#barely managed to refocus on posting something

[taitavva]

Thus, Socrates says that "sophrosyne is something divine" (Carmides, 174b) and that "the sensible man is a philosopher" (Carmides, 174c).

[Enkrateia and sophrosyne in Plato: a comparative study of the dialogues Carmides, Gorgias, Republic, Politius and Laws - Juan Carlos Tellería Sebastián]

[captainsophiestark]

Don't Believe Everything You Read

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Three Prompt: "I know you better."

Summary: A wannabe Whistledown is posting some awful rumors, but luckily for Anthony, his wife knows him well enough that she doesn't believe them.

Word Count: 1,247

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, tightening my hands on the book I was reading and trying to refocus on the words. I'd been having a nice, peaceful morning in Bridgerton house (a truly rare feat) until Eloise and Benedict had started some commotion near the door to the sitting room.

I'd married Anthony almost a year ago now, but I still hadn't learned how to block out his siblings quite as well as he did.

I managed to finish another paragraph before the commotion at the door distracted me again. I glanced at the pair out of the corner of my eye, and found them having a whispered argument, both glancing in my direction every few moments. I sighed. The rest of my story would have to wait until later.

Slowly and quietly, so as not to draw too much attention from the Bridgertons by the door, I makred my page in my book and set it down on the couch. I stood, drifting over toward Eloise and Benedict. Eloise had something in her hand, and it seemed to be the genesis of hers and Benedict's hushed argument. I got a little closer and recognized the shape and style of a scandal sheet.

Eloise and Benedict had gotten steadily more heated in their argument, and when Eloise flailed the paper in my direction, I snatched it out of her hand.

She and Benedict both whirled in my direction, but I'd made it halfway across the room before either of them got a chance to take the paper back.

"Don't read that!" Benedict shouted, chasing after me.

"You have a right to read it, but you might want a bit of a heads up first-"

I cut Eloise off by darting well out of their reach and reading one of the headlines of the scandal sheet.

Viscount Bridgerton Stepping Out On His New Wife?

I snorted and rolled my eyes. I quickly scanned the rest of the article, which went on to talk sensationally about all these rumors surrounding Anthony and a mysterious new mistress. Not a word of it was believable, of course, and at least one of the reports of Anthony strolling at night with a strange woman was just me, wearing new clothes the rest of the Ton hadn't seen yet. I barely made it to the end of the article before I started laughing.

I looked up to find Eloise and Benedict looking at me warily. I just shook my head.

"This is certainly no Lady Whistledown, is it?" The pair raised their eyebrows at me, still tensed like they were worried the laughter would turn to tears. I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, both of you. I know Anthony, I know this is ridiculous. Clearly whoever's writing this nonsense has too much free time on their hands. Or maybe not enough, since they couldn't come up with anything more realistic than this."

"So... you're not upset?" asked Eloise.

"No, El, I'm not. I know the man I married. This," I waved the paper around in my hand, "is just funny."

She and Benedict let out massive sighs as one.

"Well, that's certainly a relief," said Benedict. "I suppose Eloise and I were getting worked up for nothing."

"And likewise, you interrupted my reading for nothing," I said. "You're welcome to stay if you're quiet, but otherwise, I appreciate the laugh, but would appreciate more the return of my peaceful reading space."

"You have chosen the sitting room as your peaceful space," Benedict said. "That might not offer you the highest chance of remaining undisturbed."

"You make a fair point, but you also seemed to want to keep this scandal sheet from me completely, so I think today I can kick you out."

"Fair enough. Eloise?"

"I was supposed to meet Penelope before I found the scandal sheet with the mail. I'm already a bit late," she said with a wave over her shoulder as she headed out of the room. Benedict gave me a teasing bow, then followed his sister out of the room.

I sighed, then settled back in to my original place on the couch. I made it through another few pages before the door of the sitting room went flying open, the door making a loud bang as it slammed into the wall. I jumped and whirled around to find Anthony, looking like an absolute mess as he crossed the room in just a few strides before sliding to his knees before me. His hair stuck up at all angles and his clothes looked disheveled. He took my hands in his and started speaking before I could get a word out.

"My love, it's not true. Not a word of it. I love you, you must know that. I would absolutely never, ever go behind your back, would never even dream of spending time with anyone else-"

"Anthony, my god! Take a breath, what are you talking about?"

"I saw Eloise. She told me you'd read the scandal sheet sent out this morning. But you must know, it was a lie."

"Did you happen to wait for Eloise to tell you my reaction before you raced in here?"

"No. I worried... I didn't want to waste a moment before speaking with you. I promise, I would never do that to you. There's no one else and there never will be-"

"I know! Anthony, believe me, I know." I slid to the ground along with him, chest to chest as I kept his hands held tight in mine. "You think I'd believe some ridiculous wannabe Whistledown telling me you're a cheater? I know you better. I know you best. I know you would never do that to me, that I can trust you, no matter what. Even if Whistledown herself had reported it, I wouldn't have believed a word."

"...Truly?"

"Absolutely! We're rock solid, Anthony. I honestly wouldn't have married you if I didn't trust you."

He sighed, all the tension easing from his body as he slumped forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"I'm glad we got your worry cleared up quickly," I said. "Although, if you had paused to talk to Eloise for another moment, she could've told you I started laughing the minute I read those ridiculous reports."

Anthony picked his head up to look at me, pulling me closer to him as he did.

"I'm much happier to have heard it from you directly. Especially since it means I can do this."

He leaned in, a grin on his face, and kissed me. I ran my hands up his back and into his hair, but pulled away after just a moment. Anthony moved to follow me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Anthony, we are in the sitting room! Anyone could walk in on us at any moment."

"Good. Then they'll know the rumors are just that, and that nothing could ever come between the two of us."

"Anthony."

"Fine. This is an easy fix as well."

With that, he stood, picking me up and carrying me out of the room. I laughed, not even bothering to mention my book that now lay forgotten on the sofa. Anthony and I had other plans for the rest of our morning, it seemed, and I couldn't say I minded them. Anthony and I were happier than I ever thought we could be, and nothing was going to interfere with that, especially not some ridiculous gossip rag.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily

[aisiedaisie]

Heyo!

I noticed you take asks, but after lurking for a bit, I saw you haven’t done any yet. No worries if you’re not ready! But do you write _ x reader? Because I was thinking it’d be a super cute idea if the reader has a crush on their TA, who happens to be one of the Marauders, in the most boring class ever.

Oh, and if you haven’t had any designated anons yet, can I be ☁️?

Hello hello~ !

I do take asks!!! This is actually the first ask I’ve received and I am so happy. Thank you for sending it in and of course you can be my ☁️ anon! As for _ x reader fics… I’ve actually never written a reader fic before but I’ve tried my best! I think it leaned more gender neutral more than female reader, but I hope its okay.

Also, as someone who normally writes in third person, second person is difficult!!!

TA! Sirius Black x GN! Reader WC: 1.1k

You can’t remember why you signed up for this class. Maybe you thought it would be easy? Or even interesting…

But no.

The only thing remotely worth your time is the observation lab every Friday. The rest? Well, that’s just a blur of uncomfortable lectures, ticking clocks, and the distant hum of other students’ barely contained frustration.

No one would expect you to have perfect attendance. Most of the class doesn't even bother showing up, since attendance isn’t mandatory. They only show for tests, and even then, some skip those. You can’t help but wonder if they dropped the class, or if they just don’t care anymore.

Unfortunately— or, depending on your perspective, fortunately— something other than the lecture has caught your attention. You can’t help but quietly admire the TA at the front of the room, his presence oddly magnetic amidst the dull hum of the class.

Sirius Black is as punctual as you—if not more. He’s always there before anyone else, scanning IDs with a detached efficiency as students shuffle past. Then he settles into the front row, laptop open, his fingers dancing over the keys. He posts notes on Canvas for the absentees, though you suspect it’s more out of routine than necessity, since the lectures are always recorded and uploaded that evening.

He doesn’t seem like the type who’d voluntarily spend his free time sitting through intro-level astronomy lectures. With his shoulder-length, wavy dark hair—often loosely pulled into a half-bun—and his signature worn black leather jacket, he looks more like someone who should be out of a 50s film than a lecture hall. His casual blue jeans and plain white T-shirt complete the look, giving him a James Dean vibe that seems a little too effortless, a little too cool for this room.

You try to refocus, your eyes drifting back to the lecture. Professor Fancourt’s voice drones on in a monotonous lull, and he scribbles another formula on the whiteboard. “With this equation, please find the orbital velocity of Neptune,” he instructs, his back turned as he walks toward the desk by the door where Sirius is absorbed in his typing.

You glance back at the formula, but it might as well be a foreign language.

You’ve never been good at math, and when you signed up for Basic Astronomy, you didn’t think it would be an all-out battle of numbers. You thought you’d be learning about planets, maybe some stars, a little science history. But math? Why did they have to throw that in?

A knot tightens in your stomach as Professor Fancourt starts pacing. You know what’s coming. It’s only a matter of time before he picks someone—randomly, of course—to come up to the whiteboard and answer the question. You have no idea what’s going on with that equation, but you’re pretty sure it’s going to be you.

You don’t want to be called on. Not today.

With a resigned sigh, you gather your things, leaving your notebook open on the desk. A quick break—just enough to clear your head.

You make your way to the TA’s desk. Sirius looks up as you approach, his brow quirking in mild surprise.

“Look at that—someone’s actually moving from their desk,” he teases, and you manage a tired, half-hearted smile, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Just need a break,” you mutter, pulling your ID from your pocket and handing it to him.

He scans it without a word, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the scanner. “If you’re grabbing something, make it quick,” he says, his voice laced with a playful chuckle. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?” He adds a wink for good measure, making the suggestion feel almost like a dare.

You step out into the hallway, the noise of the lecture hall fading behind you. For a moment, the weight of the class lifts from your shoulders, and you allow yourself to relax. You focus on the vending machine in front of you, half-stalling, half-actually needing something to take your mind off the dull lecture and the growing pressure of the equation you still can’t wrap your head around.

You scan the rows of snacks—chips, candy bars, granola. You grab the chocolate bar you always go for when you need something quick. You buy it, but as you clutch the candy and step away from the machine, you remember Sirius’ words, his playful tone still echoing in your mind. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?”

You pause, eyeing your snack. An impulse hits you, and you decide to grab a pack of sour gummies from the row below. It’s different from what you’d normally get, but you figure it’s a safe bet. Plus, you’d hate to go back empty-handed after he asked, even if he was joking.

With both snacks in hand, you head back into the lecture hall. The familiar hum of the room greets you, but this time it feels different. The pressure in your chest has lifted, replaced with an unexpected calm. You’re grateful to find the professor already discussing the next topic when you return.

You make your way to your seat, but before you sit down, you glance toward the front of the room. Sirius is still hunched over his laptop, typing with the same detached concentration as always. His attention is on the screen, but when he hears you approach, he looks up just in time to catch your eye.

You raise the pack of sour gummies slightly, as if to confirm you heard him. “Brought you something.”

His eyebrow quirks in surprise, but the smirk that follows is unmistakable. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a quiet chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned. You actually came through.” His gaze flickers between the gummies and your face, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious under his attention.

“They’re for you,” you say, offering him the pack. “Hope you like them.”

Sirius grins, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment as he takes the gummies. “Thanks. This’ll make the rest of this lecture bearable,” he says with a wink. “Thanks, love.”

You smile, a little shy, your cheeks flushing at the nickname. You return to your seat as he rips open the pack, popping a gummy in his mouth. The subtle exchange is enough to keep your mind from wandering back to the looming equation on the board.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur.

Professor Fancourt drones on as usual, but you don’t mind so much now. For once, you actually feel... lighter. Sirius hasn’t left his post at the front of the room, but every so often, you catch him glancing back at you with a quiet grin, as if he knows exactly how much of an effect he’s having on you. It turns your cheeks even darker, and your eyes quickly dart away when you make eye contact.

By the time the class ends, you’re no longer dreading the idea of coming back next week. In fact, you might even look forward to it a little, and not just because of the observation lab on Friday.

[leonhardt-simp]

Nightmares.

[werewolf au]|Angst & Fluff|Scenario

— werewolf! ymir x f! reader

summary: Sometimes nightmares happen and when they do, you’re glad you have Ymir to come comfort you.

author’s note: Some well needed fluff after not posting for practically a year. Happy that Ymir finally gets a werewolf au fic? :) 🍧

“Fuck!” You whisper-yelled, hiding behind the kitchen counter.

The thuds were loud, hearing the monstrous snarl of a beast that had no place within your home. You were terrified.

Your heart raced in your chest as if searched for you, holding your bloody arm from the wound it managed to land on you. You looked around frantically, trying to desperately look for something that could be of use to defend yourself…

That’s when you heard it again. A loud crash of furniture that slammed into a wall, hearing the wood chips break away and fall to the ground with a loud bang. You closed your eyes tight, starting to hyperventilate from the impeding doom. You felt powerless. You were prey and this predator was hunting you. It could smell your metallic scent from the blood gushing from your arm. Everything sense felt heightening.

Your ears picked up every little sound, every thud and scratch. You could feel how wet your sleeve felt as it clung to your skin from the blood soaking through. It felt like a wet weighted blanket keeping you stuck in place with how it shackled you down to the wooden floors of your once shared kitchen.

Your body shook with anxiety and fear, hand clenching onto your wound as if that would prevent what was going to happen…

And then suddenly, the sounds of nails tapped across the wooden floors stopped. Tension halting for a brief second while you opened your eyes. You took a quick panicked glance from behind the kitchen counter, breath heavily and head light with adrenaline.

With a cautious eye, you took in every detail of the kitchen. It was quiet…

Then you felt your body tense and your heart and stomach drop.

“Grrr…”

The throaty growl and snarl sounded above you, making your head abruptly snap up to meet the beast that stood crawled over the counter. Teeth were bared and bloody, a gauntly beast with eyes of malice and hunger.

Then it attacked. You swore you could feel the hefty weight of the beast and its claws digging into your body. Your eyes widening at the mouth that immediately opened to attack at your face.

…

“Y/N!” Ymir suddenly shook you awake. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up quick, holding your neck and struggling to breathe. You felt a phantom pain there somehow… Your heart racing a million miles per hour.

“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.” Ymir held your face, the warmth of her palms making your nerves seem to try and refocus on the familiarity.

Ymir saw the fear in your eyes, “Baby… Look at me. Focus on me and your breathing.” She instructed. Her thumbs caressed your cheeks and your E/C eyes met with the brown comforting pools of the brunette’s eyes.

