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hournites · 4 years

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Say that we’ll stay with each other

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline, so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up.

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all.

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process.

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind.

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.”

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda.

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day.

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer.

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets.

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.”

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?”

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.”

“God, that’s tacky.”

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment.

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

“Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day.

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives.

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again.

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it.

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.”

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means.

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.”

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her.

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids.

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time.

#stargirl #hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #fluff #jealous!rick #hournites fic #dctv

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

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Baby Shoes - Chapter 5

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

thank u to my friend gordon for beta reading even after i threatened to steal his blood <3 ilu bitch

AO3 Link

Bubby had forgotten about the tinfoil until he walks into Zeki’s office. She’s ripping it off her desk, a few hairs slipping from her careful bun, and Bubby has to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Did you have something to do with this?” she demands, throwing a ball of tinfoil on the floor.

“I’ve been with the subject all day. You can check the cameras, if you want.”

“I just might,” Zeki warns. She pulls another sheet off her chair and collapses into it. “So. Where are we moving you? The tube is all ready.”

“B-22,” Bubby says. “Near the break room. The L-shaped one.”

“The storage room?”

“It’s been years since it’s stored anything but dust.”

Zeki frowns, ripping the tinfoil off a pen. “You don’t need to do this, you know.”

“You offered, didn’t you? A real scientist is willing to try new things.”

She grits her teeth. “I’ll get it cleared with -”

“Aren’t you the department head?”

There’s a pause. Bubby doesn’t look away from Zeki, pale blue eyes staring into green.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll ask the cleaning crew to clear it out.”

Bubby smiles. “I’ll start packing my things.”

He turns on his heel, leaving Zeki to her paperwork and her tinfoil covered office.

Dekkard’s back in the breakroom, sat in the corner eating his doritos. “They are stale,” he informs Bubby as he sits down across from him.

“Zeki approved the room.”

Dekkard drops the bag. “She did?”

“Very begrudgingly, I might add. Though I think at least some of her frustration was due to the tinfoil covering every available surface.”

Dekkard beams at him. “Today has truly been a wonderful day.”

“I’ll miss you after she kills you.” Bubby reaches across the table, grabbing one of Dekkard’s doritos. They’re stale, and he doesn’t even like chips, but he hasn’t eaten since this morning. Dekkard nudges the bag closer to Bubby, and before he realizes it, the bag is empty. “Alright, well, I have other work to get back to.”

Dekkard frowns. “I think you mean you have lunch to get back to.”

“I don’t have time for that. I need-”

“To take a break.”

Bubby huffs. “I’m not going to let myself be lectured by someone half my age.”

“I’m not lecturing you! I’m just saying, you seem kinda stressed, and I was thinking of heading over to the cafeteria to get something more substantial. I thought maybe you’d wanna come with.”

“To the cafeteria? Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like there’s somewhere else we can get food,”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Come with me.” He doesn’t wait for Dekkard, standing up and leaving, though the sound of footsteps behind him means Dekkard must be following. “You know, cooking is a kind of science.”

“Is it?”

“I’d say so.” He leads Dekkard out of the Biological Research wing, down a flight of stairs. “And I think someone high up agreed with me, once.” The area they’re in was something, once, but now it’s abandoned. The lights burst years ago, the only illumination left coming from the level above.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me?” Dekkard asks, picking his way through the room.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Here, this way.” It takes Bubby a moment to pry the door open, the hinges stiff from disuse. “I have no idea what this used to be, but. No one ever comes here.”

It was likely a lab of some sort - of course it was, that’s what Black Mesa does - but it was surprisingly easy to turn it into a kitchen. There’s a makeshift stove, no source of fire since Bubby can make that himself but just something to hold the flames. Scales and flasks serve as something like measuring cups, and he’s stolen various blades from around the facilities, along with any else he can get his hands on. It’s messy, but it’s serviceable.

“I try to keep it decently stocked here, but it can be tricky to find ingredients. But I’m sure you’ll find anything we can make down here leagues better than the garbage they serve in the cafeteria.”

“Did you make this?” Dekkard asks, poking at a burner. “Shit, maybe you really are the Ultimate Lifeform or whatever. This is - I’ll admit it, this is clever.”

“I’m glad someone recognizes my genius.” He crosses the room, over to the makeshift freezer and his stolen microwave. “Do not tell anyone about this, though. I will kill you.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

“I don’t have the ingredients for anything too complicated. How do you feel about pasta? I’ve got some frozen pasta sauce I can heat up.”

Dekkard has made his way to the table. It was about to be thrown out when Bubby stole and repaired it all on his own. There’s only two chairs, but they at least are in good shape. “That sounds incredible.” He collapses into a chair, laying his head on the table. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food? Everything in the cafeteria tastes like cardboard.”

“I’m familiar,” Bubby says, getting out a pot. He lights the burner with a snap of his fingers, enjoying how Dekkard’s eyebrows raise up into his hairline.

He sits down across from Dekkard as he waits for the water to boil, drumming his fingers on the table. Dekkard keeps staring at the pot, then at Bubby.

“Is something wrong? You’re staring.”

“Have you really been here your whole life?” Dekkard asks. Bubby sighs.

“Yes.”

“You’ve never - I mean you’ve been outside, right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Sorry, that - that’s a rude question, huh?”

“A bit, yes.” The water sounds like it’s bubbling, so Bubby takes it as an excuse to get up. Dekkard remains seated. “Is there a reason you’re asking this?”

“Just thinking about - about Benrey.”

Bubby adds the pasta to the pot, stirring it. “Ah.”

“I’m not gonna try and say I get it, exactly, but I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, or anything, but -”

“I know what I’m doing, Dekkard.” He doesn’t have to turn to imagine the look on Dekkard’s face, one eyebrow raised and the other flat. “Yes, I’ll admit, I might be...attached. But I’m not an idiot, alright? I’ve heard all the stories.”

“Zeki tell you about Dr. Tipton?”

“She was trying to scare me. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with him. Whatever Benrey did, I’m sure he deserved it.”

Dekkard’s quiet for a moment. When Bubby turns, he’s staring at the pasta, hand resting on his chin.

“I can see the gears in your brain trying to work,” Bubby says, turning back.

“You think they’re like you.”

“They are like me.” He continues stirring, directing all his focus into the movements of his arm. “They didn’t even have a name. I can’t - I can do something, here. I can’t just sit by and ignore this when I can do something.”

No one ever did anything for him. He’d spent seventeen years in that god forsaken tube before anyone had even considered letting him out, and it was another twelve after that before he was allowed any scrap of freedom. Even now, his autonomy is challenged constantly, by scientists half his age with a fraction of his knowledge.

Benrey doesn’t even have the luxury of being a valued experiment. Based on what Zeki’s said, Benrey’s only kept around because nothing seems to kill them, and they’re interesting to study.

If Bubby can do something - anything - then he has to.

“Hey,” Dekkard says. “Uh. I think the pot is on fire.”

“Oh, motherfucker.” Bubby shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath, willing the flames to die down. “I was...distracted.”

“Can’t help but feel like that was my fault.”

“A little.”

“...sorry.”

It’s nothing unsalvageable, at least. The noodles are a bit too soft, but that’s fine.

He grabs the jar of sauce out of the freezer, heating it in his hands. He can feel Dekkard watching him as he scoops the noodles into bowls, pouring sauce over each serving. The air’s gone tense.

“Sorry,” Dekkard mumbles again as Bubby passes him a fork. He sighs.

“It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Look, I might be underqualified, but I’m not stupid. I see how Zeki and all the other guys talk to you. I don’t wanna be like that.”

“I put this area together five years ago,” Bubby says, spinning his noodles around his fork. “You are the first person I’ve ever invited down here.”

“Is this your way of saying we’re friends?”

Bubby purses his lips. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

Dekkard snorts. “Alright. Acquaintances.”

“Coworkers.”

“Oh, that’s harsh.”

“Shut up and eat your pasta.”

Dekkard does, for once, shut up. He eats like it’s the first meal he’s had in decades, like some kind of rabid animal, and then leans back against his chair.

“That was the best meal I’ve had since I started working here.”

“Well, if you behave, maybe there’ll be more in the future.”

“Can’t believe you’d stoop to bribes.”

It’s...nice, Bubby thinks. Sitting down here, eating and joking with someone. Maybe Dekkard was right when he called them friends.

Still won’t admit it out loud, though. He has some dignity left.

#hlvrai #bubby #bubby hlvrai #dr bubby #half life vr but the ai is self aware #cora writes #baby shoes au #i hope u all enjoy my favourite idiot <3 #adventures of cora

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

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Accidents Happen - Mothers, Maggots, and Manacles

Summary: Roman finally visits Remus in search of answers, and doesn’t like what he finds. Ah - if anybody is fluent in Korean and wants to correct me on anything, please do!

Content: Discussions of drug and alcohol use and misuse, some bad parenting, mentions of skipping meals

Word count: 5,433

{Part 2} {Part 4}

Janus knew Remus.

Roman didn’t remember standing up, but he was definitely glad for the fact that he was pacing. He felt that his brain was about to explode.

Janus, the ideal student, the one with perfect grades and a small fleet of academic awards (they were in a glass-fronted cabinet in his home - Roman had seen them when he had been trying to find the toilet), who headed the debate club and had every teacher at their school eating out of the palm of his hand, knew Remus the walking hazard.

Roman turned sharply in front of his dresser, caught sight of his notebook still lying open on the bed, and scowled.

Not only did Janus know Remus, but he knew him well. Well enough, at any rate, to have Remus being the person to call if he lost his phone.

He was back beside his bedside table, turning to pace the room again.

What did that mean?

Did it mean that they spent a lot of time together? No, that couldn’t be right. Roman would know if Janus and Remus were friends. Remus had no filter, was incapable of keeping a secret - he was almost like Patton in that regard, Roman reflected. The fastest way to make sure that everybody knew something was to tell Remus or Patton. And if Remus and Janus were friends and did spend time together, why didn’t one of them say something at the trial?

Maybe Roman had typed the wrong number. He was so used to calling Remus in fruitless attempts to find out what exactly the substance in his slippers was, or whether he should be concerned about the red smudges on his brother’s door handle, that maybe he hadn’t typed the number he had thought he was typing. His fingers had fallen into a pattern they recognised, the same way his feet had done, carrying him from bed to dresser and from dresser to bed and back again.

That made sense, didn’t it?

“No! No, it doesn’t!” Roman gave his phone a vengeful glare, as though it were the one at fault here. He never dialled Remus’ phone number, preferring to do what any self-respecting person born since the invention of a contacts list did and simply stab the name he wanted to call with his forefinger.

The tips of his fingers felt stiff and tingly, and he paused by the bed to take a long, slow breath. Letting stress overwhelm him now was not going to be productive.

“Roman? Everything alright in here?” There was a soft tap at his bedroom door, and Roman had the foresight to flip his notebook to a blank page before his mother’s floral scent and tired eyes entered the room.

“I… Yes? Is something the matter, Mum?��

“I just…” She paused, covering her mouth with one hand to catch a yawn, and then continued. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

Roman winced. Had he woken her up? Dae Wang’s short hair was matted against one side of her head, and she was wearing a rumpled nightshirt and sweatpants despite it being the middle of the afternoon. “Oh… Yeah, I was just practicing for a part in the play. I know I’m not actually in it this year, but I… Enjoy being able to coach the younger students.”

The lie had rolled from his tongue almost without hesitation, and his mother’s eyes softened slightly. She reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, and Roman batted her away automatically, the static feeling spreading up to his wrists. “Try to keep it down, Ro? I didn’t get home until around one, and I’ve got another shift this evening…”

“Sorry. Actually, I was just thinking about going for a walk - it’s such a nice day, and I can take some flashcards through the woods. Might be nice to revise with a bit of a change of scenery, huh?” More lies. Sure, Roman was used to lying a little bit, but now it felt as though every other thing that came out of his mouth was deliberate misdirection. First with Janus, and now with his parents…

“You work so hard… I’m so proud of you, Roman.” Those were words that Roman was used to hearing; usually, he revelled in them. Now, however, they only made him feel more guilty. What about Remus? Yes, he was a screw-up, but… Roman couldn’t remember the last time either of his parents had said something positive to his brother. Worse, he couldn’t remember the last time he had said something properly positive to him.

The words were out of his mouth before he had made a proper decision about them. “Can I borrow your car tomorrow? I’d like to visit Remus.”

Dae looked at him for a second, apparently stunned by the fact that he wanted to visit his identical twin. Then she nodded slowly. “You can, but… Roman, saja saekki, are you sure you want to?”

“He hasn’t hurt me, Mum. He’s my brother.” And he shouldn’t be left to rot, Roman added silently. There’s something we don’t know yet.

“I know. You’re always so kind to people, even when they don’t deserve it, I just… I don’t want him dragging you down, Ro. He’s only going to get worse, and maybe… Maybe this is the time for a clean break for you.” Roman stared at her, the shock clear on his face. She sighed. “Being associated with Remus… It’s not going to be good for your future, is it?”

It looked as though she was waiting for him to say something now, and Roman refused to give her anything. Was this what his parents really thought of Remus? Sure, he knew that Remus had been getting into more and bigger problems as he had gotten older, but… It hadn’t quite sunk in, when they had asked Remus not to come home, that they didn’t want him to be part of their family any more.

What sort of family were they? Why hadn’t Roman tried talking Remus out of his chaos sooner, rather than pinning all of his own misdeeds on him? It felt as though his torso had been emptied out and refilled with ice cubes.

Eventually, his mother seemed to translate Roman’s silent staring as something less than what she had been hoping for. “Okay. Don’t stay too late, though. It is finals week, after all.”

Roman nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

He leaned forward to allow her to kiss his forehead, then watched her leave, numb, the breath frozen in his chest.

He needed to get out of here. All of the colours had leached out of the world around him. Usually so spacious, his bedroom seemed to have shrunk to the size of a broom cupboard, and Roman was so much too big for it, and everything inside him was threatening to brim over, to spill from his fingertips and his mouth and his eyes in a burning torrent of… Of what?

As he moved, he started counting in his head, trying to focus on just getting the numbers in the right order. One, two, three and he was groping under his mattress for his re-hidden supply of weed, purloined from the kitchen table when nobody had been looking. His parents had just been going to burn it, after all.

Four, five, six, seven, phone in his pocket and taking the stairs two at a time, eight, nine, not stopping as he grabbed Remus’ keys and threw the back door open. Ten, and he was down the steps; eleven-twelve-thirteen brought him across the backyard, and by fifteen he was in the greyscale woods behind their house and running as fast as he could.

Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could turn back the hands of the clock, back the four weeks - six weeks? How long had it been since Remus had turned his car and Janus into a fiery wreck? Turn the clock back past that, back to when things were okay. But three weeks wouldn’t do it, would it? Things hadn’t been okay for a long time before that. When was the last time he had had a real conversation with Remus?

When he hit thirty-nine, Roman skidded to an abrupt halt. Small black spots decorated the trees around him and he realised with a start that he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning either, too preoccupied with his raging internal debate about Janus’ moral standings to feel hungry. It didn’t matter. Just then, his whole body was too frozen in black-and-white, fizzingly numb static to even think about eating. He wasn’t sure if he could even swallow just then.

Putting his back to the nearest pine and sliding to the floor, Roman took a few deep breaths to steady his hands before pulling the clear plastic bag from his pockets.

It took longer than usual to shake some of the dark flakes onto one of the small paper rectangles and roll it shut; with his numb hands, it took several tries to get a flame on the lighter attached to Remus’ keychain, and when he did manage it he burned two of his fingers before managing to light the joint. Finally, though, Roman closed his eyes and focused on inhaling, exhaling, just breathing, allowing colour to bleed first back into his own body, and then the forest floor, still strewn with pine needles from last autumn, and then back up to the blue sky. The ice in his torso warmed, thawed a little, and then melted completely as calm washed over him.

He didn’t talk to Janus the next day.

It was the opposite of everything he had told himself he would do yesterday, going against all of his thoughts and notes about not making Janus feel as though he had scared Roman away or that Roman was tired of him or thought he was a freak. It was the opposite of what he wanted to do, which was concerning. Maybe he was getting too close to the role he was playing, because he kept finding himself wanting to go to find Janus, to make stupid little jibes at him and watch them be passed effortlessly back to him. He even thought he might have enjoyed studying with him. No matter how much he told himself that it was just nerves, that he was just worrying that he was losing time on getting closer to whatever truth Janus had been hiding, there was a small part of Roman arguing that that wasn’t the truth.

Janus didn’t try to talk to him, either, which only reinforced his guilt.

He saw him once, on his way out of his Physics final. Janus had half raised his left hand in what could have been a nervous greeting, but dropped it when Roman caught his eye but walked passed without responding otherwise.

He felt like an arse for doing it.

It didn’t help that he had been feeling slightly lightheaded all day. It had been hot in the exam hall, and halfway through his English paper that afternoon Roman found that he couldn’t read anything he was writing. The printed text at the top of the page had blurred into a wavy black bar, and his own ink had become a colony of spiders, crawling over the page in unintelligible shapes. He had blinked hard, then ground the bases of his palms into his eyes and counted (one, two, three… All the way up to thirty-nine). When he looked back at his paper, his handwriting had returned to its usual semi-legible scrawl.

He blamed it on the stress from his afternoon plans.

The previous evening, once he had calmed down a little, Roman had taken a long, meandering walk through the trees, pondering his situation. Eventually he had reached the conclusion that he should go ahead and visit Remus anyway, and that he could ask about Janus then. Remus wouldn’t lie to him.

Or would he? How much of his brother had become a mystery to him?

When he walked into the visitors room and saw Remus, Roman had to admit that the answer was probably a far higher proportion than he would have liked it to be. He actually had to stop and ask himself how long it had been since he had taken a good look at the man that was supposed to be his mirror reflection, because Remus looked almost nothing like him anymore.

The crooked nose was still there, and the pale scar that ran across its bridge, and the jaggedy line down one of Remus’ cheeks from a barbed-wire sledding accident, but there were other marks too, smaller but still there. Roman could count no less than seven piercing holes in Remus’ right ear (Roman’s right, Remus’ left), for example, and another in his left eyebrow. There were several acne scars that looked as though Remus had picked them until they refused to heal properly, and what looked like a burn was poking out from the next of his jumpsuit. His hands and knuckles were littered with mostly healed scabs, easy to see because they were pressed palms-down on the table, a nervous habit that Roman remembered from when they were small. Deep bags hung under Remus’ bloodshot eyes.

All in all, it was a bit of a surprise when Remus opened his mouth before Roman got a chance to say anything, and commented, “You look like shit, brother mine. Come to trade places with me?” There was another piercing hole in his tongue.

The statement startled a chuckle out of Roman, and he sat down across the table and smiled weakly at him. “I look like shit? Have you checked in a mirror lately, dude? It doesn’t look like you’ve slept since… You know.”

“Since I drove the fine piece of ass that is Janus Sinclaire into a telephone pole and turned him into crispy bacon? What’s a little more nightmare fodder, huh Ro? At least I still look like I’m getting a decent meal.” Remus cackled briefly and lifted a hand to rub at the empty shell of his pierced ear while Roman tried to figure out which part of Remus’ statement to poke at. Since when did Remus think Janus was a ‘fine piece of ass’ - since when did Remus even think about Janus? And what right did Remus have to talk about him like that, anyway?

In the end, he just blurted, “You’ve been having nightmares again?”

Leaning back in his chair so that its front legs left the ground, Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh? This is a fucking welfare check? Did the right honorable parents send you?” He lifted one hand to inspect his nails - nails that Roman could now see had been bitten until the cuticles bled. He winced.

“The right honorable… I’ll answer your questions if you’ll answer mine. You’ve been having nightmares again?” Roman had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t get anything out of his reflection unless he bribed him; his deal was met with another cackle, and Remus tipped further back on his chair.

“Fine. Want to shake on it?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not, given the unspeakable places those hands have been. So, nightmares?”

Remus looked up from his nails, flicked his middle finger up, then turned his attention to the ceiling above them. “You know the nightmares never stopped, Ro-ro. Did the spawners send you?”

“The what? Oh - no, I’m here on my own.” Roman glanced over his shoulder briefly. There were only three other people in the visitation room - discounting the two guards, one on either door - and they were on the other side of the room. “What do you mean, never stopped? You stopped having nightmares when we were thirteen.”

He felt as though he were being watched. Was this how Remus felt all the time? No wonder his nightmares had gotten worse.

“You’re yanking my dick, right? Of course they didn’t stop. I just figured out how to stop screaming. If you’re not here for the womb and the sperm, why are you here?”

Roman wrinkled his nose at that, then shrugged. “You… Figured out how to stop screaming? How? Nothing we tried ever worked. And I’m here because I wanted to ask you some stuff.”

“About my nightmares?” The incredulity in Remus’ voice was so overdone that Roman had to laugh again.

“No, you idiot. And you didn’t answer my question.” Roman brought his thumb up to his mouth and bit down on the nail, realised what he was doing, and laced his fingers together in front of him.

Remus was still addressing his nails. “What did you want to ask me? Because I can tell you any number of better places to hide your pot - didn’t know you did that, by the way, since when? - and can probably hook you up with a cheaper dealer if that’s what you need.”

“No, that’s not - maybe a year now? Helps with the…” Roman waved a hand, and Remus nodded wisely.

“The ball-twisting stomach-gnawing digit-freezing stress-moths.”

“That’s… Not how I would have phrased it, but… Wait, why am I answering all the questions?” Remus finally looked at Roman again, meeting his look of frustration with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t know. Why are you answering all the questions, Ro-ro?”

“Because you keep -” Roman started automatically, then clamped his mouth shut and glared.

Remus threw his head back and cackled so hard that his chair teetered precariously on its hind legs. When he finally stopped, he flicked his fingers briefly at Roman in a gesture that he took as ‘continue’. Taking a deep breath, Roman opened with the question that he had finally decided was the best one to start with.

“Did you know Janus well?”

For a heartbeat, he thought he saw Remus’ face, bold despite its scars and hollowed eyes, crease into something he didn’t recognise. Then the grin was back, and the chair was tilted so far that Remus was practically horizontal in the air, face to the ceiling.

“Alcohol. Started getting wasted.”

“What?”

“To get the screaming to stop. If I clocked out pissed, I didn’t scream. Didn’t wake up all night, actually. Did start getting headaches, felt sick all the time. It sucked. Did that for about six months, if I recall correctly, which I do, because my brain hasn’t been eaten by maggots.”

Roman was staring at his twin with his mouth hanging open. “What?”

“The nightmares, Ro-ro. To stop screaming. Is this hard for you to follow?” Remus’ head lifted to look at him, then his wild eyes shifted to something behind Roman. The front legs of his chair returned to the floor with a snap.

“I asked about Janus, Rem. The guy you just described as crispy bacon?” The words grated against Roman’s conscience. Janus deserved better than being mocked like that.

Remus nodded slowly, then continued as though Roman hadn’t said anything. “So I quit drinking myself to sleep and started trying to stay up all night instead. Did a lot of coffee. Who needs sleep, I said. Very wise, me. Started hallucinating, though. That was an interesting few days. Eventually I just collapsed, and then I started screaming again, so no go there.”

Roman groaned quietly, resigned to listening to the tangent that Remus had apparently decided was more important than Janus was. He vaguely remembered that his brother used to jump between conversations with the rapidity of a highly skilled traceur. His verbal parkour had never been anything but annoying.

“So I started playing with drugs. Nothing major, obviously. Nothing fun. Bit of weed, didn’t help at all. Sure, helped calm me down, but once I fell asleep, poof. Screaming.” Remus snapped his fingers a few times, and Roman nodded slowly.

“So then, after a lot of experimentation that didn’t -”

“Wait.” Roman held up a hand as the maths fell into place, and Remus paused obediently, tilting his head to look at him. His hand had returned to tug at his pierced ear. “You’re telling me you started drinking when you were thirteen?”

