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half-bakedboy · 3 years

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Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz | Rated T | Chapters 1/11 | Posting Every Other Day

When Maddie showed up at the one-eighteen covered in bruises and needing a place to stay, Buck didn't hesitate to let her into his home and the new life he had created in L.A. While he was happy to have his sister back, he was tired of insisting to her that he wasn't as lonely as she accused him of being. So when she assumes he's in some secret relationship with his coworker and best friend, Eddie, Buck decides it couldn't hurt to tell a little white lie, especially when it meant his sister could focus on something that wasn't her own past.

Now Buck is stuck trying to navigate through a ruse of his own creation while dealing with newfound feelings for his best friend that seemed to sneak up on him.

Oh, and did he mention the mysterious accelerant that kept finding itself in his path, putting everyone he loves in danger?

read chapter one on ao3

“I’m just worried about you, Evan,” Maddie sighed into the phone. Buck’s heart did that stupid little stutter directly correlated with disappointing his sister and he held the phone away from his face as if that would lessen the guilt he felt.

“Mads, I’m—”

“You’re not fine.”

Buck sighed. “I wasn’t going to say fine. I was going to say—” Buck thought for a second, but his sister was right—as she usually was—and who was he to argue with her? “Alright, I was going to say fine, but it’s because it’s true!” Buck urged, hoping that the more times he said it, the more likely she’d be to believe it. (Maybe he could convince himself of the fact along the way.)

“It’s been almost two months since Abby—”

“Really, big sis? You just gotta bring that up?” He complained, groaning more than audibly as he stared up at the firehouse ceiling. He had found in the last few weeks of overtime shifts that counting the tiles and slabs that made up the structure was a great way to pass the time.

“Yes, little bro, I have to bring it up because I’m—”

“—Worried about you.” Buck finished the sentence with her and prepared for annoyance or, at the very least, another deep sigh, but instead, she stayed quiet as if giving him the chance to speak up.

Another sigh resonated before Maddie said, “You’re all alone in this big city with no family. You have to understand my worry.”

“I do, I really do, but I’m finally finding myself here. The 118 has really taken me in as their own; they’re friends who almost qualify as family at this point!” Buck argued, running a hand through his hair. Maddie couldn’t possibly understand what his fellow firefighters had meant to him.

“Have you at least started dating yet?” Maddie asked. Buck resisted the urge to hang up on her and took a deep breath as he considered her question. He could tell the truth, which was that he hadn’t so much as touched a woman since Abby tore his heart out of his chest and stomped it into the ground.

Or…

“I’m dabbling,” he decided to say instead.

It wasn’t completely a lie. He had decided a few days ago with a lot of pressure from Hen and Karen that he needed to at least attempt to get back out there and downloaded one of the most popular dating apps he could find. He set up his profile—albeit very scarcely—and had been waiting for those likes to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was almost complete radio silence and for his ego to take a direct hit when Chim got a date within the first hour of downloading it.

“Anyone I should know about?” For some reason, Buck wasn’t expecting the question. He thought that Maddie would shy away from asking or just be happy that Buck had divulged even just that little bit of information, but no. She just had to put her brother on the spot and have him panicking about what to say.

“Soon?” He sputtered, immediately regretting his words the moment Maddie’s small squeal echoed through the speaker.

“Evan Buckley, I knew you were keeping something from me the second you said you were fine! You knew that I wouldn’t just take that laying down, right? You must’ve!” The happiness in her voice broke Buck’s heart a little further and he couldn’t back down; not when her joy was so obvious in her rambling and the way she giggled into the phone.

“I— It’s really new, Mads,” Buck muttered as he tilted his head to the side and let his phone rest against his cheek.

“New is good and you deserve good, Buck,” Maddie said, the words like a gentle caress to his cheek that he would have leaned into if she was there. As if an idea had just occurred to her, Maddie gasped and said excitedly, “I’m gonna come visit. I’ve gotta meet this family of yours and you can’t avoid introducing me to whoever is making your life a little less lonely if I show up at your door.” Buck was annoyed that she had a point, but the prospect of having his sister around after a few years of space had his heart warming in his chest.