Her tone was hushed, sitting up in bed a bit to focus on you and what you needed. She knew you had nightmares from time to time.

They started ever since you started running alongside her. You feared the story of many unfortunate people becoming victim of such hungry beasts. How sometimes people went missing or attacks that were published to the news of “Bear attacks” happening to innocent campers. You knew the truth though. She knew you didn’t fear her but… The others? The ones outside the pack?… Those were ones to fear. A lone wolf was more dangerous than a pack…

and it shook you to the bone to even think of being caught somewhere at the wrong time.

You stared deep at Ymir’s face, taking deep breaths and counting the seconds before Ymir would gently instruct you to release that held breath.

“There we go… Good girl…” Ymir softly spoke, caressing the side of your face again. The touch, now fully processed, made you melt with ease. You held the hand close, nuzzling your face against the palm of it.

Comfort welcomed you into a close embrace, your head resting against Ymir’s chest. “Same dream again…?” Ymir asked, her hand gently stroking through your hair.

You nodded, taking shaky deep breaths to calm your nerves. Your eyes closed and you nuzzled into the freckled wolf’s embrace.

“…I don’t know… Maybe, I’m just being… Paranoid…?” You softly spoke, tone filled with a shaky break. You were both exhausted emotionally and mentally, having dreams like that often took a lot out of you.

Ymir could see that. She knew you too well.

“You have every reason to be cautious, Y/N...” Ymir quietly reassured. You felt a hand gently grab ahold of yours, a quiet caress of Ymir’s thumb making you ease down.

Ymir gently held your hand with her other arm around your shoulders. Instinctively, you laid your head on her chest. The irregular heartbeat providing a sense of relief at the fact that it was all just a dream.

“I wouldn’t let anyone of those stray punks lay a hand on you though...” The mere idea of Ymir even letting a lone wolf get close to you slightly boiled her blood. “Not in a million years.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair and down the back of her neck.

You looked up at her with a softened gaze, your hand soon reaching up to cup the side of her face. Her eyes closed habitually, her face leaning into that touch like a touch-starved puppy.

“I promise… You’re safe.” Her voice was quiet and her eyes opened to look deeply into your own. You knew Ymir. You knew her way too well. She always promised and kept promises… So, hearing her promise this… You calmed down.

“I know…” You softly exhaled. Those shakes were gone and you felt like a weight was lifted. The scary thoughts were put back in their box for now.

The both of you got settled back in a snuggled with your limbs intermingled, your head on her chest with a hand slipped underneath her shirt to feel that comforting warmth. “I love you, Ymir…” You hummed, feeling all those nerves from earlier blow away with the sound of your room fan blowing and the warmth of Ymir’s tanned skin beneath your fingertips.

However, Ymir was already snoring away with her head tilted back on your shared pillows. The little noise shocked you and made you look up at her with a surprised glance, soon letting out a little breathy laugh once you realized.

You couldn’t blame her. Your tossing and turning probably kept her up late with worry. You knew she loved you though. No one else held you close or looked at you with all the love in the world like she did.

With a little kiss to the sleeping girl’s face, you got back into your spot nestled into her side and closed your eyes letting yourself drift away and get that much needed rest.

[fic-heaven]

Fangs (Gus x reader) chapter 3. Spoiler :

🐥A conversation between your twin brother and Gaz.

.

"As adults we make our own decisions. But I must selfishly ask this of you, sergeant..."

"Wha'?"

"Please don't abandon my sister like I did."

Gaz turned around. He couldn't help but widen his eyes. It's clear you and Garrett were twins but seeing him up close with the sunlight coming from the hall's windows made the resemblance all the more remarking. The eyebrows, the eyes, the nose, the lips...The sad expression, though his was more noticeable. Kyle looked away with a bitter half smile before he retorted.

"You can't amend your past decisions on me."

"I am not."

"Listen, man. I'm not some short of-... Second chance. You can't expect me to do whatever you tell me t' do in order ta' heal your traumas." The young soldier pointed out taking a step closer and digging a finger on the other male's chest. "Get fucking checked. Then, I may listen."

The moment Gaz turned Garrett grunted latching an arm around the sergeant's making him turn harshly and grab the doctor by the collar.

"You are scared-" Gaz arched a threatening brow at this making Garrett rectify "You are worried. I know the full story, Kyle..."

That seemed to crack something in Gaz, as he let go of the heaving doctor.

"Of course I'm worried. You haven't seen what I've seen..." He muttered in a defeated tone, and your brother stood in silence but with a very invested look urging Gaz to continue.

"After what happened with Hassan... She changed drastically. We could be joking or doing any fucking thing we usually did and she'd space out or act like... Like she was fakin'." The sergeant looked down, his cap shadowing his face compleatly as his hands fondled with his gloves. "I remember the time we came back to the base after the very first mission we had after Hassan... How she showered, did her paperwork and headed to the mess hall. There was this old tv there, we found it in the garbage months back." He explained letting out a small chuckle at the memory of you and Johnny trying to convince Price to bring it even though none of you knew how to repair it.

"I asked her to join me so we could talk and she just said she had to watch this stupid program she had been waiting to watch for a long time..." He went quiet for a moment. Garrett furrowed but listened intently. "An hour later I came back and she'd be sitting on the old couch blankly looking at the black screen... Probably staring at her own reflection as soldiers passed by and talked shit... I couldn't bare it-" He choked out and the doctor sympathized.

PTSD.

"Was that the moment you distanced yourself from (y/n)?"

"No." The brit quickly responded. "I stood back the morning after we found the people who had bad-mouthed her beaten gravely, BITTEN, bloodied and resigning from their posts. They spent hours at Price's office, he made 'em promise they wouldn't say a word."

"A word about what?" Asked the doctor.

"About (Y/n) beating them almost to death after they called her a fucking cannibal?" He replied with the most sarcastic tone. Garrett knew this deeply affected the Brit, so it didn't get to him. They stayed there in silence until Gaz spoke again.

"Next mission she almost got as all killed. She was too distracted with her own bloodbath she didn't listen a word Price said. Only Ghost managed to refocus her attention to the main task. Since then, him and Price monitored her closely while all of us feared she'd mistake us for the enemy... How can I trust my battle sister if she's... Loosing herself?" He trembles "It's like... Even in death, Hassan keeps fucking with us... She killed him but he killed something in her as well as her image."

It was the pain in Gaz's voice. The sincerity, the raw ache what made the doctor clear his throat, look down and finally plant a hand to the other man's shoulder.

"Have you thought that, perhaps... (Y/n) is still stuck in that room with Hassan? That, in her mind, she's still fighting with him, and the less support she receives the clearer the defeat gets?"

Gaz slowly looked up at Garrett with a perplexed expression.

"You are more of a brother for her than I've ever been. You were present, supportive to a point. She trusts you." The steadiness in which Garrett spoke was one of a true professional psychologist, but the emotions radiating from his vulnerable gaze uncovered his inner child, a twin brother that ached for his long lost sister, his other half. And saw himself reflected in Kyle Garrick.

"You feel her pain as if it belongs to you, Kyle. You two may hold a bond like ours as twins... But stronger. Do you love her?"

"She was-" Gaz clears his throat "She's like a sister...Of course I fucking love her..."

"She is our sister. Do take care of one another. Don't run, don't do as I did...Trust my words. The pain will never lessen, it will only increase the furthest you try to leave her behind."

[azertyrobaz]

Comfortember 2022 - Day#7: Comfort Item

This prompt reminded me of something I touched upon briefly in an old fic (here on ao3 if you want to read it), so I decided to develop it a bit more here. Hope you enjoy! (And also yes, I know, technically this is a day late but I’ll try posting a second one today. :D)

************

“Ah bah,” cooed the child in his sleep, ears drooped and soft toy held tightly in his claws. Din stared at the small boy as he made himself more comfortable in his lap and tried to refocus on the instruments in front of him – they’d be dropping out of hyperspace soon.

He had been cleaning the Crest several months back when he came across old belongings. Some of them very old. He needed to make room for new things – who knew such a tiny baby actually required so much stuff? – and he’d been putting it off for too long. Din liked keeping things. They could prove useful one day. Maybe.

At one point, he came across clothes. And for mysterious reasons, Grogu, who’d of course been tagging along and generally making himself a tripping hazard any chance he got, had latched onto a red, patched-up, and barely recognizable rag immediately, claiming it as his own on the spot.

It took Din several painful minutes to realize that it was the top he had been wearing on the day he was rescued by the Mandalorians.

Somehow, it became the boy’s favorite blanket. It now wouldn’t leave his side and he held onto it as he slept. There had been no reasoning with him. It was as if the little one had felt the power the outfit still held over him. An outfit he had never been able to part from, in the end. Managing to retain it after all these years, even if it was completely misshapen by now.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered, stroking a plump cheek. “You don’t want to miss it.”

The boy groggily sat up in his lap and Din held onto him tightly as they exited hyperspace.

“Ahhhh,” he cheered happily, admiring the pretty colors of a nearby supernova. This was one of the prettiest star systems Din knew, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to him.

“So what do you think?” he asked, and Grogu nodded, pleased, the soft red sweater still enveloping him.

[vintagedean]

oh, dont worry !! i genuinely dont mind the time part, ill be glad to read whatever you write whenever you post it <33 im not sure if you write fem!dean, but if yes, then my prompt is deanjohn w fem!dean!!

all right, anon. i HIGHLY doubt this is what you wanted for fem!dean, but it's what I have. i imagine this as a first chapter to a much longer fic, but im not sure how much interest folks are going to have in this, and whether or not i should prioritize it. but....here's your fill lol.

-----

Deanna shouldn’t be surprised when it happens. When the tell-tale signs begin to appear. Dad likes to cum inside her, bare, and she’s shit at remembering to take her pill, so it’s really no one’s fault but their own when Deanna finds herself hurtling to the bathroom one Tuesday morning to throw up the piece of toast she’d choked down ten minutes before. When she realizes she can’t remember the last time she had her period. When she finds herself standing in the family planning aisle of the nearest drug store.

The little blue plus that stares Deanna down in the bathroom of their backwater no-tell motel feels like one of god’s meaner jokes.

Sam’s at school while Deanna reckons with the truth. She’s grateful for the privacy when the first tear slips down her cheek, fat and warm. She can’t quite fathom that there’s life inside her. That she made that with Dad. It feels a little bit like magic. It feels like the end of her life. Deanna let’s herself cry on the bathroom floor for an hour. Then she tries to make a plan.

She doubts she can get any care in a town like the one Dad’s left them in, and the idea of it makes her skin crawl anyway. Everyone’s got to make their own decision, but Deanna’s seen too much loss to voluntarily add what’s in her belly to the tally. Still, she’s not stupid enough to think she can manage hunting and motherhood, and Dad’s only got room for one.

Bobby, she thinks. Maybe I can stay with Bobby. Maybe he won’t ask questions.

She knows the odds of this going in her favor are slim to none, but if there’s one thing her daddy raised, it’s a problem solver. Deanna’s gonna figure this out.

By the time Sam gets back, Deanna has managed to barricade her anxiety behind a steel wall in her mind and refocus on the things that need her immediate attention. Laundry, supply inventory, Sam’s homework. The baby isn’t coming for 9 months; she’s got other shit to worry about.

Sam knows something is up, keeps throwing Deanna side glances like he’s waiting for her to say something, but Deanna can’t bring herself to confess a damn word. She doesn’t know how Sam is going to react to the fact Dad got her pregnant, but she imagines it won’t be good. And she thinks Sam’s going to lose it for sure when she tells him she wants to keep it.

Dad’s too tired to notice anything when he walks through the door two hours later. Deanna’s at his side immediately, helping him out of his jacket and assessing for any injuries.

“I’m good, baby,” Dad says as he steps away from Deanna. “Just need a shower and some food.”

Deanna takes the hint and grabs her wallet from her purse. She pulls out $10. “Sam: dinner.”

He takes the money with only a minimal eye roll, grabbing his jacket and keys. “Back in a jiff,” he mutters.

Dad waits for Sam to leave before looking at Deanna and saying, “I want my shower, and then I want you.”

She flushes at the words. “Yes, Daddy.”

Dad’s shower is quick, so Deanna works quicker. She does a last minute sweep of the room, throwing away things she should have tossed before Dad got back, putting a few more beers in the fridge for later. Then she undresses, keeping her pale green panties on, and lays on Dad’s bed. She can’t help but look down at her stomach while she waits. Her daddy put a baby there.

Dad comes out ten minutes later naked as the day he was born. There is no towel slung around his hips, blurring the view of his hardened cock. His skin shines with the last remnants of water missed during his hasty dry down. The big purpley bruise on his chest is perfectly visible, and stark against the pale of his skin. Deanna’s mouth waters. He’s only been gone a week, but Deanna feels like she’s lived a lifetime in a day, and so his single week feels like so much more.

Dad joins her on the bed, straddling Deanna’s thighs, and hooks his fingers into her panties.

“These are cute,” he says, thumbing at the little bow in front. “Match your eyes.”

“I did that on purpose,” Deanna says with a smile.

“Sure,” Dad snorts, clocking the fib. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” Deanna whispers. I’m pregnant she almost tacks on. It’s yours.

“We don’t have much time,” murmurs Dad as he tugs at her underwear. “And I need to be inside you.”

Deanna nods, raising her hips.

It’s strange to have sex knowing what she knows. It feels dishonest, almost, to let Dad fit inside her unprotected. It’s always been how they’ve done it, from the very first time. They’d been lucky then, as they had been many times after, and Deanna hadn’t gotten pregnant. The very next day Dad had shown up with a morning after pill and taken her to a clinic to get some birth control, and she’d been more or less taking it every day since.

But consistency matters with shit like this, and consistent Deanna had not been. And now here she was knocked up at nineteen and making the exact same decision. Though, she figures it doesn’t much matter now. Dad could fill her so full of cum her belly ached with it, and the damage would already be done. No use crying over spilt milk.

They’re still at it when Sam gets back. He opens the door, swears, and slams it shut again. Deanna laughs, giddy with how close she is to orgasm, and revels in the way Dad picks up the pace after the intrusion. It’s nothing Sam hasn’t seen before, but no need to let the food get cold.

Dad cums a moment later, grunting into Deanna’s neck. She rakes her hands down his back as his seed spills inside her. God, we’re having a baby.

“You done?” Sam shouts through the door.

“Almost,” Deanna chokes out.

Dad pulls out of her and moves to her side. “Touch yourself.”