Remus gave him a look that he recognised as one Janus had given him several times. It said “You’re not really the brightest here, but that’s alright, I’m still fond of you.” Actually, it probably said “You’re a fucking idiot, but I tolerate you.” When he spoke again, his voice reminded Roman very faintly of the sound a thin sheet of ice across a pond makes when it gets trodden on.

“Yes. Keep up, Roman. Sheesh. As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I eventually found that Xanax works fairly well for me - no hangovers, no puke, no spikes through my skull or pissing blood, and no screaming. Just nightmares and sleep paralysis, but y’know, I was getting more sleep.”

“Xanax,” Roman repeated stoically. “Where did you-” His question was interrupted as Remus steamrollered on.

“Then I got here, and obviously they don’t let us screw around with that stuff without a prescription, so I’m back to the old scream’n’stay-awake-’til-morning routine. Happy?” Remus tilted his chair back, seemed to remember that he wasn’t supposed to, and compromised by tilting it sideways instead. He allowed a couple of seconds to pass before raising an eyebrow at Roman. “Or are you just going to leer? You a gargoyle now?”

Shaking himself, Roman rubbed a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. It was later than he had thought it was, and he was certain that visiting hours were going to be over soon. Licking his lower lip, he nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Happy, no. You should’a said something, Rem? We could have…”

“Could have done what?” The brittle quality was still there, but now Remus’ voice was sharper, colder. Roman knew he had said the wrong thing. “Could have helped? Found some pill that would’ve lobotomized me so I’m just a cud-muching sheep?” There was another crack as Remus’ chair legs returned to the ground, and then his palms were pressed to the table once more. He was leaning forwards, voice so low Roman had to crane his neck to hear it, and for the first time Roman actually saw a shadow of something truly frightening on Remus’ face. “Our parents were too busy wondering where they went wrong with me and rewarding you for being perfect. Too busy trying to erase me from our fucked-up family. And you were too busy letting them, getting me to take your falls for you, using me to wipe away all the shit stains on your perfect little bubble. And look where I am now! Just where you always expected me to end up. So fuck off with your empty regret, Ro. I don’t expect anyone from our house to help me, got it?”

Remus’ voice cracked on the last word, and he jerked to his feet, one hand rising to scrub roughly across his dark eyes. “We’re done here. Fuck off.” A guard had started moving toward them the moment he had stood.

Roman stood as well, expression frozen to one between shock and horror, something hot and painful rising in his throat. It wasn’t vomit - he’d been too stressed to eat lunch. “Remus, I…”

“Save it,” his twin snapped. The guard was right beside them now, ready to escort Remus away again, and Roman had no idea how to make anything right. “And Roman?”

His heart rose, but his hopes were dashed almost immediately by the raw expression on Remus’ face. “Leave Jan alone.”

Roman spent almost thirty minutes just sitting in the parking lot, racking sobs forcing their way from his body. He wasn’t even sure who he was crying for, only that the emotions were going to force themselves from his chest whether he liked it or not. It was probably safer not to drive and cry so hard the world was blurry around him.

He could have been crying for Remus as he had been, thirteen and aware that their parents had chosen Roman as their favourite, wracked by nightmares and trying to teach himself to stay silent at night to avoid disturbing anybody, repeatedly told that he was a bad kid until he truly became one.

He could have been crying for his own blindness, his refusal to see that he was trading Remus’ pain for his every time he was too panicked to own up to his own wrongdoings, the damage he had done to their relationship - the damage that Remus had pretended he hadn’t minded. Why? Why hadn’t he said something?

He could have been crying for their parents, not sure what to do with a son that skipped school and went shoplifting, drinking, setting things on fire, foulmouthed and reckless, their confusion turning to regret and then something approaching neglect.

He could have been crying for Janus, eighteen and burned, his once honey-like voice raspy and hoarse. It hurt for Janus to swallow now - he had noticed it over the last few weeks, the slight wince after every bite.

He could have been crying for Remus as he was now, just as lost as he had been at fifteen, at thirteen, at ten, but now his pain was manifesting in bigger and bigger disasters. Remus, the scape-goat, who didn’t trust their parents, who didn’t trust him.

It wasn’t as though he deserved Remus’ trust, though. As far as his twin knew, Roman would probably have taken the trust Remus placed in him and turned it into more ammunition to make himself seem ever closer to heaven and demonise Remus even further.

No - no, he shouldn’t be crying for Janus. It had taken him until now, but as Roman’s sobs finally subsided he realised that he did recognise the expression that had passed over his brother’s face when he had asked about Janus.

It was fear.

Remus was… Remus was afraid of Janus. (Roman hadn’t thought that Remus was afraid of anything - but he clearly didn’t know his brother at all anymore.) What could Janus have done to inspire fear in somebody as wild, as dangerous, as bold and brash and reckless as Remus?

But if Remus had done what he had out of fear of Janus doing something worse, an attempt to be free of him, why hadn’t he at least spoken up at the hearing? Janus couldn’t have hurt him from all the way across a courtroom.

The answer came to Roman as a cold fist around his heart, the icy fingers making him gasp in shock. That was why Remus was so afraid - “Leave Janus alone”, he had said. Leave Janus alone, because Janus was holding something over him, and whatever it was could ruin Remus for good.

Janus was blackmailing his twin, and Roman wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen now that he knew.

No, Janus didn’t deserve his tears. Janus deserved everything he had gotten, and more, and Roman was going to make sure that karma was delivered right to his door.

When he got home that evening, he found that somebody had left a voicemail on his phone (he had left it in his room, not needing it while he was visiting Remus). He thought he knew who it was even before the worm-ridden chainsaw-murderer voice curled into the room with him.

“Hey, Roman. Didn’t see you much at school today. Uh.”

A second of silence, as though Janus was awkwardly trying to work out what to say. Masterful. Janus had played him like a master.

“We were both pretty busy, I guess.”

Another pause. How had Janus gotten his number? Maybe he was blackmailing Virgil, too, and had forced him to give it over. (Or he could just have asked. Virgil probably had Roman’s number, and would probably just hand it over for a price.)

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d… Um, want to do something on Friday. Y’know, to celebrate the end of finals, and… Stuff. Not much point us revising once the exams are done, eh, Princey?”

The nervous, teasing tone was making Roman’s teeth grate. I’m coming for you, you snake. You viper.

“We could… See a movie, or something. Or just hang out. Pat gave me the recipe for his toffee cookies, we could try making them!”

Yet another pause. Roman wanted to throw his phone across the room - but if Janus was asking to see him, that probably meant that he didn’t know that Roman was onto him, and that he was going to continue his sinister plans. Only now, Roman knew what was going on.

Janus’ voice lost it’s jovial quality, becoming possibly slightly sad. There was a chance that he was a better actor than even Roman. “Of course… If you don’t want to, that’s… I mean, I know yesterday wasn’t ideal. I’m… Really sorry you had to see that. If you don’t want to hang around me now, that’s… That’s okay.” There had even been a slight hitch in his breathing as he spoke, as though the idea of not talking to Roman anymore had pushed him to the verge of tears. He really was putting on a whole performance for him, wasn’t he?

“Um, anyway. Call me, or… Whatever. Text. Leave me a note, stalk me to my locker. Or don’t, if you’d rather not. I won’t bother you if you don’t want to see me anymore. Um. I’m going to hang up now. Oh - this is Janus, by the way, but I… I’d hope you’d already figured that out now. It just occurred to me that you probably didn’t have my number. Yeah. I’m hanging up.”

The call lasted for another few seconds, the only sound being Janus’ breathing - which Roman suddenly noticed had a laboured quality to it, the breaths sounding dry and scratchy. Then there was a click, and the automated voice asking Roman if he wanted to delete the message.

Well, then. He should get back to work. He wouldn’t mention having visited Remus to Janus - not yet, anyway - just in case he went ahead with whatever threat he had hanging over him, but he could make up some excuse for why he had all but ignored Janus that day. As much as he wanted to slam Janus against the wall the next time he saw him, hold him there by the front of his shirt and force him to explain, to apologise, to leave him and his brother alone, he couldn’t do that, either.

If Janus already wanted to hang out on Friday, he probably wouldn’t mind if Roman suggested they did something. Now that he knew just how evil Janus was, Roman pushed away shrieks and squeals from his moral compass with almost no regret. All he had to do was get Janus to talk, hopefully enough to get something on him to make him drop his case against Remus - and whilst Janus was usually so guarded with his words, Roman knew a way to get people to relax. There was nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t like he’d force Janus to do anything, of course - he wasn’t going to stoop to his level. He’d just mention that the woods were a good place to smoke and blow off some steam, and invite Janus to join him.

It had taken him a while to compose the text; when he was finished, he threw his phone back on his bed and went downstairs to have dinner with his parents. They had already removed Remus’ chair from the circular dining table: it was sitting out in the hallway, holding his dad’s briefcase and his mum’s coat, and the remaining chairs had been arranged in a triangle. Neither of his parents asked how his visit to Remus had been - in fact, Remus wasn’t mentioned at all. Already, it was as though he may as well not exist.

Janus had done this, Roman told himself, and that fact did something to calm the slimy ball of worms writhing inside him. Yes, he had contributed, but it had been Janus who had dealt the final blow to erase his twin from their lives. Janus was going to pay, and Roman would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Remus.

Taglist:

@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #AccidentsHappenAU #drug use #alcohol mention

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dusk-realm · 5 years

Text

Chrysanthemum [Chapter 5: Spinner’s End]

Tagging: @featurelengthfics

A/N: due to the lack of information about Snape’s house, I had to get creative and improvise stuff. I’ve also based some things on my own headcanons, which you may want to revisit before reading this chapter.

Thanks goodness I haven’t eaten, she thought. It was true what everyone said about apparition, it really messes up with one’s bowels. Professor Snape let go of her arm and went ahead to open the door. She had barely noticed that he was grabbing her, he did it very gently. The professor found the key game inside his robe and proceeded to open the front door of the house. It was tiny, and the borough looked as if it had been a long time since anyone cared enough to maintain the lighting or to clean up the garbage. Just as she had figured out, it was a small district which had been home to several workers of the industry, which had been abandoned when the production started to either move or shut down.

‘Are you going to stay there all day?’ Snape called, waiting by the doorframe for her to enter. The girl obeyed and stepped inside, taking her time to adjust a bit to the indoors darkness. The living room looked a bit claustrophobic; it had only one small window, and the walls were covered by tall shelves that reached the roof. The shelves, despite their height, looked as if they could fall in any moment due to the vast amount of books they had in them. A lot of them didn’t even fit properly, so someone had been just piling them up on top of others. The house in general had a general air of neglect, but it was normal, (Y/N) guessed, if Professor Snape lived alone and spent most part of the year in Hogwarts. But what worried her the most, was the fact that she didn’t see any door.

‘So… Professor, where am I going to sleep?’ She asked, having a look around before finally stopping at him. He was calmly leaving his suitcase on the floor, near a threadbare armchair.

‘On the floor, obviously.’ He joked. Or so he thought. The lack of a response from her after a few seconds made him turn around. She looked pretty much unbothered, setting her luggage on the floor as well.

‘...What?’ She asked, seeing that Snape was looking at her in a weird way.

‘You didn’t really... expect to sleep on the floor the whole summer, did you?’ (Y/N) shrugged a little and answered:

‘I’m used.’

Snape looked stupefied at her mettle,

In what kind of place have you been living, girl?

but managed a few words out:

‘What do you mean with used?’

Shit, maybe shouldn’t have let that slip.

Have you been sleeping on the floor at Hogwarts?

‘I mean, I used to live in an orphanage, I’m used to hard surfaces. You know, not enough budget to buy a soft thick mattress for every kid.’ She explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie, so it should content him for now. Thankfully, Snape did seem satisfied with the answer, as he gave a slow nod.

‘Come, I’ll show you your bedroom.’

‘With a mattress, professor?’ She joked, letting a soft chuckle out.

‘With a mattress.’ He conceded, showing the smallest of the smiles. He motioned her towards a wall. Surprisingly, there were doors, but they were very well hidden. She followed him up through a small staircase with only one lightbulb hanging from a wire. The staircase lead to a hallway with 4 doors, 2 at each side of the corridor. He pointed at the furthest one to the left and announced:

‘Junk room,’ His finger moved to the door next to it and continued, ‘bathroom,’ he pointed to the right now, to the furthest room, ‘my bedroom, and the one left is yours.’

(Y/N) nodded with satisfaction.

Goodbye shared bedroom, see you in hell.

‘Clean it up before you get installed. It hasn’t been used in a long time.’ Snape warned before opening the door for her. She peeked inside and saw a double bed, with two nightstands and all. The bedroom was quite big and nice, even if it was dusty.

‘Woah! All this room for me, Professor?’ She entered and spun around.

‘All yours. And you don’t need to call me Professor while you’re here.’ He was leaning against the wall, fidgeting with his fingers slowly.

Does she like it?

‘Mr. Snape then?’ She asked. Well, she didn’t want to disrespect him after all he had done for her, plus taking her in for the whole summer. The master allowed himself to chuckle a little at her manners.

‘Severus. Severus is fine. Make yourself comfortable, you can borrow anything from the closet.’

‘Thank you, Severus… Really.’ She spoke in a very meek voice. Severus simply dismissed it and left the room, closing the door after himself.

He went straight to the bedroom of his childhood and remained there in silence. He heard the door being opened, footsteps down and then up the stairs, then the door closing softly again. She had probably found a cloth to clean up her bedroom, as he had just ordered to do. He checked the hour: 5:36. There was still enough time for him to unpack his clothes and then it would be time for dinner.

True, dinner.

He thought. Evidently, there was nothing edible in the house, so he should probably go get something. For the both of them. It felt so strange to think of grocery shopping for two. He leaned his ear on the wall. Severus could hear some ruffling and rubbing here and there. After a few minutes, having checked that the girl was fine, Severus cleaned up his own room with a quick flick of his wand and began unpacking.

I have too much to do.

In no time, his robes were neatly hanged on the closet, his suitcase put away and the bedroom spot-clean. Severus sat down on the bed and let out a sigh. He was having a mental debate on whether he should tell (Y/N) that he was going out or just leave. Maybe she felt scared being alone. Or awkward, seeing that she was a guest. But it wasn’t strictly necessary for him to tell her about his whereabouts.

Would she care at all?

His hand moved automatically to the side of his garments, and took out the pentagonal box.

You better have not melted.

He shook the box gently with one hand, until he could hear a croak. The man left the box on his nightstand, waiting for the right moment to come. He had bought that chocolate frog in an express trip to Honeydukes, while the girl was under Pomfrey’s watch. He thought it would be good to cheer up her stay in the Hospital Wing, but he never really had the chance to actually give it to her, so he hid it in his robes and kept carrying it around secretely, until now.

Ultimately, Severus stood up and decided to go check on his pupil.

(Y/N) had already cleaned the furniture, not that there was much stuff to clean anyway. She had taken off the bed sheets because they were all dusty, but she couldn’t reach the clean ones, as they where stored at the highest part of the closet. Regardless, her savior came to the rescue, as she heard two soft knocks on the door.

‘Yes, come in~’ She sang. Severus peeked his head inside, without opening up completely. He saw that the window was opened, and in poured the afternoon light, bringing life to the bedroom.

‘How’s that going?’ He questioned. Seeing that Severus wouldn’t come in, (Y/N) opened the door wide open for him and extended an arm.

‘I wanted to change the sheets before cleaning the floor, but I can’t reach. Do you mind..?’

With a stiff nod, Severus came in and reached the bedsheets for her.

‘I’m going out for grocery shopping, I hope you can handle this yourself.’ He said in a monotonic voice, dropping the bedsheets carelessly on her arms.

‘Yes! Of course, I can handle this. Don’t worry, I’ll try to finish before you come back. Do you need me to clean anything else?’ She kindly offered. Severus looked very unimpressed on the outside, but he felt a little touched in the inside by her gentle nature.

‘Just get installed when you have finished.’ He ordered. And with that, he turned around and walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs, only to leave the house seconds after.

(Y/N) got down to work immediately after she heard the door shut, beginning to reflect on this first day of cohabitation. The neighbourhood was, somehow, worse than what she had figured at first. True, she expected dirt and poor people and not the best landscape, but the place was abandoned in every possible way. She saw no people, and the condition of the street was literally rubbish. Why did Professor Snape live here? Being a professor at Hogwarts, he could surely afford something better than this house. The house was small, and cramped, but at the same time it felt empty. There was not a single photography at sight, nothing that suggested any sort of familiarity or warmth. Spinner’s End didn’t feel like a home at all.

It’s not like I have the right to complain. She told herself.

It has four walls, a roof and a bed. It’s not that bad. Plus, Professor Snape is not the monster everyone thinks he is. He’s been gentle so far. Maybe not the kindest, maybe not the most welcoming, but he’s treated me just right. This is better than sleeping in the street.

The girl had finished her tasks before she could realize it: the sheets were changed, fresh, and the floor had been thoroughly cleaned. The only thing remaining on her to-do list was to unpack and hang her clothes in the closet.

Piece of cake. It won’t even take up much space.

(Y/N) opened the suitcase on the bed and began taking out her few clothes. After putting everything away, she was left with her old pyjamas in hand, realising that she was still wearing her Hogwarts uniform.

I don’t think he minds me taking a shower now…

And with that, she took her belongings and went to the bathroom to take a shower until Snape came back. Well, she opened the wrong door, leading to the junk room.

‘Oops.’

It really is a junk room.

Severus came back home carrying four bags of food.

Will this be enough?

He couldn’t help hesitating, it had been such a long time since he last bought food for more than one. And taking care of a teenager was not just a matter of doubling the amount of food the available, no.

Slowly, Severus began to freak out as he arrived at the kitchen, leaving the bags on the table. He had just noticed that he knew absolutely nothing of her tastes.

He took a look around. She wasn’t around, so she should be still upstairs, in her bedroom.

What if she’s allergic to something?

Severus started fidgeting with his fingers anxiously. That was a big failure.

I’m supposed to keep this child healthy and we’re already going downhill.

Then, he decided that it was probably a good idea to go ask her, just to be sure. Severus shuffled going upstairs, drained from so much activity. It had been a busy year thanks to Potter, and his duty had not finished for the summer either. The potions master saw her door opened and came in, looking for her. The room was empty, except for the caged owl. He hadn’t been able to see the bird up close.

‘Hi, Chilli…’ Severus cooed softly, leaning in a little to observe him. Chilli was a real mess. It was an elderly royal owl of red eyes. Severus guessed that he got the name because of the characteristic intense red of his iris. His plumage was badly moulted, and cataracts had begun to cloud his sight. Regardless, anyone observant enough would be able to tell that the animal was not in this state due to neglect. His remaining feathers were clean and of good colour. His claws and beak looked perfectly healthy and clean too, as well as the cage. Severus tried his luck and stuck his pinkie through the spikes of the cage. Chilli angled his head and bit the man’s fingertip, making him jolt and jump straight up again.

‘Bastard.’ He whisper-yelled before leaving the room and returning to the kitchen.

(Y/N) walked down the stairs now feeling fresh and clean. She had changed into her tatty short-sleeved pyjamas. She was carrying her dirty clothes and the wet towels when she entered the kitchen, seeing Severus busy with the food.

‘Hi… Welcome home.’ She shyly greeted. He straightened himself up and looked at her from above his shoulder. Seeing no answer expectancies, (Y/N) continued:

‘Have you been here for long? I didn’t hear you, I was in the shower.’ The girl explained. Her voice was very soft, Severus thought, but he could still hear her perfectly.

‘Just a few minutes.’

‘Oh, I see. Do you need any help with that?’ She offered, standing behind him. She realised that he had removed his cloak at some point, although she had not noticed the instant in which he did it. She also noticed how slim her teacher actually was.

‘Do you have any allergy? Anything I should know of?’ Severus bluntly asked. The question caught (Y/N) a little taken aback, so she took a little to utter a response.

‘Uhm… No?’ Severus turned around with his eyebrow raised.

‘I- I mean,’ she hurried to finish up, ‘I’ve never had an allergic reaction to anything, so I guess I don’t have any.’ Her professor nodded and continued with the task in hand.

‘Go hang that outside, what are you waiting for?’ He grunted. The unfriendlyness of his tone startled (Y/N) a little, making her rush to the little inner patio that the house had.

‘Y-yes, of course…’ The poor girl did as told, then put her clothes in the washing machine and quietly sat down waiting for dinner.

Severus had made some sautéed vegetables for the both of them. Dinner passed quite slowly, as there was no other sound but the occasional cutlery bumping gently into the plate. The professor kept watching his student intently; she ate well, not rebuffing at anything in particular in her plate. She had very good manners too, but Severus was more focused on seeing her reaction to his cooking.

Does she like it? She doesn’t seem picky. But she sure is slow.

In the end, they finished at the same time, and Snape picked up his and her plate without delay. (Y/N) stood up quickly and placed her hand on his right arm.

‘Wait, no, you cooked dinner, let me do the dishes in exchange.’

Severus agreed and gave up his place in front of the sink. The young Slytherin made sure to scrub the plates until they shined before considering that she had finished. A few minutes later, she left the kitchen and then went to her bedroom to feed Chilli. She took her good time to look around. It all seemed so strange… It had been a weird day in general, and she was exhausted. Her body felt sore and tense, even after laying down in bed for a good while. It was pitch dark outside and there was no clock in the bedroom, but (Y/N) was quite sure of having been laying down for a few hours by then, constantly tossing and turning.

Maybe it's the bed? Since I'm not used to having so much space… It also feels weird knowing that it belongs to a married couple. Wait. Is Snape married? Nah. No, I don't think so. He'd be living with his wife. Unless he's a widower. But still, why not sleeping in this bedroom? He must be single. So… is this his parents’ bedroom? PROFESSOR SEVERUS SNAPE WAS CONCEIVED HERE?!

(Y/N) jerked straight up and left the bed as a shiver went down her spine. She decided to go get herself a glass of water, hoping to calm down with that and be able to sleep at last. Regardless, she didn't expect to find Severus sitting in the living room with his nose buried in a book. He slowly raised his head as he heard soft footsteps.

‘Can't sleep?’ He asked, glancing from above the pages.

‘No, not really…’ (Y/N) sighed audibly and let herself plop on the couch in front of her teacher. ‘I guess I'm just overexcited, a lot of things happened today…’ she made a little pause, watching his expression carefully. He was paying attention, so she continued: ‘I still can't believe that Professor Dumbledore is going to allow me to move on to the second course, as if it was nothing, just like that.’

‘Well,’ Severus spoke, shutting his book and letting it rest on his lap, ‘you have managed to fall in the same year as The Boy Who Lived,’ his voice sounded overly theatrical and envenomated with sarcasm, ‘a true honour, being the classmate of a living legend. You should feel happy.’

‘Potter?’ (Y/N) rolled her eyes and put her bare feet up on the couch, hugging her own knees. ‘I don't even know the kid and I'm already sick of him. I swear, if I hear anyone else praise him, I'll finish off the job myself.’

Severus bursted a dark laugh. It was the first time that (Y/N) heard him laugh in two years. It was a deep sound that tingled your ears, but at the same time it had an indecipherable undertone that made it strange and almost addictive.

‘How tempting, my little snake…’ He murmured mysteriously.

‘Plus, he's everyone's favourite, and Slytherin lost the House Cup for his and his friends’ fault.’

‘Don't remind me…’

‘Well, actually, Slytherin legitimately won the Cup with effort throughout the entire year and Dumbledore snatched it from our hands to give it to Gryffindor for being reckless and breaking at least a dozen of rules.’ Snape watched his student slowly fire up and spill her frustrations. He had never seen her this talkative, not even in class, but it was honestly a spectacle worth watching. She continued with her ramble.