“You’re welcome here any time, Mads. I’ve really missed—”

“I’ve gotta go,” Maddie said, her voice quieter and a bit more panicked than Buck would ever have wanted to hear. “Doug needs me to— Well, he just needs me. Will you please stop being such a stranger and let me in on your life from now on, little brother?” Buck rolled his eyes at the term of endearment but agreed easily anyway.

“You know everything there is to know, sis.”

He wished he could be surprised when he got the text a few hours later that a trip to L.A. just wasn’t in the cards for her.

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The one-eighteen was quiet—though Buck wouldn’t dare say the word—for the majority of his shift a few days after his call with Maddie, which he was grateful for because Bobby was tabling his famous pasta bar as Buck skipped up the firehouse steps. The rest of the team was already seated in their usual spots and Buck took his next to the newest recruit, Eddie, elbowing his side as he leaned to scoop up the first piece of lasagna.

“Ay, the rest of us eat first, unless you’re planning on serving me, Diaz,” Buck teased with an over-exaggerated wink.

“You know I just live to serve you, Buckley,” Eddie shot back easily and Buck couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of him. It had been their thing since the new guy started. Buck would flirt with him until the rest of the team groaned or stopped it and apparently, Hen was at her wits end already if the piece of bread that slammed into Buck’s head was any indication.

“ Jeez , Hen, we’re just having some fun,” Buck pouted, taking a large bite out of the piece of food that landed on his plate.

“Do you always have to flirt with the newbie? It’s honestly sickening,” Hen complained with a roll of her eyes but Buck knew there was no heat in her words. He realized that look was all too similar to the one his sister would have given him. Buck laughed and tossed a grape tomato in her direction in retaliation.

“There’s no stopping us now,” Buck assured her with a wink.

And there really wasn’t. Buck and Eddie had been like that since the very beginning, and they only grew more comfortable and in sync in the few months they had spent working together. Eddie had joined the team as an openly gay single dad with no hesitation and Buck had respected that immediately. He was not one to hide his interest in any and all genders, but he wasn’t exactly waving a flag when he started at the one-eighteen.

There was about a minute of silence when Eddie introduced himself before Buck decided that the best way to smooth him onto the team dynamic was to hit on him. Buck made a ridiculous come-on about a firehose that was brushed aside by the rest of the team, but Eddie laughed and gave it right back. The two had been fast friends ever since, much to the dismay of the rest of their team.

“What’s everyone’s plans for the next three days off?” Buck asked as he stacked both his and Eddie’s plates full of food, tossing an untouched piece of bread behind his back that Eddie caught seamlessly just before it landed in his salad dressing.

“Christopher and I have a Marvel marathon planned that I couldn’t even try to get out of,” Eddie offered, slurping up a spaghetti noodle as Buck sat back down. “Which reminds me that he wanted me to ask you if you could come?” Eddie asked, peering at Buck out of the corner of his eye. Buck wasn’t sure where the sudden shyness had come from, but before he could ask or answer, Bobby was chiming in.

“May and Harry are with Michael so I will be finally showing Athena that my cooking skills are not just for show,” Bobby said with a large smile on his face. Buck liked seeing him like that, unapologetically happy for the new life he was starting.

“I’m planning on sleeping until my alarm goes off in three days,” Chim laughed from where he leaned back in his chair. “What about you, Buckaroo?”

“Well, I was going to try and find a date because my sister won’t stop bugging me about being single, but…” He trailed off, cupping Eddie’s shoulder tightly in his hand, “I just got an offer I’d be a fool to refuse.”

Eddie smiled and shrugged off Buck’s touch with a fond roll of his eyes before they focused on his plate. Buck glanced around at his team with an uncontrollable smile on his face as they bantered and laughed and listened intently to whatever story Hen was telling about her son, Denny. He thought back to his conversation with Maddie and how worried she had sounded for him, as if he was alone without Abby.

He wasn’t. His team—their laughter and camaraderie, their friendship and love, their shared stories and experience—was everything he needed.

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Buck was stuck with the dishes once the table was cleared, but he didn’t mind. He liked to get lost in the mundane task of scrubbing and cleaning, the clanging of the dishes a friendly reminder that he had spent much-needed bonding time with his team. Plus, doing the dishes meant he got to decide where they would go out after their shift and he had the best places in mind.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” Buck heard Chim’s voice softer than he expected from the second-floor terrace.

