliato charm surrounding Keith’s bed.

“It’s okay Keith…” He spoke softly, “It’s okay to let go now.”

Keith’s eyelids fluttered as he did as he was told. The coast was finally clear.

It started with little twitches in Keith’s left hand and feet. The tension of keeping his body locked up slowly eased. His breath quickened, matching the rapid rise and deflation of his chest. The twitches turned to full spasms followed by a wet sob. That was when the tears started flowing and the dam was broken.

Shiro watched as Keith dropped all his masks and cried out all the agonizing pain he was truly suffering. And all Shiro could do was return the grip Keith had on his hand.

“..it…” Keith hiccupped through an intense sob, “…hurts.. Taka-…shi…”

“I know.” Shiro cupped Keith’s face, locking their eyes together, “I need you to hold on, Keith. I’m right here, okay?”

Keith nodded, and weakly pulled Shiro’s hand. Shiro got the message before laughing, “This is not how I planned to get in your bed, Keith.”

In midst the endless tears and sobs, Keith let out a wet laugh, “Shut up-…and get in here..”

“Bossy.” But Shiro complied, making sure to avoid all of Keith’s injuries. He was somehow able to join Keith on the bed by sacrificing his arm as a pillow (the actual pillow used as a cushion for Keith’s side). Keith still held onto Shiro’s hand, taking deep breaths throughout the torment of his injuries. All the while, Shiro kissed his head, wiped his tears away and whispered comfort in his ear.

Their magic entwined and wrapped them both in a cocoon. Miraculously, even without a pain reliever potion, Keith eventually fell asleep in Shiro’s arms.

Pidge, Lance and Hunk never went to get dinner. They never planned to. There was too much anger thrumming under their skin. The moment they turned to the first corridor outside the hospital wing, they saw Matt and Kolivan talking. When the three of them approached, Matt and Kolivan turned towards them.

Kolivan looked into their eyes one by one. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The leader of the Blade of Marmora inclined his head towards them, his own version of a tacit approval, before making a quiet exit out of the castle. He was present during Keith’s surgery that was conducted both by a blade healer and a healer from St Mungos. Keith’s mixture of anatomy was luckily not an issue with both of them present. The discrimination that Kolivan knew Keith suffered made him believe that the perpetrators would escape unscathed. But then Matt spoke to him and proved his words when Kolivan saw Pidge, Lance and Hunk. He saw a similar look in Shiro’s eyes earlier as well. If it wasn’t for Keith needing Shiro’s presence, Kolivan was certain Shiro would have dealt with ‘them’ on his own.

Once the Marmora leader was out of sight, Matt turned to his two friends and younger sister, “We have 6 hours. Allura, Shay, Luxia and Olia are dealing with our alibis. Nyma and Rolo are standing guard right now outside the… classroom.” Matt smirked, “Shiro’s joining us after he can finally give Keith a pain reliever potion.”

Lance tilted his head with a bored expression but his eyes reflected how eager he was to meet the people that dared to hurt his friends, “What are we still doing here then?”

Hunk lifted his hand as though to ask a question, “Um.. I have these potion recipes that my parents never allowed me to make because they said it had…questionable effects to its drinkers.”

There was an awkward pause of stunned silence where everyone just stared at the Hufflepuff before Hunk continued, “I… also know the antidote recipes..? So its not like.. y’know. A forever thing. I just wanna know what happens.”

Pidge huffed a small laugh, smiling at her brother, “I guess they’re lucky Shiro only gets an hour with them, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Matt shook his head slowly, still looking at Hunk with a bewildered expression, “But 5 hours with you guys should be interesting.”

Keith stirred and started feeling the pain all over his body again. The white hot pain was coming back and he didn’t want it anymore. He whimpered and shook his head. He didn’t want to wake up. He couldn’t- Not again, not again, please, pleas-

“Shhh Keith, it’s okay.” Shiro whispered softly, quieting his pleas. Keith didn’t even realize he was saying it out loud until Shiro spoke over him.

Keith heard a distant “I got it, Madam.” before he felt the bed dip beside his head and then Shiro was there pressing their lips together. Keith made a questioning noise but otherwise didn’t complain. He especially did not complain when he tasted the familiar liquid Shiro was forcing down his throat from their kiss. He could feel himself slowly floating on a cloud, the pain ebbing away into a dull ache that was barely noticeable.

His mind was finally calm and he could breathe easily again. Keith opened his eyes properly only to be greeted by Shiro’s blinding smile, “Better?”

Shiro had braced himself rather ingeniously, hovering the way he was over Keith’s recovering body without crushing him. Since Keith was able to think clearly, he contemplated silently before deciding to swat his boyfriend’s arm, “You just wanted to do that ‘medicine kiss’ with me didn’t you?”

Truthfully, he could have just helped Keith sit up to drink the potion. It’s not like Keith’s spine was injured or anything. Keith glared at Shiro until the Gryffindor gave him a sheepish look that was answer enough. A few weeks ago, sometime after their magic bonded, they had watched a ‘movie’ Lance had brought to Hogwarts and Pidge and Matt managed to build their own device that mixed a little muggle technology and few simple spells to display all the contents of the ‘CD’. The movie wasn’t that interesting but Keith remembered how obsessed Shiro was with the ‘intimate healing trope’ Hunk called it. Shiro was specifically interested in the ‘mouth-to-mouth medicine dosing’.

Keith chuckled when Shiro started pouting slightly. Keith wrapped his uninjured left hand around Shiro’s neck and pulled him down till their noses touched, “Kiss me properly already, old man.”

“Brat.” Shiro teased fondly before complying with the much needed kiss. What they didn’t say in words, they expressed with the urgency to be intimate. Keith breathed in their magic, so saturated around them after a whole night of sharing their magical core. Keith could feel traces of Shiro’s fear of losing him but he felt Shiro’s relief the most. They didn’t even hear the matron clearing her throat rather loudly. Unfortunately, their snogging session was short-lived when the pain reliever fully kicked in and Keith started slipping back into sleep.

Shiro parted their kiss and stroked Keith’s cheek gently, “Sleep, Keith.” he whispered quietly.

And Keith did.

A crack resounded in the previously abandoned classroom.

Matt turned to Shiro, surprised to see that his friend had apparated so easily. Shiro just shook his head at Matt’s questioning eyebrow lift, “That wasn’t me. Klaizap brought me here. Said I’d run into the headmaster if he didn’t take me here directly.”

“Of course that little guy would know where we are.” Then Matt let out an exaggerated relieved sigh, “PHEW! For a second there, I thought you learned to overcome the anti-apparition charm and anti-disapparition jinx before I did!”

“I’ll leave that to you and Pidge, thank you.” They both laughed before Shiro’s friendly demeanor suddenly took a sharp turn as he remembered how much his bondmate had suffered during and after the bludger incident. He was sure Pidge, Lance and Hunk were still having fun but their time was up. Shiro had a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he asked Matt slowly, “My turn now to play with them, isn’t it?”

Author’s Note: I always believe there’s this line that people would cross when you push them to their limit, directly or indirectly. And when you mix that with magic, damn. Imagine the possibilities… I know I made it like it was off-screen torture or something but IMAGINE, the paladins are hardly dumb, and they have magic, imagine the amount of times you can hurt and heal, hurt and heal, make them forget, CHANGE them. I like how some hp ff emphasized on the greyness of magic, light and dark. Not all light-affiliated wizards are good and not all dark-affiliated wizards are bad. This fic isn’t really about this distinction but more on what magic could actually do and how it would affect morality.

The paladins and the accomplices (the girls I mentioned in passing) are exacting revenge because they CAN. If someone did what those teens did to one of your own, hurting them as much as Keith was hurt, and you had the ability to return the gesture without a trace and without leaving permanent damage, would you?

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing that, it’s been awhile since I wrote something like this… I hope you guys liked it. Maybe one day I’ll write a full fic with the whole 7 book shibang hahahah I love wandless wordless Pidge urgh I might continue just for her sake tbh

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 5

A/N: I’m so lazy rip. I’m still working on the drabble game requests and convoluted code and a yandere Tae fic. Why do I do this? I’m also trying to get a job. I finished this chapter at 3am, so please make me feel good about it. I’m a mess

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Mafia boss! Yoongi x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, possible Smut later

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, and blood

Chapter Summary: You go public and remember your family as you lean into danger

This world was a circus, and you were back to rolling with the ringleaders. The audience thinks they’re in control when they’re the ones being controlled. The audience oohed and aahed at the fun tricks, glamorous showings, and gut wrenching suspense, all unknowingly drowning out the horrific sounds behind the scene. The deception, the disgusting exhibitions, and the literal gut wrenching. Those who looked close enough could see it behind a translucent curtain, but they were smart enough to look away. The likes of you do tricks because you want to because you have no care to mop up blood in front of children, it’s just easier that way, so you dance. You dance with the show until the crowd is ready to face the real music. However, the audience and act know this show will forever go on, You and this circus will live in every town.

You hadn’t gotten this dolled up in years. Your hair was styled elegantly, your dress was an ironic green, your bruised neck covered with a matching scarf, and you were being coached on your questions. This nation treated the beautiful as celebrities, so you had to look the standard, now being apart if the group.

Cameras were everywhere outside the prison. Your father was given the speediest trial of a lifetime, seeing as he “took a deal”. However, you knew the truth. He was hauled into prison before he could even blink. That’s when the information was leaked. The green haired girl steps forward and turns in her own father. What an utter joke, but everyone was laughing, enjoying it.

“Okay, think of this as your first press conference,” Jungkook spoke, only minutes away from leaving the prison.

“You remember everything we rehearsed?” Jin asked as you nodded, looking at all the seven guys.

“Look solemn,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Act shy, modest.” Jimin smiled to encourage you.

“If you can’t handle then anymore, just start sobbing, okay?” Taehyung reminded you.

“You think you can handle it?” Hoseok asked, “You remember the story?”

“I can do this.”

“Alright babydoll, let’s give them what they want,” Yoongi smirked as the men got into position, crowding around you to portray support.

The podium was set up, and this was it, you would introduce yourself to the public. You stepped to the mic, “Hello, I am y/n, formerly known as the girl with green hair.”

The questions swarmed, but eventually order was had and you could hear one question at a time, “How did you not also get arrested for your crimes?”

“I was a brainwashed kid, and I gave the authorities my father.”

“You still consider the former crime lord your father?”

You faked a lip tremble, “He… He was the only one I had ever known.”

“Will you be visiting him?”

“I’m not sure, I want to try and face him,” You mocked a sad expression, capturing pity, “He was my family.”

“Why did you wait so many years to reveal yourself?”

“I spent a lot of that time looking for my father, and Min Yoongi assisted me in the search. The Bangtan Group ensured my safety in doing so.” Yoongi and Jungkook put their hands on your shoulder as choreographed comfort, “I was scared for a long while, since I had been forced to… to… I’m sorry,” You wiped a fake tear.

“What will you be doing now?”

“Trying to lead a normal life,” You explained, “I want to better myself.”

“Have you seen your uncle Byungjoo as well?”

You paused, remembering how his blood felt on your face, “No, I haven’t, but if anyone sees him, please don’t delay in turning him in.”

“Do you have any family left? What about your birth parents? When was the last time they contacted you?”

You could feel bile forming in your throat. No, you don’t have any family left. Your birth parents were as deep as they could bury them. The last time you heard from the likes of them? Now that was a terrible question. If you had a penny for each time you’ve been kidnapped and tortured, you’d be a millionaire. If you had a penny for each time it genuinely hurt you, you’d have one too many.

“Y/n!” Your brother called out to you as you walked out of the high school, searching for him. You looked to see him waving wildly in front of his car, invoking a smile on your face.

You jogged to him in glee, “Tony!” You used his name, which at the time you didn’t know was fake, “I didn’t know you were picking me up.”

“Yeah well, you said you wanted to meet my girlfriend, and she just got fired so she has some free time-”

“Tony!” A shrill voice rang out as a pretty older woman stepped out of the car, “That’s how you introduce me?!” She faced you, her scowl turning into a smile upon laying eyes on you, hands going to cup your face, “Oh my goodness, you’re like a doll!” She squealed and you couldn’t help but smile, “How precious.”

“Thank you.” You managed as your cheeks were squished, too blissful to care that you were 15 and getting your cheeks squished outside your school.

“Also, don’t listen to your nasty brother, I didn’t get fired, I quit,” She glared at him, “ I got dignity you know!” She barked as he put his hands up in surrender.