‘It enrages me. Potter doesn't deserve to be called a legend. Let alone receiving the poorly-concealed biased treatment he gets. He was a baby when all of that happened, I'm convinced that his own magical power had nothing to do with his survival. I've been in class with him, he's not any extraordinary wizard. Granger, if you ask me, is so much more talented than him. She only needs to learn to keep her mouth shut sometimes.’

Severus shifted and straightened up at the mention of that dreadful night, as flashes of horror and grief took over his brain. He leaned on, resting both elbows on his knees and chose to carry on with the topic.

‘I see you cherish them just as much as I do.’

‘Yeah, I think you made that clear at the beginning of this year.’

‘Hmpfh.’

‘They probably hate you, since you won't follow up your peers on glorifying Potter, but you put them right in place. Harshly, but effectively.’

‘I'm aware… that I'm not precisely the.. favourite teacher. Not that I mind much, regardless, the opinion of that bunch of dimwits. Others... like you, for instance, don't seem so bothered.’

‘Me? I don't feel threatened. As much as potions are fascinating, they're also very dangerous if one brews them incorrectly. I'm aware that you need to keep everyone safe. You have to be strict.’ She emphasized.

‘You recognise the danger, and yet you still pair up with that Longbottom boy.’ He pointed his finger at her chest accusingly, making her giggle softly.

‘Okay, Neville is clumsy, but-’

‘The boy unleashes chaos in my classroom.’ Severus interrupted. (Y/N) cleared her throat.

‘Neville may be clumsy, but if there's one Gryffindor I can stand, that's him. He's very sweet. Scaredy, yes, but he's a good boy. Did you know that he loves Herbology? Professor Sprout paired us up a few times, and we've been sticking together ever since. Well, once he stopped being scared of me.’

‘Scared.. of… you?’ He unhurriedly echoed.

This girl is probably the most tranquil in temperament of the whole House. How can he?

‘Prejudice, I suppose. A girl told us that she heard Ronald Weasley say in the welcoming ceremony that every wizard that went bad was in Slytherin. I bet he's been running around telling that to everyone else, and the others of course believed him. Because nobody wants to mingle with the House of the rotten apples.’

She lifted her glance up. Snape's face twitched a little, and he had a weird expression. His black eyes glittered illuminated by the faint light that the lamp provided. Her eyes, on the contrary, looked dull, lifeless again.

Where did that beautiful (E/C) go?

Severus saw so much of himself in her. He saw her frustration, her loneliness, he saw how much she craved even the smallest affection from a friendly hand, a confidant, he could guess how many emotions she was bottling up, repressing them, learning to confine to herself just the way he had done during his teenage years. And it felt so close to home that it made his heart ache and his guts contort. He could also begin to fathom why Dumbledore sent her with him. They allowed silence seize the room, and minutes passed and passed. It wasn’t however, awkward, but rather, a prolonged pause in a conversation, it was a reflective lull. (Y/N) was the first one to break it.

‘Severus?’ She called in a whisper after a while.

‘Hmm?’

‘I… I think that’s enough conversation for today. I should go to sleep.’

He turned around and checked the hour. 3 AM. Then, he looked at her again and got up lazily.

‘I’m going to bed too, come.’ He said, leaving the book on his armchair.

(Y/N) got up too, and was surprised to feel a warm hand resting on her shoulder.

Snape escorted her back to her bedroom, squeezing her shoulder softly in front of her door. She turned around to look at him. His hand abandoned her shoulder and laid heavily on top of her head, stroking her hair on its way down, towards her cheek.

‘Good night, (Y/N)’

(Y/N) took a moment to answer, leaning into his soft touch slightly, almost imperceptibly. It felt delightful and soothing, welcoming. She wished deep down to increase their confidence to allow a caress like this every so often. The girl placed her own hand on Severus’ and drew a semicircle on his skin. The gesture sent a jolt to his stomach, thinking that she would slap his hand away, but Sevrus was secretly relieved to feel her correspond his stroke so delicately.

‘Good night.’ She replied in a whisper after an eternity.

That night, (Y/N) slept peacefully and soundly, without dreams, but feeling warmth in her heart.

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vore-scientist · 6 years

Text

Negotiating with Giants: A Love Story

(This is a GT story, no vore, but mind the content warnings. it’s also more of a lore dump adventure, but it includes a love story in there somewhere)

This crazy adventure tells the tale of how Emmett (a human fire witch) meets and falls in love with Maya (a giant, ranger). And what an adventure it is! It’s got magic, it’s got dragons, it’s got schemes made by evil wizards! I pulled out all the stops!

Content warnings/description: This story contains no sexual content! The pair is F/m, but i wouldn’t label it as “giantess”. Especially since there are a lot of giants in this story. While this story doesn’t contain any proper vore it does mention the evil wizards being eaten a few times, fatally. And by mention i mean “the wizard was eaten”. This makes it less vore-ish than the actual Enchanted Forest Chronicles, which is the children’s fantasy book series that I base the world of Mystic Woods on. And it’s only evil people, so they deserved it.

(you do not need to know who Emmett, Maya, or their son Yonah are to read this, they are my OCs!)

This is not a story that will have a surprise ending, only a surprising journey to get there.

It was your average day in the Ha’Esh household, located in a average village on the outskirts of the Blue Woods Tribe (your average Mountain Giant Tribe)’s territory. And the day would continue to be average, the family left undisturbed, the world around them still intact.

---

For all these things that were average, the Ha’Esh family itself was not one of them. There were three members, a mother, a father, and a son. The mother, Maya, was a giant. Not out of the ordinary for someone who is a member of a tribe of giants. The father, Emmett, however, was a fire witch. Not everyone in the tribe was a giant, but it’s rare for non-giant members to form family units with the giant ones. Their union meant their son, Yonah, was half giant and half fire witch. Though if one were more accurate, Yonah was closer to half human, having inherited little of his father’s fire witch traits.

At the time of this story, Yonah is 10 years old, and in a curious mood.

He had gotten up early, made his bed, and headed outside to collect eggs from the dire-ostritch s. Meant to be kept by True Giants, these birds were large for a half giant, and at his age, their heads were at his chest. But he was their friend, and they clucked as he entered the coop, bucket of feed over his head. It was cushioned upon his mass of curly, ink black hair.

“Alright you ostriches, who's hungry?” he cried, as if to pump up a crowd at a rock concert.

They all backawed loudly, and pavlovianly. Yonah stepped aside as they all hopped out of their nesting spots to run outside. Once everyone was out, Yonah stood in the doorway, and looked down the ramp at all the ostrich s looking back at him.

He thrust forward to launch the contents of the bucket outward and pandemonium ensued. Yonah used a bit of simple magic to create small gusts of wind to carry the feed all over the paddock, so the ostriches went in all directions. The thing is, they go after the first piece of feed they see, not the one easiest to get to, and they were running into each other, bouncing off each other’s plump plumage. Some would fall over and act as if it was the end of the world for all of 3 seconds before spotting another piece of food and forgetting their plight

Quickly, yonah switched the bucket for a basket and ducked back inside the coup. Dire-ostritches, even domesticated ones, don’t lay every day, usually once every week or so, which Yonah was thankful for. The amount each day was usually about the amount he could safely carry without breaking the eggs or dropping the basket.

By then the ostriches were pecking at the remains of their meal, and Yonah shepherded them back into the coup, attracting them with a treat, mainly old dried fruits and fairly old jerky that would have had to been thrown away. Basket on his head, empty bucket in his hand, he headed back inside the house.

“Ah, Yonah, you are up early today!” his mother exclaimed as he entered the kitchen and handed off the eggs to her. He barely came up to her knees. She placed the basket on the kitchen counter and picked up her son, placing him next to the basket.

This was of course, Maya, Yonah’s mother. Just over 40ft tall, skin a nice grey-ish blue, strongly built, and absolutely no hair on her head. Giants don’t have much body hair, at least, not anywhere normally visible to the public eye. They do have large pointed ears. Yonah inherited the large ears, but they weren’t pointed.

“I don’t have breakfast ready yet, but you are welcome to keep me company” she said. She pointed to the cauldron in the fireplace, which was boiling steadily with a sweet smelling porridge.

Then a large BOOM was heard outside, though far away. Maya sighed, Yonah laughed softly.

“Never mind that, could you go check on your father, make sure he hasn’t blown himself up?”

Yonah hopped off the counter and went to go find his dad. He had a work area on the side of the house opposite from the ostrich's, so as not to scare them, or end up as collateral damage. It was also where his father’s garden was, again, away from the ostriches. There was no telling what could happen if they ate any of the magical plants. This boom however, did not come from so close by, his father must be out in the forest this time.

The second BOOM provided Yonah with a direction, and he ran towards it. He didn’t smell any smoke, which meant his father wasn’t setting the forest on fire.

When he found his father, he was unconscious, next to a large boulder, that felt like faint sparkles were coming off. The remnants of a magic spell.

“Dad!” Yonah cried out, running to his dad’s side, and sitting him up. His skin was very hot, he had just produced a lot of magic.

Emmett stirred and looked up at his son, and smiled. Yonah breathed a sigh of relief. His dad was ok.

“What happened?” Yonah asked.

“‘What happened’? No, ‘are you ok?’ or ‘i’m glad you’re still alive’?” Emmett sneered.

Yonah rolled his eyes, “You’re obviously fine,” he said, still holding his father up.

“Well, I’ll be fine, I just overdid it, a bit,” he said, coughing hard.

“Can you walk on your own?” Yonah asked.

Emmett tried to stand up, but was very unsteady, “I think my boy, that you will have to carry your old man back. Sorry.”

“Only if you tell me what you were doing.” said Yonah.

“Deal,” Emmett was going to tell him anyways, he always did.

Yonah picked up his father’s limp form and place him on his shoulders. Emmett was strong enough to hold on, as long as Yonah held his legs.

“I’ve been working on a teleportation spell,” said Emmett, as they headed back.

“But you already know how to teleport!” said Yonah. He’d seen his father do it, bursting into flames and vanishing, only to reappear within a week, after he had completed whatever he had gone off to do.

“That is correct, but this is to teleport your mother,” he said, “Teleportation of one’s self is relatively easy for a fire witch, it’s mostly verbal and pushing my own magic into the goal. However, teleportation for regular people is difficult, it involves a lot of set up. Marking up the ground with magic to form your transport matrix. Teleporting others with you needs more magic, more prep, to compensate for the area the spell is going to effect and, and the number of bodies. If the other person is over 40 feet tall, the design needs to be altered almost entirely. I was practicing on that boulder. I had no trouble teleporting it away, and myself with it, but it still took a lot out of me. More than I realized. When I teleported it back, I, well you know, you found me shortly after.”

With his son’s interest in magic, Emmett never tried to simplify explanations.

“You passed out from exhaustion!” said Yonah. It didn’t happen often, fire witches were veritable fonts of magical energy. This must be one big spell.

“Exactly,”

However, Not everything made sense to Yonah, “But, giants can teleport themselves, cant they? Couldn’t mother learn and take you with”. Yonah knew that you always took what you were holding when teleporting.

“They don’t really need to, they can go pretty fast on foot. Some mages learn how, but your mother’s no mage. If we’re gonna travel someplace far, we’ve always walked. Or rather, she walked, and carried me,”

Yonah stopped, “Are, are you going somewhere?” he asked, his voice shook, “Are you leaving me?!” Was this how he was going to find out?

“Oh, oh gods, no, Yonah, of course not, we’d never leave you!” Emmett assured him, “this is just in case we want to travel someday, like take a vacation. Your mother’s been living in the mountains her whole life, she’s barely left, only to make trips into the Mystic Woods. I thought she might want to see more of the world.”

Realization dawned on him. “This is a present for mother!” he said.

“That’s right, but it’s not ready, so don’t tell her. I’m going to tell her I tried to turn a tree into gold or something,” said Emmett.

“Ok, it will be our secret!” said Yonah, and he nearly skipped back home. His father bouncing up and down on his shoulders, squishing into his hair.

—

“What on the gods earth were you trying to do, Emmett?” Maya asked, worried but not without exasperation.

She had placed Emmett in an armchair, on the kitchen table, sitting herself on a stool. Yonah sat on her lap, but to be tall enough to be a part of the conversation, he had to be on his knees. Breakfast was ready, porridge and scrambled eggs. Emmett was feeling well enough by then to use a fork and spoon.

“Magical exhaustion mama!” said Yonah, “it happens to the best of us”

“Oh, and when has it happened to you? When have you done such reckless magic?” Maya looked sternly at her son.

“I- I havent, I just mean,” Yonah tried to recover, but his mother just tousled his hair.

“You’re going to be a fine mage someday, but please be careful,” she said, “as for you” she looked back at her husband, who had just put a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.

“You still haven’t told me what you were doing!”

Yonah dearly wished he could telepathically communicate with his dad. Emmett choked, and stuttered, he had forgotten what he was going to say. Yonah had to, but they could at least have had a contingency plan. Then it came to him. He had an Idea™.

“Mom?” said Yonah, in his sweetest voice, “Dad?”

“What is it honey?” said Maya, as Emmett wiped porridge from his shirt.

“How did you and dad meet?”

There was a long silence, Yonah’s parents looking from him, to each other. Internally, Yonah was bursting with pride, the perfect distraction! And also, maybe he was finally going to hear the story.

“Havent, Havent we told you?” said Maya.

Yonah crossed his arms, “you said he saved you from an evil wizard, but that’s it, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“Oh there’s a lot more,” said Emmett, and his wife shot him a death glare.

“Come on dear, it’s a good story, i Don’t know what you’re saving it for, some special occasion? Why not now? In any case, I’m too weak to do anymore work today.”

“No, you’re right,” she said. And cleared her throat.

“Well, it all started because, well because I picked a fight with the wrong wizard…”

—

I was on a border patrol, had been for days, and nothing was out of the ordinary. New dire-eagle nests, would have to watch out they don’t steal any cattle. When I came across a wizard. He was, doing something in the forest, which was very suspicious. It took me a second to realize why he set off my alarm bells.

He was not in the garb of an academy wizard, but the two-color robes of a society wizard. The Society of Wizards, as you know, are never up to any good, always trying to further their hold on all magic in the world. And one was at the edge of the Mystic Woods, picking at the ground with his staff, with magic shooting out every minute or so.

Being the amazing ranger that I am, I was able to sneak up on him, to a point, there is only so close I can get, even if I’m unheard. I tried to get him to tell me what he was doing but he wasn’t talking. I ate him of course, and I don’t know if that was a mistake, I doubt it would have changed much about what happened next.

Whatever the wizard had been doing, he had done it, before I got there. It wasn’t even a minute after I dealt with the wizard that The air became all gold and shimmering. I raised a hand up to my eyes to try and rub my vision clear, but i couldn’t, my hand stopped.

I stopped.

I was stuck, frozen, and the air still shimmered. The wizard had been setting a trap! And I had fallen in it. I screamed and screamed, at least i could still scream, my face was the only thing I could move. But no one was close by to hear, not even a talking animal. All I could do was hope the spell wore off or to be found before I died.

—

“AND FOUND SHE WAS! BY ME!” his father said with pride, interrupting Maya.

“There I was, minding my own business, just taking a stroll” said Emmett, more strength in his voice than the rest of his body.

Maya snorted in amusement.

“Ok fine, I was out looking for a good place to settle down, you know, build my witch hut, or tower, or castle. After looking through the Mystic Woods I decided that a magic forest setting wasn’t for me. But I saw the magical field and had to investigate! I walked into the field and what do I find? A giant!”

I had never seen a giant before, and this one was asleep standing up, and in what had to be a very uncomfortable pose. Well, I went right up to her feet and yelled up.

“Hello up there!”

—

I woke up to that yelling and I tried to look down. My eyes moved but my head didn’t, and I screamed. But soon the mysterious visitor backed up enough to be in my field of vision. It was a very strange looking man with bright red hair.

/”Excuse me!?”

“Dear you had the most awful haircut”

“fair”/

I demanded to know who he was, how he got here, and how he wasnt frozen like myself, though I had my theories. I was right too, he was a fire witch, of course the magic didn’t affect him. Fire witches are immune to most magic. But they are also very good at disrupting magic. After a we exchanged names and pleasantries, I kindly asked him to get me free.

/”you demanded it, and it was right after I told you my name”

“Fine, yes, I demanded it, I was three days stuck there, you try to keep cool”

“I never do that,”/

He refused! Said it wasn’t in his interest to help a giant! He couldn’t see the benefit for him, and one less giant around was one less thing to worry about. But, he would examine this trap, it was fascinating, something that could hold a giant in place.

As you can imagine, I wasn’t very happy about this. And this, this little man was just going to let me die where I stood! If I had any tears left they would have flowed from my eyes, but they had dried up a day ago, all I could do was watch as the little ass- jerk [Maya stopped herself from swearing in front of her ten year old son] slowly paced around me.

“Say, this looks like wizard magic,” he said after nearly half an hour! “And not Academy wizardry, Society work!”

“It is” I said, though he didn’t deserve to speak to me any longer.

“How do you know that!?”

“Because,” I said, “that’s how I got stuck here, I found a wizard, and he did this! I’ve been here for three fuc- freaking days!” I think I was willing to talk only so that I could keep my mind of my own impending death.

“Three- how are you still alive?” he asked me, and he was looking at me now, really looking.

“Well, I ate the wizard, that helped, but I’m not going to last much longer!” I was pleading, how demeaning it was.

All I could do was watch him pace back and forth, thinking about something. Eventually he spoke again.

“I hate those society types, they give my cousins across the sea nothing but trouble! Always after their magic. Tell you what, I’ll try to help you, and in return, I’ll need a favor.”

“Sure, what do you need?” I asked, I had hope again.

“Oh I don’t know, I just want a favor, which I will call in sometime in the future,”

Now Yonah, understand that under most circumstances you should never make deals with strangers, especially ones where there are no terms on what the person might request. But I was desperate, I was foolish. And you father knew that. And I accepted.

“Wonderful! Now let me see,” He cracked it knuckles and sat down.

From his backpack it removed all sorts of objects, eventually getting a knife, a little brush and a magnifying glass. He went up to one of the closest trees and scraped at the bark, investigating it more thoroughly than he had before. Then he put his finger up to it and there was a burst of light, I thought the tree might catch fire, but it didn’t, instead there was a puff of dark purple smoke.

“Success!” Emmett said from inside the cloud, and then he coughed violently.

I didn’t know what he was talking about, I was still stuck! Nothing had changed. But he went to another tree and did the same thing, with less smoke this time. And then he went to a rock, and again, a puff of smoke, again smaller than the last. Eventually the puffs of smoke were all the same size, but he kept going. By now I could feel something different, almost like something was lifting off of me, yet I couldn’t move.

/”I’ll explain this,” said Emmett. “You see, what it looked like at the time was the wizard had laid down a net, it really was a trap! I had to sever each line, one at a time with my magic”

Yonah nodded in partial understanding/

Finally he came up to me again, I couldn’t see him anymore because he was so close.

“Hey, um, sorry for what’s about to happen,” was all he said before there was a huge blast of smoke and a surge of heat by my feet.

And then I was on the ground. So was the fire witch, he had been blown back, and was groaning, but he was alive. I was kinda disappointed because it meant I was still bound to do him a favor.

“That should do it!” he said, springing up and dusting himself off.

“I- I’m free?” I tried to move. After three days, I was stiff, and it hurt, but I sat up and tried to do some stretches, it helped a bit.

“Sure are! Hey you wouldn’t know if there was any free land around? I’m looking to set up shop in the mountains! Maybe start with a hovel, someday a small fortress! evil stepmothers of nobility and the men’s auxiliary of uncles would send their step-children to me to be cursed, or given quests, I can make potions, just be a proper fire witch you know? Curse anyone who steps in my garden, plant magic things that will enchant you if you touch or eat them, that kind of thing!”

My head spun as he talked, but I managed to catch the gist, “is, this that favor you wanted?”

“Oh no no no, this kind of information is not favor worthy,” he said, and began gathering up his things which had been scattered by the force of the blast.

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t know. I patrol the lands but I don’t own them.”

“A pity, well I’ll be seeing you,”

It was then that I realized that I needed to get home, and it pained me to admit that I was probably too weak to do so, at least, unless I met no danger on my way. And I had to get home and warn the others about this wizard, and the trap. Society wizards are unofficially designated “kill on sight” because of their reputation. They are dangerous.

“Why don’t you come back to the village with me?”

“And why would I want to do that?” he asked, “Just go to a giant village? That’s not exactly smart”

“You said you were heading into the mountains, well that’s where the village is” I continued to explain that with me he’d be safe, and given food and a nice bed to rest before continuing on his journey. Hospitality is a rare find in the Implausible Mountains.

He stroked his beard, “You make a good point, I shall accompany you!”

With what little strength I had, I stood up, and I started walking, but Emmett did not follow.

“Hey, where are you going!?” he shouted at me.

I turned around, and he was just staring up at me expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to carry me?”

“Can’t you fly on a broom or something?” I spat back. Carry him! I’m not a courier.

“I don’t have a broom, and you should be glad of it! Do you think I would have walked into you if I could fly around on a broom?”

I had to admit, he was right. So I placed him upon my shoulder and headed home.

But, it wasn’t as simple as that. Running I could get back in a day, walking, 2 days. Walking at my weakened pace, who knows. I didn’t have any food on me either, and I was took weak to hunt. And your father, as talented as he might be with magic, he is no hunter. His fire magic would sooner burn the entire forest or scare off any animals than do any help.

It was the morning of the second day when, according do your dad, that I didn’t wake up.

—

Back then, (Emmett continued), I wasn’t really concerned with people other than myself. I considered just leaving her there. But, I couldn’t. Even without the promised favor, I couldn’t. I had come this far, I had kind of made a friend, we didn’t spend the last two days in complete silence. And it’s rare for fire witches to do that, make friends.

There was only one thing for me to do. I would go to the village myself! There I could tell some giants what had happened and they could get Maya. That was, if they believed me, and if they didn’t try to eat me, or capture me.

I was able to rouse Maya enough to get directions to the village.

We were closer than I had thought, but it still to me a day to get there, without stopping to sleep.

I wasn’t very coherent when I reached the village, and it was about midday. There weren’t many people walking around on the outskirts so I knocked on the first door I came across. Either no one was home, or my tiny knocks were too quiet. I tried another, still no luck. The third time I nearly got flung by the door opening. I shouted up.

And was told to f- buzz off or be killed, they don’t like strange humans in the village. Said I was lucky to get this one warning, the next person might not be so merciful.

Unable to get a word in before they walked off, I decided to just follow them. They eventually made it to the, well I generously call it the village square. It’s mostly a circular area in the center of the village with a well at the center. Going up to a random giant was clearly not the right approach, so thought of a way to get people’s attention.

First I went up to the well and got a few drops of water on my face to wake me up, and then I climbed to the top and stood on the roof of the well. I took a deep breath, and a second, and a third, and shot fire up into the air. Fire from my mouth, and my hands. It had to be big! It had to be grand and noticeable. And it was.

All traffic stopped and stared at me, I was out of breath but my hair was still fire and so I was still a beacon, even under the noonday sun. Soon the well was surrounded by giants, all eyes on me. I figured I should take the initiative here since time was of the essence.

“Attention giants! I have some important information! Please give me your eyes and ears!” I used a little spell to amplify my voice.

I paused, wanting to make sure they were listening, and it seemed like they were, if only because they were confused.

“One of your kind is in danger! She has collapsed out in the forest! I can lead you to her!”

A male giant stepped out of the crowd, he had some sort of armor on so i guessed he was a guard or something, but he came up close and looked me over. You know him, Evan, but this was years ago, if you think he looks strong now, imagine him in his prime.