“I’m— That’s just the question of the day, isn’t it?” Buck’s heart dropped as he recognized the all too familiar voice and before he could think twice, his legs were bringing him down the stairs in a sprint. “I’m looking for—”

“Maddie?” Buck asked. When she turned, he caught sight of the bruises littering her face and peaking out from underneath the collar of her shirt. The long sleeves did nothing to hide the darkness around her wrists and she didn’t even try to cover up the gashes on her cheek and lip.

“Hey, Evan,” she said weakly, a forced smile tugging at her lips. Buck had her in his arms before her legs could fully give out and he held her tightly to his chest, careful of the soreness he knew was probably hidden underneath her clothes.

“Hey, hey, I got you. I got you, you’re okay,” Buck whispered into her hair as she sobbed, nails clawing at his back that probably would have hurt if he wasn’t so focused on providing his sister comfort. He caught Chim’s eyes over her shoulder, EMT bag in hand, and shook his head, searching the room for Hen. Chim seemed to understand exactly what he was doing and ran to the back where Buck was pretty sure Hen was resting.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Maddie choked out as she tried to pull away. Buck wouldn’t let her, though, as he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple softly.

“Here is perfect, okay? Don’t worry about it,” Buck reassured. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to her. He had known her relationship with Doug wasn’t the best and there was no doubt in his mind that that monster had hurt her. The way her body trembled and her voice shook had Buck feeling uneasy himself as he led her to one of the more comfortable couches in the station.

“Hey, sweetie, I’m Hen. You’re Buck’s sister? Maddie?” Hen said as she approached, carefully as if walking up to an easily spooked animal. Buck appreciated it as much as it hurt him to see.

“That’s me, the overbearing big sister,” Maddie attempted to joke, but it fell flat to everyone that had gathered around except for Buck.

“I don’t think I ever used the word ‘overbearing’ specifically. Maybe persistent, annoying was probably dropped in there a time or two,” Buck teased. He was too grateful when Maddie’s hand came up to swat his shoulder to focus on the wince on her face at the movement.

“She can’t be worse than you, Buckaroo,” Chim chimed in from where he stood a few feet away, flanked by Bobby and Eddie, who Buck noted was paying closer attention to where he kneeled beside his sister than he was at Maddie like everyone else.

“I promise I’m not,” Maddie said weakly. Buck held onto her hand delicately as Hen settled beside her, the EMT bag on her lap.

“Any family of Buck’s is family of ours,” Bobby stated, nodding at Hen as if giving her the okay to fully check up on her.

“He’s told me a lot about you guys, his family away from family. I—” Maddie’s breath hitched as Hen pressed her thumbs over the bruises along her collarbones and she pressed her lips together to compose herself before she continued. “I’m sorry for barging in this way, looking like—”

“—Like a Buckley?” Eddie offered, easing the bit of tension of what wasn’t being said in the room. Buck sent him a thankful nod as he squeezed his sister’s hand. “We’ve heard y’all are prone to accidents. The number of times I’ve had to patch up this one on company time is too many and counting.” Buck laughed and tossed a friendly finger in Eddie’s direction, smiling when Maddie seemed to relax at the banter.

“This one is always tossing himself into the fire quite literally, huh?” Maddie asked. Buck could tell she was relieved to have the conversation moved away from her and he didn’t mind being the target for her benefit.

“I’ve only been here for a few months, but I’m pretty sure Buck would put anyone before himself.” Eddie’s voice was a lot closer than Buck had expected and he didn’t realize how much tension was building up inside of him until Eddie’s hand landed in between his shoulder blades. He glanced up to catch his friend’s eye, smiling softly at the steady and comforting press on his back.

“Yeah, that’s exactly who he is,” Maddie muttered. When Buck glanced up at her, her eyes were narrowed and darted back and forth between him and Eddie accusatorily. That was not good . Buck cleared his throat.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Buck asked.