This was what you craved, a comfortable presence, a sense of family. Tony spent months tracking you down last year after seeing you in the background of the local news once. He was seven years older than you, and he was a good brother until he closed his own private circus to you, and showed you what happened behind the curtain, but you still had a good few weeks before the thought of family was ruined.

“Well, we’re short-staffed at my job for waitresses,” You offered, “The owner is really sweet.”

She squealed, pulling you into a hug, “Your sister is such an angel!”

You giggled, returning the hug, “Oh yeah, Y/n, this is my girlfriend, Dohye.”

Yoongi grabbed your hand from behind the podium, bringing you back to reality. You blinked, “My birth parents were victims of my father.”

“What is your relationship with Bangtan?”

“That will be all the questions y/n will take today, thank you,” Yoongi spoke, guiding you to the limo as the guards cleared a path, the clamoring of reporters constant.

“Shit,” You cursed as you settled inside the limo with seven men, “I forgot all about my fucking brother, and that last reporter rattled me.”

“Brother? Byungyeol never had sons.” Taehyung questioned as the seven men geared their stares to you.

“Remember that terribly horny girl, Dohye at the restaurant?” Seven nods, “My biological brother was her boyfriend.”

“Is he a threat?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

“He’s dead, but I don’t know how big of a family I had,” You explained, “He told me I was his only sibling, but he also told me his name was Tony.”

“What’s his real name?” Hoseok pondered.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” You quipped,” Being a mafia baby was a step up from my biological family, I was treated better by the cruelest gang of that time, so forgive me if the thought of my biological family rattles me a bit.” Jungkook put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and Yoongi glared as he saw you visibly relax, “I just want to go home,” Yoongi followed your hand as it rubbed over your thighs, “I really hate remembering Tony.”

“What did he do?” Jimin asked, earning an elbow to the gut from Namjoon.

You flinched, “Too much.”

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” Jungkook asked you, and Yoongi tensed.

“I’m traumatized, not a child,” You deadpanned.

“Jungkook, I need you and Taehyung to look into y/n’s family actually,” Yoongi piped up, “I want my best hackers to dig into her bloodline and identify the plausible threats.”

Jungkook nodded, as Yoongi delegated a variety of tasks to the other members, “I’ll stay with y/n for a few hours to make sure nobody tries anything now that she’s gone public,” He explained, “I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to, but better safe than sorry, we need our nurse safe.” The guys nodded as the limo pulled in front of your apartment, the reporters having not made it yet, “We’ll get out first.”

“We?” Hoseok interjected.

“Yeah, we,” Yoongi smirked as he opened the door, “Who else is going to tuck her in?”

“It’s really fine.” You huffed as you slipped out of the car behind him, “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Yoongi closed the door, tapping the car as it drove away, “I have my things, but we have to talk first.”

“About?” You entered the building, leading Yoongi to your apartment. You only then realized he had never been to your place before.

“Your favorite topic,” He mused as you opened the door to your place, “The past.” You groaned while he stepped inside, “It’s for your safety.”

“And what does my safety have to do with you?”

It was a good question. You and Yoongi were only involved because of a threat. You didn’t even know him for more than a week, and yet he seemed concerned of your safety. Yoongi didn’t know why himself, but he knew he wanted to protect you.

“You’re mine now, remember?” You nodded as he sat on the couch, and you took notice of the slight scrapes on the back of his hand.

Wordlessly, you grabbed the first-aid kit to do your new job, “When did this happen?” You mused, sitting next to him, and he could only offer a shrug, “And I thought I was careless.”

“Your neck is covered in bruises,” Yoongi used his other hand to untie the scarf, revealing the hand shaped purple prints, “How often were you hurt?”

“We’re doing this now?” You scoffed, “Okay, Physically? Emotionally? Both lists are too long,” You mused as you rolled the cotton swab of antiseptic on his small wounds, “I was a professional tortured girl. I was usually the hostage, because I could take a beating, that’s how I was raised.”

“What of your biological family?”

You sighed, reaching for a bandage, “Dead, I hope.” You carefully placed it down, smoothing it out gently, “My brother told me his name was Tony. He tracked me down when I was 15, and he told me our parents were dead, leaving only him,” You held your two thumbs on the ends of Yoongi’s bandage, staring off as you remembered him, “I guess he always hated me for that, but I had nothing to be envious of.

“Just tell me what you want!” You sobbed, the stinging if the slices on your legs the only sensation you knew for the past few days. Tony sat in front of you as you were chained from a beam, wrists suspended in the air as you sat, helpless.

He had been using all sorts of knives to make quick thin slices in the same place, and no one could hear you scream whilst he did so, “I want you to feel each day I had to live an orphan while you got a family!” He shouted, a bread knife slicing your shin as you sobbed, trying to kick your legs, “Be quiet, Dohye is upstairs!” He seethed as you only struggled to move your legs, “I should get more sedative.” He mused, dragging the knife over the previously made wound.

“Tony-”

“That’s not my name!” He shouted, “Only my family knows my real name, the ones who didn’t leave!”

“I was a baby!” You screeched, “I was miserable growing up, it wasn’t just you!” You began kicking more as you sobbed, “You aren’t the only one who can bleed, you aren’t the only one who can cry, and you aren’t the only one who can be angry!” You finally kicked his stomach, and didn’t stop until he staggered, struggling to stand, “Where were you?! All those years I was beaten, kidnapped, tortured, and alone?!” You stood up as he was knocked to his knees, “Were you planning this?!”

“You had a famil-”

“I had a job!” You sobbed, kicking his stomach when he tried to grab you, “I had a goddamn empire that burned!”

“You had something!” He shouted back, standing to leave to get more sedative, but you took your chance, standing as he turned his back, then you encased his neck in your arms and pulled with all your might.

You sobbed more, “I loved you!” You cried out as he hit your scratched thighs to let him go, “I wanted to be a family for once,” You cried into his shoulder as you killed your brother, “I wanted you to grill my prom date,” You sobbed while he choked,”help me study for exams,” You kept pulling,”and give me away at my wedding,” You choked on your own sobs as his trachea was collapsing, “I would’ve been a bridesmaid to your wedding,” His legs began to give out as you sunk down with him, “I would’ve kept you from psyching yourself out when you proposed,” You smiled sadly, holding him up as he lost consciousness, “I wanted to make up for lost time,” You were speaking quietly now as he could barely manage to struggle anymore, “Why did you want to punish me for it?” You whispered in his ear as he finally went limp.”

Yoongi listened to you as you incidentally held his hand through the recount, “I’ve killed a lot of people,” You muttered, “But killing him, will stay with me, forever.”

“How did you escape?” Yoongi asked while you stared at his bandaid.

“Dohye found me,” You sighed, “She performed CPR on him before letting me go, she really loved him,” You smiled sadly, “God, she’s a fucking idiot.”

Yoongi watched your eyes water, and he used his other hand to cup your cheek, bringing your head up. You looked his in the eyes, and you both felt electricity shoot through your bodies. You almost jolted at the utter connection. He didn’t open his mouth, but he said so much in his stare alone. It wasn’t pity or discomfort. It was empathy. He understood your pain, and he acknowledged it.

“I’ve decided,” He proclaimed, and you felt like you were on the edge of your seat, “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you,” He leaned his forehead on yours, “Not even myself.”

You sighed in relief for once, closing your eyes as you soaked in the words.

Yoongi wasn’t a circus. He wasn’t  flashing lights or putting up acts. He was honest, harsh, and never put up a farce. There were no acts. He was a transparent wall. You didn’t know you had been breaking down such walls, but you loved the feeling of it as you began to cut yourself from the ties of your past. You wanted to lean on him, you wanted support for once.

He was the first one to lean into you, and you followed suit as you felt your body carry you to where you wanted to be in this moment, and that was as close to him as possible.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispered, eyes fluttering closed as his breath feathered your lips, “Push me away, something, anything.”

You thought about it. How did you get into this position? Why weren’t you following his request? You hadn’t felt such a connection before. You hadn’t lusted for someone before like this, and the feeling awoke something within you. The most dangerous thing to be awoken, a block in your sense of reason. You thought about it, but your brain was mush, only one response to be conjured.

“I don’t want to,” You breathed, mere centimeters from his lips.

He huffed, shallow breaths being all left in him now. He wanted to want to pull away, push himself off, and leave your home. However, he actually wanted to feel your lips on his, body against his, skin with his. He wanted you.

“Thank God,” He rushed out as he pressed his plush lips to yours with the most gentle touch on a frantic delivery.

He had been hungry for you physically since day one, but this was more emotionally charged than he anticipated, making him starved. You kissed him back without a second thought, hand on the arm that held him up while the other went to his bicep. You felt tingles prick your skin and you opened your mouth ever so slightly, inviting his tongue in as yours followed suit to his.

Masterlist

[the-real-tc]

Fic Update! Wide River to Cross: Ch. 19

Author’s Note: Back for more. I promised a return to Lisa’s POV this time, and I have done so—sort of. I’ve split the story this time: first half is about Jack; second half is about Lisa. (It’s the first time I’ve brought both of their stories into the same chapter. Make of that what you will.)

Anyway, this is another “headcanon running wild” chapter for me, as I address one tiny detail I feel the writers ignored in the series, that of Lisa's on-line dating profile. Like, what was up with that, anyway? This chapter seeks to explain that one.

Finally, I don’t know (or can’t remember) what Jack’s feelings are towards golf. If what I’ve written contradicts known details that might have been mentioned in an episode throughout the show’s eleven-year history, I apologize.

Chapter 19: Opposites Attract

After spending another three days of utter boredom in his motel room, Jack finally forced himself to make a phone call.

Henry, the snowbird from Calgary, happily reiterated that the invitation to “come see the house” still stood; Jack was welcome to come by any time. Further, Jack could stay for the remainder of his planned time in Arizona. “No sense wasting money on a motel when we have an empty guest room right here," Henry had said during the conversation.

The first evening with Henry and Annette Groves had been passed in pleasant conversation with Jack sharing more of his experiences on the horseback riding trip through the Grand Canyon. It was after ten p.m. when he excused himself for bed, explaining that the auto and airplane traffic around the motel had interrupted his sleep for too many nights.

In the morning, Jack found he was the first to wake. He’d slept like a baby in the guest room bed, free from the roar of jet engines and assorted highway traffic. Though it was not his custom to stay under the covers, Jack didn’t leave the room until he heard his hosts moving about.

At around 7:30 a.m., there was a gentle knock on the door, and a quiet call from Annette. "Jack? If you’re up, breakfast is on. See you in the kitchen.” It all felt so homey and welcoming, Jack gave himself a mental kick for putting off calling the couple for so long. What did I do to deserve meeting so many great people on this trip? he thought as he went to the bathroom to freshen up. Lisa would have liked Henry and Annette, I’m sure…

“You like golf, Jack?”

“Never picked up a club in my life, and I don’t plan to,” Jack said to Henry. He was seated in the Groves’ comfortable living room, enjoying a second cup of coffee.

“Hmm, too bad,” Henry said, disappointment evident.

“Oh, you have more than enough golfing buddies both here and in Calgary,” chimed Annette. “You don’t need to drag Jack into that infernal sport.”

“Annette hates golf, too,” Henry chuckled, sending his wife a coy look. “God knows I’ve tried to convert her over the years, but there’s no hope.”

“Who wants to chase a ball all over the place all day long in the blazing sun, into water hazards and sand traps and roughs?”

“Walking is good exercise,” Henry rejoined defensively, though Jack could tell their argument was all in fun, and was probably one they had with regularity.

“Which is why I play tennis,” Annette commented with a smug expression.

“Now who’s going on about chasing a ball all over the place in the blazing sun all day?” Henry put in, trying hard not to crack a smile. “You’ll never catch me stepping foot on those courts.”

“No comparison whatsoever,” Annette shot back. “Plus, you know there are such things as indoor courts. Jack, you’re a smart man. Tell Henry that hitting a tennis ball out-of-bounds is nowhere as ridiculous as hitting a golf ball into a swamp.”

“Uh… um, I think you have a point, there, Annette,” Jack said carefully, looking cautiously between the two, wondering if he was heading into dangerous territory.

“Aha! 15-love,” Annette declared triumphantly, using the tennis scoring term. “You’d make a great umpire, Jack.”

“Can I take a mulligan on this one?” Henry begged meekly, hiding his smirk behind a mug of coffee.

“Yes,” Annette immediately replied, “but only because I love you.”

Jack sat back for a moment, taking in his two hosts. The Groves, sitting opposite him in matching armchairs, were gazing at each other with the love of many years. Henry reached out and grasped Annette’s hand briefly before letting it go again. It was a simple gesture that spoke volumes of the affection the pair shared; a gesture Jack noticed.