“Can you now? Human, and why should we trust you? We can see you’re one of those fire witches, how do we know you aren’t trying to lure one of us out there to kill us, and use our body for your wicked spellcasting”

These giants weren’t stupid, but I had to convince them. “I, I know her name! It’s Maya, she was hurt by a wizard from The Society Please you gotta believe me, just let me take you too her”

Evan stroked his non-bearded chin, “For intruding on our peace we should kill you where you stand, but you look weary, and your voice conveys no falsehood,”

“Are you suggesting we follow him!?” came a voice from the crowd, I don’t recall who it was.

“What if it really is society wizards! It could still be a trap!” said another, who I do remember now that I think about it, it was Tola.

“It would be a very elaborate lie, such high reward but higher risk. I say he will lead us, under some conditions, which must be agreed to otherwise we will kill you,” Evan said, not taking his eyes from me even once.

Of course I agreed! I had to save Maya. But, I didn’t realize that they had an anti-magic cage built by a fire witch to hold other fire witches. I was completely at their mercy, but confident that since I was telling the truth, I would make it out of this alive.

“If you make any suspicious move, little witch, it will be your end,” was all the warning I got before being given the command to point them in the right direction. There were 4 giants in total with me, in addition to Evan there was Ozna, Regla, and Gibor, though I didn’t know their names at the time. Heh, if I went back in time and told myself that those four would be my drinking buddies someday, I would have thought I was crazy, or tried to wake myself up from the now obvious dream I was having.

Anyways back on track.

It was humiliating. Evan held me out in front of him like I was a lantern and he an old crypt keeper. I think at that point I wanted to be able to say “I told you so” to a bunch of giants, and to hear them apologize to me after we saved Maya.

We reached her in just a few hours, and remember it took me a day! The other three giants ran to gather Maya up to be carried back, she didn’t respond to their touching or moving her.

“There, you see, I was telling the truth, you can let me -” but Evan stuck his face close to the cage.

“Silence, witch, for all we know it was you and your fire magic that managed to fell someone as strong as Maya.” He spat at me, which was very rude.

But I couldn’t do anything in the anti-magic cage, even as angry as I was, my hair would only smoke! I was well and truly powerless. So I sat down and resigned myself to swinging around in the cage, which was now on Evan’s hip since I wasn’t needed to lead them back.

When we got back Maya was rushed to a healing house, and I was brought along, though I don’t know why.

I was placed on the floor beside the pad that Maya was placed on. Evan stayed by the door, watching me, as the healer asked me questions. You wouldn’t know her she, she was old even back then, but she was kind, if stern. I was tired, and angry, so we didn’t exactly get along at first.

“How long has she been like this?” she asked me.

“What does it matter!? I don’t really know!” I was, having trouble thinking, I kinda had not eaten or slept or had anything to drink for over a day.

“Think, how long?”

“Uh, four, maybe five days,” I said.

That was clearly a bad answer because she went straight to Evan and ordered him to go fetch some things.

I can’t pretend to understand what exactly was done, but I know that the healer managed to force feed Maya something, something that smelled awful, through some tube. And I know it was risky bc it took a while to set up.

I was also given food. Stale bread rhinds and old flat beer. So far, I wasn’t impressed with the hospitality that Maya had spoken of.

I did ask why I was being kept next to Maya, if they thought I was the one who hurt her. I was told that should she die, the last thing I should think about was the one I had killed. Justice i guess, it didn’t make much sense to me.

It took two days for Maya to wake up, and she was force fed the rank broth a few more times. But it must have done something.

—

It was like coming out of a fog. I didn’t know where I was, the last thing I remember was heading home, with, with a fire witch. I sat up and looked around, I was in the healing house, and next to me was a cage, and in the cage was.

“You!” I said, my voice was wispy, I picked up the cage. The fire witch was there, in the same clothes, but looking rather haggard.

“Yes it is I, Emmett, can you please let me out?” he said, standing up putting his face up to the bars, “I’ve been in this cage for almost three days!”

Thinking back I probably shouldn’t have, I didnt know why he was caged, but I opened it, and he hopped right out onto my hand. And Then I almost dropped him as his hair burst into flames!

“AHHHH! Free at last!” He cried triumphantly, “oh, sorry, got a little, excited” he said putting out his hair, though heat radiated off of him, it felt really nice as the warmth spread from him to my hands to my limbs and my entire body felt like it was being filled with energy. And clarity.

“Why on earth were you in that cage? What happened?”

He told me, his hair flaming up when he got to the the actual caging parts. But I was not burned. Unlike the others in the village, I believed him at his first words. There wasn’t really any other explanation for how I got home.

“So, little witch,” i said, “this is twice you have saved my life, I guess I owe you two favors now,”

/”It’s so much more endearing when you say it” said Emmett,

“What?”

“Little witch”/

“Ah, I mean,” his face was now the part of his head to turn red, “consider this one a freebie, but I’d better see that nice hospitality I was promised, so far the accommodations have been dreadful”

Now it was my turn to be angry. And I called out for the healer or any attendants that might be nearby. They rushed in, but as soon as they saw Emmett in my hands, they stopped.

Tired as I was, I gave them my most fearsome glare.

“How DARE you put this man in a cage, he’s a gosh darn hero!”

“We didn’t, Maya, that was Evan,” said one of the attendants.

“Then go get him!” I ordered, and one of them ran off.

After forcing Evan to apologize, sort of, I was told there would be a feast to celebrate my recovery. I of course demanded that Emmett be allowed to join, right before falling back asleep.

—

I was very worried they would put me back in that cage or throw me out the moment Maya couldn’t stop them, but they didn’t. Now that I wasn’t suspected of attempted murder, I was allowed to do as I wished, within reason. There wasn’t much I wanted to do, I did not know, let alone trust, any other giant in the village. I didn’t dare to even go for a walk. So I just stayed by Maya’s side.

Well, not the entire time, I did leave so I could wash myself and change my clothes after half a week of traveling and being stuck in a cage. I felt like a new man, and I put on my nicest robes in anticipation of the feast.

And if you were wondering, yes, your mother was also given a wash and fresh clothing.

Now, the feast itself. The food was, it was decent. Nothing fancy, but well spiced. About what you would expect for a feast that was prepared in half a day.

And it was held outside, with tables circling the well at the center of the village, lanterns were strung from the houses and held up on poles, everyone was talking, some people were singing, everyone was drinking. Now that I got to try the not-left-out-for-days-in-the-sun-beer, I got to try real giant’s beer. And the stories are true, it’s the best in the land. But, you’ll get to try it when you’re older. It was a good time, and no one threatened to eat me, not seriously, at least, I don’t think anyone did.

Maya had to tell the story of what happened so many times that by the end of the night she was hoarse, but after most people went off to bed, we were told to stay, Evan and a few other village leaders wanted to speak with us.

We were taken to Evan’s house. Maya took a seat at the table, and I stood on table itself, as close to Maya as possible. It wasn’t long before Evan walked in with three others, Ishka, Amir, and Adom. And we were asked to tell the story.

“Again? We’ve told it over twenty times today, I’ve counted,” I said.

“No, she has told it,” said Evan, referring to Maya, “Now we want to hear it from you, and don’t spare any detail about what happened.”

I didn’t think there was much for me to add since I had not been there when the wizard showed up, but they were very interested in how I figured out the net and how to get rid of it. Amir was the village’s most powerful mage. They wanted to know if it was hidden, if I thought only fire witch fire could break it, and if they could learn to spot them.

“Wait, you think there could be more?” I asked, and I looked to Maya, she hadn’t been paying much attention But now she looked fearful.

/”I was very tired”/

“It is pure speculation,” said Amir, “but where there is one society wizard, there are always others, and Maya only found the one. More wizards could mean more traps.”

“So what do you think we should do?” I asked.

““we”? Little witch, bold of you to assume you would remain with us much longer,” said Evan. I was about to respond but Maya spoke.

“Good luck destroying the traps without him, you said yourself you don’t know if it can be done without fire witch fire.”

Everyone was silent for a while, and I didn’t dare make suggestions, and to be fair, I didn’t have any. Then Ishka broke the silence.

“I’m less worried about the traps as I am about the wizards. If this is the beginning of an invasion, we can’t be caught off guard,” she said, “We need to start the Implausible Connection as soon as possible!”

That didnt mean jack shi-diddly to me, but I was tired and full of ale, so I didn’t inquire any further.

The others nodded, and Ishka continued “There’s the dragon lair close by, we could go tomorrow morning, but we should send a messenger to the nearest village tonight,”

“You don’t perhaps have mirrors? To, say, contact the village directly?” I asked.

Amir looked peeved at that comment, “no, we do not, that kind of magic has never been shared with us, you humans and other small folk keep it to yourselves.”

“Well, maybe after this we’ll get that set up,” I said, and Amir looked surprised, and then smiled at me. “That’s very generous, for a fire witch,”

“I’m not going to do it for free, or any of this, if you want my help I’ll want payment!” I said. I wasn’t interested in making a profit, but this would cost me a lot of time, energy, and supplies.

Adom glared at me and growled “we are prepared to compensate you, within reason, if you prove useful.”

The meeting concluded soon after that, and Maya and I went back to the healing house, she was still recovering, and needed to have as much strength as possible for tomorrow we would meet at least one dragon.

—

(Maya continues the story)

When we got to the dragon’s lair, it was empty. Well, as far as we could tell, so we sent Emmett in, dragons may be in length the same height as a giant, but they are smaller, and none of us could actually fit in the cave entrance, not without crawling.

But they weren’t home, that was made clear when we heard the screeching, and sneezing, behind us, and looked up to see the dragon diving towards us. They landed in front of the mouth of the cave and look at us, angry and surprised. Five horns, a male dragon. And he sneezed again.

“What are you giants doing here? This is dragon territory, explain yourselves,” his tail swished, and we saw that it was not pointed, the end had been cut off, and then the burned. The dragon was shaking, and bit of flame flicked out of his nose.

“They’re not home,” Emmett called from inside the cave, he was coming back, and the dragon jerked his head in Emmett’s direction.

“Thieves!! You brought a human to steal from me!”

Before any of could do something he released a blast of fire and we heard Emmett yelp.

“No, dragon, we are not thieves! We came to talk to you, wizards were spotted in the forest! We’ve come to invoke the Implausible Connection” Evan shouted over the screeches of the dragon.

The dragon stopped breathing fire and looked astonished, and was no longer in a rage. He sat up on his hind legs, curling his injured tail around to his underbelly, and cocked his head at Evan, and again, he sneezed.

“Wizards you say, Implausible Connection you say! Wish you had come sooner, I just met a wizard.” now that he wasn’t angry his voice was much softer, “I am very sorry about your human friend, wrong place at the wrong time, I hope you don’t hold his death against me,” he twitched his tail, a bit embarrassed at his mistake.

“I’m not dead!” Emmett called from the cave, coughing loudly, he staggered out into the light. His face was covered in soot, and his clothing was almost all gone, he was in burned rags and charred undergarments.

“I’m *cough* charging extra for the loss of my clothes,” he said to Evan, who rolled his eyes.

The dragon lumbered over on his hind legs to Emmett and put his snout near Emmett’s face.

“A fireproof human, how fascinating, unless,” and he growled deeply, “this is a trick, and you’re another wizard!”

“He’s not, he’s a fire witch” I said, as Emmett made his way back to me. I put him on my shoulder, for safe keeping. The dragon looked at me, narrowing his eyes.

“That would make more sense,” he said, “So, it seems as though we have both had encounters with wizards, before I tell my tale, I suggest you tell yours, if you think this is worth making the Connection”

We did, and he listened with wrapped attention and when I got to the part about being frozen the dragon snarled.

“Did you get trapped too? How did you get out?” I said, stopping the story.

The dragon looked to his tail, “I didn’t get trapped. I was flying off after chasing the wizard away and then it felt like I had been grabbed by my tail. I looked down, and there was nothing, but I could feel the magic there, dense and stringy. I didn’t dare go near it, but I could not hover forever. I bit off the end of my tail, cauterized it, and then flew here.”

We all exchanged glances, and we all were thinking the same thing. There were more wizards, and more traps. This was bad.

“And you are sure it was a Society Wizard? Not an Academic?” asked Evan.

The dragon snorted, “of course, didn’t you hear my sneezing? Not much can effect a dragon, but for some reason we seem to be allergic to Society Wizards.”

This was why the Implausible Connection was needed. It was the only way to warn everyone and unite the peoples of the mountain to solve the problem. It started with telling the dragons, who could fly fast than anyone could run or walk, to spread the word. This dragon was eager to get it started.

“Can you perhaps, take us to the one you were almost caught in?” said Emmett, as the dragon was about to take off.

“For what purpose?” he asked, annoyed.

Emmett explained that he was able to disable the trap I was caught in, and he wanted to test methods of destruction, and to better investigate the magic itself. The dragon agreed, but he was annoyed that we had to walk there, when he could just fly Emmett. It soon realized that Emmett wasn’t going to be allowed to go without giants chaperoning him.

—

It really didn’t take very long to get to the spot. We were there within the hour. Of course, I didn’t walk any of it, being on Maya’s shoulder. The dragon took off as soon as it could and I started to set up for the day’s work. Thankfully my traveler’s pack was so heavily enchanted that it didn’t get burned up, I had all of my supplies.

I was the only one who could actually go into the trap itself, so I couldn’t have any help, a pity. And it was. Slow going. And to make it worse, the giants were impatient, and didn’t believe me when I said I was working as fast as I could, and in my underwear, I might add.

/”Oh gods, I had forgotten that you didn’t have a spare set of clothes with you” said Maya

“I wish I could forget it, it was embarrassing!” said Emmett, “It’s why I developed a spell to mend clothes!”/

After a few hours in which I made little progress, two dragons arrived, and not the one we had spoken to before. These two were female.

“You, fire witch,” said the larger dragon, pointing a claw at me, “You can destroy these things?”

I walked up to the edge of the trap, as long as I was in it, the dragons couldn’t do anything to me, no one could.

“My name,” I was getting tired of being called ‘fire witch’, “Is Emmett, and yes, I can.”

“Prove it,” she said, spitting some fire, pacing next to the edge of the trap.

I rolled my eyes “I’m trying to figure out what it is, If I destroy it, I can’t learn from it!” I said.

“It matters not, witch, destroy this one, and we will provide another for your investigations,” her companion said.

“Fine,” I said, I packed up all of my things and set about destroying the net. I was quicker than before, now that I knew what to expect, and the dragons watched, barley blinking. The giants watched too, blinking a lot, or sleeping. It took awhile and the poofs of smoke lost their novelty quickly. Only Maya paid as much attention as the dragons, though I’m confident that she was watching them more than she was watching me.

I severed the last magic line and with a sickening THUD, the tip of a dragon’s tail hit the ground. I ran towards it. It was still fresh.

The two dragons didn’t like that, but I stared them down, “This,” I waved the tail end, “is my payment, for sacrificing this trap, and for what I assume are the next ones I am being conscripted to deal with.”

“That is, acceptable,” one of them said. “Now you will come with us, do you have a broom or will we be carrying you?”

“Neither,” said Maya, standing between myself and the dragons, “The witch is my charge, I carry him, you will lead,”

The dragon stood up to her full height, and still had to fly a bit to be at eye level, “This is a dragon matter, giant, we need the witch and you will give him over,”

“No, he’s ours!” and she picked me up.

This had to stop I wanted to help, but not if it meant I was treated like a tool.

“Everyone SHUT UP!” sparks were flying from my hair and I could feel it about to ignite.

All eyes were on me, and not in the way I liked it.

“Now, I should by all means leave you all in the dust and leave with what’s left of my dignity, but I won’t. I won’t. Not just because I’m all mixed up in this, but because I plan to live here someday, and I can’t do that if it’s over run with Society Wizards!” I couldn’t stop it, my hair lit up, but not as angry as I had feared, It clearly knew I wanted a bit of a spectacle. Maya yelped but didn’t drop me.

I paused to calm myself down, even though my hair wouldn’t, and no one said anything, “This, Implausible Connection, no one ever explained it to me but I think I got the gist. It’s an alliance, between all the people’s of the mountain. That means whatever you want me for isnt a dragon matter, it’s an everyone matter. Maya comes with me, or I don’t come at all. And you will honor the Connection, correct?”

The dragons conferred for over a minute, during which the other giants roused from their naps.

“We agree to your terms. The Implausible Connection has not been enacted officially, but it is likely to be soon, the Dragon Emperor is in flight. But they,” and the dragon flicked her tail to the other giants, “Stay behind,”

“Fine with me,” I said.

“Not fine with me,” said Evan, finally joining in.

“You’re no longer a part of this,” I said, and Evan looked like he wanted to rip me limb from limb.

“Evan, I can look after him, he doesn’t need four giants guarding him,” said Maya.

There wasn’t much Evan could do to stop us from leaving short of attacking Maya, so that is where we parted ways and followed the dragons.

“Oh, Emmett, your hair is still on fire,” Maya said, and before I could do anything she licked her fingers and extinguished my hair like a candle.

“Uh, thanks, for that,” I was now covered in spit, wearing burned rags of a robe, and my singed underwear. What a day, and now I was going to help these dragons, soon the everyone in the mountain would get their first impression of me in possibly the worst state I could be in.

Regardless, we followed the dragons, who we learned were named Exceeder and Perzan. They of course were leading us to another sprung trap, which I, again, almost naked, set about destroying.

“About time!” said the dragon that had been caught in the trap when it fell to the ground and stretched its wings.

“You’re welcome,” I said. This dragon had no horns, it was much smaller, a juvenile, very juvenile.

“Ah, yes, forgive my rudeness oh naked one,” they said.

“Dragonling,” said Exceeder, “You will thank this man, and be grateful he has not asked for more.”

The young dragon rolled their eyes and turned back to me, “thanksssss” and flames shot out of their mouth as they hissed.

I caught the flames, I wasn’t about to let the rest of my clothing burn away, “careful now, you might burn down the forest”

“What is he!?” the young dragon, it wasnt in anger. They got up close to me and sniffed curiously, I stepped back, getting closer to Maya, who got the hint and picked me up, away from the small dragon.

“Thanks,” I said, only so that Maya could hear.

“Listen up dragon,s I am In need of clothes, a wash, and another trap to analyze” I said.

The dragons agreed to go in search of another trap while Maya took me back to the village to get cleaned up.

/”Dear, you didn’t mention, that dragonling is Yonah’s friend, dont you remember?”

“Wait, really? That was Dragon?” said Yonah.

“I had totally forgotten it was them,” said Emmett/

But if you think it was going to be that easy, you would be wrong. Turns out, as the first to encounter the wizards, Maya’s village was now a hub of activity. There were five dragons, including The Emperor, Brazon. The Lord of the Elves and their entourage was present, as was half of the Council of Dwarves. Since there was no house large enough for everyone, an area had been set up in the town center, several large tables has been connected, and smaller tables placed on top for the elves and dwarves.

And everyone was demanding to talk to us when we got back. I was adamant, I would not speak about current events until I had fresh clothes, and a bath, please. And since I’m finally in a safe place to say it, I took my sweet sweet time cleaning up.

“Ah, the pair of the hour!” said Evan, as Maya and I, on Maya’s shoulder, formally arrived. He held out his hand for me to step on, smiling warmly. Maya put me on the table herself, and Evan’s smile twitched. I think he wanted to give the impression that he was on good terms with me, and in a position of power in the proceedings.

“I hope everyone had been brought up to speed” I said, “I have had to repeat myself several times today already.”

“We have,” said Brazon, “Unfortunately, these giants cannot give us any details on the traps, not well versed in the arcane,” The giants present all grumbled. “So only you can tell us how they work. What do you know?”

“Well, I would know more, but two of your subjects had me destroy two traps, one that no one was actually caught in,” I said.

Brazon hissed, “We did not ask for insults, we asked for information, witch”

“I can’t tell you much. My fire magic can destroy them, I’m immune to the effects, and I can identify the spell’s anchors,” I said. “I’m not, I’m not a wizard, I’m not fully equipped in skill, knowledge, or tools to analyze these enchantments with even a modicum of efficiency, If I just had more time,” I trailed off.

All eyes were on me, but I had nothing. Maybe I wasn’t the powerful witch i thought I was, maybe all my confidence was faked and I was biding my time until the giants realized it and turned on me. Surely now that I had stated it outright, I was to be tossed away like burned parchment. I was deflated.

But no one was angry, everyone was thinking. Finally the Lord of the Elves approached me. They had dark skin with blue-ish tones, his brown hair slightly, curled, and their deep green eyes looked up at me. They were at best 4 feet tall, the tallest of the elves present. Their garb was both fancy and armored, encrusted with jewels that reeked of charms. They reached out their hand to hold mine.

It had been a while since I’d seen hands that weren’t large enough to envelop me, and now I was going to take the hands of the Elf Lord of the Implausible Mountains.

“Mr. Ha’Esh was it?” they said, their voice much lower than I had expected, and dripping with kindness perfected from decades of politics, “I am Lord Khelema, it is an honor to meet you”

I was shaking, and feared I was squeezing his smaller hand in mine, “I can’t imagine why,” I said.

“A fire witch? Abandoning their personal endeavors, and so quickly mind you, to help a people in need? It is unheard of,” they said

I blinked, “I, I am owed favors, and was going to be paid,” I said. The elf lord beckoned me to lean down, to put my ear to their mouth.

“You keep telling yourself that? That you are risking your life, safety, and reputation to save all the peoples of the mountains from an unknown plot by the society of wizards, for some measly coin? The promise of a favor?” they said at a whisper.

“What are they telling you!?” one of the giant bellowed, and I jumped.

“I was simply telling him that he need not work alone any longer.” said Khelema, voice booming impressively.

“I, I wasn’t working alone, I have Maya,” I said, indicating her behind me, and my cheeks grew hot as I did.

Lord Khelema took back their hands and then they, a few other elves, and several of the people around me laughed.

“Help with the magic, my good man, you need help with the magic,” said one of the dwarves, “You are still the only one who can traverse a sprung trap, but you have more resources now,”

The present company had already planned to send out spies to look for wizards and traps, as soon as I could tell them what to look for, and were pleased to know of the three dragons I had already assigned to such a task. They all wanted to know what I thought of their plan, which so far was just, well, spy on the wizards, find traps, investigate.

Just a few days ago I had been expecting to find a quiet place for myself, and hope to not transgress on anyone’s territory. Now I meeting the leaders of every mountain People, I was at the center of a war tribunal, and our foe was the Society of Wizards.

My only anchor was Maya, who stood behind me the entire time, offering support when she could.

The first step was to find a freshly laid trap, and not get caught in it, or at least, if someone was to activate it, for it to be me. I would provide notes and execute testing procedures developed by the elves, dwarves, and dragons. As a side project I would try to come up with a method to allow non-fire witches to destroy or if possible, enter a trap.

If we could capture a wizard that would be extremely helpful, but if they could be simply killed that was perfectly acceptable.

I posited that we contact The Academy of Wizards, but they couldn’t be brought into this, too neutral. And even though The Academy is a separate entity from The Society, no one wanted to deal with more wizards than necessary.

It got dark by the time we adjourned. But instead of going to the healing house, Maya took me to hers, or rather, her families, she still lived with her parents and some of her siblings. The elves and the dwarves both offered me more properly proportioned accommodations, but I was more comfortable with the one person I was most familiar with.

—

That was… the first proper night we spent together, without him in a cage or myself on the mend. Though all it really involved was Emmett being given a makeshift bed in a small box which I placed by my head. We had a lot of work ahead of us, or he did, and a good night’s sleep was very important.

We had more time to rest up than we thought, progress was slow going. We didn’t find another trap for three days, so for three days I took Emmett around on my patrols, though I knew we were followed by the elves, the sneaky little bast- folk. We saw a wizard once, but he ran before we could get to him, and there was no trap nearby.

The dragons we originally sent to find a trap were eventually successful, and that was nearly out downfall. They hadn’t been trying to sneak around, they’re actions alerted the wizards to the fact that we were mobilizing against them.