Eddie ran his hand up to Buck’s shoulder, squeezing gently and Buck couldn’t resist reaching up to let his palm brush over the back of Eddie’s hand, letting him know how much the gesture was appreciated. Bobby and Chim hesitantly nodded in response before they all disappeared, leaving an even more tense Maddie and nerve-filled Buck alone with Hen who was treating the cut on Maddie’s cheek.

As if scared for Buck to ask, Maddie offered, “It had been a few months, Buck. I thought— I really thought he had changed.” Buck sighed and rested his forehead on Maddie’s knee, relaxing only marginally when Maddie’s hand patted the back of his head.

“What was it this time? Did you argue with him a little too hard? Maybe you didn’t reach the level of perfection he always required of you?”

“Buck—” Hen warned, shooting a look that could kill in Buck’s direction.

“No, it’s— It’s okay. He’s right either way,” Maddie relented with a deep sigh. “It had been building since I said I wanted to visit you in L.A. I told him that you had alluded to seeing someone and that I wanted to see if it was true. He said I couldn’t go, that he was the only family I needed, and when I argued against that…” Maddie trailed off, gesturing to her face and that was enough for Buck to put together what happened next.

“He did this because of me?” Buck’s voice shook as he glanced back at his sister, reaching a hand up to stroke a finger over the dark bruise on her jaw. Maddie grabbed it and turned toward her brother, leveling their eyes together with a protectiveness in them that provided him the calm he needed.

“This was not your fault, Evan,” Maddie said sternly.

“It’s neither of your faults,” Hen added, resting her palm on Maddie’s arm softly. Maddie nodded and smiled at Hen as brightly as she could given the circumstances.

“She’s right and I came here because I can’t have this happen anymore,” Maddie stated, holding onto Buck’s hand a little tighter. “You mentioned your captain’s girlfriend was a cop?”

Buck nodded and wrapped his arms around his sister, wishing he had never let go in the first place.

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Athena had arrived at the station quicker than Buck had expected her to. Upon seeing him, she pulled him into a tight hug that he didn’t realize he had needed so much before disappearing into Bobby’s empty office with Maddie. He didn’t trust just anyone with his sister, but the second the door shut, he felt like he could finally take a breath.

He was flanked by both Hen and Eddie in a flash while Chim paced in front of them, chewing on a piece of beef jerky to stay occupied. Bobby watched from above, silently observing his team, and looking ready to step in if Buck needed it. They were all there for him and when the door finally opened after what felt like hours later, the smile that tugged at the corner of Maddie’s lips told Buck she had seen just that.

“Again, I’m really sorry for—” Athena shook her head and pointed a finger at Maddie, effectively stopping her unneeded apology.

“You’ll only have to be sorry if you don’t let this one take care of you the way you deserve,” she said, raising her eyebrows like a challenge. Maddie pressed her lips together and nodded bashfully as she leaned into the arm Buck had thrown around her neck.

“Buck, shift’s just about over. Why don’t you show your sister where she’ll be staying?” Bobby said. It was an order as much as a suggestion but Buck was going to take him up on it either way.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let me know if you need me to come back in.” Bobby silenced him with one look.

“We can survive the next hour without you, man,” Eddie chimed in. He walked over and pulled Buck into a one-armed hug as if he knew nothing could pry him away from his sister. Buck was grateful for the extra warmth Eddie provided him, either way.

“If you guys need anything, you know where we’ll be,” Hen assured, rubbing a gentle palm down Maddie’s arm until their hands were connected. Maddie squeezed it tightly and mouthed her thanks at Hen who brushed it off with a wave of her hand.

“I can’t thank you guys enough,” Buck began, but he stopped himself from saying any more before any of his team could argue. “I’ll see you in a few days?” He asked, directing his attention to Bobby so he could let his captain know that his sister arriving wouldn’t impact his work. As if he already knew, Bobby nodded and wrapped an arm around Athena’s waist.

“We’ll probably see you before then,” Bobby offered with a slight wink and Buck laughed.

“You guys sure I can steal my little brother away early?” Maddie asked nervously.