Though Jack knew Henry and Annette were the same age, they were also a study in contrasts: Henry was well over six feet in height, lean, square-featured, with a head of silver hair that at one time must have been raven in color. His blue eyes could have appeared cold on another man’s face, but Henry’s were merry and warm.

Annette was on the plump side, decidedly petite as she stood barely five feet tall, had naturally blonde hair, and wore glasses that framed her beautiful hazel eyes.

“So, Jack,” Henry started to say, realising he was ignoring his guest, “if you’re not into golf, what does a fella like you get up to in his spare time?”

“Well,” Jack started, “I don’t usually have much ‘spare time’ with my cattle business, but I do enjoy fly-fishing now and again.”

Annette wrinkled her nose, but Henry positively beamed. “You don’t say!” he said with a grin. “Annette here hates fly-fishing, but I love it.”

“Hip waders make me look wider than a hippo’s rear,” Annette complained. “Plus, I hate splashing around in ice-cold rivers.”

“Sounds like you two don’t have many hobbies in common,” Jack said, again, careful to gauge the mood of his hosts, nevertheless perceiving a jesting atmosphere.

“Ah, that’s what keeps life interesting,” Henry declared. “We don’t have to like the same things to love each other, right, Dear?”

“Right,” Annette agreed with a wide smile. This time, she was the one to initiate the contact with her husband as she reached out to touch his hand. “We do have the most important things in common, and that’s our family: Our children and our grandchildren.”

Jack nodded in understanding, his thoughts flashing back to his own family, remembering he was expected back home in another ten days or so. Despite the hospitality of the Groves, though, he was becoming more convinced with every passing day he’d had enough of Arizona and its surroundings.

Maybe I’ll cut this thing short, he thought, noting the month of March was almost over. None of my loved ones are here… maybe it’s time I head back to Hudson to be with my family once again. But even as he came to this decision, the depressing fact remained that one person wouldn’t be there, and Jack knew he was mainly to blame for Lisa’s departure and continued absence.

“I didn’t think I’d ever forgive you for that stunt,” Lisa said jokingly to Rachel, as the two of them sat on the verandah of the house in Toulon. The April evening was warm; the slightest hint of a breeze rustled the grasses in the meadow across the front lawn from the sisters.

“It was a harmless prank,” Rachel commented with a guilty grin and a roll of her eyes. “As if you would have actually needed a profile on a Singles’ website to dive into the dating pool again.”

“You do know the site came under fire from multiple users, right?”

“Oh, really? How come?”

“Um, apparently, the algorithms were all screwy,” Lisa replied with a shake of her head. “People were being told their 'perfect match’ was someone who turned out to be their total opposite. They had to shut the site down for a while so they could fix the problem.”

“No kidding,” Rachel said in surprise, after taking a sip from her wine glass.

“The Hudson Times reported there were a lot of ruined dates and nasty surprises,” Lisa continued. “The site’s administrators came out with a public apology, saying if any of the users were negatively affected by their service, they were entitled to a refund. Of course, it didn’t apply to me in the slightest, since I never paid to used the service.”

“Wow, that’s crazy,” Rachel said, then shot her older sibling a mischievous, sidelong glance. “You didn’t ever, you know, check out any of your matches, anyway? I mean, after you got over your shock at finding my handiwork… Just out of curiosity?”

Lisa scoffed. “Oh, no. What for? After reading some of those horror stories in the Times, God only knows what kind of weirdos would have been my 'perfect match’!”

Rachel’s mood turned serious. “So, you’re really hoping for a reconciliation with Jack, then?” she asked as tactfully as possible. “You know, Ben still talks about the time he spent at Heartland. Says Jack was a real stand-up guy, even though he didn’t appreciate it at the time.”

“He is a real stand-up guy,” Lisa echoed wistfully. “I do wish we could have made up. I wish things would have gone differently, but…”

“Okay, enough depressing relationship talk,” Rachel stated, waving a hand as if to physically dismiss the unhappy topic. “We’re starting to sound like those clichéd women with nothing to do but complain about being single and miserable. This is really good wine, by the way.”

Lisa couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nice segue. Yes, it is good wine. It’s from the Laportes—they’re in Bandol. I’ve given them free use of my vineyard, and Denys Laporte brought a few of these bottles over the other day when he heard I was having company. It’s his way of saying 'Thank you’ for getting to harvest the grapes.”

“That’s nice of him,” Rachel commented, taking another sip of the wine, savouring it meditatively.

“And speaking of Ben…” Lisa began.

“Sends his regrets,” sighed Rachel, after swallowing. “Since he’s doing the intensive MBA program, he literally has no spare time. Sorry, sis. I know you were looking forward to seeing him again.”

“I’ll admit I’m disappointed,” Lisa said, “but I do understand. Just make him promise he’ll make it up to me when he’s not so swamped. I really wish we’d been able to spend more time together back when you sent him to stay with me; I’ve missed so much of his growing-up years.”

“Come on, Lisa,” Rachel said with a sardonic twist of her mouth, “we both know Ben was a handful when I was going through the divorce. He was resentful, moody, and an all-round difficult teenager to be around. I’d hoped his staying with you at the old homestead would… I don’t know… make him feel more grounded, I guess… at least he wouldn’t have to be in the middle of my own messy life. I dumped him on you, and in retrospect, that wasn’t fair—to either of you.”

Lisa leaned over and placed a comforting hand on her sister’s. “Oh, you’re being too hard on yourself. Divorce is never easy. We both know this. But what you went through? And to have a kid in the middle of it? I’d say both you and Ben came out of that turmoil remarkably well.”

“Thanks, Lis,” Rachel said with genuine feeling. “Hey, while we’re on the topic of divorce and family… Have you heard from Mom lately?”

“No,” Lisa answered honestly and without emotion. “I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation.”

“Hmm.” Rachel made a sound like she was disappointed. “I can’t either.”

“I could ask Aunt Evelyn if she’s heard from her the next time we chat,” Lisa offered, though she personally didn’t think that would come to anything.

“No, it’s okay,” Rachel sighed. “You answered my real question, which is that she’s been ignoring both of us equally.”

“You know she was never the same after Dad got sick,” Lisa said, trying to stay even the slightest bit positive about the state of the sisters’ relationship with their mother.

“Yeah, I know,” Rachel commented glumly. “But we both also know living on a horse ranch in Alberta wasn’t her idea of 'the good life’. She was always jealous of everything Aunt Evelyn got to do, even if she never said it. I mean, she may have loved Dad—at least in the beginning—but in the end, it wasn’t enough.”

“It should have been,” Lisa murmured. “Dad certainly never stopped loving her…”

Rachel started to say something else, but closed her lips and kept her silence. Several mute minutes passed while the Stillman sisters sat, just gazing out into the darkness of the night, draining their wine glasses. Nothing but the occasional rustle of a tree branch or the snort of one of Lisa’s nearby horses disturbed the peace.

Presently, Rachel spoke: “My goodness, it’s so peaceful out here. I’m really glad I came.”

“I’m glad you came, too,” Lisa said, then lifted the half-empty bottle of wine they’d been sharing. “More wine?”

“Yes, please!”

“Here’s to… good wine and peaceful times,” Lisa said, raising her glass in a toast.

“Hear, hear,” Rachel said, clinking her glass with Lisa’s.

Chapter 20: The Waiting Game

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 20

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

~~*~~

Read Chapter 20 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As Edge was walking towards the vehicle shed, he caught an acrid hint of cigarette smoke in the air. He followed it, not inside but around the back and sitting in the shadows of the halogen lights was Rus.

Edge could hardly disguise his approach, the crunch of his boots in the hard-packed snow would have carried in the still icy air long before he came around the corner. But Rus made no attempt to hide. He stayed where he was, a burning cigarette dangling from his gloved fingers as he gazed up at the aurora-filled sky.

He’d already been out here for some time while Edge and the others spoke with Toriel and Gaster. The cold would soon be seeping through his outdoor gear no matter how good it was, sinking its chill into Rus’s bones. Monsters felt the cold less than Humans did but they were by no means immune to it. They could be sickened, frostbitten, and some, like Alphys, tolerated it even less than Humans. As a skeleton, Rus’s endurance should match Edge and Red’s.

Then again, who knew the boundaries of a skeleton from an entirely other universe.

Edge sat down next to Rus, drawing up his knees to rest his arms on them. He looked up at the swirling aurora overhead, the blur of colors rippling together in tangled waves, a sky ocean born of solar particles colliding with the atmosphere.

“it’s so beautiful here.” Rus’s voice was almost too loud in the hush.

“Yes,” Edge agreed in a voice to match.

It was. His intention when they’d first arrived here was only to find a safe place for those in his care, Alphys and Undyne and his still-wounded brother, and later, for Bonnie. Somewhere they could be certain of their meals and shelter. Nothing more than a job to replace the one he lost with the guard and a feeble attempt at that.

He hadn’t expected to find beauty in the glacial whiteness, nor in the endless night sky. He never anticipated the satisfaction that came with seeing another group off, knowing he’d protected them and guided them through this dangerous beauty. He couldn’t have known how Undyne and Alphys would blossom here, both their love for each other and their lives, settling into their place. Or that Red would slowly find his own footing and perhaps he’d never adore the Humans that came here, but he had his own pride in his work, kept all the equipment in top form and helped Alphys in her designs for new additions for the station. And Bonnie, who’d come to them later and never discussed her own inner wounds, yet still seemed to be healing from them. Together they’d created a place of safety for them, a home.

Even after all that, he never could have braced himself for Rus. Who’d settle into their home like he belonged here, their missing puzzle piece. Only it seemed as if he’d come not from their picture, but an entirely different box.

“he told you, didn’t he.” It was impossible to tell if the fog of Rus’s breath was from the cold or the cigarette.

Edge said nothing. His promise to Toriel specified he couldn’t reveal what they’d spoken about. It did not preclude discussing it at all and he only waited as Rus chuckled bitterly, filling in the silence on his own.

“it’s funny,” Rus drawled, flicking ash into the snow, “i came all the way to the end of the world to escape my past and it still came after me.”

Edge thought of Toriel, currently cramped into one of the spare rooms and probably trying not to scrape her horns against the ceiling. “I know the feeling.”

“yeah, i know,” Rus said, grimacing, “i’m sorry. part of the deal of tori sponsoring me was i’d keep mum about back home. i promised.”

“I understand.”

“yeah, well, if i’d known they were gonna pop in unexpectedly, i would’ve warned you about that much, anyway.” Rus’s expression crumpled slightly, going brittle around the edges. “look, i love tori, she’s been nothing but good to me. moms her way into everything. but you guys got your reasons to not want her around, i get that.”

“Rus,” the cloud of his own breath briefly obscured his vision as Edge sighed, “even if they are here because of you, that doesn’t make it your fault.”

“doesn’t it? think what pissed me off most is i know dings is right,” Rus murmured. “he’s can be a little rough saying it, but he means well.”

The resignation in Rus’s voice made Edge bristle, “He accused you of being nothing more than a key made for a particular lock.”

“truth hurts.” It was startling to realize how he’d categorized Rus’s smiles in his own head, the bright, fake one and the softer, shyer truthful one that came with a measure of trust. This one was entirely new, tainted with deep bitterness, “bet big brother didn’t fill in the details, so let me give you the highlights of our family tree.”

“see, our pop was the royal scientist in our world, the real deal. i call him pop, but that’s mostly because it annoyed him. he wasn’t really our father, he was a dna donor. he didn’t even name us, we named ourselves.” Rus was sitting right next to Edge here in the deep cold and still seemed miles away, no, not miles, he was in another world entirely. “dings took his name. not like he really knew there were many options past that or just getting called number one. just as well, i guess, looks more like him than me or blue. dings named blue and they both named me.”

He slanted a glance at Edge, his bright eye lights dimmed behind his goggles. “dings was still really young when blue popped out, what did he know about names? baby bro’s magic was blue, so that’s what he went with. i came a few more years down the line and by then, they’d raided the librarby and found out that papyrus is a traditional skeleton monster name.” He chuckled then, some of the bitterness of his smile invading the sound. “like anything about us was traditional.”

“we were his own personal test tube babies, homegrown like fucking cabbages, and gaster made us to fulfill a specific role. see, the core was important work, sure, but what he was really trying to do was make a machine that could get us past the shield. turns out, third time is the charm for our old man. he made dings and blue first but neither of them could use void magic. i was his hail mary, his last shot, and whaddaya know, it worked.” Rus scowled, tamped out his burning butt into the snow. He dropped it into his little tin and lit another, inhaling deeply and breathing out a cloud of smoke. “he never let me forget what i was for, but dings and blue always tried to be the best brothers they could. after pops kacked, it wasn’t until dings got that machine working that it even came up again.” He shrugged, barely visible through the layers of his heavy coat. “i got to forget for a while, at least.”