And then, out of nowhere, there were wizards. All over the mountains. It took all of our combined efforts to hold them off of, whatever they were planning. Emmett was immune to their magic, and they didn’t know we had a fire-witch, so he was constantly being called to remove the traps, and there wasn’t much chance to study them.

Even with the help of the elves, he made little progress. All we learned was the magic was old and secret. The Society of Wizards had delved into some long forgotten archive for the construction of the enchantments.

The only major development made was after two weeks, we, or rather, the dwarves, the elves, and Emmett, figured out how to destroy the traps more efficiently. And I heard them explain it enough that even I understood it.

Emmett’s magic was still the only thing that could destroy an activated trap, not that we knew how to avoid activating them when we stopped a wizard from doing so, but that’s beside the point. If you thought of the magic like ropes, you could imagine cutting the ropes with scissors. Scissors made of fire-witch magic.

And it was a brilliant solution. That cage that Emmett was held in? We took that apart and forged a few blades, these could slice right through the magic, but it had to be done from the outside in, cleaving each tether that was exposed enough to reach without getting caught in the trap. It was slow, careful going. Unless you were Emmett and could waltz into a trap and cut up the spell.

We had Emmett analyze the cage and imbue more metal with the same magic, for more blades.

/“I spent three freaking days doing nothing but pouring my magic into pieces of metal for the dwarves! I felt like I was going to die of boredom or waste away from lack of magic”/

It was the only three days where I wasn’t at Emmett’s side, and it was the worst three days of the entire conflict. I took out my distress on the wizards, so at least I applied myself constructively in that time.

The problem was, the wizards were getting smarter, and wouldn’t activate the traps if they figured out we were nearby, and we couldn’t destroy one that wasn’t activated, not yet. Because we couldn’t find them. Even if we could see the wizard working on placing it.

—

Finally we captured one of the Society Wizards before he could flee, or was killed (the dragons and the giants tended to favor eating them, the dwarves to disembowel or bludgeon, and the elves to turn into pincushions of arrows).

We took away his staff, his source of magic, and. We… persuaded him to talk. I had to be there, to counter any magic he might have kept for himself, and to, assist. I’m not too proud of what I did, but we needed to know what the wizards were planning.

It was as bad as we feared. The wizards were not placing traps, they were activating an old network that they put there ages ago. They had apparently forgotten about their plan to capture as many magical beings as possible in the Implausible Mountains, and drain their magic. They didnt know why they abandoned that plan, but they figured they could try and finish the job.

The wizard didn’t know how many of the traps existed, only that there were a lot. Each web was actually a nexus point, and if enough could be activated, it would form one giant web, trapping everyone, leaving them at the mercy of the wizards.

After analyzing the wizard’s staff, along with help from the elves, we found a spell that detected the traps. It took about a week, but we were able to copy it. The traps were very well hidden, but they were like spider’s webs, and would, collect dew as it were. Magical dew. You would let out a small amount of pure magical energy, like a mist of magic, and would see where it stuck. But you had to know the pattern it would collect in. We knew it now.

After that, well there isn’t much of note, Maya and I traveled around finding traps, sometimes finding the wizards already there, sometimes getting the jump on them. We were just one of many groups clearing the mountains, and after another month we were sure there were no more wizards and very few traps left, the very strange almost war, was over!

There was a big celebration held in the largest of the giant villages, the only one that could seat more giants than just it’s village population. Beyond the relief that we had stopped the wizards, there was a celebration of unity. It had been a while since the Implausible Connection had been enacted and the peoples of the mountains had put aside their differences and petty conflicts.

Near the end I was asked to give a speech. We were all happy and off of food and various alcohols. I knew it was coming, and knew that there wasn’t much I could say that hadn’t been said before, except for one thing.

“Most of you know that I originally got entangled in this because I was the one who found Maya in that very first trap. What you may not know is that I only helped destroy that first trap, and free Maya, in exchange for a favor. I did not tell her what the favor would be, or when I would ask for it. Truthfully, I just liked the idea of having a giant indebted to me.”

Glancing at Maya I could see she was not pleased with my honesty. I cleared my throat again, and walked in front of Maya, staring into her dark eyes, letting her presence become my world. It was easy to do, she is very large. I smiled up at her.

“Maya” I said, holding out my hands palms down in front of me.

“Would you do me the favor, of marrying me?”

And I apparated a pair of bond earrings between us.

There was complete silence, I feared I had made a fatal mistake.

“Is he serious?” I heard Evan shout, breaking the tension. I didn’t look at him, I only looked at Maya, and I nodded.

—

“Yes,” I said, and I scoped up your father and kissed his entire head.

—

“And since everyone we knew was already present, we saw no reason not to have the wedding right then and there,” said Maya, concluding the story.

Yonah had been in rapt attention the entire time. He had to shake himself out of his trance. “Wowwwww, that was the best story ever! Can I see the earring mother?”

“Of course,” she said, removing the circlet with a pleasant click. Placing it in Yonah’s hands.

“These are not in any giant fashion,” she said, “See the markings? It’s giant formal, but it’s much too curved and flowing, much too intricate, and too detailed. No giant’s hands could make details that small. I found out later that night that Emmett had been planning this for a while, back when he was enchanting the metal, and I wasn’t around, he had asked the dwarves to make the earrings.”

Yonah was studying the piece of jewelry, it was sturdy and would not break in his or any giant’s hands.

“Do you have any other stories?” he said.

His parents laughed, his father coughed a bit. Yonah didn’t understand what was funny. He was so proud of his parents, they were heroes! Surely they had more stories!

“Your father needs to rest now, how about you come hunting with me?”

“But, you went yesterday!” said Yonah, yet a bad feeling gathered in his gut. The hunt yesterday had been very successful, 4 dire-boars, 3 deer. And he was useless at hunting!

“I should rephrase that, I’m not going to be hunting, you are. I know you have been slacking on archery practice, and it’s not right for a young giant to not know his way around a ranged weapon.” she said, ruffling her son’s hair.

Yonah groaned, he hated archery, and most combat training. He knew why it was important, and he was ok at it, but only because his mother was an expert and his teacher. He would never be as good as good as her, and he didn’t want to. He much preferred magic, and gardening, like his dad.

“Come on, you get your father into bed, and I’ll get our supplies,” she smiled wickedly.

[FIN]

[Thanks for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated! With tags to tell me what you liked about this story! If you want a story with an adult Yonah and vore in it, go here! it’s safe vore, but does mentioned fatal]

#gt #giant tiny #sfw gt #giant/tiny #mystic woods story #mystic woods

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dryad-of-the-dogwood · 6 years

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Alright guys, sorry for the delay! Chapter 24 of A Thread of Fate is now live on AO3, and this time it comes with some sparks of the good kind! ;)

Chapter 24: Revelation

When someone tries to shake me awake, I hum something vague and try to wave them away. Whoever it is then goes so far as to touch my face, and I’m frowning and preparing a rebuke when a voice that’s unmistakably Nalissa’s says my name.

My eyes fly open instantly, my left hand darting to capture hers on my cheek. She smiles at me and the worry that had twisted my chest into knots for days starts to melt. “You’re awake! I’m not dreaming, am I?”

At that, she laughs quietly and teases, “Dream about me a lot, do you?”

This time I’m careful to avoid her waist, just in case. I draw her in by her hand in mine and Maker’s breath, it’s a relief to kiss her again and feel her smile against my lips. My thumb brushes the left side of her face, where a thin white scar now breaks the dark line of her eyebrow, and only then do I answer.

“After you went and scared me like that? Every time I closed my eyes. But please don’t do it again.”

Nalissa gives a soft, breathy sort of laugh that makes my insides feel like jelly. Jelly in distress, but very happy for its predicament.

“I suppose I could try to minimize near-death experiences. For you.”

“Before I accept that blindly, what do you consider ‘minimized?’ Just one a month, or…?”

Nalissa cuts me off with a chuckle and a squeeze of my hand. “We can negotiate later. Wynne has promised me there’s food somewhere in this place, and I think I haven’t eaten in three days or so. Have I mentioned I turn into a bear on an empty stomach?”

“Literally or figuratively?” I ask as I rise. “Because I once knew someone that actually transformed into a bear and roared at me for taking the last bit of chicken. Very unpleasant experience. Bears have very bad breath, did you know that?”

I ramble the entire way down to the dining hall, because I’m suddenly too nervous in Nalissa’s presence again. And she laughs at my terrible jokes, because presumably she thinks I’ve gone insane from lack of sleep. But it feels like much more than that.

I can’t quite explain what’s changed in the way I think of her, but something has. Wynne refused to admit how bad Nalissa was, what might have happened if we hadn’t made it to Amaranthine in time, but I had watched her worsen. By the time Wynne began her healing, Nalissa had passed the unintelligible rambling and gone still and quiet. And the thought that a small delay could have been the difference, that I could have lost her, pierces like a spear through a weak spot in armor.

Wynne raises her eyebrows when we join her at her table, and for a moment I have the irrational thought that she somehow knows exactly what I’m thinking and means to tease me for it. But when she speaks, it’s to Nalissa.

“I thought you were going to let him sleep?”

Nalissa shakes her head and rests her chin on one palm to look at me. “I didn’t want to chance him waking up and not being able to find me,” she says, and this time I think I can read the intent in her eyes. I think she was afraid I would assume she had broken her promise.

The softness in her eyes fades to mischief as she looks back to Wynne though. “You know, I kept picturing him realizing I was gone and ripping the keep apart until he found me. Not that I would lament the loss of this place, but it doesn’t seem the proper image for a king.”

I don’t know what she means, at first. It seems an odd thing for her to despise a Grey Warden fortress until I remember who it belonged to before Amaranthine was ceded to the order. At once, the dark glances she keeps giving to the head table take on a different meaning. She probably remembers when Howe sat in the Warden-Commander’s seat.

As for me, it’s distracting after so long to be in the company of other Wardens again. The prickling at the edges of my awareness, the strange extra sense for darkspawn and those blighted by their corruption, seems louder and more distracting than I remember it. It reminds me of the time just after my Joining, when everything seemed too bright and too sharp in proximity to the horde.

That in turn reminds me I still haven’t told Nalissa what being a Grey Warden means, and my nagging guilt returns. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell her here, I reason. The Wardens would never stand for the secrets of the Joining being known outside our number; they might conscript her or worse. No, that must wait for another time.

Someone shouts my name, and I look up in surprise to see a familiar bright red beard. It’s natural that the beard is the first thing I see, because it belongs to a dwarf who stands about as tall as I am sitting. He’s grinning in a way that warns me his next words will be at my expense before he adds, “Lookit you, boy! Is that what humans consider a beard? Guess that’s why you were never so keen on trying to grow a proper one. I’ve seen nugs with more hair on their chins, but right on you for trying.”

“Oghren!” I greet him with a clap on the shoulder. “Still just as much ale dribbled into your beard as always, I see.”

Naturally, the dwarf laughs. “S’pose there is, at that. What’re you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be living it up in the palace, lording over the dusters, leaving the darkspawn and the saving the world to the dwarves with axes, huh?”

“Er, something like that,” I begin, but before I’ve begun to think of a way to explain what I’m doing in Vigil’s Keep, Oghren has cut me off anyway.

“Heard about that ‘Mother’ business and came to see, aye? Well, good luck getting any of it out of the boss. Even drink don’t loosen him up, it’s sodding unnatural. Makes me miss the princess, and she never talked ’til she damn well pleased either, but least she looked better telling me to shove my questions.”

“‘The boss’ being this Warden-Commander Caron that still hasn’t seen fit to answer any of my letters?” I wonder, frowning toward the still-empty seat at the head table.

“That’s the one,” Oghren agrees, taking a seat across from me and only then seeming to notice Nalissa. “Well, shave my back and call me an elf! You finally took my advice and found yourself a girl!”

As I contemplate deeply whether it’s possible to be so mortified you actually die, Nalissa mutters simply, “Charming.”

“He grows on you, most unfortunately,” Wynne says with a longsuffering look. “Not unlike a particularly stubborn wart.”

Oghren waggles his eyebrows and moustache in what I’m sure he thinks is somehow an alluring manner. “Careful, or someone might think we’ve been tapping the midnight still.”

“I assure you, no one would think that.”

“Sure they would. You’re still lively for a lady your age. Maybe the elf had the right of it…”

“So help me, Oghren, if you mention my bosoms—”

Nalissa interrupts by dropping her fork onto her plate with a clatter. “And on that note I think I’m done eating, possibly forever.”

Oghren bursts into a fit of raucous laughter that includes banging his gauntleted fist on the table. It’s almost like being back in camp, sitting around the fire and listening to the chatter over whatever meal Leliana had managed to make materialize. It makes me feel oddly… homesick isn’t quite the right word for it, but something along those lines. I’ve missed having companions and friends in Denerim. The king doesn’t have many of either of those things.

And with Nalissa dressed in a tunic with a griffin emblazoned on the chest—no doubt provided by Wynne courtesy of the Wardens to replace her bloodied clothes—it’s easy enough to imagine her there too. I amuse myself for a moment imagining how different the Blight would have been if Nalissa had been Duncan’s Highever recruit instead of Jory. She and Sereda on the same mission would have been a force of nature. No army or archdemon would have stood before them.

Still, I think the Nalissa of before her family was lost is the most interesting part of that daydream. I have a hard time picturing her less guarded, but surely she must have been. Maybe she laughed easier, and told jokes that weren’t at her own expense. As much as she knows about Grey Warden history, I can picture her plying every Warden in camp for the order’s secrets from the moment she arrived. I bet she would have gotten some too, probably by winning some challenge she had been expected to fail like a duel or a drinking contest. She would have been a breath of fresh air to the tense atmosphere at Ostagar, I’m sure of it.

It’s all a fun little daydream until that voice in the back of my head I try to ignore points out that she also probably never would have looked twice at me. It was the very responsibilities the Wardens would have freed her of that brought her to me, after all.

The title of “little pike-twirler” catches my ears, and I turn my attention to Oghren with a groan. Why had I been feeling nostalgic for this, again?

Despite the dwarf’s best attempts, he can’t convince any of us to drink with him at noon and shakes his head as we leave him in the dining hall with a tankard of foul-smelling ale. Nalissa glances sideways at me as soon as we start up the stairs.

“So, these were your friends from the Blight?”

“More or less. Oghren’s full of even more innuendo than usual to make up for Zevran not being available, I suspect.”

“Suddenly it seems even more miraculous than before that the Blight ended so quickly.”

I laugh, consider the fact that she doesn’t even know about Sten or Shale, and add, “You have no idea. Did I mention Zevran was hired to kill us and Oghren only agreed to help to save his wife, who then tried to kill us too?”

“At least I can take comfort in knowing I’m not the only one everyone wants dead,” she says, and I frown at the dark tone.

“‘Everyone’ doesn't want you dead. I very much don’t want you to die.”

Nalissa pauses to turn and smile softly at me. Standing on the step above, she’s close to my height but the way she tilts her head down slightly to look at me through her lashes anyway makes her look almost… shy?

“So I heard. We were miles from anywhere when I went to sleep. Wynne said you carried me the whole way. You… you didn’t have to do that, Alistair.”

I probably look at her like I think she’s crazy, because that’s definitely what I’m thinking. “Of course I did! What else was I supposed to do, let you die?”

“You were hurt too,” she argues, her eyes flickering to my shoulder. “It must have been awful, walking so long carrying something with that arm.”

“What is it you usually say? I’ve had worse?” She scowls, but I smile and brush the frown lines away with my thumb. “For you, I would have walked it in armor made of bacon with hungry wolves nipping at my heels. Fortunately for me, none were available.”

Nalissa chuckles softly and shakes her head. “You know, for all your talk of how I don’t think my life is worth enough, you don’t seem to value yours overmuch either.”

“Of course I do. I just think about yours more.”

She lifts her chin a little to look at me more directly. I’m at a loss for how to read what I see there again, but I swear when she looks at me like that, I think she can see into my soul.

Then she kisses me, and this time, it’s different. Before when she’s been the one to kiss me first, they’ve been slow, gentle, little gestures of reassurance and affection. This kiss is sudden and fierce, so much so in fact that I think if she hadn’t hooked one arm behind my shoulder to pull me into it, I might have staggered back down the stairs.

My hands catch at her hips in surprise and then her other hand is in my hair, raking against the back of my head like she can’t manage to pull me close enough. My head goes fuzzy, maybe I forget to breathe, I can’t tell. I only know I’m tugging at her hair in search of an angle to kiss her more deeply, like that’s suddenly the only way I can think of to tell her how terrified I was she wouldn’t wake up, and just when I think my heart is beating so loudly I’ve gone deaf to all else, she makes a soft sound low in her throat that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Whoa—hello,” a strange voice says, and Nalissa nearly jumps out of her skin. Her right hand darts to her side, and then she freezes. Reaching for a dagger she isn’t carrying, no doubt.

I look over my shoulder to see one of the Wardens, a man at least a decade older than me with a rather intimidating moustache, breaking into a grin from the stairs behind me. “There are rooms just upstairs much better suited to that, you know,” he points out conversationally as he passes. “But don’t let me interrupt. Do carry on.”

Nalissa’s cheekbones are bright red, but I can’t tell if that’s from embarrassment or just from the kiss. She watches as the man passes before she looks back at me, and when she does, a quiet laugh chokes itself from my throat. I think it’s entirely leftover nerves, and mercifully, she gives a weak half-laugh too.

“Sorry,” she says quietly, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear that I must have accidentally freed. “I… Thank you.”

It takes me longer than it should to remember what she could possibly be thanking me for. By the time I do, I find that I’m nervous under her gaze again.

“All I did was keep my promise. I told you, neither of us is dying out here. We’re going to fix all of this and go home and… and you’ll never have to be hurt like that again,” I finish lamely, because I can’t bring myself to say the things I want to. And when she kisses me again, this time short and gently like she always has before continuing up the stairs, I worry I might have said the wrong thing.

Vigil’s Keep is at least improved by its new Grey Warden occupation, I’ll grant it that, though personally I feel it could be improved further by being burned to the ground. Alistair on the other hand seems almost at ease here. He excitedly shows me around the keep and its grounds, pointing out monuments to prolific Wardens, including one incredibly serious-looking Sereda Aeducan. At dinner, a handful of Warden recruits with wide eyes accost him for stories of the Blight and with a dose of good humor, he obliges. He’s a pretty good storyteller, even though the now rather drunk dwarf from earlier keeps interrupting with a collection of forced double entendres.

How it devolves from there, I can’t quite say. One moment, a young Warden that had apparently also fought at Ostagar is saying how he wishes he’d had a chance to do something so important instead of fleeing with his family, and Alistair is assuring him that protecting his elderly mother was a noble enough thing too. The next, Oghren is insisting a drink will keep them all from being so serious and much to my surprise and apparently also the dwarf’s, Alistair agrees. Of course, the recruits want to do whatever their new hero is up to, and in the end, I shrug and agree that after the week I’ve had, I could use a drink too.

“But none of that dwarven brew,” I specify immediately. “That swill tastes like it’s already been drank and recycled.”

Oghren gives a disapproving grunt. “Humans! You wouldn’t appreciate good ale if someone threw it in your face.”

“I wouldn’t appreciate a West Hill brandy thrown in my face either, but that one I would drink,” I counter, and he snorts a laugh.

Despite my warning, one of the recruits decides to sample the dwarven drink anyway. And then promptly spews it out of his mouth over the edge of the table.

“Sweet Maker, this does taste like piss!”

The group erupts into a roar of laughter, Oghren bangs his fist on the table in his mirth, and the rest of us begin a search for actual, palatable alcohol. The Wardens have a nice little collection of spirits stashed away, in fact. I try not to wonder if they inherited that from the keep’s former owner too.

Either way, they do in fact have West Hill brandy. The only woman of Alistair’s Warden-recruit admirers, a slight elven girl with striking blue-violet eyes, gives this a try and makes the mistake of gulping down an entire mouthful to start and nearly chokes. It doesn’t have so much kick as all that, but it doesn’t take much to guess she likely hasn’t had much experience with liquor. The others laugh but I pat her on the back and tell a story of how I once accidentally did the same with a Legacy White Shear, complete with exaggerated rendition of coughing it back into my brother’s face, and the girl gives me an appreciative look when they’re laughing at me instead.

I second guess my decision when the tipsy girl starts flirting with Alistair. Only a short while later, she’s leaning over the edge of the table toward him, her chin in her palm and her hair falling across one side of her face as she looks at him. I can’t entirely blame her—he is unfairly handsome in the flickering light of the sconces, and she is leaning toward drunk—but still it stirs something oddly possessive in me that I didn’t even know I had. It’s a much less pleasant sort of burn than the warmth of the alcohol.

For his part, Alistair seems completely oblivious, even when she goes so far as to put a hand over his forearm while she giggles at him. When her thumb starts to trace lightly over the back of his arm though, even he looks at her quizzically and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to threaten to remove her hand for her.

“Alright dove, that’s quite enough of all that,” I interrupt, taking a firm hold of her arm and dragging her to her feet. She blinks confusion at me with those glittering eyes, but I steer her insistently toward the doors without a mind for her sputtered objections. Halfway there, I find another woman, this one middle-aged and quite sober, and foist the tipsy elf onto her to get her back to her room.

I return to the table, then shake my head and drain the rest of my glass of brandy all at once before looking up. When I do, I swear Oghren is stifling a snicker into his tankard, one of the recruits has actually fallen asleep on his face, and Alistair is staring at me like I’ve just pledged fealty to Orlais. For a brief moment, no one moves. Then the recruits start to stand all at once, two of them lifting their friend between them, and disappear. Finally the dwarf waggles his eyebrows and says suggestively, “Shouldn’t the two of you be running off to bed too?”

Seeing as he’s been bursting with innuendo all day, I think nothing of it. On the way back to the room, the drink starts to go to my head and I catch onto Alistair’s arm for support on the stairs. Surprisingly, he’s steadier than I am, though maybe he just didn’t drink as much. He didn’t get to watch a girl with pretty lavender eyes fawning all over him, after all.

We pause on the first landing, and as I’m trying to figure out why since this isn’t even the right floor, Alistair pulls me by my arm in his into the hallway. It’s dimly lit by only a couple of flickering sconces, and as he stops looking around to check it’s empty, the firefight reflects back at me from his amber eyes. My stomach feels suddenly warm and tingly in a way that has nothing to do with brandy.

“What did you say?” Alistair asks, and I frown my confusion at him.

“Nothing?” I guess, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but he shakes his head at me in a way that suggests otherwise.

“At the table,” he clarifies, and I try to remember the threads of a conversation I’ve already forgotten until he adds, “You… did you mean to call me ‘love’?”

This time, I blink hard and shake my head a little, because I definitely heard that wrong. “Did I what now?”

“You called me ‘love,’” he repeats, and this time I can feel my face flushing. Hopefully it isn’t obvious in the shadows.

“I did not,” I object, finally putting the timing of his stunned look together and realizing what’s just happened. “I said ‘dove.’”

Alistair shakes his head solemnly, his eyes locked on mine, and the certainty in them makes me falter. I hadn’t, had I? Surely not. That definitely wasn’t what I meant to say. It isn’t even—

But I stop myself, mid-thought, midway through speaking, so all that comes out are three words: “I didn’t mean…”

Because, I realize with a sudden jolt, I can’t finish those thoughts truthfully. It was a slip of the tongue, surely, but not… not an incorrect one. I hadn’t stopped and examined it, hadn’t given myself time since setting out from Denerim, but I should have known the moment I knew I would give anything for him, including my own life.

I look into his eyes, eyes as kind as every word he’s ever spoken to me, as soft as his every touch, as patient as his every move, and finally I put the words to what it is he makes me feel. I love him. I can’t speak it, I’m not sure I even remember to breathe, because for a moment those words are all the thoughts my mind can form. Breathing is irrelevant in comparison. I love Alistair Theirin, and it’s at once the most comforting and most terrifying realization I’ve ever had.