“Now that you’ve teased us with him leaving, you can’t take it back,” Eddie said from beside Buck. They both had to laugh and Buck punched Eddie’s arm in retaliation only for Eddie to grab onto his hand tightly, not letting him pull away yet. His voice was low as he muttered, “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

It was meant to be a question, but Buck knew it wasn’t. Everyone around them was so focused on Maddie and her injuries—which Buck couldn’t blame them for—that none of them really stopped to think how tough the next few days may be for the Buckley’s as a whole. But not Eddie. Just one glance from his friend told Buck that Eddie was well aware of the toll this might take on Buck’s good-natured mind and that Eddie was going to be there through it all.

“Yeah,” Buck confirmed, resting a hand on Eddie’s neck in a friendly gesture of comfort, “I’ll call you.”

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“I’m not going back there,” Maddie said the minute the door to Buck’s apartment shut.

“I know you’re not,” Buck agreed because even if she hadn’t made the choice herself, he wasn’t going to see his big sister hurt like that again.

“I grabbed what I could before I left and it’s going to take me a little while to get back on my feet, but—”

“Hey,” Buck said gently, wrapping his arms around his sister once more, “we’re gonna figure this out. It’s always been just the two of us, right? Sure, a few years have gone by, but you’re still the most important person in the world to me and we’re going to figure this out.” He repeated, believing the words so fully that Maddie must have, too. Her shoulders slumped in either relaxation or defeat, Buck couldn’t be sure which, and she pulled away enough for Buck to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Can I stay here for a little? Just until—”

“Maddie, stop. You’re staying here whether you like it or not,” Buck said with a laugh, ruffling her hair in his hand before she could swat him away.

“I just don’t want to impose on any guests you might have around,” Maddie said, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing around his apartment as if looking for signs of additional life.

Buck sighed, “Go take a shower while I make up some dinner.” Maddie’s laugh was so refreshing, the tension of the last few hours seemed to fall right off of his shoulders.

When he heard the water turn on, he busied himself with finding dinner even though he was still full from the large lunch at the station. He wasn’t sure when the last time Maddie had eaten was but her skin was too pale even through the bruises for him not to offer her something good. He rummaged through his cabinets for way too long, losing track of time as he listened to Maddie’s voice stop and start in the shower.

He used to love listening to her sing. She had always been carefree and beautiful and that was always something he admired. He could hear the hesitance in her voice as she weakly sang through the chorus of one of her favorite country songs and wished he could heal whatever it was inside that had her balking. Buck loved her more than anything in the world.

With a deep breath, he reminded himself that she had made that first step, the one he had wanted her to so many years before. He smiled to himself, grateful that she made it back to him mostly in one piece. Even though she didn’t have that fire in her eyes that he remembered, he knew that her deciding to come home to him was the spark she needed to light it back up.

A knock at the door had him cursing because the water had shut off and he still didn’t have dinner on the table. When he opened the door and saw Eddie, two pizza boxes in hand, he thought he might cry.

“I figured you usually go grocery shopping with Chris and I and we’re running low on food for two so—” Buck interrupted him by wrapping him another suffocatingly tight hug.

“Man, you could not have arrived at a better fucking time,” Buck sighed with relief. “I can’t believe you did this for her,” he muttered mostly to himself. Eddie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Maddie trotted down the stairs, patting her hair down with a towel.

“Eddie, right?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye that Buck wasn’t too fond of given the situation. “Did you bring us dinner?”

Eddie nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, for, uh, you actually.” Buck took the pizza boxes from his hands and Eddie immediately ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as if suddenly bashful. Buck thought he looked more adorable than usual but brushed it aside.

“That is so sweet of you,” Maddie said, knocking her hip against Buck’s. “Isn’t that so sweet of him, Evan?” Eddie snickered and Buck knew it was because of the use of his first name. He shot an unimpressed glance at Eddie who pressed his lips together in return as if holding back more laughter.

“Eddie’s just a regular old saint if you ask anyone,” Buck explained with much more sarcasm in his voice than he really intended. Maddie didn’t seem to notice as she smiled up at Eddie.

“Are you staying for dinner? I’m sure Buck would appreciate the company,” Maddie said happily, side-eyeing Buck as if he’d even thought to go against her words.

“Oh, no, I gotta get back to my kid,” Eddie said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. Buck knew Christopher wasn’t with him or else he would have asked them both to come inside.