Edge said nothing, what could he say? His childhood was hardly one ease and joy; it more resembled the fairy tales that Red sometimes read to him when he still the shorter of the two, listening with wide sockets to gruesome tales that seemed all too possible. It seemed Rus had his own experiences with a sort of wicked stepfather and it was every bit as terrible as those stories. The urge to pull him close, to keep him safe, was itching in Edge and he forcibly held it back, let Rus tell his story.

“i never expected the machine to actually work,” Rus admitted. “dings was messing with it for so long. then we were here. my bro was only supposed to talk to the royal scientist and we were gonna hightail it back. easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Rus chuckled darkly, “turned out the lemonade was too sour after all. dings was pretty upset to find out the guy he was looking for was gone and so was his successor.”

Rus’s smile eased into something warmer, familiar, “it was tori who got me to start studying, you know. my bros always kept me on a tight leash back home, it was dangerous to even go outside, but here? i went out, tried to make some friends, ended up sleeping around some. wasted time,” Rus admitted, “tori suggested i work on my degree. i didn’t see the point at first, our pop always told us our purpose. i was there to power the machine. but, tori has this thing about being everyone’s mom.”

“Indeed, she does,” Edge murmured, recalling his days imprisoned after the coup, with good meals and care instead of execution.

“i think maybe that’s why she’s such a good queen. she told me pops was wrong,” Rus laughed a little in a puff of smokey breath and shook his head. “told me he was an asshole, actually, and that i deserved to have what i wanted out of life.”

“we argued about it, me and dings. drove blue nuts. blue was…he was the failure, pops said. at least dings was a scientist, but blue couldn’t even manage that. dings always told him his purpose was to be our caretaker and he tried damn hard at it.” Rus sighed, dropping his head back against the shed siding with a muffled thunk, “he hates it when we fight.”

“But you did it,” Edge said softly, “you got your degree, you’re working on your PhD and you’re doing a good job of it, at that.” Even through the growing cold he felt an inner warmth at the smile Rus flashed him, the real one.

“i did. i got so close.” Rus’s voice broke slightly, “things were horrible when we left, i can’t even imagine how they are now. and dings, he needs to fix the core. that was the skill that was built into him.” His smile soured back into bitterness, “it’s a compulsion, i don’t think he can help it. he has to be better than our pop. he has to be the one to save us all. blue believes everyone is worth saving, but he’s a protector, and me? i’m just a battery. i was never meant to have any of this.”

A honey-tinted tear slipped out from beneath his goggles and wound its way down, slowly freezing against the chilled bone of Rus’s skull and Edge’s control broke. He crawled across the short distance between them, scuffled through the snow and pulled Rus into his arms. He held on briefly, achingly tight before drawing back far enough to shake him, a little, and Rus looked at him with wide, startled eye lights.

“You are more than simply your father’s intentions,” Edge told him fiercely. “You’re brilliant and kind, and…and funny…wonderful…” He choked, unable to express the wild emotions burning in his soul; if there were words for it, Edge did not know them. Love was too shallow a word, too small, it couldn’t possibly hold everything Edge was feeling, all of it strangled in grief.

Rus reached up and his gloved fingers were gentle against Edge’s cheekbone. “it’s okay,” he said, softly, “i always knew we’d have to go back. i got to see this. i got to be with you. it’s okay,” he said again, crooned it, as if Edge were the one in pain. Perhaps he was, his soul ached as fiercely as if it was threatening to crack. “i saw so much here on the surface. i got to see the stars, i got to come here and see this.” He looked up at the sky, at the brilliant colors still churning within it along with a million twinkling lights looking down on them. “i was never going to get to stay, but i got to see this.”

“It’s not enough,” Edge said hoarsely. Not enough, Rus was supposed to leave here and go back into the sun, and instead, he was going where Edge could never follow, couldn’t protect him, and again, Edge would have given a portion of his own grieving soul not to see that sadness infecting Rus’s smile.

“i love you, you know,” Rus told him, achingly soft. “i know it’s not fair to tell you now, but i can’t keep it to myself. i need you to know it.”

Edge closed his sockets, shutting out Rus’s face and the aurora, saw only blackness and it wasn’t the cold that sent a tremor through him. Then he opened them again, looked into Rus’s face and saw the truth of it, the yearning. And the hopelessness. The need to say it back burned, words already forming on his tongue, but instead Edge blurted, “Stay the two weeks.”

Rus blinked, startled. That was clearly not the reaction he expected to his quiet confession, “but, the people—"

“It’s been two years,” Edge countered, “two weeks means nothing to your world and everything to you. Don’t let your brother’s compulsion drive you. Toriel—"

He almost said she was on his side, couldn’t, his knowledge was gleaned from their talk and words already thickening in his throat, his promise threatening to choke him when Rus kissed him softly, stopping him.

“i can guess about tori,” Rus said quietly, then, softer, “two more weeks.” He looked up again and even behind his goggles, the auroras couldn’t match the soft beauty of his eye lights. “there’s no stars back home. i’m gonna miss them.”

He fell silent, leaning against Edge’s side. Edge wrapped an arm around him and pulled Rus in closer, holding him tightly through the layers of his coat. He was starting to shiver; they were both getting too cold and he was about to suggest they move into the vehicle shed at the very least when Rus spoke again.

“it got so bad towards the end,” Rus whispered, “we stayed holed up in the lab, mostly, but we could see what was happening. monsters were getting more violent, losing control, gaining lv. pops’ diagrams on the core were incomplete. it was dings’s idea to come to another world and check theirs. i had to come, of course and we couldn’t leave Blue alone, so we all came.”

Rus kicked one booted foot idly, scraping up snow with his heel. “s’weird. even the snow is different here. back home it seems…stale somehow. used. maybe it’ll be better when dings gets the core up and running.” Rus sighed. “i never would have come to the station if i’d thought he was close to a breakthrough. it’s weird, i thought i had enough time.” Rus drew back a little, looking at Edge with that soft smile back in place. “but it sure wasn’t a waste.”

Almost, Edge kissed him again, hesitated with their mouths a breath away. Something about what Rus said niggled, something… “Weird.”

“heh,” Rus chuckled, “it’s double weird hearing you say weird. doesn’t seem like your kind of slang, bossman.”

Edge barely heard him. His brother had a breakthrough on the core, Rus said, an unexpected breakthrough. Edge cursed himself, replaying what Rus told him. He'd been foolishly focused on the information about Rus and why they were here, not on what changed to bring them to the station.

"What was your brother studying, exactly?” Edge demanded. He took Rus’s shoulders in both gloved hands, holding him, “You said he was looking for information about the Core."

Rus blinked uncertainly, his browbone furrowing, “um, papers, mostly. tori has lots of stuff from the old royal scientist, dings was wading through tons of it. i didn’t see much, he didn’t want any help. he was afraid we’d miss something. guess he found what he was looking for.”

“Yes, I think he did,” Edge said sourly, “A patsy.” Edge climbed to his feet and held out a hand to help Rus, “I’d like to know what was in those notes your brother found and I think we should ask the former royal scientist.”

“what?” Rus wobbled for a second, catching his balance after sitting for so long, “seriously? you think they’d talk to you? tori said they don’t—

“I should hope so,” Edge said, dryly, “she’s in her lab.” And very likely watching them on her cameras.

Rus went still, croaking out, “alphys??”

“You didn’t know?” Edge slanted Rus a look, but he believed him.

“no!” Rus spluttered, already heading back towards the station, Edge trailing after him. “tori didn’t talk about it, i didn’t even think to ask anyone else, why would i?”

“Maybe your brother isn’t as discriminating,” Edge said, under his breath, letting the wind tear the words away. It was more than a little suspicious that his brother solved the issue of core technology when Rus was in the only place that possessed a replica of the original. Edge didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Rus,” Edge jogged to catch up, taking hold of Rus’s elbow to stop him as he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“yes,” Rus said, unhesitatingly.

“I trust you, too,” Edge said, softly, and leaned in to give him a brief, chilly kiss. “Come on. You’re freezing and I have questions.”

“you’re the boss,” Rus said. It was only a shadow of his normally teasing self, but it was something. He took Rus’s gloved hand in his own and together, they made their way to the main building.

tbc

[captaincanarygotmelike]

Fic: Voices Carry ch. 15

I'm back!!! It feels like it's been almost two months since I last posted something because it has. Oops. Anyway, I've returned with another chapter!

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Read on Fanfiction.net

Sara returned to the living room nearly an hour after she’d left with Avery.

“My child conned me into falling asleep with her again,” Sara said, brushing her tousled hair out of her eyes.

She sat next to Leonard on the couch, resting her legs across his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Avery asked me something I didn’t exactly expect.”

“And what might that’ve been?”

“Well, first she wanted to know if we were gonna get married.”

“And?” Leonard smirked.

“I told her you’d have to ask me first,” she teased. Leonard rolled his eyes.

“But what she really wanted to ask me was if she would be able to call you dad.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sara nodded, “I said she should ask you at some point and that the three of us would all sit down and talk about it, but I’d like to hear your two cents first.”

Leonard was quiet, with a look of consideration on his face.

Sara had learned through the past few weeks that Leonard let her take control of their relationship when things were new. Sara had kissed him first, Sara initiated PDA around the cabin, Sara had first started the discussion about getting married a few days ago. She knew that Leonard wanted to experience these new milestones, he just didn’t know how, so he let Sara take the reins.

He wanted to have this discussion about Avery calling him Dad, but Sara knew that he needed her to get it started.

“Look,” she said, “I know this is a conversation you never imagined having, and I understand why you’d be weirded out by it, but just so you know, I’d be okay with Ave calling you Dad if you are.”

“I’m not uncomfortable about it,” he said, “But I’m not actually her dad. What’ll happen if her actual dad shows up one day.”

“I’ll tell him you were here first,” Sara replied, “Because you were.”

“I just feel like I might not deserve the title,” he said, and Sara could see the uncertainty on his face, “You were there for her first steps and first words and first day of school. I’ve been here for, what, two months?”

“First of all, it’s definitely been longer than that. Second of all, she’s only four. There’ll be more firsts. You helped her with her first school project and you heard her first swear word,” she tipped her head to the side in consideration, “You rescued her from her first attempted kidnapping.”

She chuckled and Leonard even managed a smile.

“And yes,” she continued, “I was there for her first steps and her first words and all those other firsts because I’m doing my job as her mom, and she’s had me her whole life. Her dad didn’t even both sticking around until she was born. That was a choice he chose to make, but his selfishness doesn't mean that Avery never gets to have a father. Clearly she thinks you’re up for the job. And so do I.”

Leonard nodded, looking deep into her turquoise eyes.

“But,” she said, leaning away from him and stretching her legs out in front of her, “Don’t let me lead you in one particular direction. You get to make up your own mind.”

“Are you two done yet?” Cisco asked, striding into the room with a bowl of popcorn in one hand, “Game of Thrones is on in five minutes and it won’t be any fun if you’re being all couple-y in the background.”

“Yes, we’re done,” Leonard rolled his eyes, “Put on your show, Ramon.”

They all sat and watched Game of Thrones together, and when it was over, they all gradually traipsed off to bed until Leonard and Sara were the only ones left in the room.

“Did you hear Lisa and Cisco decided to move in together?” Sara asked him.

“Yes,” Leonard rolled his eyes, but the irritation on his face didn’t last long. He was happy for his sister, even if he didn’t always show it, “She’s gonna start moving out when we go back to Central City.”

“You know, she doesn’t have to be the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe,” Sara said, “When we get back, you could move in with Ave and me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” she replied, “I mean, we’re already pretty much living together now.”

“Do you think Avery would be okay with it?”

“I’m pretty sure you could literally kidnap Avery and she’d be okay with it,” she joked. They heard the sound of a bedroom door open, “Speak of the devil.”

They heard the sound of little feet padding against the hardwood floors.

“Woah!” Sara said, “What are you doing up?”

Leonard turned in his seat to see Avery running into the room.

“I woke up!” she said, smiling innocently.

“I see that,” Sara replied, “but you have to go back to bed. It’s way too late for you to be up.”

“You’re up,” Avery said, climbing into Sara’s lap.

“Yes, but I wasn’t awake at five in the morning.”

“Yeah you were ‘cos I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t awake by choice,” Sara corrected, “C’mon, you have to go back to bed.”