Deanna follows the command, fingertips finding her clit as Dad leans over her chest and takes a nipple in his mouth. It’s good—it’s so good—the way he tongues at her and sucks. His mouth is hot and wet, and so is her pussy, and it’s only another moment before Deanna is cumming with a shout.

It’s the only cue Sam needs before reentering the room. “It’s fucking cold out there,” he snaps, tossing the bag of food on the table.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dad says, a small smile on his face making clear he doesn’t feel sorry at all. He runs a finger across Deanna’s overstimulated clit and down between her lips, playing with the slick there. Deanna shivers and sighs.

“I’m trying to eat,” Sam says, and Deanna grabs Dad’s wrist.

“Come on,” she says.

Dad leans over and kisses her. “Fine.”

She watches him get off the bed and dig around for a clean pair of boxers.

“The other bag,” she instructs. “I did laundry today.”

Dad gets dressed as Deanna finally gets off the bed and heads for the bathroom. She’s pees, wiping away at the cum that slips out of her now that she’s upright, and double checks there’s no evidence of the pregnancy test she took earlier. Then she comes back out of the bathroom.

Dad put her clothes back on the bed while she cleaned up, and so Deanna redresses, noting he’s not given her back her underwear. She eyes him while she puts on her pants, and rolls her eyes when Dad simply eyes her right back.

Dinner is burgers from the cheapest place Sam could find, and Deanna picks at hers while Sam and Dad put away their shares. She thinks it’s too early to feel weird about food, but then again, she has no idea what to expect. A wave of terror for what she’s gotten herself into pushes against the steel wall in her mind.

“You good?” asks Sam, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Deanna answers. I’m really not.

Under the table, Dad puts a hand on her thigh and squeezes lightly. Deanna offers him a small nod and then pushes her food away. “Not hungry today. You can split the rest.” She leaves the small table, ignoring both Sam and Dad’s questioning looks, and heads to the couch to review the shopping list she’d put together earlier and assess how much money they’ve got. She already knows, but she needs something to do.

Oh, god, she thinks as she counts bills. How will we ever afford a baby?

That night, in bed, they fuck again. It’s slower this time, more like making love. Sam’s asleep–at least Deanna thinks he is–but Dad keeps a hand against her mouth to muffle her sighs anyway. This is the most they can do for privacy, waiting until it’s dark and doing their best to keep their mouths shut. If Sam is awake, Deanna is sure he can hear the wet slide of her father’s cock moving in and out of her, but there’s nothing else for it. Dad wants what he wants, when he wants, and Deanna wants it too.

He comes inside of her again, but doesn’t pull out so soon. Deanna had come before Dad, so there’s no reason for him to attend to her beyond what he’s already done. He lays on top of her, a heavy, intimate weight, and keeps his softening cock as a dam in her pussy, sealing his seed momentarily within.

Later, when Dad has finally pulled out and tucked the both of them properly into bed, Deanna feels her father’s hand come to rest on her belly. He’s done this before, so it’s not a foreign sensation, but the new context makes her stiffen at the touch.

She’s always sort of wondered if Dad got off on the idea of getting Deanna pregnant, if that was why he insisted on not wearing a condom and coming inside. If that was why his hand sometimes found its way on the small round of her stomach afterwards. But she’s never asked, too afraid of his answer. Deanna’s not sure she can deal with the idea that Dad may have intentionally created opportunities to knock her up. Isn’t sure she can handle what that might suggest.

Intentionally or not, it’s happened now. Dad got Deanna pregnant. She doesn’t feel any different, not really. But in some ways, Deanna now feels like an entirely different person.

There’s a baby growing inside her.

How is she supposed to tell her father? How is she supposed to tell Sam?

Deanna weaves her fingers with Dad’s and hopes he can’t tell that there are tears streaming down her cheeks. The steel wall she’d built to contain her panic crumbles in the dark of their motel room, as the seed from their most recent coupling trickles out from between her lips.

Deanna has no idea what she’s going to do.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

[marauders-venting]

Happy Birthday Moony

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warning: i don’t think there are any but if anybody sees something i should add please let me know

words: 2288

summary: it’s Remus’ birthday and his friends throw him a party. it’s not big or chaotic, just his close friends. Remus prefers it that way. but despite how much he has been enjoying this day, he can’t stop thinking about Sirius, pining for him. but Remus is determined not to let those feelings get in the way.

a/n: this is the first oneshot i’ve written. it’s definitely not my best piece of work and i’m not sure how much i like it. but i was determined to post something for remus’ birthday so here it is. i hope some people enjoy it (although i don’t really have any followers so i don’t know who i expect to see this but if you do read it, i’m open to any comments/tips/criticism from anybody but please be nice)(also i hope i did the tags right)

Remus was watching Sirius. He couldn’t help it. It was his birthday after all. He should be allowed to watch whomever he wanted to. He stared at the line of Sirius’ jaw, the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his blue-grey eyes, the flush in his cheeks as he took another sip of alcohol. Remus watched Sirius, he noticed these things, but he was constantly reminding himself that Sirius was not his to watch.

He had had a good day, really he had. His friends had decorated their dorm with balloons and banners for his birthday, they had showered him with birthday wishes and gifts, they threw him a party but not something big and loud; it was just Remus’ friends, the other three marauders and Lily, Mary, Marlene, Dorcas and Alice. Remus preferred it that way, smaller, fewer people. But the size didn’t make the celebration any less of a party. There was music being played, dances being dances, songs being sung, games being played, alcohol being drunk. Remus was happy. But if he was happy, why couldn’t he stop thinking about his unrequited crush for one second?

Peter had brought a cake from the kitchens. Nobody knew how he managed to get it but nobody was questioning or complaining about his methods. There were sixteen candles on the cake.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” Alice said as Remus blew out the candles. Remus didn’t make a wish. He didn’t believe in making wishes. When he was younger, he used to wish for the same thing every birthday: that his lycanthropy would go away. But the years passed and Remus’ wish never came true, so Remus stopped making wishes altogether. It was easier to just not hope for anything. But if Remus was given a single wish right now, he’d wish for Sirius, that Sirius would love him in the same way that he loved Sirius. And every moment that Remus spent staring at Sirius made it more and more difficult to accept that he’d never get his wish.

So Remus tries to refocus his attention on the conversation.

“James, pass me a beer,” Marlene said, holding out her hand. James tosses her a beer and she tries to catch it but doesn’t even come close. She picks it up off the floor, magicks the cap off and takes a sip.

“Marlene, did you just miss a catch?” Lily asks, her shock dramatically exaggerated.

“I did not,” Marlene insists, her arms crossed.

“How drunk are you, Marlene?” Remus asks, smirking.

“Better be careful, Marly,” Dorcas says. “If you drop the Quaffle like that at next week's match, James will kick you off the team.”

“Hey, I am not that mean,” James protests. “I wouldn’t kick her off the team.” Dorcas snorts.

“No, no he’s right,” Peter says, seriously. “He wouldn’t kick Marlene off the team, he’d have her head. And then he wouldn’t need to kick her off the team because headless people can’t play Quidditch.”

“You guys are being ridiculous; I’m not that bad,” James says defensively. “I just… really like winning. So I get a little bit strict.”

“Yeah, ok,” Sirius snorts. Then he goes into full story-telling mode. “It was our third year. We lost the match to Ravenclaw because that one kid, Dawson, tried to hit the Bludger at Ravenclaw’s seeker but missed and they caught the snitch. Afterwards, James, you come up to me and say, and I quote, ‘Dawson should be kicked off the team.’ And I was like, ‘ok mate, don’t you think that’s kind of harsh?’ And you just shrugged and said, ‘it’s what I would do if I were the captain’. Just cause he messed up! One time! So yeah, you are that bad, Prongsie.”

“Wha— how do you even remember— oh you know what, fuck all of you,” James grumbles.

“Don’t worry, we all still love you,” Sirius adds, reaching out his hand to ruffle James' hair. He stands up to get another slice of cake and Remus’ eyes linger on him until continuing to stare at Sirius would have meant having to turn his head 180 degrees.

“I’m bored,” Mary says. “Let’s play a game.”

“Truth or Dare,” Lily pipes up. Peter groans.

“That is literally the worst game on the planet,” he says. “And we always play it.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Lily says, glaring at him. Peter says nothing. “Didn’t think so. Truth or Dare it is. Remus, it’s your birthday so you can ask first.”

“Ok,” Remus says. “Alice, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Fuck, I thought you’d say Dare. Damn it, I don’t have any good Truths for you.”

“Oh, oh, I have one,” Dorcas says. She leans towards Remus and whispers the Truth in his ear.

“Fine,” Remus says. “But only because I couldn’t think of anything better. How long have you liked Frank and when exactly do you plan on asking him out?” Alice turns red and slaps Dorcas on the arm. Dorcas cackles.

“Oh come on, it was so obvious,” she says. “Now answer the question.”

“Fine. I’ve liked him for… I don’t know. A couple of weeks maybe? I’m not keeping track. And I plan on asking him out never,” Alice says. “My turn.”

“Wait, what? Why won’t you ask him out?” Sirius’ voice comes from right behind Remus, making him jump. “Sorry Moony,” Sirius adds, putting his hand on Remus’ shoulder, steadying him. Remus still feels the touch even after Sirius removes his hand. He tries to shake it off.

“Pads, have you ever met Alice?” Remus says, turning around to face him. “When was the last time she asked out a guy?” Alice was pointing at Remus, indicating that he was exactly right.

“But why not?” Sirius asked.

“Because,” Alice said. “I don’t know. It’s too nerve-wracking. If he likes me, then he’ll ask me out. And if not then I’ll just move on, I guess?”

“Or you could just ask him out yourself,” Mary chimed in.

“Or not,” Alice says. “It’s my turn now, so shush. Dorcas—” Alice turns to face her, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Dorcas says.

“I dare you to stand up on the bench at breakfast tomorrow, cast Sonorus on yourself and start singing a Muggle song.”

“Challenge accepted,” Dorcas says. “But I don’t know any Muggle songs so one of you is going to have to find me one.”

“I have one for you,” Mary says. “Dancing Queen by ABBA.”

“Oooooo yes,” Lily says, nodding in agreement.

“Teach it to me then,” Dorcas says.

“I can play it now.” Mary taps the record player sitting in the corner of the common room with her wand and the song starts playing. The girls stand up and start dancing and James joins in before long. Remus waits for Sirius to do the same, given that Sirius never misses the opportunity to show off his dancing skills. But he doesn’t.

“Remus,” Sirius’ voice whispers from behind him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, still keeping his voice down

“Sure.” Sirius takes Remus by the arm and pulls him towards the stairs of the dormitories. The others are too caught up in the singing and the dancing to notice them leaving. The touch of Sirius’ hand on Remus’ bare arm is enough to make Remus dizzy. It burns and Remus craves more. He wants more than arms touching, more than accidental bumps of the hand.

“I wanted to give you your birthday present,” Sirius says, after closing the dormitory door. He hands Remus a beautifully wrapped package. Remus slowly opens the wrapping paper, careful not to tear any of it. Inside is a book. A book that Remus had been talking about non-stop for the past five months. It was by his favourite Muggle author and had been published just two days ago.

“Sirius,” Remus says, turning over the book in his hand, “how did you even get this?” Sirius shrugs.

“On Wednesday I snuck into Hogsmeade, took that Muggle thing that you taught me how to ride—”

“A bus?”

“Yes, that thing. I found the nearest bookshop and waited with a crowd of people until they finally opened and, y’know, shoved people out of the way so I could get a copy before they ran out. Mind you, I’m pretty sure I nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy when I paid for it. I've got no clue how to use Muggle money. I’m pretty sure the guy at the cash register thought I was insane.”

“Sirius,” Remus says again, “this is just… incredible. Absolutely incredible. You are incredible. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Sirius says shrugging. “But I wanted to. You deserve it, Remus. Also, this was the only way to get you to shut up about that goddamn book.” Remus laughs.

“If you think that I’m going to shut up about it now that I actually have it you are sorely mistaken,” Remus says and now it’s Sirius’ turn to laugh. Remus catches himself staring at the way Sirius’ mouth looks when he laughs. The way the edges of his lips curve up into a smile before they part, revealing white teeth; the way Sirius’ grey eyes light up, the smile in his eyes just as telling as the smile in his mouth; the way the happy, bubbly sound of Sirius’ laughter makes Remus’ glow inside.

Remus looks away, his face flushed. He shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“I have one more present for you,” Sirius starts, and Remus can hear his voice shake ever so slightly, “But only if… only if you want it.” Remus is facing Sirius but his head is tilted towards the ground. He can’t quite meet Sirius’ eye.

“Pads, you’ve given me more than enough…”

“Shhh,” Sirius says, and he places a finger on Remus’ lips to silence him. It works. Remus has been effectively shocked into silence. He feels frozen like he couldn’t say another word even if he wanted to.

“Remus,” Sirius whispers. “Look at me.” He tilts Remus’ chin so Remus has no chance but to look Sirius in the eyes. “Look at me.” And then, without warning, without a second’s hesitation, Sirius kisses him. And Remus freezes on the spot. For a moment, Sirius has very literally taken his breath away. But as soon as Sirius’ thumb brushes his cheek, Remus feels himself relaxing. And it feels familiar even though it’s new. It feels so right. But just as Remus’ is getting used to the feeling of Sirius’ lips on his, Sirius pulls away almost as quickly as he came in. Remus feels frozen again. Like he can’t move a single muscle in his body. But inside this frosty exterior, a fire is raging, wanting more. More of Sirius’ burning touch that fuels the flames, more of his lips that melt the world as they connect with Remus’. More of Sirius. His disappointment at the abrupt end of the kiss must show on his face. But Sirius completely misinterprets it.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, backing away from Remus and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why… I’m sorry Remus. Just forget about it.” This snaps Remus out of his frozen state.

“No, no, no please don’t be sorry,” he says, begging Sirius to have meant the kiss. “Please, please don’t be sorry, Sirius.” And Remus feels like words are failing him because he can’t express how much he needs Sirius to have wanted that kiss, how much he needs the wanting that he felt in that kiss to be real for Sirius too. He can’t express it in words, but Sirius is looking at him with his penetrating grey eyes and he’s still so close. Close enough to kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” Remus asks. Sirius’ eyes meet his. He nods. So Remus does. He gives in to the fire, he gives the fire exactly what it wants. And Sirius gives him more this time too. Sirius’ hands find Remus’ neck. They travel down to his back, slowly making their way to Remus’ waist. So Remus’ hands, seemingly of their own accord, slide up into Sirius’ hair, pulling Sirius in, taking more and more. And all the while, their lips are pressed together and when Remus’ lips part in a sigh he feels his face heat but Remus barely has time for self-conscious thoughts before Sirius is slipping his tongue into Remus’ mouth, making all of the thoughts slip out of Remus’ brain; Sirius is all that remains. Sirius is all that there ever was, all that there is and all that there ever will be. And Remus is perfectly fine with that. And when they finally break apart, they’re both breathless.