“You have a kid?” Maddie asked, mouth agape for reasons Buck didn’t know but would definitely ask her about later.

“Yeah, Christopher. He’s—”

“—The best kid in the entire world,” Buck interrupted, turning to his sister. “Maddie, this kid is a spitfire and he’s got jokes and comebacks for everything, I swear! And he’s like the smartest 8-year-old I’ve ever met, not that I’ve hung out with many 8-year-olds, but still. You’re gonna love him!” Buck decided. He must have been rambling as both his sister and Eddie were staring over at him with amused looks on their faces. “…What?”

“I mean, I was just gonna tell her his age, but I guess all that stuff is true, too,” Eddie teased. He flinched when Buck swatted at him with the hand that wasn’t holding the pizza.

“He sounds incredible. I hope I get to meet him?” Maddie asked. Buck nodded quickly and a smile Buck wasn’t sure he had ever seen before tugged at the corner of Eddie’s lips. Buck was just about to offer for them to come over the following night when he remembered what he had already agreed to.

“Oh, crap. The Marvel movie night!” Buck exclaimed as he finally set the pizzas down on the side table. “Did you already tell Chris I was gonna join?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally fine. I’m sure he’ll understand that your sister is here and—”

“Nonsense! You promised that kid a movie night, he’s gonna get a movie night!” Maddie shouted as she opened up the pizza box and helped herself to a slice. Buck was glad she seemed to still have the appetite he remembered. “I don’t mind having a night to myself. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to just cry over a sad Hallmark movie with a glass of wine, you know?” Buck didn’t, but he also really wanted to hang out with the Diazes.

“We can always reschedule. Marvel isn’t going anywhere,” Eddie offered, but Maddie just shook her head and slapped Buck’s arm like it was his job to convince Eddie he would be a fool to do that.

“I’ll be over tomorrow at five with sandwiches to pay you back for tonight, okay?” Buck said softly, holding Eddie’s bicep in his palm. A blush covered his face and Buck wasn’t sure why he was being so nervous all of a sudden; they bantered and touched like that all the time.

“Yeah, okay. Maddie, thank you for letting me steal him and enjoy the pizza. Buck, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” He waved as he backed away and Buck watched as he jumped into his car and drove off.

Once the door was shut, Maddie smacked him on the arm and Buck recoiled, sending a confused glance at his sister.

“What the hell was that for?” Buck asked, rubbing his skin even though it really didn’t hurt that bad.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating a coworker !” Maddie shouted, gaping at Buck with joy in her eyes that he had missed more than he realized. He was so focused on her happiness, it took him more than a few reasonable moments to realize what she had said.

“I’m— Wait, what?” Buck asked, pausing mid-bite on the piece of the pepper and sausage pizza he made a mental reminder to thank Eddie for tomorrow.

“Eddie?!” Maddie repeated in a squeal. “I knew after our conversation that whoever you were dating wasn’t just any old person, but another firefighter? A male firefighter at that? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me yet!” Buck blanched and finished chewing his pizza carefully so as to not choke.

“Maddie, I mean this with no malice and all confusion; what the absolute fuck are you talking about?” Maddie scoffed and grabbed the pizza boxes, wandering to the living room and placing them on the coffee table. She made her way into the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge before settling down next to Buck who had to sit on the couch and think before he fell over.

“Oh, you cannot even pretend that you guys aren’t head over heels for each other. The hand on your back at the station? The side hug? Bringing you pizza after a rough day? The blushing?!” Maddie raised her eyebrows at Buck and he honestly didn’t know how to respond.

He should have said it was nothing. He should have said they were the only two openly not-straight men that he knew of who worked at the LAFD and were closer because of that. He should have said that they were just friends who put their lives at risk for each other every day so their relationship was bound to be special. He should have said all of that.

But Maddie looked so happy and carefree so instead, he lied.

“It’s… really new,” he said, echoing the words he had told her before she came to L.A. Her squeal of delight was enough for any regret he might have had to wash away and for his heart to soar that he could put that bright smile back on his sister’s face.