“I tried,” Avery whined, rolling over so she was hanging over the side of the couch, “I can’t sleep.”

“Hey Ave,” Leonard said, leaning over to pick something up off the side table next to him, “After you went to bed, I looked through my bookshelves and i found this.”

He held up a thin hardcover book. Avery looked at the cover.

“I can’t read,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, “It’s The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.”

Avery’s face brightened.

“That’s the movie we watched today!”

“I know,” he said again.

“Mommy!” Avery said, pulling on Sara’s hand, “Can Lenny read the Narnia book to me? I promise I’ll really go to sleep this time.”

“Lenny can if he wants to,” Sara replied, “But I’m going to bed.”

She planted a kiss on Leonard’s lips and another on the top of Avery’s head and stood from the couch.

“Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder as she headed towards her and Leonard’s bedroom,

“G’night Mommy,” Avery said.

Leonard stood from the couch and picked up Avery.

“Let’s go,” he said, “One chapter and then you have to go to bed.”

Avery nodded, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

He carried her to her bedroom and set her down on the bed. He sat next to her and opened the book to the first chapter.

“Wait!” she screeched and began fishing through her quilt and sheets.

“What?”

“I need my bunny,” she replied.

“Oh,” he nodded understandingly and waited patiently until she found her bunny.

“Okay,” she said, once she’d extracted her bunny from a fold in the sheets, “I’m ready now.”

He cracked open the book and started to read.

Leonard read Avery the first chapter of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and when he was done, he closed the book and set it on the nightstand.

“So what’d you think?” he asked Avery.

“It’s good,” she replied.

“Lisa liked it,” he told her, “I think she was your age when I read this to her.”

“Can we read more?” Avery asked.

“Tomorrow,” he replied, “Right now you have to go to sleep.”

He moved to get out of the bed, but Avery stopped him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Leonard replied, sitting back down.

“How come you talk about taking care of Lisa lots?” she asked, “How come you took care of her?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “When I was growing up, I didn’t exactly have a mom like you do.”

“Like how I don’t have a dad?”

“Right,” he nodded. That wasn’t exactly the whole story, but Avery didn’t need the whole story. Not yet, anyway, “My mom wasn’t around, so my dad was the one who had to take care of me and Lisa, but the thing is, my dad didn’t really want to be a dad. He thought it was too hard and he wasn’t very good at it, so he stopped trying. Someone still had to take care of Lisa — she was about your age then — and I was around so I decided I would.”

“Oh,” Avery replied, “Okay.” Then she added, “My mommy’s a good mommy, right?”

“Your mommy is the best mommy I’ve ever seen,” he answered, “Anything you need and she’ll be there. She’ll always be there for you.” He hesitated a moment and then added, “And so will I.”

Avery nodded.

“But now,” Leonard stood from the bed, “I need you to go to sleep.”

He leaned down to pull the quilt up over Avery’s legs and as he did, Avery sat up and wrapped her arms around Leonard in the tightest hug her tiny body could muster. Leonard pulled Avery closer to him, kissing the top of her head.

“I mean it,” he said when she released him, “If you ever need anything, I’ll always be here. I promise.”

The next few days were spent packing up the cabin. They had all definitely settled into the house in the few weeks they’d lived there, and it took a lot longer to move back out than they’d expected.

It took a while, but three days after Leonard and Avery had read the first chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, they were packed up and ready to head back to the city.

Most of the cabin’s temporary inhabitants were happy to be returning to their normal lives, all except one.

Avery had been having a particularly rough time with leaving the cabin, and the day they finally left was the worst of them all.

It hadn't been a good morning to begin with. First, there had been something cataclysmically wrong with one of Avery's socks that couldn’t be fixed with any amount of adjusting. Then she couldn't find a very specific little plastic doll with a very specific purple dress that she needed right at that very minute. By that point, she was dangerously close to a meltdown that Sara really didn’t want to have to deal with.

“I don’t wanna go,” Avery said adamantly, her sneakers lighting up as they stomped against the deck floor.

“Avery,” Sara said patiently, looking up at Avery on the wooden front porch from her spot on the driveway, “Lenny is waiting in the car for us. Let’s go.”

“I don’t wanna go!” she repeated.

“Don’t you wanna see your friends again?” Sara asked, aware that she was grasping at straws at this point, “When we get back, we can call Natalie and Seth and see if they wanna play.”

“No, I wanna stay here,” Avery shook her head.

“I’m sorry to tell you, babe, but you’re gonna be the only one here,” she told her, “Everyone else went home.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yep,” she told her, “We’re the only ones still here. C’mon, get in the car.”

Avery pouted up at her mother until Sara, tired of arguing, strode up the porch stairs and scooped her up. She squirmed frantically in her arms, but to no avail because in less than a minute, she was strapped into her carseat.

“I’m very upset, Mommy,” Avery said, crossing her arms over the buckles of her seat.

“I know,” Sara said understandingly, “I think you’ll be okay, though.”

They made it back home in just under an hour.

“We’re home!” Avery exclaimed once they were all out of the car.

“I thought you didn’t want to come home,” Sara said skeptically.

“All my toys are here,” she responded as if it was obvious.

“Okay,” Sara replied, shrugging in defeat.

“Never a dull moment?” Leonard commented, smirking at Sara as he walked around the car.

“No kidding,” she said, watching her daughter scramble up the stone steps of the apartment building. She turned to face Leonard, “You ready for this?” she asked him, “You ready to move in?”

“Yes,” he nodded, and then added, “Especially considering my other option is living with Cisco Ramon.”

“I can’t believe he’ll be living across the hall,” she laughed, intertwining her fingers with his as they walked into the apartment together, Avery running a few feet ahead of them.

“Mommy?” Avery said one morning, a few days after Leonard had finished moving in. She was sitting in a leather arm chair that had made its way into the living room from Leonard’s apartment at some point during the last week.

“Yes, Avery,” Sara replied.

“Where’d this chair come from?” she asked.

“That’s Lenny’s chair,” she answered.

“How come Lenny’s chair is here?”

“You remember what I said about how Len is gonna live with us, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he brought some of his own stuff with him, like his clothes and some of his furniture.”

“Why?”

“Because now it’s part his house too,” she explained, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Avery exclaimed, her eyes shining, “I love him here so much ‘cos yesterday he made me a grilled cheese shaped like a cat and it tasted so good!”

Sara was so grateful that Avery was taking everything so well. She knew her life would be a hell of a lot harder if Avery was unhappy, but she was taking everything better than Sara could have anticipated.

She wished everyone in her life would be as supportive. Her father had called her the night before to check in and Sara had decided to rip off the bandage and tell him about Leonard.

He had, unsurprisingly, not been pleased and the argument that had ensued ended with Sara shouting, “Oh my God, Dad, I don’t need you to vet the people I date!” and then hanging up the phone.

The front door opened and Avery, Leonard, and a little pink bike with shiny training wheels entered the apartment.

“I take it that didn’t go well,” Leonard said.

“You heard that?” Sara cringed.

“Yeah, we could hear you all the way down the hallway!” Avery chirped.

“Great,” Sara sighed. She put her phone down on the coffee table and attempted to maintain her composure.

“Lenny, let’s go!” Avery called behind her as she ran into her bedroom.

“Just a second,” he told her, sitting on the couch next to Sara.

 “So how did the bike-riding go?” she asked.

“She did a good job,” Leonard nodded, “She still won’t let me let go of the handle bars, but she didn’t scream when I tried this time.”

“Progress,” Sara said, pumping her fist in the air.

Her phone vibrated loudly against the glass table. Sara turned it over to see that Laurel was calling her.

“If my dad tattled on me to my sister, I’m gonna flip a —” she glanced at Avery to make sure she wasn’t paying attention before mouthing “— shit.”

“You should answer her,” Leonard advised her.

“Lenny!” Avery called again from her bedroom.

“What does she want?” Sara asked, glancing over her shoulder to Avery’s bedroom.

“I said I’d read more of the Narnia book to her, but I can stay here with you while you talk to your sister if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sara waved him off, “Go read to Avie.”

He nodded and said, “Good luck with Laurel,” placing a comforting hand on her shoulder before heading into Avery’s bedroom.

That had been two days ago and in the time since, her sister had come around. Her father was still a work in progress, but Sara was trying to not let it be a big deal. She was happy and that’s all that mattered to her.

Well, almost.

There was one person in Sara’s life whose opinion mattered to her, and that person was coming to visit them for the first time since Sara moved.

“When’s she gonna get here?” Avery asked urgently, kicking her little legs against the leather chair.

“A couple minutes, honey,” Sara answered.

“Where’s Lenny?” she asked.

“He’s at the grocery store. He’ll be back home soon too. Relax.”

Avery had just woken up from a very long nap and now seemed to have an inexorable amount of energy.

She’d been tearing around the apartment in crazed circles until she crashed into a table and almost broke a lamp, at which point Sara sent her outside to run laps up and down the hallway. She grew bored of that after a while, so Sara encouraged her to play a game of her own invention called “See-How-Long-You-Can-Sit-In-That-Chair-Without-Getting-Up”.

“When can I get up?” Avery asked.

“You could get up now, but that you mean you lose,” she advised her, “But the game will end when she gets here.”

“But when’s she gonna get here?”

“A few minutes, honey, like I said.”

Sara went back into the kitchen, where she was putting the finishing touches on lunch — something her mother called a “crudité platter”, but was really just a lot of small food on a big plate, plus a peanut butter sandwich, pretzels, and hummus for Avery.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Sara heard Avery launch herself out of the chair.

“Avery, ask who it is!” Sara called from the kitchen, but to no avail because Avery was already undoing the chain and tugging the door open.

“Aunt Lissy!” Avery screeched and Sara entered the living room just in time to see Avery throw herself into Felicity Smoak’s arms.

“Avery!” Felicity explained, swinging her into her arms and whirling her through the air, “You’re getting so big!”

“I’m two whole inches taller than three feet,” she said matter-of-factly after Felicity put her down.

“Wow!” Felicity looked up and saw Sara walking towards her, “Sara!”

She crossed the distance between them and hugged her friend.

“Oh my God, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” Sara replied.

Felicity stepped away from her and looked around the apartment.

“Your place is so nice!” she exclaimed, “You’ve done such a good job with it!” She pointed to the leather chair Avery had been sitting in, “Is that new?”

“Uh, in a sense,” Sara responded nervously.

This was no regular visit with Felicity. Sara, after a long internal debate, had decided that she didn’t want her best friend to hear about Leonard in a text or over the phone or — even worse — from Laurel of her dad, whose personal opinions Leonard could prematurely decide what Felicity thought of the man Sara loved. She’d taken it upon her self to invite Felicity to Central City for the weekend so she could meet Leonard in person.

“Why don’t we sit?” Sara suggested, “I’ll bring out food in a minute; I'm just waiting on a few things.”

One of those things was Leonard himself. Like Sara had told Avery, Leonard was at the grocery store. She knew he’d be back in a few minutes, but the waiting was killing her.

Sara realized that Felicity’s opinion of Leonard mattered to her more than both Laurel’s and her father’s.

Five years ago — back when she was still pregnant with Avery — Felicity was the only person in her life who had been by her side since day one. Even her mother had been a little disappointed in Sara at first. Sure, she’d come around relatively quickly, but still, Felicity was the only one supporting her from the beginning when no one else — not even her parents or her sister — did.

Felicity had actually sat in the waiting room the whole time Sara was in labor and was the first person to hold Avery after she was born.

She was Sara’s best friend; her opinion mattered to her and Sara wasn’t sure what she’d do if Felicity didn’t like Leonard.

“So Avery,” Felicity said, pulling Sara back into the living room where they were all sitting, “What’s new with you now that you’re so grown up? What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple,” Avery replied as Felicity lifted her into her lap.

“Awesome! How about…what’s your favorite animal?”

“An elephant. I have ten in my room.”

“You have ten elephants?” Felicity responded.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded confidently.

“In your room?”

“Thirty!” Avery urgently corrected.

“Eighteen, thirty, same thing,” Felicity shrugged, “You have thirty elephants in your room. Are they real?”

“Yup!”

“You have thirty real elephants in your room? That’s awesome!”

“And now I’m gonna get three more and them I’m gonna have twenty-seven-hundred!”

“Well, that does not add up, but I’m happy for you,” Felicity replied. She turned to Sara, “How’ve you been? How’s work?”

“It’s good,” she shrugged, “I think the city’s still pretty spooked after the earthquake incident.”

“That’s right!” Felicity exclaimed, “I forgot to ask: how are you guys after that — I mean, obviously you’re okay; you’re right here, but did you get out of the city okay? Did you find a place to stay? How was Avie after?”