“I love you, Remus,” Sirius says, his fingers grazing Remus’ cheek. “I’m in love with you.” Remus feels his breath catch (yet again) because no, this is too good to be true.

“Are you drunk?” Remus asks.

“I’m drunk enough that I had the guts to do this,” Sirius says, shrugging, “but not so drunk that you should have any reason not to believe me when I tell you that I’ve wanted this for so long. That I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Are you sure?” Remus asks and his voice comes as a whisper because that’s all he can muster.

“Positive.”

“I love you too,” Remus says. He takes Sirius’ hand, letting their fingers lace together and feeling a warmth spread from the tips of his fingers to the rest of his body.

“Happy birthday, Moony,” Sirius says, leaning in to kiss Remus again, granting the birthday wish that Remus had been too afraid to make.

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 11

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/624011835356626944/the-long-way-around-chapter-10

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2552

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

Even from many hundreds of yards away, I can smell the blood in Carlisle’s briefcase as clearly as if it were in my own hands. A whine leaves me. I want it.

“Fight it,” Jasper commands from my side. He and Emmett flank me, ready to stop me from getting to the bag of human blood if my instincts win and I go running towards it. Right now, I’d say the chances are about fifty-fifty. And shrinking.

Carlisle reaches into his briefcase, ready to pull the bag out.

“No not yet, she doesn’t have it.” Edward stands a few paces in front of Carlisle, monitoring me, and my thoughts, closely. Ugh he must think I’m so weak.

“It’s alright, it’s only natural,” he calls back, though he sounds annoyed.

I force myself to refocus. Eyes on the prize, Y/n. You can do this. You want to be in control more than you want human blood. You don’t want to be a dangerous person. You can do this.

Edward’s nod to Carlisle is nearly imperceptible. Carlisle opens the briefcase once more, only this time, he succeeds in bringing the stiff, half-frozen bag out into the sunlight.

Its scent hits me in the face and the burn in my throat increases tenfold. I drop into a crouch. I want it. It’s mine, it’s mine.

No!

With a snarl, I shake my head, forcing myself to cling to my human wants instead of my carnal, vampire wants.

You want to be able to go shopping with Rose and Esme. You want to go see a movie with Alice and Arthur. You want to have an actual date with Jasper. You’ve got this.

Carlisle opens the bag.

My humanity leaves me, and the monster within emerges full force. I rush towards the human blood. So sweet, so tempting.

Someone grabs me and forces me to the ground. Get off, get off, get off!

“Mine,” I snarl. The voice doesn’t even sound like me.

Someone cries out in pain, and the hands leave me. The noise breaks through the fog in my brain. It sounds like someone I know, someone I care about…Jasper!

Somehow, my worry for Jasper overrides the allure of human blood. I force myself to stop running forward, and turn back.

Jasper sits on the ground, managing to look stunned and pained at the same time, clutching his right shoulder. Carlisle is at his side a second later. I don’t look for the bag of blood, but its scent is a bit fainter now. Did he throw it? Maybe I should go looking…Jasper’s harsh breaths draw me back to the present. Somehow, I hurt him. Knowing I’ve caused him such pain makes my stomach hurt. I sink to my knees slowly on his other side, not even sure he wants to be around me right now.

“I’m so sorry. I-what did I do? Did I bite you?”

Jasper shakes his head, looking both starkly confused and fascinated. “No, I’m not in pain anymore. Just for a second, it felt like my arm had been ripped off.”

Edward nods from his stance in front of us. “It all happened very fast. He grabbed Y/n, she wanted him gone, and then he got hit with the pain. Vivid, realistic pain. If I hadn’t looked at him and seen his arm perfectly in tact, I would’ve guessed from his thoughts that it had been ripped off.”

Carlisle catches on a split second before I do. “You think Y/n had something to do with this?”

I sit back on my heels, staring at the grass. One blade is so much taller than the others.

“Think about it.” Edward’s voice is fainter than before. “There’s no bite marks, Jasper’s arm isn’t really gone. The only thing that could’ve acted as the causal mechanism is Y/n’s thoughts.”

“Perhaps it was a cramp, or-”

“Carlisle, have you ever known a vampire to get a cramp?”

“Wait, hold on. Y/n?” Jasper’s soft voice is close to my ear. “Are you alright?”

I manage to get words out, but they sound all high pitched and squeaky. “I’m a monster.” The breath I don’t really need becomes shallow and quick. Ugh, I wish I could cry! It feels like my insides are crumbling.

Jasper moves his hand soothingly up and down my back. I definitely don’t deserve his comfort, but goodness do I need it.

“You are not a monster.” His tone is firm leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t actually hurt me, you just made me think you did.”

“Like Jane,” Emmett chimes in. Who?

“Not exactly like Jane,” Carlisle muses, sounding cool and collected. “Esme was in real, actual pain yesterday, but it seemed to fade when Y/n was touching her. As soon as Esme moved away from Y/n, the pain returned.”

“So she can inflict the idea of pain but take real pain away? That doesn’t make sense.” Edward’s voice is condescending.

Jasper jumps in, still rubbing my back. “No, I think it might all be in the mind. A few months back, she actually bit me, but when I was touching her it was like I forgot about the pain. It didn’t come back completely until a few minutes after I let go of her.”

“Maybe she can extend her ability beyond her touch, like Bella? It would take practice.” A huge smile spreads across Emmett’s face. “Lots of potential there.”

“Y/n,” Carlisle’s voice is polite, but there’s barely restrained interest. “When you were a human, were you sensitive to others’ physical pain?”

I shake my head slowly, feeling steps behind everyone else who is quickly piecing this together. “My human memories are so fuzzy…but when I was touching Esme, I hurt too. It wasn’t as bad as I imagine an actual bite to be, but I felt something. It was like a stomach ache that didn’t go away until she was out of pain.”

Carlisle shakes his head, eyes wide. “Fascinating.”

My panic flares. “Not fascinating. Terrible,” I wail. “Not only am I a vampire, but I can make people feel like their arm has just been ripped off? What-” I gasp, trying to force myself to calm down. “What am I?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Jasper insists, cupping my face. “We will figure this out, I promise.”

I let out a breath, resting my forehead against his. I’m so grateful for Jasper. Even after I essentially tortured him, he finds it in his heart to forgive and help me. “Thank you.”

Carlisle gently takes Jasper’s arm, giving it one final check to make sure he’s unharmed. Once he’s satisfied, he stands. “Let’s call it a day, shall we? Good work, Y/n. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

I don’t want to go back inside. What I really want is to go deep into the forest where I can freak out in private, but the threat of attack from an unknown vampire prohibits me from doing so. Edward gives me a sympathetic look. I try to brush it off, and stand with the rest of the group. Jasper takes my hand, silently communicating his support. I give it a squeeze, taking extra care to be gentle. I desperately don’t want to hurt him again. He offers me a soft, trusting smile, and I nearly break right then and there.

“Let’s go lie down.”

Following the rest of the group, we head towards the house. Thankfully, everyone else is in town today, so I don’t have to confront any questioning glances. Jasper and I can just go straight up to his room. He shuts the door, giving us a semblance of privacy. Immediately, I fall onto his bed, lying face down. He says nothing, only sits next to me and strokes my hair.

I take a few minutes to think before I speak. I just hate that my special ability is so awful. Edward can read minds, Alice can see the future, Rosalie has awe-inspiring self-control, Jasper can make people feel actual emotions, and I hurt people.

I groan, pushing my face further into Jasper’s duvet. “Why?”

Jasper sends me calming emotions. It’s enough for me to finally sit up and face him.

“It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. Honestly, it could be pretty useful.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t see how hurting you is useful, Jasper.”

He shakes his head, taking one of my hands in his. “Not that. I’m just saying, with the threat from the vampire who attacked Esme…if someone attacked you, you could incapacitate them. I’m not going to lie and say that doesn’t make me feel better.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. But there’s still a more central issue. “I don’t know how to control it, and that makes me dangerous. For all I know, that vampire could attack me and I wouldn’t be able to summon the ability again or whatever and it would be useless. Or, you could take my hand or kiss me and I could hurt you again.”

Jasper pauses, considering. I know his mind is piecing this out strategically. “We’ll have to learn how to induce or activate it. What were you thinking the moments leading up to getting me off of you?” He cleverly avoids acknowledging the pain I caused him, and I’m both grateful and annoyed. Still, I take his question seriously and think.

“I just wanted the blood. You were an obstacle to that, so I wanted you to let go of me.”

He nods quickly. “You were feeling focused, thirsty, desperate, and determined. And you were feeling it all so intensely….What were you thinking when you lessened Esme’s pain?”

My response is automatic. “I just wanted her pain to go away. She was hurting, and I love Esme and wanted her to stop hurting.”

He considers. “Right now, I don’t think the causal mechanism is anything you’re doing intentionally. I think it’s all based on gut reactions. You didn’t consider hurting me, you just wanted me to let go. You didn’t think of ways to stop Esme’s pain, you just deeply wanted it gone. Like most things in this new life, you revert to relying on your instincts.”

I begin to catch on. “So you think it’s like a skill I could learn?”

“Yes. Starting now.” And with that, he holds his arm up to his mouth and bites down, hard.

“Jasper,” I gasp, immediately trying to pull his arm away.

He winces at the pain but makes no move to suck the venom out. I consider doing it myself, but then get the point of his actions. He wants me to stop the pain with my will. I sigh, feeling desperate and ridiculously out of my depth. I do want his pain to stop, but I don’t know how to make it stop. Still, I can try.

Gingerly, trying not to hurt him further, I take his arm in mine once more. I close my eyes, focusing on how badly I want his pain to go away. Please, please, please, please.

“Y/n.”

I open my eyes to find Jasper grinning broadly.

Surprise and disbelief fill me. “It worked? I did it?”

His smile widens and he encircles my waist, pulling me into his lap. “You did it.”

With a smile of my own, I shake my head slowly. “You promise you’re not in pain?”

He rests his forehead on my shoulder and places a soft kiss there. “I don’t feel a thing.”

As my euphoria fades, anger creeps in. “I can’t believe you bit yourself.”

He shrugs, continuing his kisses along my collarbone. “It was for a good cause.”

Good cause, my ass. Enjoy a taste of your own medicine, Whitlock. I bring my own arm to my mouth, but before I can sink my teeth in, Jasper pins my arms behind my back. He gives me a disapproving look, which makes me roll my eyes.

“Seriously?”

He nods, his eyes not leaving mine. “Pain is for me to bear, not you.”

I roll my eyes again, but this time much more halfheartedly. Instead of continuing the tiff, I lean down and kiss him. His hands release my wrists and grip my thighs, pulling me even closer. I hold back a smile at his immediate response and instead allow the desire to flow through me. I will never get tired of kissing him. In the span of less than a second there’s approaching footsteps and a knock at the door. Esme. I practically fly off Jasper, feeling guilty. He chuckles, though he looks equally abashed.

At Jasper’s invitation, Esme opens the door, smiling sweetly. A quick look to my right reveals Jasper’s hair to be a mess, not at all like its usual calm state. Oh man, this is so awkward. Esme doesn’t comment, her smile just brightens. Internally, I groan.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” There’s an edge of humor to her voice, and I want to bury myself under the covers. Or in a hole. “Carlisle, Edward, Bella, and I were going to put on Casablanca, and we were wondering if you would like to join us.”

“Sure, Esme.” Jasper has regained most of his composure. “We’ll be right down.”

“Wonderful!” Esme shuts the door. As soon as I hear her retreating footsteps, I groan and smush a pillow against my face.

“We just got caught by your mom,” I lament. Though as the awkwardness begins to fade, I can laugh about it.

Jasper similarly recovers, and chuckles as he lowers the pillow from my face. “Unfortunately, it’s a normal thing around here.”

I raise my eyebrow, intrigued.

“You’ve noticed that vampire hearing makes private conversations difficult.” I nod. “And you’ll soon catch on that vampire hearing makes private anything difficult.”

Oh.

A nervous laugh escapes me as my eyes widen. “Oh that’s so awkward.” I gasp. “But you can  feel it! Oh my gosh,” I’m properly laughing now. “Poor Jasper.” I stroke his hair, unable to stop my laughter.

He grins, a long-suffering look on his face. “It is unbelievably awkward. Edward and Bella are the worst. And then Edward knows that I know and I know that he knows I know, and it’s just,” he makes a noise, shaking his head and burying it in my shoulder.

I snort and place a kiss on his head. “Well, I’m betting the past few minutes have at least begun his payback.”

Jasper makes a show of closing his eyes and checking. When he opens his eyes, he’s smiling again. “Oh yeah, he’s miserable.”

I grin, placing one last kiss on his lips before standing up and pulling him with me. “Good. Let’s keep that same energy during the movie.”

{***}

It’s not difficult. While the movie plays, Jasper lets his hands run along my neck, over my collarbone, down my sides. It takes quite a lot of effort to pretend to focus on the film.

Halfway through, Edward just gets up and leaves, shooting us a withering look.

Neither Jasper nor I can help feeling smug.

A/n Hello hello! How are you guys? Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx,

Bjr

Link to the next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/624296456441020416/the-long-way-around-chapter-12

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li @femflorals @80strashbag @tomisbaeholland @heyimval13

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Indulgence

Summary: Carlos indulges one of TK's kinks. It turns out really well for them

Inspired by Ronen's tweet about Carlos putting TK in handcuffs

Rating: Explicit, read at your own risk

(seriously this is 2k words of filth)

Cross posted on ao3 here

Carlos Reyes was of the opinion that everything TK did was hot. TK looked hot fighting fires, but he also looked hot tying his damn shoes. It didn’t even matter what he wore. Carlos swore he could walk around wearing a trash bag and still make it work. 

He loved every version of TK but he was particularly partial to dressed up TK. There was something about his boyfriend in a suit that made his knees go weak. 

“You look so good,” Carlos praised as TK met him in the living room, reaching out to straighten his tie. Judd and Grace were hosting a small party at their house in celebration of their tenth wedding anniversary. They’d invited the entire crew, plus Carlos and Judd and Grace’s families. Grace had insisted that they all dress up, which led to suited up TK and drooling Carlos.