Alistair hesitates, looking back and forth between my eyes, and then brushes his hand against my cheek and down my jaw. I try not to shudder, but the touch makes my skin feel like the air before a lightning strike. This time when he kisses me, it feels like I melt between him and the stone wall at my back. My knees turn weak, my fists clenched in the back of his shirt the only thing holding me upright as my heartbeat pounds the words I love you like some sort of desperate mantra.

When we separate, we’re both out of breath. But perhaps “separate” isn’t the right word because I’m still flush between him and the wall, my hands pinning him to me as much as holding him for support. One of his forearms is braced against the wall beside my head and his other hand is at the small of my back, pulling me to him just as I’ve pulled him to me. His eyes are alight from within, not just the reflection of the fire, and whatever it is I see in them makes it hard to catch my breath.

I love you, beats my heart, so loudly it’s surely some kind of wonder he can’t hear it. But my lips can’t remember how to speak the words, even if I was brave enough to voice them.

Alistair loosens his grip first and trails his fingers lightly through my hair as he pulls away. He kisses the back of my hand as he draws it down from behind his shoulder, then laces his fingers together with mine. His smile is faint, almost shy again, as he says, “We should get some sleep. You’re clearly delirious from exhaustion to say such a thing!”

I want to object, but I seem to have left my voice somewhere along with my nerve and my kneecaps. I’m grateful for Alistair’s hand in mine on the stairs, and then again that he doesn’t object this time to sleeping beside me.

I fall asleep on his forearm, his fingers still trailing soothingly through my hair. And I dream of his arms holding me a different way, with his freckled shoulders bare above me and my legs wrapped around his waist.

#dragon age origins #alistair theirin #nalissa cousland #alistair x cousland #fanfic #writing #my writing #my fanfic #a thread of fate #ao3 #also now posting the chapter here by request~#go check out the fic if you want to see more

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lisatelramor · 5 years

Text

NLTSA Extra: Christmas at Aoko’s

Happy Holiday season guys! This is just after the epilogue of NLTSA

It was weird to be sitting in Aoko’s living room with Kaito at his side and Takumi fidgeting with excitement next to a cheap paper Christmas tree that looked like it had been made with a couple of pieces of green cardstock. Considering neither Aoko nor Takumi celebrated the holiday for religious reasons, it was more decoration than he’d expected. The invitation hadn’t been expected either, but it seemed that Takumi had wanted to share their holiday routine since Saguru had invited him and Kaito to pre-Christmas baking as part of Saguru’s routine. When Takumi asked, Saguru hadn’t been able to say no even knowing the high likelihood that it could end in disaster. Yet here they were, sitting in the same room without anyone killing anyone yet.

They’d eaten the odd Japanese tradition of fried chicken and Christmas cake before Takumi tugged them into the living room to exchange gifts.

They’d given Takumi his gifts first, a new lacrosse stick from Aoko, a multi-tool from Kaito, and a novel Saguru had come across that he’d thought Takumi might like. They’d been well-received with smiles, though the whole time Kaito and Aoko had kept glancing at each other like they were waiting for the whole thing to fall apart.

Surprisingly, it seemed they usually gave each other gifts at Christmas as well, even with everything between them, though Kaito had said they were predictable and not always given with the most friendly intent over the years. He’d listed off the exchanges when they’d been out shopping together. Aoko got something floral from Kaito, Kaito almost always got an addition to his clock ‘collection’.

The gift Aoko held out to Kaito was bigger than expected, rectangular instead of the square of an average wall clock box. Kaito took it with a wry smile.

“Let me guess,” Kaito said, slitting open the wrapping paper, “another cl—ock.” It wasn’t a clock, but something roughly shaped like a scrapbook. Kaito looked over at Aoko, shock and gratitude mingling openly in his expression. “I thought you threw this out.”

Aoko shrugged. She couldn’t quite look his direction as she waved a hand. “Someone rescued it from the trash,” she said, waving a hand like it would make the gift mean less. “I just found it when I was cleaning the closet and figured you would get more from it than I would.”

“What is it?” Saguru asked. He leaned over Kaito’s shoulder to see better. Kaito opened up leather binding to reveal photos—high school photos—some of him, some of Aoko, most together. There was even Saguru in the background of some as Kaito flipped through slowly. “When were these even taken?”

“When we graduated—so after you left—a few classmates got together and pooled all the photos they took from high school and made albums for everyone. They gave Aoko and me a shared album since we were all but married by that point.” He paused on a page, the Aoko in the picture blushing and clearly trying to pretend she wasn’t pleased while Kaito grinned at her, something small hidden in his hand. Takumi settled on Kaito’s other side to look too. “They even got me proposing to her.”

“Because you had to be a dork and propose in front of everyone in class,” Aoko grumbled. “It would have been more romantic somewhere else.”

“You were happy enough about it at the time,” Kaito said, sticking his tongue out at her. Aoko rolled her eyes. The next page was Aoko kissing Kaito in front of the whole class, so yes, she must have been happy. Kaito smiled at the photo. “Thank you, Aoko, really.”

Aoko sighed. “Well... If we’re starting over, I figured I might as well give you something you actually wanted this year.”

Kaito laughed. “Makes me feel a bit silly with my gift...”

“Flowers?” she asked, smiling crookedly.

“Flowers,” Kaito agreed. “Although this year...” He walked to where he’d set his gifts, pulling out the orchid he’d carefully bundled to transport it through the cold. “I thought something that lasted might be nice. Instead of cut flowers. And if it’s cared for, it’ll bloom again.” Its blossoms were a delicate, pale pink, two flower stems supported by sticks.

Aoko snorted, taking the pot with a tenderness to her smile that was rarely directed at Kaito these days. “It’s beautiful. And don’t think I missed the metaphor there; care for it and it’ll bloom again.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a metaphor,” Kaito protested, “but sure, that works too.”

At his seat on the floor, Takumi shifted, clearly getting tired of waiting. “Okay,” he said a bit too loud. “I’m really glad you’re not at each other’s throats and we can actually have a decent gift exchange this year, but can I give my gifts now?” His open presents were at his knees but he’d kept a small pile of hand-wrapped gifts at his side, waiting to pass them out.

Aoko rolled her eyes. “Have at it.”

“Here!” Takumi shoved a box toward Kaito, then a bag to Aoko and a rectangular wrapped package at Saguru. “Y’know with how much I’ve been grounded I actually had money to buy gifts this year,” Takumi said with wry humor.

“Do we open them in a particular order?” Kaito joked.

“Just open them!”

Kaito laughed and slit open the paper. Inside was a plain box, but when he opened it up it was full of small trinkets, all Kid memorabilia.

“So,” Takumi said, fiddling with the paper tree nervously, “I figured since you’ve been trying to keep it secret so long and you stopped pretending to be a Kid fan when you married Kaa-san—well, sort of stopped with being a Kid fan—” Saguru vaguely remembered that being something Kaito mentioned as a conflict before their divorce. “—you probably didn’t keep and Kid merchandise and after your farewell heist things kind of exploded for a bit with Kid stuff, so...” Takumi waved a hand at the box. “Shiemi picked the best ones she saw since I was still grounded. I just thought you might like a, er, positive reminder of it now that you retired.”

Kaito lifted a keychain and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. Aoko looked resigned, but surprisingly not upset. Saguru had a feeling that Kaito was going to add the gifts to the collection of actual Kid items in his secret room. Kaito was slowly transitioning it into something like a museum with records of all his heists and the tricks he’d performed at them.

“Me next I guess,” Aoko said.

She pulled tiny bottles and packets out of the bag one by one until she had what amounted to a home spa kit by her feet.

“I couldn’t afford to get you an actual ticket to a spa,” Takumi said by way of explanation. “So, home spa it is. One day of your choice where you can spend it relaxing and I’ll take care of anything you need or want, okay?”

Aoko snorted, holding up what looked like a face mask. “I’ll hold you to that. I haven’t exactly spent much time relaxing the last few years.”

“All the more reason,” Takumi said. “Now you, Hakuba-sensei,” he said turning to Saguru.

Saguru opened his gift with good humor. A collection of Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes DVDs emerged from the wrapping.

“You mentioned that was your favorite adaptation of Holmes,” Takumi said, more nervous about this than he had been with the other two gifts. “I found someone selling it online and thought you might like it...”

“I do,” Saguru said, touched that Takumi had remembered something said in passing at a literature club meeting. “I haven’t watched them in years.” He’d never had the whole collection either, only a few of the films. These had been remastered and restored with all of the films Rathbone had played Holmes in. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Takumi said, beaming. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Takumi.”

“Christmas puzzle time!” Kaito announced, pulling a box seemingly out of thin air—Saguru wasn’t sure how he’d manage to hide it, but he must have grabbed it the same time he got Aoko’s gift. “Saguru, you have your tradition, but Takumi and I put a puzzle together every year.” Usually not with Aoko, Saguru guessed, as Kaito turned to her. “Can we take over your table for a while?”

Aoko shrugged. “Have at it. Though you’d better not leave me out.”

Takumi’s face lit up. He snatched the box. “Kitchen table! It has the best lighting!”

Kaito snickered as Takumi ran out of the room. “I got one without a picture on the box this year. It’s a puzzle surprise.”

“Let me guess, it’s something with complex and similar patterns, isn’t it?”

“Abstract,” Kaito confirmed. “It’s going to be an eyestrain.”

“Sounds like something we’ll all enjoy then.”

Aoko laughed at them. “Let’s see, a police inspector, an ex-detective, a man who has put half-destroyed relics back together piece by piece, and a high school student. Who has the advantage here?”

“Takumi of course,” Kaito said. “He hasn’t had half the eye strain as the rest of us.”

Aoko swatted at him cheerfully as they moved to the kitchen.

Takumi popped his head around the corner. “Oh yeah, were there any other gifts left to exchange?”

Saguru glanced at Aoko. He had something small for her, but he and Kaito had decided to forgo gifts in exchange for a trip the next time they both had time. “Just this.” He gave Aoko a small bag with a decorative scented candle.

“Thank you, Hakuba-san.” She gave him back a package of store-bought candies. Black tea flavored.

Saguru smiled. “I didn’t know that they made something like that. Thank you.”

“I’m always amazed what some stores carry.” She grinned at Takumi. “Now we can do the puzzle.”

“Perfect. I call edge pieces,” Takumi said, dumping the box on the table.

Kaito took a moment to join them and so Saguru lingered too, standing in the doorway as Aoko and Takumi bent over puzzle pieces.

“Sorry,” Kaito said, barely a whisper. “It’s just... this is the sort of thing I’ve wished would happen for years and it doesn’t quite feel real yet.”

Saguru caught him in a half hug. “Hopefully there will be many more years of this.”

“Yeah.” Kaito pecked Saguru on the lips and went to join the others at the table.

Aoko raised an eyebrow at Saguru. Saguru blushed. He still got caught off guard by a simple act of affection. Well, more affection in front of people. Thankfully, Aoko just looked amused.

“You get to look for pieces with blue on them, Hakuba-san,” Aoko said.

Saguru took a seat by Kaito and started looking for pieces to put together.

#nltsa #detective conan #magic kaito #fanfiction #not left to stand alone extra #my writing

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elshopper · 6 years

Text

Secrets

... aka my contribution to Stories From Summer, spearheaded by the lovely @mikeweezers!! Thank you so much for all your hard work in organizing and including me in this incredible group of writers!! And yes, I know this is one day late, but I scheduled it before midnight the night of so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Prompt #30: Girls Night, in which Max and El attend their very first sleepover.

wc: 3,009

summary: Honestly El and Max have a sleepover and bond and stuff. Need I say more??? It’s cute I promise.

Read below or on ao3 here!!

Max was a little reluctant at first.

Actually, she was a lot reluctant at first.

It all started at the lake behind Dustin’s house… if you could call a snake-infested pond a lake. All the summer blockbusters at the theatre had been watched three times over. All the hikes up the quarry had been made. All the ice cream trucks had been chased down. It was late July, and now, all that was left of summer was the horribly sticky heat. Max hated to admit it, but she almost wanted to go back to school.

After mentioning on occasion how she totally took summers in California for granted (what with the beaches and the nice weather and the lack of snake-infested ponds), her friends had been gracious enough to plan a picnic by the water. Except the water was a really funky shade of green and their meal consisted of greasy burgers from McDonalds smashed in the bottom of Will’s backpack.

Everyone was pretending to enjoy it. For her. She appreciated the gesture, but was it really worth it to sit and suffer while risk getting eaten alive?

“I’m calling it,” Dustin said, reading her mind. He pulled his back pack towards him and started to unzip the front pocket. “This blows.”

The cicadas screamed in agreement.

“It’s, like, one million degrees out here and – oh shit!”

Out of the front pocket of his backpack, Dustin pulled out what used to be a bag of gummy worms. Instead, they were now a hot, sticky bag of rainbow-colored goo.

“I’m sorry, El. I really am. I’m gonna bring you double next time, I swear.”

His apology was sincere, but El still glared at him while twiddling a blade of grass in between her fingers. She had really developed a major sweet tooth over the past few months, heightened by the fact that she only got to leave the cabin every once in a while. In fact, every time they chased down an ice cream truck, it was because Mike told them that she wanted some.

El rolled her eyes and sighed, her expression softening.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to bring me double.”

“I really can! It’s no big deal…”

Their chatter continued until Max finally spoke up.

“Can we get back to the part where this blows?”

She had their attention now, and she could tell each one of them was trying and failing to find another alternative.

“Yeah, but what else are we going to do?” Lucas said, fiddling with a twig he found in the grass.

“Why don’t we just watch a movie?” Mike asked.

“We’ve seen them all already,” Dustin replied. “I don’t think I can go see European Vacation again.”

“We can just watch one at my house,” Mike suggested.

“What movie do you have that we haven’t seen a thousand times?” Lucas asked.

“None,” Will answered, “but I bet he has some El hasn’t seen a thousand times.”

That seemed to perk everyone up. They just loved showing El normal people things in the same way they loved to show Max all of the reasons why Indiana sucks.

“El what movies have you not seen?” Dustin asked, but Mike and Lucas shot him a how on earth would she know look. Sure enough…

“I don’t know,” El replied.

“I don’t think she’s seen Raiders of the Lost Ark,” Will supplied.

“Um yeah, she has. In June,” Mike said, as if everyone should be keeping track.

“Well guess what?” Dustin said, mocking Mike’s tone. “There’s a sequel! El have you seen Temple of Doom?”

Before she could reply, Dustin kept on, “… because if you haven’t you’re really gonna lose your shit when they get past the –“

“How is she going to lose her shit when you already told her what happens?”

“There’s something to be said for cinematic storytelling, Lucas.”

“Dustin, that makes no sense.”

“What do you mean it makes no sense?”

As they bickered on, Max met El’s gaze and she discretely rolled her eyes. Max stifled a giggle. El had really come to enjoy eye-rolling too. When there was a break in the argument, El reminded them gently.

“I’ve seen Temple of Doom.”

“Well, damn.”

“El, it’s your first summer. What do you want to do?” Max asked, trying to get the ball rolling again. El was always a big fan of the burger place with the name she was always forgetting, but they just finishing up their gourmet meal of Quarter-Pounders and soggy fries. There was a candy shop down town that was likely already closed. Their options really were running low.

“I want to have a sleepover.”

Silence. Even from the cicadas.

“You know, like they do on TV.”

It was times like these where everyone turned to Mike to do the explaining, but it was also times like these where Mike turned beet red and had no idea what to say.

“Well, I mean… you know… we can’t all…”

“I know that,” El snapped, offended. She was trying to act like she didn’t already ask and receive painful explanation from the chief a few weeks prior. “I mean me and Max.”

Besides the occasional smile and shared eye rolls, Max was positive this was the first time El had showed any intention of actually being friends. Although she wasn’t positive about the reason, she assumed it was something to do with the feeling of being replaced. A feeling Max knew a little too well watching her mom’s attention shift to her idiot step-brother the minute she married his dad. So, she stayed back, let wounds heal, and tried not to take it too personally. Lucas said she didn’t really like new people anyway.

To avoid any awkward situations or small talk (Max loathed small-talk), she could easily make an excuse. But the look on El’s face made her understand why Mike had made them chase after so many ice cream trucks. If the two were going to be friends, they were going to have to start somewhere.

“Um, yeah! We can have a… girls night,” Max said, her voice wavering.

Surprisingly enough, El actually looked a little relieved.

“Cool,” she said. “I’ll tell Hop you’re going to stay.”

Max arrived a little after 8:00 with her duffle bag tossed over her shoulder. With all the hype about El’s first sleepover, Max had almost forgotten that she’d never really had a sleepover either. She was just never the type of person to make friends with other girls. So, she had absolutely no idea what to bring. She didn’t have any nail polish or face masks or magazines – nor did she enjoy any activities that involved those things. She just brought her pajamas and her toothbrush. But just in case, Max did stash a tape of her very favorite movie – Grease – into the bottom of her bag.

She had never told a soul about it being her favorite. When her mom wouldn’t let her see it, she rode her skateboard to a video store down the street with her saved-up weekly allowance and bought it on tape. She would watch it when she was home alone. She had probably seen it a million times, but she knew someone who probably hadn’t…

“Hey kid,” the chief grumbled, trying to squeeze out a smile when he opened the door. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Max said as she stepped through the creaky threshold.

After a beat of painful silence, Max asked, “So where’s –”

“Oh, El’s in her room,” Hopper said, pointing toward the door to the right with white light flashing through the crack above the floor. “Some show is on, I don’t know.”

Max nodded and moved towards the door.

“I’m going to bed if you need me,” Hopper said, and laid back down on the couch.

Max creaked open El’s door slowly and was not shocked to find exactly what she had expected.

Illuminated by the soft white light of the television, El was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets with a bowl full of popcorn in her lap. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen, as she mindlessly shoved popcorn in her mouth. Max shut the door behind her.

“You’re just in time,” El said, her vision staying locked on the TV. “Break just ended.”

Max dropped her bag at the foot of the bed.

“You’re watching that TV like it’s the president’s funeral,” Max teased. It was something her dad used to say to her when she watched cartoons as a kid.

“Who’s the president again?”

“Ronald Reagan.” Max sat down next to El on the bed, and El scooted over ever so slightly to make room.

“Right.”

Someone on TV pulled a knife out of a drawer, and El’s eyes grew even wider (if that were possible) and she sat up taller as if to get a better look. Max was okay with watching TV with El, even if soaps drove her nuts. Making friends took time and effort. Just hanging out with El while she watched her weird shows was just going to be the time part.

“Mike’s dad talks about him.”

“The guy with the knife?” Max asked in concern. El laughed.

“No. Ronald Reagan.”

“I’m shocked he has an opinion about anything since he never gives a shit where his kids are.”

After thinking about it for a split second, El stifled a laugh under her breath.

“Sometimes I think I’d kill to have parents who didn’t care where I went,” Max said wistfully. “You know, I had to make up this whole story about going camping with some girl from school so my mom wouldn’t try to call someone’s house.”

“You lied?” El’s tone was accusatory.

“Right, like you’ve never lied to your parents.” Max fired back, and as the words fell out of her mouth she felt her stomach drop. She wished she could grab the words put them back in. Of course El hadn’t lied to her parents before. She had never had any. Instead of being met with shit from any of the boys, the room was silent marking their absence. She had to fill the quiet with something.

“I mean… you know… you have to have lied to some…”

“I’ve lied to my parents,” El responded, totally oblivious to Max’s panic. “Parent,” she corrected herself. Even though he acted as one, Max had never heard El refer to the chief as one of her parents before.

“You lied to Hopper?”

“Yeah.”

“About…”

“About where I went.”

“Where did you go?”

El finally broke her gaze from the television (the guy with the knife had stashed it in his briefcase before the commercial break) and looked at Max. She took a deep breath.

“To the city.”

Max knew how easy it was to scare El into silence. Instead of taking a quizzical tone, she brushed the new information off.

“The city? Which city, El? There’s more than one.” Max asked casually, reverting her attention back to the TV and grabbing a handful of El’s popcorn. The guy with the knife had shown up on some woman’s doorstep looking awfully shady. She would be lying if she didn’t admit she was a little invested. El looked at Max, offended that she had stolen some of her popcorn, but she relented and moved the bowl in between the two of them. Max grabbed another handful.

“The big one.”

“Indianapolis?”

“No.”

“I’m going to keep bugging you until you tell me. Fort Wayne?”

“Chicago.”

Max raised her eyebrows.

“All by yourself?”

“Yes,” El said, shrinking down a bit.

“That’s badass,” Max replied.

She was missing key details, but Max didn’t want to press to hard. If she was going to guess, that’s where El was last November right before she met them at Will’s house. When she asked Lucas, he said that El would tell them when she wanted to. She figured that Lucas was referring to the rest of the group with the exception of Mike, since he was the one she did most of her talking to.

The show cut to a shot of a bloody knife on the ground and El tensed. That was the end of that. When the credits were finally rolling, El turned to her.

“Now you have to tell me something.”

Max laughed.

“What do you mean I have to tell you something?”

“A secret you haven’t told anyone.”

“You haven’t told anyone you went to Chicago by yourself?”

“No,”

“Not even – ”

“No,” El said, cutting Max off, her tone urgent. “Don’t tell him yet.”

“Um, don’t worry,” Max said. She picked up El’s pinky with her own. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

El smiled.

“He just gets so worried sometimes,” she said.

Max laughed again.

“Mike? Worried? Really?”

That one really set El off, and she began laughing so hard the popcorn spilled onto her bed spread.

“Shit,” El muttered under her breath. That made Max laugh, and then both the girls were laughing hard enough to drown out the Nair commercial playing on TV.

Once they picked the kernels off El’s quilt, she was quick to jump back to the secret thing.

“You still haven’t told me something.”

“Technically I don’t have to tell you a secret.”

“Yes, you do. Those are the rules.”

“This isn’t how truth or dare is played, El.”

“We’re not playing truth or dare.”

Max rolled her eyes.

“Fine. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

El nodded, sitting up and eagerly anticipating whatever Max had to say.

Max reached down into her duffle bag, rummaging around for the tape.

“This,” Max started, “is my favorite movie of all time. Grease.”

“Grease?” El asked, taking the tape and looking at the pretty people on the cover.

“Yeah, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too girly. It’s a musical.”

“So?”

“So, I brought it because it’s right up your alley,” Max said. By the look on her face, Max could tell the idiom was completely lost on El.

“You’d love it,” she corrected.

“That’s not a secret.”

“Yes, it is! You said something I’ve never told anyone! You’re the only person on earth who knows I even own that on tape.”

“Well it’s not the secret I’m looking for.”

“And what type of secret are you looking for? Because I don’t have any –”

“Boy secrets,” El said. Max scoffed.

“You think I have boy secrets?”

“That’s what girls talk about at sleepovers.”

“Not it is not!”

“Yes, it is.”

Max knew exactly what was happening, and she was somewhat impressed. El was trying to be coy about trying to get some information out of her.

“Well, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment, because I don’t have any boy secrets because I don’t like any boys.”

El hummed and narrowed her eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“Um, no! I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Not!”

“Max.”

“What?”

“Friends don’t – “

“Yeah, yeah, I know okay?”

“So why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“So, we’re not friends.”

The playful tone from before was replace with something that sounded like hurt. Max took a deep breath. If she was being honest, she technically didn’t have a boy secret. Everyone pretty much knew. But that didn’t mean she needed to say it out loud. In fact, Max couldn’t remember a time she admitted out loud to anyone that she had feelings for a boy. She was easy to blush, and Max could feel it creeping up on her cheeks. El noticed, and her hardened expression melted a little.

“I mean…” Max started. Ugh.