“Ave’s fine,” Sara answered, ending Felicity’s stream of questions, “And yeah, we had somewhere to stay — a place up in the mountains.”

“Really?” Felicity asked skeptically, “That sounds kinda sketchy.”

“No, it was fine,” Sara reassured her, “It’s—”

“It’s Lenny’s house,” Avery interrupted, “and he hid it from us ‘cos he didn’t want a lotta people there.”

“Who’s Lenny?” Felicity asked, turning to Sara.

“Uh, well, he’s—” Sara was cut off yet again as the door to the apartment opened and Leonard walked in with a plastic grocery bag in each hand.

“Felicity,” Sara said, jumping off her chair and walking over to where Leonard was standing, “This is Leonard — my boyfriend.”

It's important to note that this story was supposed to have eight chapter and now it's slated to have 18. Whoops. Also, I'm thinking (read: still very on the fence) about introducing Avery's biological dad into the story. Would you guys like for him to be a new character that I create or someone we've seen on Legends or Arrow? Let me know and keep in mind that I may ultimately decide to not include him at all.

[imaginekpoptrash-blog]

Gangsta Luv (G Dragon fic/Ch.16)

A/N: Hello! Sorry this took so long to write. I have multiple different reasons for it but instead of making excuses I’ll just give you guys the next chapter of my fic! ~ Hope you guys like it!! And thank you so much for showing my little fic so much love!! You guys are the greatest!!!

Ch.1     Ch.2     Ch.3     Ch.4     Ch.5     Ch.6      Ch.7     Ch.8     Ch.9   Ch.10    Ch.11     Ch.12     Ch.13     Ch.14       Ch.15 

Word Count: 3,547

Genre: Everything at one point or another. Also, be warned of explicit language, gun and drug use at one point or another, and violence. I feel like I need to put this on every chapter from now on. You have been warned.

Summary: What does one do when their future is already picked out for them? Try to escape over and over again or accept their fate?

“Home…” Jiwoo mumbled under her breath, her body numb as ice ran through her veins. Everything finally clicked for her as she stared into the face of the enemy only inches away. His wicked smile, the constant destructive look in his eyes, the way he looked at her as if she belonged to him and she was truly nothing but a toy to him, a doll. Jiwoo could feel herself becoming cold, trembling under his eyes.

“Yes, home. Where you belong. Do you still remember my name, doll? I’d be a little offended if you didn’t. We used to have so much fun when we were kids…that is until your little ‘prince’ intervened.”  

Jiwoo swallowed hard, unable to speak as he stared at her. She could see the amusement in his eyes and remembered all the times she’d go home crying because of him. The times he shoved her around and stole King from her, threatening to cut him into pieces. How he’d talk about her and push her around as if she were a Raggedy Ann doll. She was terrified of him back then, and seeing him now, she realized that it had only gotten worse. He tilted his head and ran his finger along her cheek with a smirk on his face.

“Come on. Say it. I know you didn’t forget about me that easily.” His voice deep he watched her mouth open, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Once again he had complete control over her. She feared him and he knew it.

“Soohyuk, doll. Now, repeat after me. Lee Soohyuk.” His eyes stayed on Jiwoo, his lips curling into a devilish grin when he heard her whisper his name, barely audible even in the deadly silent room. He chuckled and stood to his feet, looking down at King in her grip before turning his back to her. Jiwoo watched him walk over to his desk and lean against it after he turned back to look at her.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions so I’ll gladly answer them all for you. That is, if you can find your voice again.”

She wanted to scream, wanted to cry her eyes out, wanted to fight him with the last bit of energy she had left in her, but her body refused to move from the spot she was currently glued too. Jiwoo could feel her entire body shake, a few tears rolling down her cheeks which she didn’t dare to wipe away. Soohyuk enjoyed every second of this and she knew it. She could tell by the pure heinous look in his eyes and she swore that if it was physically possible, a set of horns and a tail would accompany that demonic smile of his. He shrugged at her when she didn’t answer him, turning around to pour himself a glass of brown liquid which she could only assume was some type of liquor.

“Alright, how about we start at the beginning then.” He took a sip and set the glass down, his eyes turning back to her.

“As you know, your little ‘prince’ had me shipped off when I became too much of a problem for you back then. To where is unimportant right now. Actually, I should rephrase that…” Walking over to Jiwoo he turned the spare chair around and faced her as she sat backed up against the wall. “His father had me and my family shipped off. If it was up to him, I’d probably be dead right now. I should probably visit his father and thank him for that one day. Now I’ve got the chance to fuck him over and take you for good.”

Jiwoo clung onto King and listened to his story silently. At this point, she didn’t have any other choice. He would kill her if she dared to oppose him, she had no doubt about that.

“Back to the important things, though. After a few years of being gone, I got a phone call from a certain friend of mine. Best friend, actually. He told me that you were in town and that your prince had finally made his move. That you were with him now. See, doll, all those years of being gone were actually very good for me, as you can see. Just like your Prince I’ve made my way to the top. Unlike him, though, I worked my ass off to get where I am today. To be one of the most feared men in the country, alongside none other than Jiyong. I’m obviously not as nice as him, though, as you can tell.” Soohyuk paused and leaned up with a smirk, watching in amusement as Jiwoo tried to back away even further into the wall, wishing that at this point she could phase through it like a ghost and run as far away as her legs could possibly take her.

“So, naturally, when that friend of mine told me that you were finally with Jiyong, I figured to have a little fun. I could have come to fetch you at any point I wanted to, but this would be more entertaining. To rip you out of his hands just when he thought he finally had you. The ‘meeting’ gone wrong was my doing, too, of course. The only thing that I didn’t plan on was him getting out of it alive…I planned for him to die. I wanted him dead, and since the guys I hired to do that couldn’t do the damn job right, they had to die.”

“You…” Jiwoo mumbled and Soohyuk raised his brow curiously.

“Oh? Did you suddenly find your voice, doll?”

Jiwoo’s breathing quickened and her grip around King tightened as if he suddenly gave her courage to speak.

“You’re the one…at the shop…and the one I first ran into…” Jiwoo’s eyes widened as she finally realized that in the end, she was the one who told him everything when she first ran into him. She ran to him for help, trying to get away from Jiyong. Something that ended up backfiring on her.

Soohyuk chuckled and stared at her.

“I was getting to that. You’re getting ahead of yourself, doll, but yes. That was me. Running into you only confirmed what I already knew. Believe it or not, you getting out of that house and even making it into town was planned, too. Your precious little family that you love so much has a very smart rat in it, if you hadn’t noticed yet. How else do you think I knew Jiyong had finally come to fetch you? All of our encounters were planned, doll. I’m surprised it took you this long to find out. You never were the brightest, though…always such a naive little girl…that was one of the things I liked most about you. You were always so innocent. Never dared to talk back to me…”

Soohyuk stood from his chair and kneeled down in front of Jiwoo, placing his hand on her chin and tilting her head up to face him. Her heart beat faster, skipping a few beats while her body went still under his rough touch, a small whine escaping her whenever he spun her head in a different direction as he looked her over.

“I’m glad there’s no serious marks or scratches on you…I would have hated for my new toy to arrive broken. A few bruises on your arms, but I’m sure those can be take care of.” He could see the tears well in up her eyes and moved to wipe them away, to which Jiwoo turned her head in the opposite direction at his touch. Soohyuk’s usual grin turned into a frown as she shied away from his touch and within a second he snapped her head back to face him, his hand resting on her chin.

“Don’t. You’re mine now, understood? Or did you forget how scary I can get when I’m mad?” His voice deeper than usual sent chills down her spine and she could feel the tears roll down her cheeks. He was her worst nightmare and no matter how hard she used to try and forget about him, she never truly could. Soohyuk haunted her in her dreams and was ultimately part of her memories. Something Jiwoo tried to forget but never truly could.

“How about we get you to your new room. I know the perfect person to take care of you when I’m busy. I’m sure you’ll love the idea just as much as me.” Soohyuk slowly let go of her and stood to his feet.

Jiwoo’s heart raced in her chest and her breath hitched, afraid of which one of his goons would come to drag her off next, adding another bruise to her body.

She watched as Soohyuk smiled deviously at her and walked over to the door. She watched as he opened it and ordered for one of the men that stood guard to go and fetch someone. She couldn’t quite hear what he said, but she watched him as his smile grew from ear to ear, and she even watched as a new man entered the room. Her heart stopped along with her breathing and she was positive that she was officially numb now. Her brain shut off and she lost the last bit of her confidence as she stared into the face of the man standing by the door.

His lips curled up into a devious smirk as he looked down at Jiwoo sitting with her back hugging the wall. He stood tall in front of her and chuckled.

“Hey, princess.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Night quickly turned to day, sunlight shining through Jiyong’s open curtains just like every morning. The birds sung their beautiful songs and the machines still beeped, their sound echoing through the room. Kaiser laid by Jiyong’s bed, having worn himself out from trying to escape. His head laid on the ground as his eyes watched the door closely, whining every few minutes whenever Jiwoo didn’t walk through the door.

Jiyong laid in his bed, dreaming of Jiwoo. She stood at the other side of his bed staring at him while he laid there, watching her. She was mad. He could tell from her expression.

“How the hell did you manage to get shot again? You need to be more careful! I didn’t learn how to stitch you up just so you can go out and get shot every other day!”

Looking down at himself, Jiyong could see a bullet wound in his side. One that was stitched up and covered in bandages. She had, once again, taken care of him. The corners of his lips curled up into an amused smile and he couldn’t help the laugh that followed next. Jiwoo stopped in her tracks, staring at Jiyong now.

“What the hell is so funny?? What am I supposed to do if you end up dead? Huh?” Jiyong patted the bed by his side and she sighed, walking over to him and laying next to him. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, making her smile at him.

“You’d do great even without me…trust me when I tell you that I’m not going anywhere any time soon, though. I’m here to protect you, remember?”

Time stopped and Jiwoo slowly turned up to face him, tears falling from her eyes like a waterfall and even though this was but a dream, Jiyong could feel his heart breaking. He looked her over and the more time passed the clearer her bruises became. She was suddenly covered in them. The blue and purple marks covered her arms and legs and she stared at him with pain in her eyes. She was staring right at him, but her eyes had a certain longing expression to them as if he wasn’t truly there. He could feel the panic rise in his chest as he stared down at her, slowly and carefully wiping the tears from her eyes. Before he could ask her anything, she opened her mouth and questioned him, sending chills down his spine at her inquiry.

“Where were you when I needed you most then?”

Taking a deep breath, Jiyong could feel his heart beating, tears of his own now rolling down his cheek.

“Doll…what happened…I’m so sorry…please be okay. I’ll protect you, okay? Doll?” He could only watch as her appearance suddenly started to fade and he clung onto her as if his life depended on it, only to have her fade out of existence in his arm. “Doll? Jiwoo!? Doll!!”

Jiyong’s eyes shot open as he inhaled sharply, feeling the pain in his chest and the tears on his cheek. He could feel pain shooting through his shoulder as he tried to move and suddenly remembered what happened.

“Fuck…” he whispered under his breath, looking around the empty room. “How long have I been out?”

Jiyong’s eyes wandered over his body and followed the cables that led from his arm to the machines sitting at his bedside. Moving his fingers, he tested just how much of his body he could move without the intense pain returning. His brows furrowed when he heard a low whine coming from the side of his bed.

“Kaiser.”

Jiyong’s voice was still barely audible from not having been used in so long. The dog’s head perked up nonetheless when he heard Jiyong call for him. Jiyong watched Kaiser jump up and turn, placing his front paws on the bed with his tail wagging. A small smile crossed Jiyong’s lips as he slowly moved his hand, wincing at the pain, to pet Kaiser.

“Kaiser, where is my doll?”

Kaiser stopped at hearing the word ‘doll’ and whined, placing his head on the bed. Jiyong’s gaze turned serious as he stopped petting him.

“Did something happen to my doll?”

Kaiser barked and that was all Jiyong needed to confirm his suspicions. Turning around in his bed, he placed his hand on the IV drip connected to his arm and closed his eyes. He mentally counted to three and snatched it out of his arm, biting the bottom of his lip in agony, realizing this probably wasn’t the best idea he’s had.

“Fuck!!” Jiyong cursed loudly and one by one pulled out the remaining cables, taking a deep breath and letting his head hit the pillow once he was done.

“Fucking…Where the hell is everyone anyway?!” Stirring in his bed, Jiyong could hear Kaiser whine again and knew something wasn’t right. “Why are you tied to my bed, Kaiser?”