“Glad you like it,” TK leaned into his arms, leaning his chin on his chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Seriously babe, looking that good should be illegal.”

“Yeah? You gonna arrest me, officer?” TK nipped at his neck playfully.

“I don’t know,” Carlos flipped them around so that TK’s back was to his chest and he was gripping his wrists. “Is that something you’re into?”

TK made a noise in the back of his throat that he didn’t know he was capable of making and his body went limp, leaning back heavily against Carlos.

“Woah,” Carlos gently turned TK back to face him and cupped his cheeks. “Come back to me space cadet.”

TK’s pupils were blown and it took him a minute to refocus on Carlos.

“Sorry. I uh- I don’t know what happened.”

He tried to pull away but Carlos stopped him.

“Hey. It’s okay baby. Look we don’t have a lot of time,” Carlos glanced at the clock. “But I need you to answer me honestly. Is that something you’re seriously into? Is it something you want to try?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Carlos ran his hands up and down TK’s arms soothingly. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. We don’t have time to talk about this as much as we need to. So we’re gonna go to Judd and Grace’s party, and we’re gonna keep our hands to ourselves,” that bit was spoken as a warning. “Then when we get home we’re gonna have a real discussion about this and then we’ll decide together if it’s something we want to try. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Carlos kissed TK”s temple. “Do you need a minute or are you good?”

“I’m good.”

“Okay, let’s get going before we’re late.”

Carlos kept one hand on TK’s thigh as he drove, partially as a grounding point for TK’s still wandering mind and partially as a promise of what was to come.

TK managed to control himself pretty well, at least better than Carlos thought he would. TK was clingy and touchy at the best of times, but especially when they were planning something -sexy-. A few times Carlos had had to pull TK’s hand away when in wandered too far up his leg and give his boyfriend a warning look. Most of the time that look could put him in his place, but sometimes TK liked to test his patience just to see how far he could go. 

After he removed TK’s hand for the fourth time in the middle of dinner he pushed his chair back and stood, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

He discreetly motioned for TK to follow him and he did, not offering an explanation to everyone else at the table. 

Carlos walked in from the outside patio, going far enough into the house that it looked like he was headed for the kitchen, but out of the way where no one could see them.

He pushed TK against the wall, boxing him in with his arms. 

“Hi,” TK whispered.

“Hi. Baby, what did I tell you before we left?”

“Hands to myself.”

“You’re not doing a great job of that huh?”

“No.”

“You’re trying to get my attention aren’t you?”

TK nodded, pushing closer to get his arms around Carlos.

He returned the hug, rubbing up and down TK’s back.

“I know. I got you keyed up on accident before we came. So here’s my deal for you. If you can behave for the rest of the party, I’ll give you a treat when we get home. That sound good?”

TK nodded against his chest and Carlos shook his head, “Words TK.”

“Yes.”

“Okay good. Take a breath. Calm down.”

TK pulled away and leaned back against the wall, taking deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize babe. It’s my fault too. We shouldn’t be here much longer. Just another hour, that’s all I’m asking”

“I can do it.”

“I know you can. Okay, let’s get drinks and get back out there before they come looking for us.”

TK nodded his agreement and they retrieved a glass of water for both of them along with a second glass of wine for Grace before rejoining the party. 

True to his word, they were only there for another hour before they began making their rounds and saying goodbye, telling anyone who asked that Carlos had a shift the next day and headed to the car.

TK was even more jittery on the way home and Carlos had barely put the car in park before TK was getting out and heading to the front door, fumbling with his keys. 

Carlos laughed at his eagerness and followed him, taking the keys from his hands, flipping it the right way around, and unlocking the door. 

“I was good right?”

“Of course you were. You want your prize?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Carlos led him up to their room and shut the door behind him. He began kissing up and down TK’s neck as he pushed his jacket off his shoulders and worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

“What’s my prize?”

“What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

“You?”

Carlos laughed, “Nice try. Besides that?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. I’m kinda blanking right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos finished with his upper body and dropped to his knees, getting to work on TK’s pants. “I know you’re gonna love it.”

When TK was fully naked, he climbed on the bed while Carlos undressed.

“Lay on your belly,” he instructed as he climbed on the bed behind him.

He tapped the outside of his thigh and TK’s hips went up on instinct. Carlos spent a few minutes running his hands over the smooth skin of TK’s thighs, kissing and biting at his cheeks.

“Carlos,” he whined.

“What is it, baby?”

TK whined petulantly again, pushing his hips back.

“Do you want me to get on with it?”

“Yes.”

“You should have said something.”

Carlos spread TK’s cheeks with his hands then got to work. 

It took him less than five minutes to have TK moaning and shaking. 

“Carlos please.”

“Please what baby? You’ll get what you want if you can tell me.”

“I wanna cum.”

“Go ahead, baby.”

Like his body had been waiting for the command, no sooner than the words had left his mouth, TK was coming.

TK collapsed face-first on the bed and Carlos rolled him over gently, away from the dirty spot on the sheets. While TK was still out of it, he grabbed a cloth from the bathroom, soaking it in cool water, and used it to clean him off. 

TK whined and reached for him, pulling him down to cuddle with him. They dozed on and off for almost an hour before Carlos woke TK up to drink water and eat something. When he was more awake they changed the sheets then collapsed back into bed together.

“Pretty damn good prize,” TK complimented from his spot on Carlos’ chest.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t get off.”

“I don’t need to,” Carlos kissed his head. “It was supposed to be about you.”

“Do you wanna talk now?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay go for it.”

“Do you really want me to use my cuffs on you?” “Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“I think it would be hot. You know I like it when you’re in control and I guess this is an extension of that. You’re completely in control of me. You’re in control of how much I can move,  if I can touch you. I like that.”

Carlos nodded thoughtfully, “Okay, but I have some conditions.”

“Okay.”

“Only one hand for now. Let’s just try it out and if you hate it it’s easier to get you out fast. If we both enjoy it we can work up to both hands.”

“I can live with that. Anything else?”

“No actual sex.”

“What?”

“Like I said I want to be able to get to you quickly if you don’t like it and I don’t want to hurt you pulling out too fast or something like that.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it. Actually, one more thing, do you want to plan out when we do it, or do you want to be surprised?”

“Surprise me.”

TK hoped that when he told Carlos to surprise him, he wouldn’t be waiting long. Luckily, he wasn’t.

Almost two weeks later he came home from work to find the house seemingly empty and a pair of keys on the coffee table next to a note instructing him to get undressed and come upstairs. 

He left his clothes folded neatly on the couch and proceeded to their bedroom clutching the keys.

Carlos was waiting for him on the bed, one side of the handcuffs already locked into place on the bed.

He pulled him in for a kiss, then gently maneuvered him onto the bed.

“Right arm.”

TK lifted his right arm and Carlos kissed his palm before putting his wrist into the cuff.

“Color?” he asked.

“Green.”

Carlos clicked it into place and TK gave it an experimental tug. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but if he pulled hard enough the metal bit into his skin.

“That feel okay?”

“Green,” TK answered again.

Carlos gave him another kiss on the lips before slowly trailing kisses down his neck and chest.

TK wasn’t sure when he had gotten fully hard, but his body was certainly into what was happening. 

Carlos took him in hand, giving him a few gentle strokes before taking the head into his mouth. He stroked the base with a tight grip as he sucked lightly on the first few inches of his cock, flicking his tongue the way TK liked.

“Shit,” TK’s left hand threaded into Carlos’ hair but Carlos pulled off, pushing his hand down on the bed.

“Keep your hand down.”

TK whimpered but didn’t give him any other sign that he was uncomfortable so he resumed what he was doing. 

He switched it up after a few minutes, taking him all the way down, which made TK jerk, handcuffs rattling uselessly against the bed frame.

Carlos hadn’t realized what a turn on it was for him. He knew he liked being dominant and in control, but he hadn’t realized he’d be into rendering TK completely submissive. This was an interesting development for both of them. 

He knew the signs that TK was getting close, his breathing had picked up and he was whining more than moaning at that point, so he decided to speed things up.

He pulled himself off of TK’s cock and moved so that he was hovering over him, one hand supporting his body, the other reaching between them to take both of their dicks in hand. 

Precum and spit made it easier as he jerked them off at a brutal pace, trying to catch up to TK.

TK turned his head to bite at Carlos’ bicep, knowing it would leave a mark. 

“I’m close,” he moaned against the skin of his arm.

“Me too baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

A few more strokes of his hand had TK spilling between them, Carlos following soon after.

Carlos gently lowered himself down on top of TK. They laid there for a few minutes, him rubbing TK’s side and TK’s hand in his hair until his brain cells came back online.

He rolled over and grabbed the keys from the nightstand. He unlocked TK and kissed the faint red mark on his skin, rubbing to make sure the circulation to his hand hadn’t been cut off.

He sat TK up and encouraged him to drink some water while he got them both cleaned up. When he came back, he downed his own bottle of water and they split a power bar between them as they curled up under a blanket. 

“Thoughts?” Carlos asked, stroking his hands through the sweaty mess of TK’s hair.

“So fucking good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s something you want to try again?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Good. Me too.”

TK slumped against him, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“You’re amazing. Thank you for indulging my weird kinks.”

“If they all turn out like that, I’ll indulge whatever you want.”

[lloydskywalkers]

i leave for a day and suddenly there’s an entire AU of straight-up pAIN for Cole on my post gnjkdgh u guys work fast, there’s an entire Winter Soldier Cole au that exists now and i am in awe. Thank you @entersomethingcreativehere, @ninjagianloser and @afandomroom for the burst of brief creative angst this evening, here’s my contribution:

All he sees anymore is purple. Dark and cloying, staining his vision and seeping into the deepest crevices of his core. Maybe he’s always been this way though — that’s what she tells him, anyways. The Quiet One, he’s supposed to call her, if he’s ever called on to speak.

He rarely is. He’s here to be strong, to squeeze the last drops of life from the Resistance that threatens his creator, and that’s all. The mask they have him wear is frustrating, suffocating at the worst times, but it’s a reminder of his place in all this. There’s not much need around here for the words of a weapon, anyways. 

So he doesn’t protest when she sends him out again before his shoulder’s fully healed — not that he would’ve, anyways. Any amount of pain is worth being out, away from the stifling close-quarters he lives in, deep in their stronghold of a tower. A part of him thinks he might’ve liked being high up on stone before, but the tower feels more like a prison than anything. It probably is. They used to lock him in, the first few weeks, but those memories are becoming foggier and foggier, like the rest of his head. Nothing sticks in his mind anymore, not after he comes in with his power. His head might as well be empty, useless, his brain—

Rock for brains.

He stiffens, his grip going rigid on the hilt of his weapon, his arms so tense they hurt. 

Not again. He can’t falter now, not when their targets are so close. He’s a weapon — he doesn’t have time for the headaches that split his mind in two. He doesn’t have time for the overwhelming ache in his chest that screams something’s wrong—

“Focus.” The Quiet One’s voice hisses over his comm like the call of a snake, low and poised to strike. “Remember what you’re here for. Kill the girl and take the boy, alive.”

He nods. Alive is a loose category, one he can work with. Unharmed would be considerably more difficult, with the strength he has. It’s what makes him valuable, makes him useful, and it’s the only time he feels like he’s in control. So it takes very little willpower to convince himself to smash the door in with his foot alone, startling the two figures hunched over by the window.

His eyes zero in on them. The pair wears masks, but their colors and builds are discernible enough. Girl on the right, boy on the left. Kill the girl, take the boy. This should be eas—

The girl’s moving before he can blink, silver spear flashing out of nowhere as she curves it toward him in a deadly arc. He barely manages to duck the blow, the razor edges whistling past his head as he falters back. He’s quick to push back on the defensive, swinging his hammer toward her head. Unlike him, the girl doesn’t falter, standing firm with one arm waving toward the boy as she screams “Go, Lloyd!”

The name’s like a nail to his skull. He staggers, his hit swinging wide and missing the girl’s head by a clear foot. He grits his teeth, desperately trying to refocus, but the name rebounds against the inside of his skull like a drum, her voice too familiar and the name—

—Lloyd, you know him, you idiot, you’re supposed to protect him!—

The Quiet One’s voice is howling at him over the comms, but he barely hears her. He feels like he’s splitting in half, and it’s enough for the girl to deliver a heavy hit to his face, his head snapping violently to the side as the mask splinters, cracking under the force of her blow. 

He staggers back, his hand plastered over his face as it throbs in pain, furious at himself. This is nothing, nothing compared to what he’s put him through, he shouldn’t be—

The girl’s gasp cuts across the room like a knife. Her spear clatters to the floor.

“Cole?” she croaks, her voice caught somewhere between overwhelming joy and umasked horror. There’s a strangled gasp from the other side of the room, but his eyes are locked on the girl, standing frozen where she’s dropped her weapon. 

He raises his hammer, arms shaking. It’s the perfect opening, and the Quiet One is roaring at him to take it. 

But that name. That name she’s called him, and the way she’s looking at him, is splitting his head in two. Something is his chest is screaming at him, louder than any other voice that’s forced itself into his mind, begging him to stop, no, don’t hurt her, you know her—

He shakes his head, flinching at the agony, and tightens his grip on his weapon. He’s a weapon. That’s all. As long as he remembers his purpose, he won’t fall back into the darkness. As long as he remembers who his master is, he’ll be able to swing at her. 

But in his hesitation, he’s forgotten about the boy. 

A solid weight drops onto his shoulders, wiry arms wrapping around his arms and holding tight, clinging to him like a vise. He rears back, straining to throw the boy off, but his grip is stronger than he’d thought it be. 

Hot droplets of water splash onto the back of his neck, and the boy’s voice is choked as it echoes in his ear. “Cole, please, come back, I know you’re in there, please—”

Cole, Cole, Cole, why do they keep calling him that—

Agony sears through his temples, blurring his vision. He’s stopped trying to throw the boy off. The girl’s taken her mask off now, her own dark eyes welling with tears and so, so terribly familiar as she stares at him. The look guts him. She’s looking at him like he’s a person, like she knows him, like she loves him— 

All I know is ninja never quit. 

Thank you, Nya. 

“Nya,” the name burns from his throat like fire, but it’s the most he’s felt since, since—

“Cole!” Lloyd’s hold around his loosens, his voice thick in what might be joy. “Nya, is he—”

Cole grabs Lloyd by the arm and pushes him, gently at he can, toward Nya before staggering away.