El sat up and moved toward Max, looking at her with the same wide-eyed fascination that she was watching TV with just minutes earlier.

“Lucas is nice, I guess.”

“I knew it.”

“Well if you knew it, why was it such a big deal?” Max said, shoving El’s shoulder a little bit. She giggled and pushed back before grabbing Max’s pinky like she had before.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“It better be,” Max said.

El picked up the tape from her lap.

“Do you want to show me this?”

Max nodded, and shuffled over to the VHS, pushed it in, and pressed play.

El was mesmerized. So much was happening. People were singing and dancing and wearing such weird clothes. And Max was beginning to understand why Mike liked showing El new things so much. She was so funny to watch.

In the middle of the sleepover scene – one El was particularly excited to see – El tapped Max on the shoulder to ask a question.

“That brown bag has wine in it, it’s alcohol. It’s illegal to drink it underage. And I’ve heard it tastes like shit,” Max said.

“I know that,” El said back. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Max laughed, expecting a joke, but the look on her face actually looked remorseful.

“El, what are you sorry for?”

“You were new. I was mean to you.”

“Oh, yeah that,” Max said, shifting her gaze to her hands in her lap. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Well, I am,” El said.

“Well, thanks.” Max said. They both turned their attention back to the movie, both with smiles growing on their faces.

On the other side of the door, Jim Hopper was just trying to get some sleep. He had an early shift tomorrow. Just because all the kids are on summer vacation, didn’t mean that everyone else was. It was a Wednesday night for Christ’s sake.

He was seconds away from banging on the door and calling lights out when he heard El laugh through the door. He hadn’t heard her laugh – at least not at home, where she felt trapped and alone – in God knows when. He didn’t even know she was that close to the Mayfield kid. But it was a good thing, he supposed. He smiled to himself as he wrapped his pillow around his head, covering his ears.

What’s the harm in a girl’s night after all?

a/n: I have been super busy with life changes and all that fun adult stuff (!!!!!) and haven’t written in 5-ever... so I’m so glad I had this as an excuse to get the juices flowing again... 3k words???? Who am I right now. So much dialogue whew. Anyway, I edited this in a hurry so be forgiving, but I had so much fun writing it and being a part of this series!!!! It’s been so cool to read everyone’s work. I know it’s getting kind of boring around here, but the best is yet to come!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

tagging the sfs crew and praying these are all your correct users: [ @mikeweezers][ @el-and-hop ][ @summer-in-hawkins ][ @partwayhappy ][ @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold ][ @janeswheeler ][ @cstlebyrs ][ @formerlyjannafaye ][ @jane-el-hopper ][ @themikewheelers ][ @elizabthturner ][ @the-proud-princess ][ @itcouldbendoritcouldbreak ][ @scottsclarke ][ @the-most-beautiful-broom ][ @hannahberrie ][ @dancingskygreen ][ @mileven-and-contemplation ][ @eddieksgazebos ][ @mikeswheelers ][ @moodyandmoonyeyed ][ @jopper-chopper ][ @earlgreyteagirl ][ @janehoppers ][ @michael-hearteyes-wheeler ][ @stevemossington ][ @thezoomermax ][ @dustinhendrsn ][ @mothersnail ][ @writer-lia ]

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wunderlass · 7 years

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Smoke & Mirrors Chapter 33: Aftermath

His captors think him defeated, but even Odin doesn’t know the secrets Loki holds. Before long, he’ll be free, events set in motion by Frigga’s best intentions and Loki’s worst instincts. He’s seen his future, and nothing is going to stop him from stealing it. Loki/Darcy, M rated

You can also read on AO3 or FFNet.

My aim is to get this story finished by the end of this month i.e. before Ragnarok comes out, as I think that will be a game changer (not that the MCU hasn't shifted completely since I started writing this story). There is one full chapter left after this one - likely to be another long one - and an epilogue, which is already written. So I think I'm going to meet that aim.

Shall we begin?

Stark Tower was still quiet when they returned to Tony's apartment. Jane greeted them, letting them know that most of the Avengers were down in the war council. Pepper had arranged an impromptu buffet, as it was hours since anyone had eaten. Loki took himself to rest. Jane and Darcy grabbed a plate of food each and returned to the helipad, to get away from the stifling atmosphere. Darcy was practically vibrating with exhaustion, but she wasn't ready to sleep yet.

New York was dark, for the most part, the electricity not restored yet. Only Stark Tower, and a few other buildings with their own generators, were lit up. And yet, it was far from silent now, the familiar noise of sirens and the horns of impatient drivers a welcome sign that the city was coming back to life already. With the war council's involvement, clean up would begin.

No doubt camera crews had already gotten back into the city—that distant buzz a helicopter or two—and would now begin a rolling news cycle. She wondered what the official line was going to be, since Thanos had vanished with relatively few witnesses.

The blood was gone from the surface of the helipad. Someone had taken the time to clean it up.

Darcy told Jane all about Hela while they calibrated the portal machine, and Jane listened sympathetically.

"Maybe I'm overthinking my relationship with Thor, but is going to make me her step-aunt or something?"

Darcy laughed, a tired and brittle sound that didn't really encapsulate what she was feeling. "Or something."

"I guess we can't dismantle this yet." Jane patted the machine. "The Asgardians are helping with the clean up."

"Does that means Thor's staying a little while longer?"

Jane only sighed in response. If Thor had a throne to worry about, there was every chance he'd return to Asgard and not give Earth a backward glance.

They went back downstairs, to the labs this time, where Erik was still lurking. He refused to share space with Loki, even now, and was still mostly clueless about what had actually happened during the battle.

They filled him in, and then Darcy went to fetch him some food from Pepper's little buffet. When she got back to the apartment, no one seemed to be around, but she could hear voices from the kitchen: Thor, definitely. His voice carried even when he was trying to be quiet.

Unsure how he would react to her, she crept closer, until she could make out the other person's voice as well.

"You must be pleased that my mother was able to plead your case and stop SHIELD from disciplining you."

"I owe your mother a lot," replied Nat. "We all do."

"This is true."

"Besides, I've been through worse. SHIELD would only fire me, or lock me up. I can always find work elsewhere, and I never stay locked up long. My previous employers tended to be more thorough in their discipline."

"I heard tell of that once. I am sorry." He sounded sincere.

"Thank you. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful to Frigga, but there are worse things to endure. Losing a friendship, for instance."

There was a moment's silence before Thor responded. "You are not as subtle as I have been led to believe."

"Right now, I'm not trying to be."

"You think I have been too harsh on Darcy." He didn't sound as defensive as Darcy expected him to. Maybe tired, and that was to be expected.

"You don't think these last few days—hell, all the months since Loki arrived—have been rough on Darcy? She's not like you. She's not even like me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. God knows, I've done my best to mold Darcy into a weapon we could use against Loki. I hated it doing it, but I thought it was necessary. Except now I realize what it's cost her. And you don't understand that."

"Don't I?"

"You've always had Mjolnir and your strength to rely on. Women? We don't usually have that. We know, when we're up against men, that we have to be faster, smarter, better armed. There are methods women have to use in war to survive, things you've never had to consider. Things we get punished for, things we get labeled for. Even Sif knows that, though she'll deny it. So Darcy did what we needed her to, and she'll suffer for it."

Thor did not respond, and Darcy retreated back downstairs, to lie to Erik about the food being all eaten up.

Darcy found a quiet sofa in one of the rooms in the apartment, and napped. She didn't dream, for which she was thankful, because she was sure her imagination would only offer up nightmares.

She woke with a crick in her neck and her exhaustion levels barely touched. The hazy light from outside suggested it was a new day. She wanted a shower, and a change of clothing, but even with her rooms only floors below here she doubted she'd be allowed to return to them.

That was a fresh batch of things to worry over, along with the old. Darcy was technically a fugitive from SHIELD, Loki was a wanted criminal on at least two worlds, and Odin was dead. Thor would be taking over the throne of Asgard, and there was no telling what his attitude would be like towards Loki. Plus, there was every chance he was going to break Jane's heart by leaving.

She went looking for Loki, hoping she wouldn't bump into anyone else at this early of an hour. Doors that were shut, she left closed, and she wandered until she found him in the same position she'd been in: curled up in a too-small chair.

He looked so peaceful like this, even though she knew the peace was temporary. His grief would return when he woke up, and all of his troubles too. Back into captivity, with his reduced lifespan, none of the sacrifices he had made enough to outweigh the sins he had committed.

He had to run.

The thought had her moving again, crossing to the bed so she could shake him awake, gently as she could manage.

"Loki," she murmured, snatching her hand away when he roused, murmuring her name in return. When he opened his eyes and blinked he didn't look fully awake, flashing a beatific smile. But it melted away as he came around properly, the relaxed, easy happiness turning to sorrow.

"I thought—" he said, then shook his head. "What now?"

"Loki, you have to leave."

He surprised her by shaking his head and settling back down with a sigh.

"You have to! This might your only chance. Otherwise—"

"Otherwise I will be kept in captivity, judged and sentenced. I am aware."

"Then why aren't you moving?

"Because I have earned it." He propped himself up on one elbow with a wry twist to his mouth. "I do not know exactly what I have done to merit this concern from you—or I would have done it sooner—but I know what fate awaits me, and I have decided to face it. For once in my life, I must take responsibility for my actions. It is a lesson my brother learned more readily than I."

"But you did what you could to make it better. You went to Mistress Death—"

"Who is not a judge or executioner. What she took from my was not meant to wipe my debt to the universe, and thus it still stands."

"So you'll live what—fifty years? Sixty years? In a cage?"

He rolled back onto his back, shrugging. "It sounds more bearable than five hundred years. And perhaps I will be granted privileges this time, for the wrongs I have righted." That wry twist returned. "Or perhaps my sins will be great enough to carry the ultimate sentence this time. My actions did lead to the death of the king, and I suspect many will view it as treason."

"Not just the king. Your father."

"Yes." It was a simple acknowledgment, one Darcy doubted they would have got out of him before today. "But king first and foremost to those who will pass judgment on me." He glanced at the door. "Has Thor returned from the war council?" he asked.

She nodded, remembering the heavy thud of Thor's steps waking her not long ago. Her heart was unwilling to let go of the notion of Loki's escape, even if she wasn't sure why. She still didn't like him all that much, but now she felt like she was the only one who understood everything he had been through. Thor and Frigga had heard about Thanos' torture, but it wasn't the same as seeing it, of being forced back into that moment and living through it with him.

"Then I must make my continued presence known," Loki said, pushing himself upright. "Lest he begin to wonder if I have fled." He said it in jest, but Darcy could see the set of his shoulders as he climbed off the bed and headed for the door. He was expecting to face a battle of his own, or at least a cold shoulder. Plus his grief must still weigh on him, fresh as it was.

Darcy followed him back towards the room where Odin lay. Thor acknowledged their entrance with a nod of his head. Darcy didn't see Jane, but Frigga was on the other side of the bed, mirroring Thor. She still didn't let her gaze stray to Odin.

"Have you slept?" she asked quietly.

"A little," replied Frigga. "The council did not disband until a few hours ago. When we returned, I must have drifted off but there is so much to arrange…" Frigga paused, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "I would rather return to Asgard as soon as we are able."

"I'm sure you can go whenever you like."

Frigga's smile was wistful. "I would like to say goodbye to the people I have come to know properly. But I believe I shall be able to do that quickly. When I am home, I shall rest."

"You will accompany us, of course," Thor said, only his cadence suggesting he was asking Darcy rather than commanding her.

"I—I will?"

"Yes. Jane will need a companion when I am too busy with preparations, and Mother told me she has already promised you a chance to really see Asgard."

"I know, she did that, but—"

"But you did not expect me to honor it," he finished, kindly. "It is the least I can offer you, Darcy, after the way I have treated you of late."

"Are you sure?" Her words sounded tiny, even to her own ears.

"Very. I have had sense talked into me by the fiercest women I know. And beyond that, the events of the last day have changed me. It seems to become a regular thing, that I am forged anew by circumstance and hardship, but I hope this is a change which will bode well for the throne I will be claiming." He glanced at the bed, where his father lay. "For a long time, I have felt numb—as frozen inside as I was when you turned your Casket on me, Loki. All I was capable of feeling was anger, which was hot enough to melt to the chill away, at least for a little while. But now, I am feeling again. It is not pleasant, not at this moment, but it gives me hope that I shall feel happiness again."

"I'm sure you will," Darcy said earnestly. "You'll finally get your coronation, right?"

"I will, and I want you to be there for it."

Darcy was pretty sure she had emotional whiplash, but she'd take it. She managed a tentative, watery smile.

"And Loki—" Thor continued, "brother, I intend to plead for clemency when you are tried again."

If he was hoping for relief, and gratefulness from Loki, he'd misjudged. Instead, Loki went stiff beside Darcy.

"How can you say that?" he spat, his face had contorted into a snarl. "If it weren't for me, none of us would be here. My choices, my actions—leading you to Jotunheim, having you cast out—this is what it led to." He gestured towards the bed. "All because I was a brittle, pathetic wretch who craved his attention. But now I'll never have that, nor his forgiveness."

"But you had his love. No matter what," Frigga replied softly.

Loki scoffed.

"It's true," said Thor. "I have no doubt our father hoped you would find a way to earn his forgiveness. Nevertheless—you have mine."

"No." Loki turned away, spinning so he had his back to them, and his voice quavered as he spoke. "You mustn't."

"I must. If I only have a mortal lifespan left with my brother, then I will not waste it hating you."

"You should hate me." The words were so soft they were barely audible.

"I won't."

"And you cannot shoulder all of the blame," said Frigga. "The Tesseract was here on Midgard all those years, and Thanos knew that. One way or the other, we would have needed to defend this realm and all others. A battle was inevitable."

"Father's death was not." Loki turned to face them again, though his fists were balled at his side, his stance remaining defiant.

"No. But I kept secrets, and I tried to push you towards the future I wanted for you, which set this all in motion. Am I not as culpable?" It was clear from her face that she believed she was.

"What has happened cannot be undone," said Thor. "I would rather cherish the family I have left, instead of letting us tear ourselves and each other apart through fractiousness and regrets."

Loki's eyes glittered, though he didn't let the tears fall. "I once mocked you for your lack of wisdom, and yet now it appears you were the wisest of us all along."

Thor smiled, then went back to being sombre. "I cannot make any promises about the fate which awaits you. It has already been agreed that you may never return to Midgard, on the understanding you will be judged under Asgardian law instead."

That jolted Darcy. Once they went back to Asgard, Loki would never come back. And yet Hela had seemed very clear that they were both in her life. How was that even possible unless Darcy abandoned Earth as well? For a man she still held so little affection for?

"I understand," Loki replied.

"Well, the other inhabitants will be rising soon," said Frigga. "Time to make ourselves presentable, and then do what we must."

Returning the Asgardian contingent from whence it came turned out to be as big a strategic mission as the battle they'd fought in. Using the helipad on Stark Tower wasn't feasible, especially not with Tony getting antsy about so many people to-ing and fro-ing close to his penthouse, even if the army was currently shacked up in the empty quarters of the tower. They refused to go anywhere until their fallen king returned home, though plenty of them were enjoying the spoils of victory in a jubilant Manhattan. The comrades they'd lost were also kept in the tower, waiting to be ferried home and reunited with the families they'd left behind.

SHIELD commandeered an old airstrip outside the city to house the new portal in, and setting it up required astrophysicists. Astrophysicists required assistants. Darcy was the woman for the job: no one could deal with the idiosyncrasies of Jane and Erik quite like she could. They got offered more hands, they got offered more brains (specifically, Tony's), and they got offered more equipment, but they worked best with what they'd always known.

Darcy didn't have much time to think or brood; it was like old times, for a few precious days—the three of them cobbling together a semi-permanent portal with parts from the upstate facility, and chunks from the device they'd used on the helipad.

The weather wasn't as nice as it had been those months in New Mexico, and the addition of Men In Black rejects watching their every move dampened the mood a little, but it was a thrill to have something to work on without the impending threat of the world ending being the primary motivation. And being in the vast aircraft hanger, practically alone, put Darcy in a better mood than she had been in a long time. No pressure, no looming catastrophe, only work and endless tubs of Red Vines.

Things improved further when Nat replaced the suits as their primary security detail. She was off Fury's shit-list and back on duty, which meant she spent almost as much time stopping Jane from electrocuting herself as Darcy did.

Darcy didn't know where Loki was. With his family, she hoped. They wouldn't have time to grieve together once they got back to Asgard, not with all the pomp and circumstance she'd got wind of. A state funeral, a state coronation…and probably a state trial.

That thought became more sober at the first whirling surge of power from the new portal, a shimmering chunk of the air churning between the metal posts they'd set up wide enough to pass a truck through. They'd done it, but even as she and Jane exchanged high-fives, they knew they stood at a threshold in every sense of the word. They could cross to Asgard, but whether they stayed there or came home, their lives would never be the same. Though wherever she went, Jane was determined to claim the Nobel Prize she was entitled to.

"No one's pulling a Rosalind Franklin on me," she vowed.

The first time Darcy saw Loki again, or indeed any of the Asgardian royal family, was on the day they departed. She and Jane had been outfitted in chic black ensembles, designers falling over themselves to dress anyone associated with the event. They waited in the hanger, watching it all unfold on live television: a massive procession out of Stark Tower, weaving through Manhattan, then the outer boroughs, and towards their semi-secret location. Just about every horse from the tristate area—and beyond—had been borrowed to allow the warriors to ride, though some had taken Chitauri speeders and refurbished them to shining glory instead, replete with new runes and chrome modifications. Better to carry the bodies of their lost brethren home on.

People lined the roads, holding out flowers and gifts for the ones they saw as their saviors. Many of the Asgardian soldiers took teddy bears and bouquets with open delight. Darcy supposed they didn't have stuffed animals in Asgard.

Odin lay at the head of the procession in a covered litter which kept him shrouded from the world—especially from the helicopters competing for space above. Fandral commanded the horses pulling the coach. Thor and Frigga rode behind on matching white mounts, their faces somber and effortlessly regal. Between them, Loki steered mighty Sleipnir with a blank expression—all in black on his equally dark steed, though nothing hid the cuffs binding his hands and ankles and linking him to his brother. He had the freedom to steer Sleipnir but not to flee. Not that he'd get the chance—Hodun, Volstagg, and Sif were close behind, grim-faced and alert.

The procession reached the hanger, the first place out of public view where even the helicopters couldn't peek into. They entered through one end and rode into the portal, which would spit them out the other side. It was already up and running, its stable thrum now controlled by SHIELD scientists, with Jane and Darcy waiting with their heads bowed respectfully at the approach.

Erik was long gone. He didn't want to get anywhere near Asgard or its royal family again.

The litter passed through without a hitch, and Darcy felt Jane sag with relief beside her. Then they glanced up to watch the rest of the family pass—and Darcy caught Loki's gaze, his attention on her in the moments before they breached the barrier. What she was meant to read in his eyes, she had no idea, beyond the shuttered grief and despair.

The pair of them weren't traveling on horseback—to Darcy's relief—and were beckoned into one of the open-roofed carriages carrying the chosen ambassadors of Earth. It meant they found themselves sharing with the Avengers, and she couldn't imagine more comfortable company for these weird next few moments.

"You've been to Asgard?" Steve prompted her. "What's it like?"

"Golden," was all she could think of, right before the pressure in her ears grew fiercest and they slipped into the tunnel through space. The universe streaked past them in streams of blurred light, before it all came to an abrupt halt and they tipped out onto the Bifrost, the shining city in front of them.

"Oh my," Jane murmured beside her, and Darcy understood the feeling. Asgard in the day was completely different to the shadowed, hushed city she'd experienced a few nights ago.

She knelt in her seat for a better view at all the glittering, golden towers—the palace still the most visible and most prominent. The Bifrost was empty except for the procession, but far ahead as it turned from bridge to road she could see the crowds lining the route towards Odin's resting place. Word had already spread courtesy of Heimdall, so this wasn't the shocking blow it might have been immediately following the battle, but Darcy suspected hearing it and seeing the evidence were two different things.

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet in his seat, though his appraising gaze suggested he'd be asking to speak to the local architects for ideas. Between his hands, he carried the Tesseract in its little cage.

Not the real Tesseract, of course. That was somewhere on Earth, buried somewhere only Tony knew, deposited there in his flight suit. Few people knew that, though, the illusion crafted by Frigga and Loki standing up to scrutiny. As far as the universe was going to be concerned, the Tesseract had been returned to the weapons vault in Asgard, under Thor's protection. No one would come knocking on humanity's door for it any time soon.

Up ahead, Darcy had a good view of horse's tails, and the stiff postures of the royals. Water surrounded the bridge, small islands breaking the surface here and there, but the city itself crowned cliff-tops at the end of the Bifrost. Somehow, the bridge shone even despite the sunlight, in a way that wasn't just reflecting it, but gleaming from itself. They moved at a decent pace, passing onto land within minutes, where the population lined the streets, many straining for a first glimpse of the safe return of their loved ones.

The atmosphere in Asgard couldn't be more different to the world they'd left behind. The city was whole, unlike the battering Manhattan had taken, but the crowds were as ashen-faced and weary as if they'd lived through a battle themselves. Though there were no open tears, only bowed heads for the procession as it passed by, and more than a little curiosity at the Midgardians among its number. That would probably change as the full swell of the warriors passed by and the identities of the dead became known.

They went straight to the palace, ushered out of the carriage and into what had to be the throne room. It was a vast space, matched only by the ancient cathedrals Darcy had seen on her travels, with a full wall given over to rising as steps towards a dais. Columns rose around them, disappearing above to hold up the roof so far away she could barely see it, with the lamps aimed at shrouding it in darkness and casting the light downward. The rear wall didn't exist at all, open to the rest of the city, and a path led all the way to the throne, with an almond-shaped area of the polished floor empty and cordoned off. Odin's litter was placed carefully in the center of that space, the fabric covering him removed so he lay open to the room.

No one sat on the throne, though Frigga was already ascending those steps, gown trailing behind her. Someone had fetched a crown for her because it now adorned her head, and when she reached the top she turned to face the hall, her head dipped towards her husband. The two princes knelt at the foot of the steps, bodies turned so they were still half-facing their father.

Darcy's party was brought to stand with the warriors three and Sif, at the edge of the cordon, and around them the rest of the warriors returned, filling out the hall, while other people filtered in from the city as well. This was the cream of Asgardian society, judging by all the finery on display. All was quiet and orderly, though the first sobs could be heard at the edges of the crowd. How many families had lost somebody in New York? More Asgardians had died than humans, in the end.

Darcy shuffled nervously, this close to Sif. They hadn't seen each other since Darcy's arrest and she half-worried that she'd end up with a dagger at her throat, but instead Sif offered a gracious nod of her head.

"I must offer my respect," she said, and there wasn't a note in her husky voice which suggested she was doing so begrudgingly. "To have walked into the realm of Death herself and emerged unscathed is a noble feat indeed."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Darcy replied with a wry smile. She wasn't sure how much respect she'd earned when she'd had no idea where she was going at the time, but she'd take this warmth from Sif over continued hostility any time. The warrior woman reached out her hand for Darcy's, clasping it in an approximation of a hand shake, before they returned their attention to the proceedings.

The crowd kept coming, but Frigga wouldn't stand there forever, no matter how much it seemed like she had turned into a statue, carved into a impression of endless grace and patience. Instead, once all the warriors were in the hall and only civilians were the new entrants, she raised her chin. Darcy could see the faint pathway of tears on her cheeks, but it wasn't audible in her voice when she spoke.

"The king is dead. Long live the king."

"Long live the king!" Everyone echoed that last phrase back to her—everyone except Thor, who rose to his feet and turned to face the crowd fully. It looked like he had the weight of the world on those shoulders. Multiple worlds. If anyone could bear it, Thor was the most capable, but it was a lot to face. He'd need a good support structure around him.