Jiyong paused and looked around the room, finding the phone Jiwoo had left for him and recognizing it as Top’s. Looking through it, he found it had been wiped clean save for the number to their doctor. “What the fuck happened here, Kaiser?”

Kaiser barked and bit the bedsheets, pulling on them until they were all on the floor.

“You want me to get up and follow you? Show me, Kaiser.” Jiyong commanded and Kaiser barked, jumping around while Jiyong very slowly bent down to undo Kaiser’s leash. As soon as he was free, Kaiser took off running out of the room and down the hall at an immense speed.

“Fuck, Kaiser! Wait!”

Jiyong moved his body out of bed and stood to his feet only to feel his legs giving out from underneath him and almost letting him fall. His hand hit the bed and he tried his hardest to hold himself up. He stared at his room door, hearing Kaiser’s bark echo back to him, and a new determination burned in him. Jiyong couldn’t afford to fall or let his pain hinder him from moving. He had been asleep for long enough, and the dread that burned deep inside him from his nightmare let him know that he was needed now. Something happened to Jiwoo and he was the only one that’d be able to fix it. Pushing himself up from the bed, Jiyong tried once more to stand, refusing to fall as his legs threatened to let him down once more.

It took some time, but Jiyong slowly walked his way over to the bedroom door. His eyes widened, a mix of shock and fear with a hint of murderous intent hidden in them. He could see bodies lying sprawled out in the hallway and his sight turned red with rage. He could feel his blood boiling with rage at whoever dared to do this, the constant barking of Kaiser being the only thing that got him to keep moving . There was something the dog wanted Jiyong to see, something important for him to keep barking so intently.

Jiyong made his way around the bodies that laid in the hall, his state of fury growing more and more the further he walked. He passed by the bodies in the hall, tried to ignore the gruesome scene that laid in his lobby as best as he could, stepped around the puddles of red and followed Kaiser’s bark to the front yard. He could feel his breathing become heavier the more bodies he passed, but froze once he hit the front door. Kaiser stood out a bit further pulling on Daesung’s unmoving body and Jiyong finally understood why he was left a phone with only one number in it.

Pulling the device from his pocket, he dialed the number and waited for someone to pick up. Jiyong was silent for a moment as he looked over the yard, his eyes burning with fiery rage that could only be quenched in one way.

“Yeah, doc. I need you to get your ass over here ASAP. I need you to come help me out. I’ve got some serious shit to take care of.”

Jiyong walked over to Daesung, placing his fingers on his wrist to feel for a pulse. Kaiser whined and Jiyong ignored him, waiting for a few seconds before sighing in relief.

“Don’t worry. He’s still alive. He’s lucky, because I would have killed his ass if he had died.”

Jiyong and Kaiser spent the next few minutes walking around the front yard and checking the pulse of the other boys, Kaiser finding them and Jiyong making sure they were all still alive. He stopped after checking the last one, Taeyang, and sat down beside him exhausted and frustrated with himself.

“I slept for the last few fucking days…how can I be so damn tired already. Fuck. They need me and I can’t do shit about it…”

Looking around the yard, Jiyong noticed someone missing. His brows furrowed as he looked the yard over a few times from his spot and just as he was about to order Kaiser to search for the missing person, the wiped phone rang. Jiyong pulled it out of his pocket, staring at it for a moment as he read an unknown number.

“Who the fuck is this?”

The other voice chuckled before answering. “I hope you like the present we left you. There’s someone here that wants to say hi.”

The male voice stopped and a voice Jiyong recognized all too well came screaming through the other end of the phone.

“Jiyong!! Jiyong!! I…I’m scared!”

Jiyong’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet at hearing her voice. “Doll! Jiwoo! Don’t worry, I’ll -”

“You’ll do nothing, that’s what. Don’t worry about the princess. She’ll be safe here. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be now.”

Jiyong froze at the distorted male voice that echoed through his mind.

“Did you just fucking call her ‘princess’?”

The voice only chuckled in response. “Good bye, Jiyong.”

Just like that they hung up, leaving nothing but the dial tone ringing in his ear. Jiyong let the phone drop from his hand and could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Rage filled his veins as his heart turned ice cold. He was surrounded by people that gave their life for him to live, for his doll, for his family. So much blood had been shed, so many innocent lives taken. He could feel a deadly calm take over him that left him thinking of all the different ways he was going to rip their body into millions of pieces and torture them until they died a painful death.

“Kaiser,” Jiyong turned to the Rottweiler and he sat right in front of him.

Kaiser looked up at Jiyong and could feel the atmosphere change into a deadly one. Kaiser was a smart dog. A deadly dog. One who would destroy whatever and kill whomever he was ordered to.

“We’ve got a new target for you. You’re coming with me to get doll as soon as we get everything here back in order.” Jiyong looked over the yard at the boys before looking back down at the dog. “We’ll need the boys, though…Are you ready to get our doll back Kaiser?”

Kaiser’s eyes changed into that of a devious dog and he barked once, growling as he bared his teeth. Jiyong stared out at the broken gate, determined, cold, deadly.

“I’m coming for you to get what’s mine. I hope you’re ready. You want to play? Let’s fuckin’ play.”  

[ships-and-saints]

Pale Skin and Onyx Eyes [12]

All chapters of this fic have now been published on Tumblr. Please stay tuned for Chapter 13, I promise you it’s coming (soon TM - can’t say the same for Chapters 14 or 15 though lol). 04/23/17

~Katnip

[Throne of Glass] [Elide x Lorcan] [W.I.P.] Chapter Word Count: 4244 words

Summary: Set after Empire of Storms, Elide Lochan and Lorcan Salvaterre are traveling with Rowan and Gavriel in search of Queen Aelin. Will Elide ever be able to forgive Lorcan for betraying her and her Queen? Where will they go next?

Part I: The Search - Ch. 1-8 Part II: The Journey - Ch. 9-14 Part III: The Mission - Ch. 15+

Chapters: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] [ 14 ] [ 15 ] ... Read it on: [ fanfiction.net ] [ archive of our own ]

Elide tried to meditate but her mind seemed to be spinning in circles. Her brain hurt, and she was physically exhausted from training. She resolved to stop thinking about magic, at least for a little while.

She sat outside in a thin shirt and pants, simply enjoying the cool night breeze and the blanket of stars across the sky.

Lorcan came up behind her and dropped a sheet over her shoulders.

"You'll catch cold," he said reproachfully, a slight frown on his granite-hewn face.

Elide gave a tiny snort, but wrapped the sheet around herself. Overprotective Fae male. "The breeze feels nice."

Lorcan didn't disagree; his body naturally produced a lot of heat so he preferred cooler weather. He silently stood next to her as they enjoyed the night breeze and whispering winds.

Elide seemed to be struggling to say something. "What if... what if I don't find my magic in time? Or it's not enough?" she finally asked, her eyes hard. She needed to know.

Lorcan crouched down beside her and lightly nudged her chin so that his onyx eyes were staring into her deep brown ones. He could see the apprehension in her guarded expression. "I know our mission isn't an easy one, and Rowan knows two weeks isn't a lot of time. But if our plan, whatever it is, doesn't work, there's no use in sacrificing ourselves when we don't know where the Queen is.

"We'll escape Morath and rendezvous with Rowan and the others. In this coming war… we are relying on other powers at play here, powers of the gods." Lorcan's eyes were burning and had a faraway look as he spoke; he despised these gods because they were unknown variables, complications in devising tactics and strategies for war.

But he didn't talk more about the gods, instead, he told her what he knew about Rowan and Aelin's magic, about how they were carranam and what it meant to share magic. And he took vicious delight in revealing one of Maeve's blood-sworn secrets – that in her thousand years of life, she had never found a Fae who was her carranam.

Elide listened attentively, trying to glean as much as she could. Good. Maeve was powerful enough without having to worry about her being able to use another strong Fae's magical energy. All of this knowledge, she knew it was all important because Anneith's presence whispered remember, remember, remember…

Lorcan's lectures about magic gave her a lot to think about, even after she laid down to sleep. Although she was exhausted and her body ached, her mind anxiously raced to find the answer. She reviewed everything she learned, turning over every piece of knowledge she had gained, trying to piece information together and make connections.

She tossed and turned restlessly, hoping she wasn't disturbing Lorcan who was sleeping on the opposite side of the fire. Her thoughts idly turned to the other members of Aelin's court; she wondered whether Rowan and Gavriel had made it to Terrasen, how Aedion and Lysandra were faring, and if Manon had managed to find the lost Crochan witches. I wonder what Manon would say to me right now, if she could see me now…

She turned over again to peek outside the cave's entrance. She didn't know how long it had been since she had lain down, but the crescent moon was now high in the sky.

Of course Lorcan hadn't fallen asleep yet, because of her restlessness. His ears pricked up every time Elide rustled or turned over. She was making him restless, and his mind was in the gutter. They were alone out here, after all.

He wondered if he could sleep near her, alone in the wilderness, and contain his urge to bed her. Lorcan tried to be rational with himself. Elide's a lady, she at least deserves a proper bed.

But he silently growled and swore under his breath. He wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands, feel the outline of her curves pressed against him, cup her soft breasts... And those lips… Oh, he wanted to make her full lips sing his –

He shut down those thoughts before he drove himself wild with lust. Lorcan took a few moments to calm his heart rate. He silently stood up and prowled over, but Elide was awake and alert. Hmm. Ever since her senses had heightened, Lorcan hadn't been able to sneak around her as much.

"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" she whispered guiltily, slowly sitting up. Her silky hair cascaded down her back, drawing his attention to her pale, white collarbone. "I just- I just can't fall asleep."

Before he could stop himself, Lorcan pulled her enticing figure towards him and pressed his lips to hers. He had been thinking about those gentle lips all day and the sounds that came from her when she wasn't so carefully composed. He remembered scenting her female arousal the previous day as he dropped precious kisses on her vulnerable throat.

"Elide, I need you," Lorcan growled softly. He pressed his lips to hers again, but Elide barely moved against him as her head spun, and she tried to pick apart his statement, tried to understand what he meant. She had been analyzing information in her mind all night, after all.

She had gathered that he had given up on finding a mate long ago so… did he need her because they were alone? Because he hadn't been with another woman in a long while? Why did he want her, when she was out here struggling with herself?

All through her life, she had been taken advantage of and had her trust in others destroyed. And he had already betrayed her once before... She needed to regain control, somehow –

Lorcan scented the fear and apprehension starting to course through her body, and he immediately stopped to read her wide, brown eyes.

"Elide, what's wrong?" He asked roughly, desperate to understand. Had he done something wrong?

"I- I-" Elide started, but she wasn't quite sure what to say. She was surprised he had responded so quickly to her change in emotions. "I don't know."

"We can… slow down." Lorcan sat on her bedroll and held her head against his chest. She could feel his strong, sure heart beating, and she closed her eyes, dazed.

"We can go as slow as you need. Or we can stop. I haven't... been myself lately," he admitted, grimacing slightly. His heart wrenched as he steeled himself for rejection.

Elide noticed how he tensed, how he strained to hold his composure. She needed to respond.

"Slow... would be nice," she said, finally. Lorcan relaxed, and so did she. Elide licked her lips and continued in a low voice. "I need to kill my uncle. I need to destroy all traces of my blood ties to Morath and Erawan, so that he can't use me. So that I can finally feel safe."

Lorcan nodded, and she could see in his eyes that he understood. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, and she wondered if she should just say what she had been thinking about him all night.

"Lorcan," Elide whispered to get his attention.

He hummed in response. She sat up and fiddled nervously with the towel she had been using as a pillow. She swallowed and continued.

"I know you think you're a horrible, miserable person cursed by the dark god, but... you were forced to carry out every single one of Maeve's commands by that awful blood bond. Rowan and Aelin... they're bonded, they're carranam, and it's not like that, right?" Elide reminded him pointedly of what he had told her earlier. "I know you've done awful, cruel things... but if you had your own will, if you weren't bound to Maeve, you might have made some different choices, don't you think?"

Lorcan just stared into the distance, outside of the cave. His face was stony. "I don't know."

"Even not knowing... even if you questioned some of your actions, that makes you different from her." Her voice softened, and now it was Elide's turn to try and force him to look at her.

"You felt guilty about what happened to Aelin," she stated. Not a question. Elide leashed her own anger, or at least tried to.

"Gratitude," he said quietly, "for her sacrifice. So that Maeve didn't take you, too."

"I would go anywhere for –" Elide started to snarl before taking a steadying breath. She needed to be calm. "But you felt guilty. You saw how Rowan looked, afterwards… You helped us look for her. Your Queen probably would have ordered you to whip and torture Aelin if you loyally went back with her. And you would have."