“Get back,” he gasps, the purple already clawing at his mind, tearing agony into his head as he clutches at it. “I’m not — I can’t — they’ve got me, she wants me to hurt you, I — please—”

Lloyd’s dark eyes are wide — why are they dark, they’re not supposed to be dark — and something in his expression crumples, before suddenly turning sharp and ugly, his eyes growing hot.

“Where is she,” he whispers, his fingers twitching toward his weapon for the first time this fight. “She’s near, where is she. We’ll free you, just tell me where—”

“Lloyd,” the girl — Nya, Nya, it’s Nya — whispers, her voice trembling. “We don’t have time for her. If he’s found us—”

Lloyd’s head swivels to her, his expression working furiously, before it whips back to Cole, blond hair askew as he stares at him with wild eyes. 

“Come with us,” he says, his voice frantic. “Come on, Cole, just — come back with us, we can save you.”

He — Cole, he’s Cole, he’s — shakes his head. “I can’t,” he rasps. “He’ll find me. You have to go, just — get away from me, get somewhere safe. I won’t let him get you, I promise, just go.”

Lloyd shakes his head, his expression furious even as his eyes begin to well over once more. “No,” he protests. “No, we’re not losing you again!”

Something crashes from the level down below, and Nya’s eyes go wide. Cole’s blood turns to ice. The Quiet One’s been quiet too long. 

“You have to go,” he whispers, the pain in his head finally springing burning tears to his eyes.

Lloyd shakes his head again, his hand trembling as he holds it out to him. “Come with us,” he repeats. “Cole, please.”

Cole wavers, his vision split into spiraling shades of purple. His right hand twitches, lifting ever so slightly. 

With an earsplitting screech the wall behind him explodes, and his vision flashes into fiery, violent red. 

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

Since I know there are a few people out there interested, and since the first draft ended up turning out remarkably good for a first draft (or so I think), have a bit of fluffier Caleb Shepard and Kaidan post-war, post adventure (this comes at the end of my planned story for them) after the Reaper War.  (last night’s Reaper War angst is still bugging me so I’m feeling generous.  Under the cut for length)