This wasn't the funeral; that would take place under cover of darkness in a few days time. For now, Odin would lie in state, allowing his people to pay their respects one last time. Frigga left the dais and her sons followed her, through some side door into their own personal world. Darcy found herself watching Jane watching them leave. So much was up in the air now that Thor was king, and Darcy hadn't been the only one burying herself in their work over the last few days. Poor Jane might be facing a final separation from Thor.

Tony departed with some of the warriors down the vault, to put the 'Tesseract' back where it came from, while the rest of their group was rounded up by attendants and taken to the quarters they'd be using during their stay. It turned out to amount to a wing of the palace, interconnecting suites with incredible vistas over the grounds and water. The crowds still thronged the streets, leaving Darcy with little desire to go out and explore. Instead, she sat cuddled with Jane on a little balconette, basking in the sunshine and marveling over the details of the city together.

"The amount of energy required to keep it up like that," Jane said of one of the floating buildings. "And it has to be just because they can—there's no real purpose to it being above ground level like that. It's impractical to get in and out of, and it still has a footprint, so they haven't gained any extra space from doing that."

"Does Tony have Asgardian cousins? That's the kind of thing he'd do—build something to prove he could."

There was a knock at the door, then one of the attendants sweeping inside. "His Majesty the king," he announced with a low bow.

Darcy shared a startled glance with Jane. Neither had expected to see Thor so soon. They scrambled to their feet but had no idea whether to bow or not, both doing an awkward shuffle until Thor strode towards them with a broad smile. "Sit, please, there is no need to stand on my count."

Darcy wanted to do that, but once glimpse of the nerves on Jane's face told her she needed to give them space. "Actually, I think I might go check out my own rooms. Apparently you've got the fanciest plumbing going and it'll take me at least an hour to work out how to get the shower going."

"Will you seek Loki?" Thor asked, and Darcy blinked at him in confusion. The thought hadn't even occurred to her. "He is confined to his quarters, with guards at every entrance and countermeasures in place to stop him leaving by magical means. Though he has promised me he will not try to."

"No, I don't think he will." She shrugged. "But I'm not going to go looking for him."

Instead, she spent the afternoon in the company of the Avengers; the little band of fighters she'd spent all those months in hiding with. They picked at the spread of food which had been laid out for them, reminiscing over their months in the facility now they had better lodgings, and catching up on the threads of their lives while they'd been separated. Darcy haltingly recounted her escape with Loki and the other worlds she'd seen. This time, they offered only comfort, not judgment, though she suspected Nat's persistent stink-eye in their direction had some hand in that.

When she returned to Jane's room, her friend was crying tears of happiness. Thor had vowed his commitment to her, mortal lifespan or not. With the Bifrost repaired she'd be able to come and go between the worlds as she pleased.

The next day, and the one after that, they explored the realm, wandering until Darcy thought her feet were going to drop off. More than anything it felt like she was wandering through a dream, rather than the waking world. Sometimes as they left the palace, or drew close to it, she thought she could feel a gaze on her from one of the towers, but when she sought it she couldn't find whoever it belonged to among all the windows.

On the third night Odin's funeral was held: a sombre gathering of the crowds at the edge of the city, as he was dispatched over the waterfalls in a flaming vessel. It was a moving ceremony, especially the lanterns everyone let drift into the sky as his casket disappeared among the foam of the water. Then a city-wide feast was held, with the Avengers and company as guests of honor in the palace's banqueting hall.

Decisions had been made in the past few days. It would take some time for Thor's coronation to be arranged, though he was already king in name. As for Loki, he would be tried—a proper trial this time, instead of a swift judgment from Odin. Thor had decided he owed it to his brother, for the good and bad he'd done since Thor was banished to Earth. Someone else would look at the balance of his deeds and decide on the appropriate punishment.

Only as Darcy walked back to her rooms, in the stillness of an early hour, was she approached by Frigga.

"My son wishes to speak with you."

Darcy knew Frigga didn't refer to Thor. They'd healed that rift already.

"I don't know what else there is to say."

"There is goodbye, at least."

Frigga was right. She owed him that. Darcy trailed the queen through the palace to what had to be the royal wing, judging by the increase in gilt—and the areas she'd already seen weren't exactly lacking in it. Darcy worried she was being taken to Loki's own rooms, but instead Frigga led her out into a sheltered garden, to a secluded bench under the shade of an immense oak tree. The garden was actually on a balcony or terrace, because the land dropped away not far from the bench, but there were no other balconies with a view over the area. It was private, with only one entrance, no doubt designed for the royals to have some outside space away from the watchful eyes of their subjects. In the darkness the night wrapped around them like a cloak of shadow, making it feel even more cloistered.

Loki waited for her under the boughs of the tree, chained as he'd been during the procession, and when Darcy turned to say something to Frigga she found they were already alone. Darcy ignored the bench just like Loki was and instead took up a stance on the other side of it, staring out at the Bifrost in the distance.

"You've heard I'm to be tried," he began. It was a neutral statement, his voice and body carefully measured so she couldn't read him.

"I have. By Norns, whatever they are."

Loki made a non-committal motion with his hands. "They're as fair as any judge can be. They're not interested in justice so much as the truth, and the balance of ones deeds."

Now that could get interesting. But it would be rude to point out to a consummate liar that he might not fair well in front of that sort of judge. "And a death sentence is off the table, so I've been told. It could be worse."

"You'll be returning to Midgard, of course." And here was the first sign of real…anything from him. Interest, concern, something that wasn't his practiced air of aloofness.

"Yep." There was no point fluffing around it. She'd enjoyed her time in Asgard but there was nothing keeping her here—not even Jane. Loki's distance made it easy to cut that cord and walk away.

"You will not think more on my offer of courtship?" Was that a crack in his voice?

"No."

Frigga had never confirmed if the future was determined or not, though she had once called the mirror vision "a possibility". And after all this time in her company, Darcy thought she understood better about Frigga's own magic and her ways of manipulation. Loki was her son, in ways few people would ever fully comprehend: they couldn't see past Frigga's regal air and calm demeanor. She was the source of his ruthless streak, even if she wielded it in other ways, and knew Loki in ways he probably didn't even understand himself. So when she showed him that vision, she'd picked what he'd respond to, what she knew would stir him, even if he thought it was for different reasons. The glass had reflected his deepest wishes—it had reflected what he wanted to see in it.

Sometimes a mirror was just a mirror, more or less.

When he turned to face her, she gasped at the expression on his face. The mask hadn't just slipped—he'd torn it off completely, so for the first time she saw him, raw and open and naked in his desperation. He was black and white in the darkness, and it highlighted the lines of his face, bringing out the starkness of his feelings.

"After everything, you would walk away from this?" It was even in his voice, the strain and the despair.

She took a deep breath, sinking onto the bench so she didn't have to look him in the eye. It took everything not to squirm in the presence of all that exposed emotion, and to focus on gathering the words she needed to say to him.

"My dad always said that the root of a good relationship is trust. Doesn't matter what kind: love, friendship, business—if you don't trust each other, it won't work." She paused, glancing up to make sure he was listening, before looking away just as quickly. "I don't trust you. I can't trust you. You bury what you're feeling so far down that I'm not sure you really understand it—maybe Mistress Death got a good sense for it when she went rummaging around in your head, but I don't have that ability. Worse, you don't trust anyone, least of me. How am I supposed to know where I stand when you won't ever risk letting me know?"

"There were things at stake," he rasped. "There have always been things at stake before. Not anymore."

"Then maybe it's a little too late. You've spent months doing nothing except hinting and then covering it up by insulting me. You know what I want? I want something peaceful, and solid, with somebody who respects me."

"You don't think that's me."

She huffed sharply. "None of that describes what we've been through. And I can't deal with a relationship that's just about intensity. You know what Thor used to say your best quality was? Your sense of humor. But you've never made me laugh. Not once, not because something you said or did was actually funny."

It was such a cliche, that requirement from the old lonely hearts: good sense of humor. Yet Darcy understood why people placed such value in it. Laughter would go a long way to make anyone's company bearable. Whereas Loki…he made her feel things, alright. Confusion, attraction, occasional terror, consternation, but few emotions she could classify as positive.

"That's fair," he acknowledged, and she thought he was creeping back into his shell, drawing the shattered pieces of it around him to hide away from her once more. It didn't matter if she was leaving—she accepted his need for emotional armor around everyone else. "I suspect the work I would need to do to win your hand would take the rest of my life. Making you laugh, I am reasonably sure I can accomplish, but making you feel safe, earning your trust, learning to trust—these are not easy at all. However, no one has ever accused me of backing down from a challenge."

She felt him take the bench next to her, and that motion brought her full attention back to him. He sat, face dipped towards hers, with the most earnest expression she'd ever seen on him. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I will admit that I'm willing to use every skill I possess, every dirty trick I know. I've never been particularly interested in playing fair." His lips twisted in an uncharacteristic show of self-deprecation. "But perhaps the best place to start is in placing my trust in you. If I show you my heart, and everything I am, you can do it with it what you will."

He held out a hand towards her, resting, upturned, between them.

She shook her head. "What—"

"Take it, and I'll give you the ability to rummage around just like Mistress Death. For a moment or two only, but that ought to be enough to begin with."

"I don't think—"

"Don't." He leaned in ever closer, so his breath ghosted over her skin. "Don't think. For once I am offering you power over me, power I will never offer to another living being. Feel what I feel, and then use it to crush me, if you choose."

"I wouldn't do that," she protested, and he inclined his head, a nod. Yes, I know. See? I trust you.

When his pleading gaze didn't lighten, and his hand didn't move, she did as he asked, and she took it.

The effect wasn't sudden. It wasn't the falling motion of Mistress Death ripping into her thoughts and taking what she wanted, smashing them together. Instead, it was closer to them being two drops of ink dropped into the same pot, slowly blending together. She opened to him, and he opened to her, and then she was within him, feeling what he felt.

For the first breath, it was fine. Intense and unsteadying, but under control. Then it swelled up, until there was too much for her to contain. Too hot—bruising and feral, a wave of desperate longing and the violent eddy of unrequited emotions. There was a note of tenderness underneath it all, but the torment swallowed too much attention, writhing in the pit of her stomach and deep within her chest like she was bleeding deep within. Ferocious enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

She jerked away from his touch, pulse pounding, heart in her throat.

"You see?" he asked, his voice low enough that it crept along her like she was still buried in his emotions. "Nobody will ever love you like I love you."

She turned to him with wide eyes, still fighting to control her breath, and he met her stare with the same vulnerability. He loved her. Somewhere along the way, in his pursuit of her and despite the way he guarded his heart, he really had fallen in love. She'd had no idea—Mistress Death's casual hints didn't come close to feeling it like that. It wasn't a simple love, either, but one built from layers that went bone deep, uglier strands of possessiveness warring with softer tendencies.

Some of that pain she'd felt wasn't about her at all, echoes of the torture he'd suffered at Thanos' hands bitter on her tongue, but most of what he'd revealed was about her. Except he wasn't triumphing in revealing this to her; instead her own dismay was now reflected back at her.

When he spoke he was despondent, as if in bearing himself to her had made him examine his emotions and he'd not liked what he'd found. "My love is not a noble thing. It is untamed, and fierce, and searing."

"I know." It still rang through her blood—how could she not know?

He reached up to cup her face and she flinched, expecting to be pulled back into that boiling morass once more, but it was only skin on skin. He rested his forehead against hers but did not close his eyes, even while she let hers drift shut, still too raw to hold his stare. Moments passed, time measured in heartbeats and heavy breaths, until he spoke again. Darcy forced herself to look at him as he did.

"No one should have to suffer such a love," he decided, as determined as she'd ever heard him, "but I can bear it well on my own, and I would not want to inflict its worst excesses on you. For that reason—" He sighed, a brittle, shattered sound. "You should go. It is the only act of tenderness I fear I am capable of: to let you walk away and be happy away from me, when I cannot guarantee you anything of the sort with me."

He withdrew his hands and slipped away from her, resuming his place in the shade of the tree, while she blinked at the space between them. It was as good an offer as she was going to get—the one time Loki had agreed to let her go since they'd met, and she was sure he'd change his mind before she actually set foot on the Bifrost, even if it would be too late to do anything about it.

She should seize this chance while she had it. Run from Asgard and never look back.

So why wasn't she moving from this bench?

Because even with the space he'd put between them, the intensity of what she'd felt within him hadn't ebbed away. She'd felt his loneliness, the deep ache inside of him, twice. Before, when Mistress Death had laid bare the worst of his life, and now, as Darcy had brushed past the little boy he'd been, so different to everyone else in his world, so distant even to the brother he adored. That little boy still lurked within the man, even if that man had every right to expect lifelong isolation from this point forwards. She couldn't abandon either of them. Not yet.

She lifted her chin and spoke carefully. "Someone needs to vouch for you in front of the Norns. If it's about the balance of your deeds, they need to know the best of you."

He turned, surprise glinting across his features. "That's more than I have any right to ask of you."

"You aren't asking. I'm offering it." With his growing, tentative smile, she grew in the knowledge that this was the right thing to do. "I will stay."

#tasertricks #smoke & mirrors #fic

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puckish-saint · 7 years

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hiya~ just passing by and thinking about reaper76 (no reader insert) and their pretended marriage au 😏 whatcha' thinking 'bout that love? p.s. just wanted to tell you that your writing always bring smile on my face, the way you have with words captivated me from your first posts and i don't think i will ever forget your style (just really love your humour the jokes in it work every time) (although i find your blog only when you started writing overwatch fics i wish i found you sooner)

(my jokes work, thank god. You have no idea how long I’ve been chewing on that one, waiting for someone to tell me if my attempts at humour land. This really made my day Also Fake Marriage, yes pleas.Because just, hnnngh. Gabe more or less reluctantly teaming up with Overwatch after it turns out he’s been set up/lots of misunderstandings/shenanigans. But he and Jack have been drifting apart for so long and even though both technically know they’ve been played out against each other, knowing it and acting accordingly are two very different things. They fight, they argue, they can’t stand being in the same room and it’s worse because both remember they used to be inseparable.So, shit happens and they have to pretend to love each other. They have to dig deep under all the baggage to find that affection they used to hold for each other, and what’s scary is that it’s easy.The first morning Gabriel shovels six spoon fulls of sugar into his coffee cup, hesitates, then just upends the whole damn sugar bowl into his coffee, Jack doesn’t have a problem hugging him from behind and kissing him good morning.And when Jack loses horribly at some video game because he’s too busy admiring the scenery (”look at those trees, Gabe, they’re all handcrafted. Every one of them. Look at the trees.” “Will you please look at the giant venomous spider instead?”) Gabriel laughs like he hasn’t in ages.

I will go down with that trope tbh, and because I have no restraint, I wrote just under 2k words which may or may not be the beginning of a multichapter fic I’ll be putting on AO3.

Gibraltar base in low energy mode creeps out everyone. The lights are low, turning longhallways into twilight suffused tunnels with no end in sight, entireportions of the base void of life and activity. Only the dormitoriesand kitchens still have full power, a warm haven surrounded bymonsters in the dead of night. Everyone deals with the creepiness intheir own way. Lena drives her accelerator to its limits, skipping inand out the darkness as fast as she can. Mei asks a friend toaccompany her, whereas Hanzo plain refuses to go.

Lúcio talks.

“I’m here one time and theymake me go to the damn locker rooms to get some trivial shit nobodycares about,” he mutters under his breath, chasing away theoppressive silence. “First time in months we see each other and Ibrought them all souvenirs, but they’re all like, oh Lu-lu can youdo us a huge favour and get this random shit from our demon cellar,and if you get eaten do we get your skates?”

He turns a corner and comes face toface with a demon. Black holes where the eyes should be, a being ofpure darkness melds from the shadows to take his soul. Lúcio’scomplaints stick in his throat, hiding just like he wants to be. Theshadow seems to stare right through him. Then it moves.

“Gabe! Puta merda, you scaredthe crap out of me.”

Gabriel chuckles deeply and the grimreaper hunting for his innocent soul becomes the latest addition totheir ragtag bunch of misfits. They fall in step together, Lúciomuch more at ease now that he has someone tall and strong to protecthim from Overwatch’s version of a haunted house.

“Wimp,” he says good-natured.“We’re needed in the conference room. Something came up.”

“What, now?”

“No, the next Saint Patrick’s day.”

In the beginning Gabriel’s sarcasmput him off, but by now Lúcio has learned to appreciate it. Theyspend more time together than most anyone on base, seeing as hismusic is what’s slowly but surely healing Gabriel of his specialproblem.

“Your skin hurt again?” he asks,gesturing to the mask he wears again. Lately he can go mostly gowithout, but every now and then the degeneration flares up again andforces him to protect himself. Gabriel shrugs.

“It’s nothing compared to what itused to be like.” he says.

“Still. I can write you something tohelp, okay?”Gabriel argues only a little and by the time theyenter the conference room he has convinced him. Half the team hasgathered, including Fareeha through video conference from Cairo.

“... spotted them twice coming in,but they have an alternate route for leaving. I’m on it right now.”

“Good work, Amari.” Winston turnsto face the team. “We have eyes on Vishkar’s top suppliers. Idon’t need to tell you this op could make or break our effortsagainst them. Yes, Lúcio, you’ll be on the team to take them in.”

Lúcio has barely opened his mouth andnow grins, leaning back as they watch the low-res pictures Fareehamanaged to take of the couple they’ve been after for months.Vishkar’s increasingly unsavoury activities rely almost completelyon these two people, elusive as they are efficient, supplying Vishkarwith everything from stolen technology to weapons. Whatever thecorporation needs, they can get it. And now Overwatch knows wherethey are.

“We need to send in a strike-team,”Jack says once they’ve gone over the bullet points. “And quick. Idon’t suppose we can get Miss Song on such short notice, but withmyself, Lena and Fareeha we can move quickly enough to evade a drawnout fight. Lúcio should stay back until we’re well into it. Ifthey spot him before-”“Hey,” Gabriel barks. “Who died andmade you boss?”

“I don’t see you contributinganything of value.” Jack shoots back with just as much venom.

“You wouldn’t let anyone get a wordin edgewise, golden boy.”“You act like I’ve beenmonologuing for hours, it figures you have to make up something to beupset about-”“You don’t even hear yourself speak, doyou?”“Guys? Stop fighting.”

Both Jack and Gabriel fall silent underLena’s soft but firm rebuke. They won’t look at each other, sitwith crossed arms through the rest of the briefing. Two teams will goin, one lead by Fareeha closing in on their targets, the other leadby Reinhardt blocking off their escape. Winston reminds them to atleast try and bring them in alive for interrogation.

A few hours later the team sets out.

A few hours after that, a furious duetof Amaris relays the mission to Winston.They’re speaking over eachother, curse the sky green and look one wrong word away from becomingphysically violent.

“-completely disregarded theplan-”“-charged in there like madmen, fighting each other,like they didn’t even see all those damn turrets-”“-Reinhardtkept shouting at them to listen but they were too busy with theirpissing contest-”“-had to double back and bail them out, TeamB got pinned down by drones-”“-targets almost got away, if ithadn’t been for my daughter, we’d be back to zero-”

“-can’t work with those two, theycompromised the mission, the team, themselves-”“-likechildren in a playground, no professionalism-”“Alright,alright!” Winston interrupts holding up his hands to protecthimself from the Amari wrath. He doesn’t want to know what Jack andGabriel had to hear before they called. “I’ll talk to them. Inthe meantime, what about our targets?”

The targets are secure and brought tothe base and surprisingly accommodating. They have no loyalty forVishkar and eagerly share everything they know in return for a deal.Jack and Gabriel are taken off the mission roster for the time being,although both had to be persuaded to stay at all, ready to walk outafter this latest fiasco that proved to them trying to work togetherafter everything that happened is a moot exercise.

“We used to joke they could read eachother’s minds,” Reinhardt says while they wait for Winston andAna to finish up with the intel they gathered from their targets.“You have never seen closer friends.”

Lúcio looks up from his tablet to giveReinhardt a look of pure doubt.

“Hard to imagine, I know” Jessesays, smoking despite everyone’s subtle and not so subtle-nods tothe no-smoking rule. “But it’s true. Took the UN almost twodecades to push them apart, and that’s sayin’ somethin’...”

Lena makes to answer but is interruptedby the arrival of Winston, followed by Ana and, surprisingly, Jackand Gabriel.

“Thought we were benched.” Jackvoices everyone’s thoughts.

“Something came up,” Ana repliescurtly and loads their info up on the main screen. “We got ourtargets just in time. They were ready to retire and Vishkar promisedthem new identities and a safe home.”

“If Vishkar made them disappear, we’dnever have found them,” Lúcio says and then whistles when Anabrings up a picture. “That what I think it is?”

“Jannat, Vishkar’s top-secret gatedcommunity. It’s their magnum opus, located an hour’s drive fromUtopaea. The families of their top executives and scientists all livethere. It’s also where they keep all their records.”

“So what?” Jesse says. “We’regonna wire them and let them go?”

“Better,” Ana shows a grin that’sall teeth and even though she hasn’t so much as glanced at Jack andGabriel, they both swallow, knowing whatever she has planned, they’llbe the butt of the joke. “Our targets were extremely careful. Noteven Vishkar knows who they are. They have a vague description of twomales in their fifties or sixties, one of which is black or latino,which puts us in the prime position of being able to send two of ouragents in their stead.”“Fuck that.” Gabriel says, wellaware of who’s going to end up playing the part. Jack at leasttries to be a bit more subtle about it.

“Reyes and I aren’t exactlynobodies. They’ll recognise us.”

“They’ll recognise your faces, butit won’t matter. We can fool their DNA sensors.”

“Still, they might getsuspicious.”“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take.This is our only chance to get into Jannat and we don’t have thetime to hold castings.”

Jack knows when he lost a fight, butGabriel keeps arguing. He damn near flips the tables when Winstonwon’t be persuaded to use someone else, gets into a shouting matchwith Ana that lasts for hours. Mission prep lasts a little under aday and when it’s done and their identities forged, they have todrag him kicking and screaming onto the plane, less metaphoricallythan anyone would prefer.

“He’ll get us killed,” Gabrielspits while Lúcio walks him through the last few points. “He didit before.”

Jack tenses but says nothing, sittingat the opposite end of the aircraft and pretending to read the news.

“It’s going to go fine,” Lúciosays cheerfully. “Mister Jack’s got you. Now listen, because asfar as we know there’s a sort of quarantine and we won’t be ableto talk for at least a month. I’ve built you a miniature version ofmy sonic tech and packed every song I ever wrote on that. Nothingwill go wrong with our treatment plan, but if it does something onthere will help you, okay?”“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Gabrielswats at him, cheeks hot with embarrassment at being mothered bysomeone half a foot shorter and almost three decades younger thanhim.

And then it’s just them and Lena inthe cockpit, flying them to their destination. In less than an hourthey’ll be Sam and Steve Carter, married for thirty two years,criminals for slightly longer. They’ll have to kiss and hug and saystupid corny shit and for all that Gabriel wants to forcefully ejecthimself from the plane, he knows they can’t blow this one. The endof Vishkar for good lies just within their reach. If he fucks this upbecause he couldn’t play nice he’ll never be able to look Lúcioin the eye again. The kid was the only one who accepted him with openarms after the whole mess with Mercy and the UN was over. When evenReinhardt and Ana kept their distance, it was Lúcio who sat with himfor breakfast, who included him, who went up to him in all his 5’3’’glory and asked to spar because even Jesse wouldn’t. He can’tfuck this up.

They step into the sweltering Indianheat arm in arm and gritting their teeth.

#overwatch imagines #reaper76 #reaper #soldier 76 #no reader #i call this The Intro #also i love the idea of reaper and lucio together #platonically or romantically #dark and brooding versus neverending sunshine is my jam #rustedrobonerd

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