Lorcan didn't move an inch to confirm that anything she said was true. He understood her anger then, because he had always arrogantly done what he had thought was best.

"And if that happened," Elide willed her voice not to waver, "If you had hurt her, I never would have forgiven you, then. Ever. Even after she was freed…" She was breathing slightly harder as her voice trailed off, and Lorcan's eyelids closed. He wasn't moving, he was so still Elide wasn't sure he was even breathing.

She noticed his every movement now, and except for some lapses in attention, she could nearly always sense if he was nearby. She knew she was hurting him now because she had seen it flash in his eyes. But this conversation had to happen; she was holding too much pain in her heart to simply just let it go, not when the cause of her anguish was standing right next to her.

Lorcan was remembering Rowan's hollow, glassy-eyed stare after Maeve disappeared with her absurdly ornate ship, and for a moment he wished Rowan had just killed him right then and there on the Stone Marshes. But he would be a coward if he refused to face Elide in this very moment; he couldn't run, not after all of the promises he had made.

He closed his eyes to process the resentment and hurt Elide directed at him. He had faced Maeve's wrath many times, like the time he and the rest of the cadre had gone to help Rowan and his fire-queen defend Mistward. But Elide… This woman in front of him now… She was brave, and strong, and cautious. She had been able to fool even him with her clever lies and stories.

What could he say? It was shameful, but he couldn't deny anything she said. He couldn't deny that he would have continued to obey Maeve, should she have allowed him to remain in her service.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he finally said. Elide just watched him, her eyes unfathomable.

"I've said my piece. Now, you say yours."

Lorcan licked his lips to wet them as he considered his words. Perhaps honesty was best.

"I am sorry, about what happened back then... I hadn't thought it through… I meant to protect you, but I ended up hurting you. I don't entirely regret it, because it kept you safe. But if you had known Celaena – Aelin – the way I had, maybe you would understand what I did a bit better." He shook his head and continued. "But I'm still keeping my promises. I've meant everything I've said, and I'll help you kill your uncle for what he did to you."

The fire had died down, and Lorcan fixed his gaze on the embers and coals. For what it was worth, Elide thought, he had fought to keep the wyrd keys from Maeve, his bloodsworn master…She could tell he wasn't finished speaking so she waited.

He continued roughly, "This… My… newfound freedom… from obligations and commands… It's both terrifying and… exhilarating. It's new to me." A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Elide had to laugh at that, because she agreed. She was terrified because she had so many choices now, but having control and having responsibility over what choices she made… That was new and exhilarating.

Lorcan memorized her lighthearted laugh, hoping he would hear it again and again.

After a moment, Elide replied slowly, "Freedom… It's new to me, too. I forget that… in some ways, you truly were a slave. You've never known true choice in some situations… And you've been a slave for too long. We've all been slaves for too long." Aelin too, she silently added. Her fierce eyes found his as she stood up from her bedroll and skipped forward out of the cave, barefoot.

"I'm not afraid to want anymore," she declared, "I want all of it, even this endless sky and this smell of dirt on the ground." She gestured to the sky and the dusty earth.

Elide spun and laughed again. "I want to walk through the pine forests of Terrasen after it has snowed and smell the pine needles. I want to return to my home in Perranth, see my people, read a few books, get a good night's sleep… and then I want to travel. I want to travel the skies and see the world." Elide's back was facing Lorcan now. She reached out as if she could touch the stars with her hand.

Lorcan had traveled the world several times over and barely felt anything. But the way Elide lit up when she talked about her home, about Terrasen… it made Lorcan's heart ache having never really known a true home. Sure, he once had his quarters in Maeve's palace and lands in Doranelle, but they had been stripped from him as easily as they had been granted, hadn't they? He watched Elide as she reached for the stars with her pale hand.

He didn't know what came over him then, but he walked over to her and clasped her small hand within his own, the other hand snaking around her waist. She turned around to look up at him, a questioning look on her face.

"What I want…" he mused. His brows furrowing as he drank in the details of Elide's face. He could stare into her eyes forever. She raised her eyebrows, anticipation dancing in her starlit eyes.

"I've already traveled the world and the seven seas; I've had my fill of glory and honor... So for a change of pace, woman, I will follow you to the ends of this world and all the ones beyond," Lorcan growled with such fervor that Elide wondered if this was the same Lorcan she had known all long. He had been so cold and calculating in Oakwald Forest, yet now... She knew he was telling the truth because he kept his promises, because promises were his currency.

Elide wasn't afraid, then. She was just happy that he didn't want to leave her side and that he cared enough to see this through with her even if it was to a bitter, bloody end.

She surprised them both by kissing him fervently then.

"I will hold you to that promise, Lorcan Salvaterre," she whispered against his lips.

His mouth quirked up on one side and smirked crookedly at her. "I can't say it hasn't been interesting so far." Elide let out another breathy laugh.

Lorcan kissed the sides of her mouth gently and then her awaiting lips. Gods, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this with a woman; his desire to protect and please was so compelling.

They returned to the cave and settled beneath a thin, wool blanket on Elide's bedroll. Lorcan was lying on his back so that she was half-lying on his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut as she listened to the sound of his beating heart, and the steady beat lulled her to a sweet, dreamless sleep.

He couldn't help but think about what it meant to be so protective of this tiny, clever woman… he may be an overprotective Fae male, but he wasn't an idiot.

Lorcan shoved the flooding thoughts from his head. Not tonight. He would think about it all another time, sort out any… possible ramifications, another time.

He needed to be in this moment, right now. Elide was nearly purring; she had sighed peacefully against his warm chest. Lorcan listened to the sound of her soft, steady breath, and remembered her breathy laugh… He closed his eyes contentedly.

Lorcan and Elide fell asleep together underneath the stars, one of the few peaceful and cherished nights either of them had ever had.

Elide woke up sweating the next morning, the sun still rising in the sky. Gods, it was so hot! The blanket had been flung off long ago, but a tan, muscular arm was still slung over her – the source of the offending heat. As she wriggled out from under Lorcan's arm, she took in the dark shadows of his face, her gaze drifting to his parted lips as he breathed steadily.

We… we fell asleep together, didn't we? Elide internally groaned. It was the third day of training, of their mission. One of Lorcan's eyes opened lazily and focused on her face.

"Morning sunshine," Lorcan drawled lazily, and then yawned. He propped his head up on one arm and grinned at her like a cat.

"What?" she asked cautiously.

"I had an… interesting dream," Lorcan mused, his eyes narrowing playfully. Elide kept her expression neutral, willing herself not to blush at his gaze. "You told me I smelled nice in the dream."

Elide immediately stood up with her fists clenched, her face already beginning to flush. Her mind snapped back to the memory of her inhaling the scent of his green shirt, and she was searching again for words to say. She slowly unclenched her fist and took a quick breath.

"Well, at the very least you don't smell awful. I was trying to figure out why you… smelled slightly familiar," she said impassively, meeting his gaze even though she felt less than confident.

She swore she saw the tips of Lorcan's ears twitch slightly.

"Familiar?" he questioned, sitting up so that he could see her better, now that she was standing.

Elide wondered if it mattered, wondered if he would understand or care what he smelled like to her. "It smelled like… rain, and wood, and earth." Her nose scrunched. "It's hard to describe. Like after a rainstorm in the forests of Terrasen. A little bit like that, underneath all the sweat." She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

His expression was unreadable. He had seen how her eyes softened for a moment when she thought of Terrasen.

"Hmm. Well, another day, another run. Let's see how far you get this time." Lorcan smiled again at her, but this time his smile was feral and taunting.

She growled under her breath at him. She had just revealed something personal to him, and this was how he chose to respond? Lorcan stood up and stretched.

Then he paused and cocked his head at her. "I was in the rain a lot as a child. Do you think that has something to do with it?"

Elide snorted. Idiot. "I don't think that's how it works." But she understood he was trying to distract her from the training.

After their usual morning regimen and a light lunch, it was time for her daily meditation session. Elide was half-dreading it, but she was determined to get a hold of her magical energy.

Lorcan's onyx eyes slid to hers as they sat facing each other. "What do you fear most?"

Failure. Both of them failing and dying in their mission or worse, getting captured, tortured, and then dying and… Never seeing Terrasen again. Never seeing Aelin again. That was what Elide feared most – that she was destined to be useless and that she would die unable to help her Queen.

"Failure," Elide uttered, so miserably that it made Lorcan's own heart ache. He had to build up her confidence, but how? Rowan had said that fear was what prevented them from grasping their magic, from gaining control of it.

"Let it go, Elide, let your fears go. Magic stems from impulse and emotion. Remember your other gifts, and how strong they have made you. I believe you can find your magic." Lorcan paused.

"And trust me to protect you when you are weak, like I have always promised from when we met. I won't let us fail, Elide." Lorcan's tone was hard, but sincere.

Elide opened her eyes to meet his burning gaze as she let the words sink in. It was true; he had always tried to protect her, even if some of his actions were misguided. And they were out here because he had believed in her, believed in her now… She closed her eyes again and emptied her mind so that it was a blank slate.

Lorcan listened as her heart rate slowed and her mind quieted. The grass rustled in the breeze, and he flexed the barrier he had placed around them, checking again that nothing could penetrate it.

Elide imagined she was drifting in water somewhere, in solitude and darkness. She remembered her dream about Terrasen, about how she was blinded by light. A shimmering light was above her as she floated in the deep water. What would happen if she reached for it? She decided to reach for the light, kicking her feet to propel herself towards the surface.

Somewhere outside her mind, she could feel a ring of Lorcan's magic slowly creeping up from the ground in a circle around her, and every hair on her body stood up. In her mind, she was still rising in the water, kicking for the top.

Lorcan's mouth twitched. Good. Her senses had improved, courtesy of the witch blood coursing through her. Not quite Fae-like, but good enough to alert her when danger was close. Lorcan's magic closed in slowly on her and Elide's eyes were still closed as she kicked harder. Just a little further…

Elide broke through the surface and her hands fumbled. Light suddenly burst out of her in a flash, clashing against the darkness. It pierced through the shadowy ring that had been circling closer to her. Her eyes snapped open, horrified. What was she doing? She threw out her hand desperately; the light was threatening to blind and burn everything, but Lorcan threw his darkness against it.

The streams of light were contained within the shielded dome Lorcan created around them.

"Relax, Elide, embrace it, don't be afraid of it," Lorcan encouraged. Elide's eyes darted around the dome, wide with terror. She could sense that she wouldn't be harmed by her own magic, but she was afraid it would break loose and hurt others.

"What do I do?" she asked helplessly. Some of the light was swirling wildly around her like a cocoon, growing in intensity, threatening to overwhelm her view of Lorcan.

"Create it. Shape it. Wield it," he suggested calmly, "You have to take control, feel where the magic comes from and grab the reins." If he was calm, that meant she didn't need to be worried, right?

Elide's brows knit together as she focused. It felt like she was in… some sort of space, some sort of well of magic, and she reached both hands out towards the light in front of her. She grasped at it, summoning all her strength and will to prove that she could control her magic. She pulled the light back in towards herself, ordering it to stop growing, ordering it to obey.

The light seemed to bend to her will and course through her flowing through her fingertips and into her arteries and veins, into her very core. She shuddered as light streamed through her body, and she marveled at her arms and hands as she saw the subtle glints of light flowing through. And she realized that perhaps, this light could slowly burn and blind all things evil and dark.

The light had dissipated around her, and Lorcan was still seated across from her. She held her hand up and tried to summon some light. Nothing happened. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she realized she was exhausted – physically and mentally.

"Good work. It'll take some time," Lorcan said reassuringly. "Your magic has lain dormant for so long, it'll take some adjustment." He watched her to make sure she wasn't about to have a meltdown, but Elide was too tired for that.

I… I did it. Magic… Elide's head slumped to the side slightly, a little bit too heavy for her to hold up. Lorcan moved to her side and gently leaned her head against his shoulder so that she could rest. She closed her eyes. "Just… need to rest… a minute."

Lorcan was smiling slightly, triumphant. He had never seen anything like Elide's magic – light was one of the rarer elements – but he was eager to see what she could do. He supposed he wasn't surprised that her magic had manifested as light, Anneith being Hellas's consort and all... Or perhaps Elide had been gifted a spark of magic, and the magic had developed and manifested of its own accord as she matured.

Even though he had seen just a lick of her power, Lorcan could sense the slumbering power slowly stirring and awakening inside Elide. His smile widened as the odds shifted just a tiny bit in their favor.