This goes with my previous post about them.

~~~

(setting: Western Irish coast)

“Do you ever think we might have missed our calling?” Caleb asks.

Kaidan’s eyebrow arches.  Taking a knee, he picks up a stone, bounces it in his hand for a moment then hefts it into the air, throwing it toward the sea.  The winds are strong, however, and before Caleb can blink, just a hint of bluish dark energy envelops it, guiding it out to the waves beyond.  “What are you thinking?” he counters after a moment.  “That we should have become prothean experts like a certain asari friend of ours?”

It’s difficult not to laugh, and Caleb doesn’t even try.  “Something like that.  Maybe,” he agrees.  He stares out to the horizon, nothing but churning waves and water as far as the eye can see.  The height of the cliffs offer a bit of drama to the scene.  It’s a much better setting than he could ever have hoped for; if only he could find the words.

Kaidan moves up next to him, his eyes as sharp and searching as Caleb’s.  “Not English Bay,” he admits with a hint of a smile and a quick grin, “but a beautiful view nonetheless.”

Caleb sighs and nods.  Pulling his gaze from the Atlantic, he glances just to their north. These days, the ruins are barely discernible from the cliffs, but he knows they’re there.  “Come on, I want to show you something.”

They walk for a while in silence, carefully navigating the craggy landscape.  It’s strange to see; there’s barely any sign that the Reapers made it out this far. Finally, they reach the spot. Here, the ruins are a bit more noticeable, but still blend in if you aren’t looking for them.  Caleb leans on the cane, thankful for it in these past few minutes.  Lifting his right hand, he traces the outline in the air.  “See it?”

Kaidan is beside him again.  “Yeah,” he breathes, astonishment clear.  “Wow.  How old is that?”

Caleb shrugs.  “Built in the 1400s, so the stories say,” he explains.  “To protect us from invasion by the sea.”  Silence falls again; Caleb’s thoughts fall to the past.

“Nothing could have stopped the Reapers,” Kaidan says after a moment.

Caleb stirs from his thoughts.  “Hmm?  Oh, I wasn’t thinking of them, but the Greystones.”  Which, he knows, is just as ironic as their background was filled with repelling enemies from the sea as well.  Ireland never had the same luck.  

The wind gusts in off the sea and toys with his hair, mussing it up and casting it about wildly to tickle along his cheek and forehead.  It reminds him of his younger years, too.  “Anyway, my point is, despite everything that’s happened – time, war, Reapers – it still lives on, in some shape or form.”

Kaidan gives him a skeptical side-glance. “You’ve been talking to Liara again, haven’t you?”

“What?”  With a half laugh, Caleb pushes his hair out of his eyes.  “No.  I’ve told you before, we Irish are sentimental bastards at best.”  A grin turns upward at the right corner of his lips.

Kaidan’s smile matches it.  “That you have.”

His eyes drifting back to the ruins, Caleb asks, “You ever wonder about leaving some kind of legacy of your own behind?”

Kaidan is silent for a minute, and it’s enough to drive Caleb to distraction so he hobbles forward a few steps.  As he does, he notices something wedged in between some rocks.  Crouching carefully, he retrieves it … a flutter in his chest leaving him speechless. Rising once more, he half turns to look over at Kaidan.

“If you’re asking if I’m as determined as Henry Lawson was, the answer is no,” Kaidan finally replies.

“No,” Caleb insists with a grimace, “not like that.” The loss of Miranda at the hands of her father is still surprisingly sharp after all these weeks and months.  While they had never been close, she had been a friend, of a sort.  

Another gust of wind kicks up, this time leaving Kaidan shivering slightly.  “I guess I never really thought about it,” he admits as he walks over to join Caleb. “Ever since Eden Prime, everything’s been focused on the Reapers …”

Their eyes meet, but as usual, Caleb cannot decipher what he sees there.  “And now that they’re gone?”

“A lot more possibilities are available.”  

Possibilities.  Caleb swallows convulsively.  Possibilities he can work with, but he needs to be sure … “Look,” he says quietly, his left hand gesturing with the cane as a reminder, “if I’m just going to hold you back –.”

Kaidan moves with a speed Caleb has seen rarely outside of battle, and when he has, it’s been focused on far more pleasanter things.  Before Caleb can even catch his breath, Kaidan’s hand wraps around his good wrist and tugs gently, pulling him close.  The kiss that follows is fierce, possessive, and leaves Caleb’s belly flipping more wildly than before, if that’s even possible.  “You don’t,” he insists when he pulls back a pace; but his hand remains securely around Caleb’s.  “Don’t ever think that.”

It takes Caleb a long minute to catch his thoughts and refocus, but the vehemence in the order helps.  “Right.”  With effort, he pulls his gaze from Kaidan’s – he has to or he isn’t going to be able to go through with this – and stares back at the ruins again.  The vaguest hint of pressure around his hand as he draws in a deep breath is the deciding factor.  Tucking the cane under his left arm, he uses his now free hand to fish out the small box from his jacket pocket.  At the same time, a silent prayer of thanks to his friends who were able to make this happen is sent forth; to Liara whose connections cut through red tape like a hot knife through butter, to Coats whose unending, if teasing, support had him sneaking off on his own a couple of days ago to retrieve them, to Athair whose faith in him never wavered from the moment he helped rescue the small child who wandered into St. Senan’s so many years ago.

When he pulls his hand from the pocket, he looks back over at Kaidan.  The chilling bite of metal against the skin of his palm helps provide clarity for the moment; the winds off the Atlantic slow, the sun peeks through fluffy white clouds and shines down upon them, and in Kaidan’s eyes he sees … curiosity. Caleb laughs softly.  Always curious.  “So,” he starts, then pauses to clear his throat.  “So, if you really mean that –.”

“I do.”

The smile widens a fraction.  The wind teases at the edges of Kaidan’s hair now, a testament to just how strong it blows in off the coast, and Caleb reaches over to push it out of his eyes.  The hint of exasperation in Kaidan’s eyes pulls yet another chuckle out of Caleb. But, as he lowers his hand, his forefinger caressing down Kaidan’s temple to his jaw, he brings it to rest between them, open, palm up.  The sun flickers brightly, glancing off the mixture of gold and silver resting there, woven together in a pattern as familiar to Caleb as breathing.  In silence, he watches Kaidan’s gaze shift down, notes the surprise that follows … and morphs into shock before darting back to his.  

“Is this …?” he chokes, eyes wide and unable to hide anything from Caleb now.

A sudden moment of peace and calm fills Caleb, and the nerves that have plagued him for days now settle.  “I’ve told you the story,” he says.  “I was thinking, if you are agreeable –.”

“Agreeable?”  

The amount of disbelief in Kaidan’s exclamation chases away the last of the lingering concerns.  With a twist of his wrist, he moves the rings between his fingers, holding them a bit higher for Kaidan to see.  “Friendship,” he murmurs, his eyes locked onto Kaidan’s now. “Loyalty.  Love.  I’d say that describes us, wouldn’t you?”

Kaidan opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out; all Caleb sees is a few convulsive swallows.  Leaning in, he rests his forehead against Kaidan’s.  “I didn’t want to say anything until the Reapers were dealt with,” he whispers, eyes closing to hide momentary grief and pain at the loss all that entailed.  “But, now that they’re gone, I can’t imagine going back to a life where you aren’t a part of it.”

Kaidan’s free hand slides up Caleb’s back, coming to rest at the back of his head.  He shifts just a bit, enough to tilt his head to the side so their lips can meet, and the moment their lips connect, Caleb knows he has his answer.  It’s rare he can catch Kaidan off guard to the point of speechlessness, but it seems he’s succeeded; a moment he’ll always remember.

When they break apart, gasping for air as the wind buffers gently around them, Kaidan manages, “How … did you even …?”

Caleb laughs softly, releasing some of the nervous energy.  “I’m Commander Fucking Shepard, according to James, remember?  I can get anything done.”  He concludes with a wink as his lips slide back into a grin.

Kaidan, finally, joins in.  “Well, he’s sure got you figured out.”

Taking one of the rings, Caleb holds it between his thumb and forefinger.  He eyes Kaidan with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.  “I can’t wear both of these, you know.”

There is still the tiniest tremor in Kaidan’s hand as he lifts his hand.  Caleb slides the ring onto his finger; perfect fit.  Then he offers the other and the process is repeated.  Caleb isn’t unaffected, and by the time they exchange another kiss, he drops the cane back into place and leans heavily upon it.

“So,” Kaidan says after a while, his eyes focused on the ring on his hand, “should I assume if you figured this part out you have something else in mind for what follows?”

Caleb nods.  “I don’t want to steal any thunder from your mother,” he explains, “but I thought before we left … something small and private.”  

For just a moment, Kaidan stills and stares at Caleb.  “That’s why you snuck off to the church the other day, isn’t it?”

One brow arches and Caleb gives his best, Who, me? look which only draws a laugh.  “Maybe,” he agrees.  “I guess he thought if we aren’t staying here, we might as well have something better to remember my home by.”

Kaidan’s laughter is refreshing.  “I’m not likely to forget,” he replies.  “With you and the kids, I’ll be the odd one out, remember?”

Caleb reaches over to run his thumb along Kaidan’s stubbled cheek.  “You’ll sound like one of us soon enough.”

“God help us all.”

[shindekutrashsquad]

Drunk Night by Starlight

((This is my first Shindeku fic I’ve not felt absolutely terrified to post so I hope you all enjoy it... uwu; Also, all the characters here are 18+ so they’re old enough to drink in most places, I think uwu I’m lazy at researching uwu

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Vomiting

Word Count: 2639)) It was too loud. Too crowded. He definitely didn’t want to be there anymore. When Kirishima had invited Izuku to this party he thought it would be a movie night and a snack, not all this crazy shouting and drinking stuff. It really wasn’t his kind of thing, especially after breaking up with Uraraka only a few weeks before. With a small sigh Izuku scratched his cheek and stared into the plastic red cup of lemonade he was holding, no interest in drinking himself and trying to ignore the wild shouting and shoving from another mock fight from Kirishima and Bakugou near him, rolling his eyes a bit at their yelling and trying to step away, accidentally bumping into someone and quickly turning around to apologise.  

“O-Oh, Sorry..-!” He quickly said, freezing when he realized his bad luck seeing he had bumped into another ex, a purple haired man with lilac eyes and milky pupils staring back at him and blinking slowly in response. “S-Shinsou-Kun...? What are you doing here?” The taller man glanced down at him, a small grin etching onto his face. 

 “Well I wasn’t invited.” He chuckled, swaying a little on his feet as he looked around lazily. He took a sip out of his own cup before nodding over at the sparring match in front of them. “Not that they’d notice me being here anyway with them waving their dicks around like that.” Izuku couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the comment, trying to dodge some more shoving as the fight got more intense and sighing a little bit. Shinsou seemed proud at his little achievement, gently pulling the shorter man out of the way easily and waving nonchalantly as he began to walk away. “It was good seeing you, Midoriya. Enjoy the rest of the party.” He glanced back for a moment, partially hoping the greenette would stop him but when nothing came after him he let out a small sigh, taking another deep drink from his cup and shuddering slightly at the taste of it as he left. Izuku ended up just standing there, cursing himself as he looked down at his feet again and deciding after a few seconds that the party just wasn’t to his taste, leaving the room to find a way outside. As he squeezed through the hallways he noticed another familiar figure; his recent heartbreak Ochako Uraraka drunkenly kissing Denki Kaminari, forcing a lump in Izuku’s throat to rise in jealousy and hurt before forcing his way past. He snatched a cup of real drink - well, cider - and tried to blink away the hot tears that had sprung into his eyes as he quickly downed it in one swift go, choking on the bubbles as they hit the back of his throat when he sat down on the porch step, shaking with anger and upset. It had only been weeks...! It’d barely been that since they broke up! She could at least pretend to be more upset about it...!

Izuku’s thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up to see the owner and wipe his face quickly with his sleeve, leaving a slight trail of mucus and having to hide his arm in embarrassment. Much to his surprise, Shinsou had found him, now lacking his drink and swaying a little bit as he gripped Izuku’s shoulder a little too tightly. Thankfully, the green haired man didn’t need to actually say anything, hiding his face in his arm once more as the tears tumbled out again, making Shinsou sit beside him with blurry eyes and watch quietly for a moment. “You’ll have to remind me; happy or upset tears?” He joked fondly with a lopsided grin as he swayed ever so slightly. For some reason, Izuku couldn’t stop himself from letting out a choked laugh, trying to wipe his eyes again until Hitoshi carefully offered out a tissue, clumsily but gently dabbing at his face to clean him up. 

“Upset tears.” Izuku eventually confirmed, glancing back to the noise and the lights inside the house and pressing his lips together tightly at the image still fresh in his head of Uraraka and Denki. He eventually opened his mouth again to speak, the words hesitating to come out for a moment. “Ochako-“ he started, startled when Hitoshi interrupted. 

 “Never deserved you.” The purple haired man finished, making Izuku watch him in surprise as he ran a hand through his lilac hair drunkenly. “I’m not saying I was any better as a boyfriend but... you’re just too good for most people, Izuku.” He let out a small sigh, looking at the cup in his hands for a moment with a melancholy feel in the air between them, not noticing Izuku’s blush remaining on his cheeks as he stared at him. “Listen, you should probably go home, I’m not sticking around either but this isn’t your kind of scene, Midoriya.” Shinsou went to stand up again, caught by surprise himself when he almost fell over. The world just suddenly seemed to spin around him and his stomach turned slightly, only able to focus on a flash of green as Izuku quickly leapt up and caught him before he could injure himself.

“How many have you had to drink, Shinsou-Kun...?” Izuku asked worriedly, supporting the taller man by holding his arm over his shoulder. His heart was pounding, but after a few hero jobs he was already pretty good at hiding it. Shinsou blinked again, looking at the hand holding the empty cup with slight confusion before tossing it aside.

“Probably too many.” Hitoshi admitted, scratching his cheek and leaning his head against Izuku’s head, his hair as soft and fuzzy as he remembered it. He didn’t know how much he missed the smaller male until now; they’d mostly tried to avoid each other after their break up, but with Izuku holding onto him so gently, so carefully making sure he was okay and his warmth was so perfect against his cool skin... He didn’t want it to end. 

“Um... maybe... maybe I should take you home, Shinsou-chan. You’re in no state by yourself.” Izuku insisted, not noticing Shinsou’s drunken thinking and carefully helping him slowly take steps away from the party and the noise. Shinsou just let him do so, too woozy to argue and his feet dragging slightly. Thankfully, the streets were mostly empty at that time of night, a fine mist of rain beginning to cover them and making Shinsou’s poof of hair slowly flatten against his scalp. After a while of careful walking, the taller man did speak up again. 

“Izuku, why do you keep helping me...?” He slurringly asked, his vision spinning as they dipped in and out of the streetlights, disorientating his balance even more. He hiccuped slightly, beginning to regret how much he had drank and clutching onto Izuku’s shoulder a little bit tighter as he stumbled. Izuku caught him easily, thinking about it for a moment as he rearranged the drunken man’s feet again. 

 “Well... We’re still friends, right?” He smiled eventually, his emerald eyes glancing up at him with a gentle sparkle in the moonlight, making Shinsou’s chest ache at the sight. He quickly readjusted his grip on Shinsou’s arm over his shoulder before they continued forward. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been a very good hero or friend if I had left you there, would I?” He added, smiling softly and enjoying the rain gently falling on their faces. Something about being with Shinsou again just made him happy, but he knew better than to act on any of his feelings. It’d gotten him in trouble before after all. Shinsou hesitated, unsure about all the feelings re-emerging in his own self, leaning his cheek against Izuku’s head again and closing his eyes for a moment. Big mistake. 

“Hold on, Izuku.” Shinsou mumbled, pulling away and managing to stagger over to an alleyway to hide. He didn’t want the greenette to see him in such a state, leaning his hands against the rough exposed bricks and losing the battle against his turning stomach, the alcohol he had drank that night returning in a spectacular mess against the cobblestones. It almost hurt with how violently his gut had turned against him, and he jumped slightly when he felt familiar, calloused yet gentle hands scooping his hair back out of his face, glancing to the side to see that perfect, slightly chubby face belonging to Izuku softly smiling at him through the rest of the blurred world. 

“Hey, you’re okay, Hitoshi-chan. I’m here.” Izuku promised, his free hand gently rubbing at Shinsou’s back as he vomited again. It wasn’t exactly the glamorous hero work he had envisioned for his first real mission after graduation but somehow it didn’t seem so bad after all. Shinsou groaned slightly, wiping his mouth with his wrist as he tried to fight off another wave of nausea, Izuku looking concerned. “You okay...?” He asked, laughing a little to try and ease the worry. 

“I still love you...” Hitoshi eventually replied, mumbling slightly and feeling Izuku’s hands retreating off him like he had just been scalded. The other man’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air, his fist clenched over his heart nervously. 

“I-I’m Sorry...?” Izuku squeaked, unsure of he had really heard what he thought he had. Did Shinsou really just say...? He shook his head quickly, trying to dismiss it as him just being drunk as he quickly tried to help him stand upright again. “I-I think you’ve had a little too much to drink, Shinsou...” 

“I’m serious, Izuku. I still love you.” Hitoshi insisted, grasping at Izuku’s arms tightly as he stood tall again, regretting it instantly as the nausea fought back and almost sent him toppling over again. Izuku’s quick reactions prevented it once more, holding Shinsou carefully under the arms as he stood precariously far forward. “I-I love you. I miss you. The day you broke up with me I couldn’t breathe.” Shit. Shit shit shit. Why couldn’t he stop? Hitoshi watched as Izuku seemed to hold his breath, taking a gulping breath down as well as he tried to refocus, his legs feeling like jelly under him, though at that point it was impossible to tell whether it was from nerves or from the alcohol. After a few seconds, he managed to find his voice enough again to continue. “I-I miss waking up to you next to me, I miss your tiny little snores and watching you breathe. I miss your hair under my chin as you write all your hero notes on your lap, I miss the way you mumble all your thoughts. I-I miss seeing you wake up and smile despite all the shit going on around us, a-and your hair explodes out like a Brillo pad and you look so confused but happy...” He paused for a moment, pressing his fist to his mouth as he turned away to the wall again, worried he may vomit on his ex. He did gag slightly, but thankfully nothing came up this time, it just hurt his muscles from the force, beginning to shiver in the coldness of the drizzle coating them. Izuku took his hoodie off, more than used to the cooler temperatures due to his old training regime and draped it over the purple haired man’s back to shelter him a little more, continuing to listen for a moment before he opened his mouth to talk again. 

“Shinsou... You treated me like an object to be won.” He gently explained, making sure the drunk man was finished emptying his stomach before gently supporting him across his shoulder again. Hitoshi noticed the stiffened posture, clumsily but quickly grabbing Izuku’s cheeks to turn him to face him again, trying to read his face unsuccessfully. For someone who usually wore their heart on their sleeve Izuku was proving to be impossible this time. 

“I was wrong.” Hitoshi insisted, his voice embarrassingly cracking slightly as tears caught in the corner of his eyes, shocking even Izuku at the powerful emotion. “You’re not an object, y-you’re someone who made me want to work harder to be a great hero and you make me feel human. No-one else has ever done that. You’re such a wonderful person and I was a complete idiot to treat you the way I did. I love you, Izuku. I have done since the Joint Training Exercise but I was too scared to admit all those feelings. Please. Please give me another chance.” He begged, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He felt woozy, and worryingly lightheaded, trying to mutter out a warning before his whole world suddenly disappeared from his conscious thought and the booze finally dragged him into a clueless sleep. 

-----

 It was a bright light that woke Shinsou again from his slumber, his head pounding like a thousand jackhammers drilling into his brain and the world spinning around him, forcing out a pained groan from his throat. Everything burned, and ached, and he pressed his palms to his eyes to try and ease some of the awful sensations. He almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a gentle touch on the top of his head, scrambling backwards and almost passing out again from the sudden movement as he tried to focus, his eyes eventually settling on a soft green figure sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and gently offering him painkillers, some water and some toast. 

“Morning, Mr Poetry.” Izuku laughed softly, fully aware of the mind numbing brain implosion going on inside Hitoshi’s head at that moment. After a few seconds of glancing between his ex and the offerings in front of him, Hitoshi nervously took the pills and the water and carefully took them, anxious about his stomach’s sensitivity at that moment. 

“We didn’t...?” He couldn’t help but ask worriedly, glancing down under the blankets quickly. Izuku squeaked a little bit in embarrassment, his face going his trademark red as he almost threw the toast across the room from the shock.  

“W-what?! N-no! You passed out and I brought you home, that’s it!” He panicked, and Hitoshi suddenly remembered everything up until the passing out, turning even more pale than usual. Izuku immediately leaned forward, worried for the other man just in case he felt sick. 

“Midoriya, I’m... I’m so, so sorry for everything I said.” Hitoshi explained, burying his face in his hands to try and disappear from the world, missing Izuku’s soft smile on his lips instead. 

“Why are you sorry, Hitoshi-chan?” The greenette asked, trying to mask the glee in his voice as he tucked one leg under himself. Before the other man had a chance to talk again, Izuku had leaned in and gently kissed Shinsou on the top of the head again, just as he had done to wake him up. Hitoshi looked up, confused, a small blush on his face as he realised the bright smile on Izuku’s instead. “You... Only told me the truth.” He carefully found a space beside him, snuggling under Hitoshi’s arm and fitting perfectly as though they had never broken up. It clearly took Hitoshi completely by surprise, staring at him in shock as he tried to process it. 

“We’re... You...?” He stammered out, and Izuku nodded, smiling wider as he nuzzled his hair under the purple man’s chin comfortably. 

“Yeah. I missed you too, you know.” Izuku promised, and Shinsou smiled softly, bringing his other arm around to cuddle him properly and went in to kiss his boyfriend again for the first time in years, looking offended when Izuku laughed and gently put his hand over his mouth. 

“Brush your teeth first, barfy. Then I’ll kiss you.”

[owlways-and-forever]

HSWW Asst 11, Thaumatology Task 3 - Write about someone having an accident.

Camp Hogwarts, [Song] Hold You Down by X Ambassadors

IPC #943 - [Title] What Time Doesn’t Heal

365 #5 - Ache

 Warnings: character death, funeral, graphic injuries

 o . o . o

  When there’s no one to hold you, I will still hold you down

I will still hold you down

- Hold You Down, X Ambassadors

 There were five people between Lily and James. His father was to James’ left, then James, Sirius, two stuffy relatives that she couldn’t for the life of her remember, Remus, and then Lily. She could have stood before Remus, but he had offered to go first so she would attract less attention, and honestly Lily was okay with it because whatever second uncle was standing next to Remus smelled  incredibly musty. Except she wasn’t okay with it because there were five people between her and James and all she wanted was to hold his hand. She snuck a glance over at him, and felt her heart shatter a little bit more. He was staring straight ahead with glassy eyes, adamantly refusing to look at the ornate coffin in front of him. Lily understood. If he didn’t look at it, it wasn’t there. If he couldn’t see her body, maybe his mom was still alive. Damn, if only she could hug him right now.

 Remus elbowed her gently, a subtle reminder to face front again. It was hard to remember all these stupid rules. Especially since she had only met Euphemia twice, so she wasn’t really all that sad. Well she was, it was awful losing such a tremendous public figure, but mostly she was sad because James was going through hell and there was nothing she could do about it. Lily peeked over again, and she could practically feel Remus roll his eyes.  Great job, Lily  , she internally reprimanded, channeling Remus as best she could,  I’m sure none of the billion photographers have gotten a picture of you craning your neck to stare at the bloody Prince of England at his mother’s funeral. That definitely won’t be plastered across tabloid covers in a week. She sighed and tried to refocus her attention on the service that was taking place around her.

 It might be easier if the stupid Abbey weren’t eight hundred degrees inside. Not to mention if her heels weren’t pinching her toes. People just shouldn’t be allowed to die during the summer, it was far too uncomfortable. Lily mentally slapped herself for that. She had no business thinking about physical comfort right now.  Grief, Lily, grief, that’s what you should be feeling right now. Nothing else . She looked at the Queen’s face, waxy and preserved. So much must have gone into making her look right for her burial, because Lily had been there, and the woman certainly hadn’t died peacefully in her sleep.

o . o . o

  Lily and James had excused themselves, leaving the private Royal car of the train, ostensibly to go find some food, but really they were looking for some privacy, ironically enough. It was just that it was only the second time Lily was meeting his family, and they were only 19, so who could blame them if they wanted a little bit of alone time? Euphemia was more than a little bit heavy handed with her hinting as well. When his mother said she was getting peckish, James had hastily offered to go get something to eat for them, needing a brief moment of reprieve. And then he had wisely claimed to need Lily’s help carrying everything back, and they had both departed the little compartment with their hands clasped. Which is precisely how they had ended up in an empty compartment two cars down, the privacy shades pulled all the way down as their hands groped to find skin and they pressed desperate kisses against lips and noses and jaws. Lily thought she might actually spontaneously combust from longing when a loud metal creak tore through the air and she fell crashing to the floor of the train. 

  She barely had time to comprehend that the train was tipping on its side before she was sliding to the wall, James scrabbling for purchase beside her. An awful metallic shriek was rending the air as the train continued to surge forward, its outer wall scraping along the tracks. The lights blinked off as the train lost all power, and slowly, the train ground to a halt.

  “Are you okay?” James asked her, struggling to get on his hands and knees in the sideways compartment.

  “I think so,” Lily answered. Later, she would feel the sharp ache of her broken wrist, but at that moment, she felt nothing. 

  James had a cut across his forehead where he must have banged it on the seat or something, and she was sure both of them would have more than a few bruises. 

  “We need to go find my mum,” he said, kicking the compartment door open and carefully dropping himself through it. He reached up to Lily, helping her as she wiggled her way through and dropped down next to him.

  Together, they quickly made their way back to the Royal Family’s car, careful not to step on the compartment windows, half of which were shattered anyway. James pried the door open, kneeling on it so Lily could pass. But there was nowhere for her to go, with no floor to step on and the door on the other side of the gap firmly shut. James swore, clearly not prepared for that outcome, and quickly took stock of the situation. 

  “Go up,” he grunted, nodding at the outer door, which had sprung open as part of the emergency protocol. 

  Lily nodded and grabbed onto the edge of the metal above her head, struggling to heave herself out. She kicked her feet as her stomach met the edge of the doorway, and she leaned forward so her chest was resting against the outside of the train car. Reaching up to try to grasp anything and finding one of the handholds for climbing aboard, Lily dragged herself out of the door, her muscles howling in protest as her belly scraped across the door. When she was finally out and stood atop the side of the train, she rolled her eyes slightly. Of course she’d gotten up on the wrong side. She leapt over the doorway, landing with a metallic clang on the other side, and then waited for James to join her. He managed to pull himself out in a smooth motion, seemingly with as much ease as vaulting out of a swimming pool, and if she wasn’t so bloody scared right now, she would probably hate him a little bit for how graceful it was. 

  He grabbed her hand and tugged her along, their footsteps echoing heavy and hollow on the metal siding, until they reached the joint between the next two cars. James peeked through the doorway and huffed when he found the inner door to the Royal car firmly shut. Looking up though, he saw a window broken in, and immediately made a beeline for it. They could hear muffled shouts from inside the car, and James lowered himself inside, worry written in creases along his forehead, leaving Lily for the first time as he rushed to his mother. Lily tried to follow him carefully, but the broken window left a jagged, stinging cut along her palm. She hissed at it slightly before turning her attention back to James and his mom. When she turned around to face the compartment where the Queen had been sitting, her heart broke.

  James was kneeling on the window next to the compartment door, held back by one of his bodyguards, grief and anger and disbelief battling for control of his features. Inside the compartment, Queen Euphemia was collapsed against the outer window, craggy glass shards littering the ground outside. The post of a track-side sign was sticking up through the broken window, piercing the Queen’s stomach. Blood dripped through the cracks in the glass and oozed slowly across her shirt, but it was the only movement anywhere on her body. No flutter of the eyelids, no twitch of the fingers. Not even the faintest rise and fall of her chests to indicate breath. She was just… still.

  “Mum,” James gasped, nearly hyperventilating. “Come on, Mum, please.”

  Lily crawled over to him, reaching out to cover his hand with her own but he jerked it away sharply. She understood. She wasn’t the one he wanted right now, she couldn’t comfort him the right way. These were the one shoes she would never be able to fill. Even so, James leaned into her shoulder, reaching out and squeezing her hand softly before pulling away again. Just enough to let her know that he wasn’t angry with her. She looked at him carefully, taking in the anguish and the way he just couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from his mother’s body.

  “I’m sorry, James,” she whispered, her heart sinking even further.

  His mother died and he hadn’t been there. Lily wasn’t sure James was ever going to forgive her for that.

 o . o . o

 The Garter King of Arms stepped forward, taking his place next to the Archbishop, and took a deep breath, projecting his voice throughout the Abbey for all to hear.

 “Thus it hath pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory life unto His Divine Mercy the late Most High, Most Mighty and Most Excellent Princess Euphemia, Queen Consort by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other Realms and Territories Queen Consort, Lady of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Lady of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Lady of the Imperial Order of the Crown of India, Grand Master and Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order upon whom has been conferred the Royal Victorian Chain, Dame Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Dame Grand Cross of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John. May God save the Queen.”

 “God save the Queen,” a chorus replied, sincere in their wishes for their beloved monarch, and many people bowed or knelt in a show of respect.

 The orchestra struck up a somber and melancholic version of the national anthem, and voices joined with the instruments. Lily peeked over at James as she sang, seeing the struggle on his face. She could tell he was desperately trying to hold back his tears and present the strong face that he had been counseled to display, but he was entirely overcome with grief. How could he not be a mess? To the country, the woman before them was a symbol, a figurehead, but to him she was so much more, and he grieved as any son would for his mother.

 As the music transitioned seamlessly to some instrumental piece and the Archbishop walked around the coffin to begin the parade out of the Abbey, James pressed the heel of his hand into his brow bone and took a deep breath that shuddered through his frame. He repeated the action again, searching for composure as he prepared to face the masses of people gathered outside, lining the route. James stepped forward, taking his place next to his father, right behind the coffin, as officers of the Royal Navy stepped forward, carrying the top of the coffin from where it had been sequestered out of sight, and laying it over the Queen’s body. They latched it securely shut, standing at attention. Two of the officers unfurled the Queen’s personal standard, carefully draping it over the coffin like a blanket. In unison, the six officers reached down and grasped the handles of the coffin, slowly moving forward, one marching step at a time. 

 James flashed a look at Lily as he and his father began to move forward, following the Queen’s coffin. He seemed to be searching for something in her face, some kind of strength or courage to keep going. She nodded to him, trying to encourage him and wordlessly reassure him that he could get through this. She would only be a few steps behind him.

 The parade route was a mile and a half long, taking them along Whitehall, passing the houses of government along the way, and then along The Mall, with St. James’ Park on their left, an imposing march through the Admiralty Arch with Buckingham Palace looming at the end. When they reached the end of their journey, the coffin was laid on a catafalque in the palace square, while the Royal Family, extended family members, and close friends made their way to the balcony.

 In the privacy of the Palace, they were free to break from their strict procession order, and Lily immediately sought James out. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his grief, and Lily thought he might collapse from the strain of the day. She laced her fingers with his and he squeezed her hand as if he could extract strength from her grasp.

 “It’s almost over,” he whispered, blinking quickly to contain the tears as they climbed the stairs together. It seemed like James was talking more to himself than to her, as if he was reminding himself to keep it together for just a little bit longer.

 “James,” the King said quietly, a gentle signal that it was time for their last public duty.

 James stepped out onto the balcony with his father, and Lily returned to Remus’ side, both of them taking their own places far off to the side. It was the final salute. The Royal Army began, conducting a spectacular gun salute in the courtyard. The Navy followed with a smaller display, their primary role as bearers of the coffin serving as their salute to the Queen instead. Finally, the Royal Air Force flew an array of jets over the palace, leaving streaks of red, white and blue, interspersed with a coal black. As the jetstreams faded in the sky, the Naval officers once again took up the coffin, this time conducting it into a waiting hearse. From there, the Queen would be driven to Windsor Castle and interred in St. George’s Chapel. The guests on the balcony watched as the car departed, each privately saying their final goodbyes to the beloved queen.

 As soon as the car was out of sight, James turned from the balcony, retreating to the privacy behind the palace walls, unable to take any more ceremony. His father followed a moment later, pausing only to wave farewell to his people, and then the rest of the guests on the balcony returned inside. The King patted his son’s shoulder sympathetically, before moving down the stairs, still intent on being a good host. They still had a lunch for the attending dignitaries and attending guests, but Lily knew that James needed a few minutes before he would be ready for that.

 She took his hand and pulled him off to the side of the room, and no sooner had they moved out of the path of the other guests than James collapsed in her arms. His head dropped to her shoulder as his hands wound around her waist in a tight hug. Lily had to stretch onto her toes so that she could reach around his neck to hug him in return, rubbing her fingers soothingly against his skin.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling his tears wet on her dress, not that she cared in the slightest about the scrap of fabric. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Thank you for being here,” James murmured, as his breathing steadied and his tears slowed. He looked up at her and Lily reached up to wipe some of the tears from his cheeks with a soft brush of her thumbs over his skin. “There’ll probably be rumours after today, I -”

 “I don’t care,” Lily interrupted, fixing him with an intensely sincere look. “None of that matters at all, James. I just want to be here for you.”

 The corners of his mouth twitched in the closest thing she had seen to a smile in a week, and he pulled her into another hug. After a long moment, he pressed a quick kiss to her temple and pulled back, taking her hand and turning toward the now empty grand staircase.

 “Come on, everyone is probably waiting on me to start lunch.”

 Lily squeezed his hand and moved forward with him, glad that at least now she could stay by his side and be the comfort she knew he so desperately needed. 

[fly-pow-bye]

New Episodes for Cartoon Network for May 2019

Revealed on The Futon Critic, here’s the new episodes for May:

The Amazing World of Gumball:

Mondays at 4:00 PM.

May 6th - The Future - Banana Joe's Mom can predict the future, but she can't predict her own disappearance.

May 13th - The Wish - Gumball and Darwin believe they've turned Miss Simian into a neck-cushion.

May 20th - The Factory - Gumball and Darwin save the day at the Rainbow Factory.

May 27th - The Agent - On a top secret school assignment Gumball acts like a certain suave British secret agent.

Bakugan: Battle Planet:

Saturdays at 7:00 AM.

May 4th - "High Flying/Backfire Brawl" - While escorting the Mind Core Cell to AAAnimus Campus the AO are attacked by Masato Kazami and his Body Guards. Then, Philomena's attempt to refocus the Mind Core Cell's power backfires and the AO must fight their fellow employees.

May 11th - "Hostile Take Over/The Big Bounce" - After more unsuccessful attempts to harness Core Cell energy the AO must battle their own Bakugan with AAAnimus tech in order to save them. Then, AO confront Philomena with concerns about her control over the Core Cell energy.

May 18th - "Awesome vs. AAAnimus" - The AO plan on sneaking into AAAnimus and rescuing their Bakugan but are stopped by Benton who offers up an alternate plan. Then, AO team up with Benton Dusk to recapture their stolen Bakugan and free the energy from the Mind Core Cell.

Craig of the Creek:

One episode at 10:00 AM, on a Saturday.

May 11th - "Fort Williams" - When Craig can't go to the Creek, he and his mom decide to build the biggest blanket fort in the world!

DC Super Hero Girls:

After a small hiatus, it’s coming back. Sundays at 4:00 PM.

May 12th - #Beeline - When she stumbles across a villainous plot to blow up a bridge, Bumblebee shies from the challenge of taking on the baddies and reaches out to her friends.

May 19th -  #SuperWho? - Overwhelmed by the amount of Superman coverage in Metropolis, Supergirl decides to get out there and really show the city what she can do.

May 26th - #ShockItToMe - Leslie Willis, the meanest girl in school, becomes a social media sensation by posting mean-spirited videos on her MetropoVids channel, causing Wonder Woman to question the moral integrity of the people who live in the World of Man.

Mega Man: Fully Charged:

Sundays at 6:30 AM, and then a Mega-Bomb starting on May 19th, each airing at 12:00 PM.

May 5th - "A Man Man for All Seasons" - When a run-in with the Hoover Gang leaves Aki unable to transform into Mega Man, he must don a cheap costume and enlist the unlikeliest of sidekicks, Man Man!

May 12th - "Change the Charge" - Mega Man tries to stop Elec Man by helping him overcome his destructive habits, but is he being duped in the process?

May 19th - "Hide and Secrets" - Desperate for answers about Namagem, Mega Man decides to break into his father's lab, which leaves Suna exposed to the vengeful robot.

May 20th - "Make the Cut" - Mega Man goes on a 24/7 heroing spree around the city, forcing Suna, Bert, Ashley, and Rush to deal with the problem at hand, Cut Man.

May 21st - "Panic in the Lighthouse" - When Chaotique breaks into Dr. Light's lab, Mega Man must shut down his frenemy and the lab's defenses before either of them gets destroyed!

May 22nd - "The Gauntlet Part 1" - Lord Obsidian unites the Robot Masters against Mega Man and his family for an epic showdown at the Lighthouse.

May 23rd - "The Gauntlet Part 2" - As Dr. Light and Suna turn the Robot Masters against each other, Mega Man defeats and unmasks his arch nemeses, Lord Obsidian...

I decided to snip out that last part. I don’t watch this particular show so I don’t know if it’s important, but it sounds like the description outright spoils his identity.

OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes:

As seen later, this show will take PPG 2016′s time slot with a pair episodes airing Sundays at 4:30 PM. This is the beginning of Season 5.

May 12th - "Final Exams" - KO, Enid and Rad team up with an unlikely ally to take on an unlikely foe.

"CarolQuest" - Carol is forced to bring KO along as she defends the Plaza from a new threat.

May 19th - "Soda Genie" - When KO, Rad, and Enid find a soda bottle with a genie in it, they get more than they bargained for.

"Plaza Alone" - It's KO's birthday, and Rad and Enid want to make sure everything goes perfectly.

May 26th - "Boxman Crashes" - Lord Boxman crashes at Venomous' lair and inserts himself into his villainous affairs.

"All in the Villainy" - KO, Rad and Enid are confused to find the villains are more interested in battling each other than them.

PPG 2016:

I’ve already reported on this, but I’ll list them here for good measure. The sole pair of episodes of PPG 2016 will air on 4:30 PM.

May 5th - Watch It! / Man Up 4: The Donnyest Game

That’s all there is for May. As soon as the DC Super Hero Girls come back, the Reboot Puffs go away. This leaves two episodes still exclusive to the app.

Teen Titans Go!:

Mondays at 6:00 PM.

May 6th - "Don't Be An Icarus" - Robin tries to tell some Greek myths but the other Titans give their own fractured versions instead.

May 13th - "Stockton, CA!" - The Titans must find a way to keep all the Jump City residents from moving to Stockton.

May 20th - "What's Opera, Titans?" - Robin surprises the Titans with a trip to the opera but they soon fall asleep, and all dream about starring in their own operas.

May 27th - "Forest Pirates" - The Titans are at Super Hero Summer Camp for the week and they may need to add another teammate to win the big canoe race.

Total DramaRama:

Mondays at 5:00 PM.

May 6th - "Mother of All Cards" - Chef attempts to trick the kids into making his mother gifts after he forgets Mother's Day.

May 13th - "Duncan Disorderly" - Duncan escapes during a community walk only to discover he has to babysit Cody and Bridgette.

May 20th - "Soother or Later" - Duncan finally manages to break out only to realize he's forgotten his pacifier and needs to break back into the school to get it.

May 27th - "Camping is In Tents" - A class camping trip turns into a treasure hunt while Harold is determined to catch Bigfoot and keep everyone safe.

Victor and Valentino:

Saturdays at 9:30 AM.

May 4th - "The Collector" - When Vic accidentally loses one of Val's prized coins Val makes a deal with a mysterious antiques collector to replace it, but the deal has terrible consequences.

May 11th - "The Boy Who cried Lechuza" - After faking an injury to get out of work, Vic gains sympathy from everyone while unknowingly attracting attention from a dangerous mythical creature.

May 18th - "Boss For a Day" - When Chata lets Vic be the boss of the taco stand for the day Vic decides to fire Val, which has disastrous consequences.

May 25th - "Cuddle Monster" - After being told by Chata that they can't get a pet, Vic & Val adopt a wild lizard, unaware of its magical properties, and decide to keep it secret from Chata.

We Bare Bears:

7:30 PM on Mondays.

May 6th - "Band of Outsiders" - A gang of streetwise kids takes Baby Ice Bear under their wing.

May 13th - "Tabes & Charlie" - Tabes and Charlie team up to find Tabes' missing dog, Kirk.

In other news, the last episodes of Mighty Magiswords, which have been net exclusive since August of last year, will finally air on TV. However, it will not be on Cartoon Network, but on Boomerang, starting on April 29th. Yes, the TV channel still exists.

Stay tuned.

EDIT: I knew I forgot something. Added the one Craig of the Creek episode.