“Evan Buckley, you have to tell me everything !” Maddie crossed her legs on the couch and settled back against the cushions, making herself comfortable in the place Buck had started to call home. Even with the bruises and cuts littering her face, she looked at ease, and Buck smiled over at her widely.

“There’s nothing to tell, Mads. He started at the station a few months ago and we just… hit it off. Like I said, it’s new and he’s… good.” He wasn’t sure why he had hesitated but he hoped she didn’t read too much into it. When she rested a gentle hand on his bicep and squeezed, he knew she had believed every word of what he had said. The fact it wasn’t a total lie was the only reason he didn’t let his guilt build up too much just yet.

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” Maddie said softly, moving her hand up to cup the side of his face and brush her thumb along his cheekbone. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes, the words resonating through him as the ones he always longed to hear.

“What for?” Buck asked.

Maddie sighed and said, “For being you.” She tapped his nose with the tip of her finger before she added, “Now tell me all about him!”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 on fox #911 fic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #my writing #tiwistb fic #chapter one yall omfg #i cant beleive it!!#aklsjdfkl;ajsdl;f #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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thelibrarbian · 3 years

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Alright. Alright, he could do this. He was the Great Papyrus, he knew how to fix bones, he knew how to heal, and Fell wasn't– His HP was stable now. There was no need to panic. It was fine.

Or: Underfell Papyrus is injured on patrol and four skeletons deal with the aftermath.

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Rating: T

Tags: Platonic Edgepuff, Multiverse Shenanigans, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description of Injuries, Healing Magic, Papyrus Tries His Best, Everyone Needs A Hug, Eventual Fluff

Chapter word count: 1944

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I wrote a thing!

I started working on this for Camp NaNo in April. It was supposed to be a one-shot... it did not want to stay a one-shot :’D

Read on Ao3

or below the cut:

Papyrus rarely slept.

For all the unusualness that this night was about to bring, in this regard it was perfectly normal. It was 1:30 in the morning and Papyrus was wide awake, sitting up against the headboard of his race car-shaped bed and scribbling increasingly intricate puzzle designs into a notebook when he was interrupted by an urgent knocking from the front door.

He silently sprinted down the stairs on sock-clad feet - he didn't want to wake his brother, after all - wondering who could be visiting them this early in the day. Most monsters he knew did not share his sleep schedule (or non-sleep schedule, as the case may be) - the most likely explanation was that Undyne had burned down her house again with a midnight snack.

He skidded to a halt at the door, reaching for the handle. The knocking hadn't stopped; if anything, in the few moments it had taken Papyrus to come downstairs and open the door, it had only grown in intensity.

The monster on the other side was not Undyne.

And Papyrus realized that something was very, very wrong.

He only caught one glimpse of the sharp-toothed, fur-hooded version of his brother before he was pushed aside without so much as a 'hello' as Red staggered past him. It was rare for their parallel universe doubles to visit unannounced, but that surprise quickly faded when Papyrus' eyes fell on the second, larger monster that Red was dragging more than carrying inside.

To say that Fell looked bad would have been an understatement. He was hanging limply in Red's hold, his armor dented and torn open in places, and even though his clothes covered most of where Papyrus suspected the worst injuries to be, what he could see of the damage was bad enough. He thought he could make out several spots of something dark in the snow, leading from the basement to the front door, and he firmly decided to think about it later. Or not at all.

Thick beads of sweat were clinging to Red's forehead as he panted, visibly struggling to hold onto his brother. With a rather undignified noise of alarm, Papyrus sprung into action, helping Red to bring Fell into the living room and lower the tall monster to the ground. Cleaning, too, was something to worry about later.

He saw Red open his mouth, looking as if the next sentence was taking him a lot of effort to get out, then took one glance at Fell's plummeting HP and didn't wait to hear whatever Red was going to say. A second later he was crouching next to his unconscious alternate, his hands on his breastplate - stars, that piece of armor was not supposed to bend this way! - and pushing healing magic into him.

Papyrus was proud to proclaim that he had trained and mastered every aspect of magic at his disposal. He was a formidable fighter and a more than competent healer, but even so, whatever had happened to Fell was almost past Papyrus' abilities. Trying to stop his HP from falling felt as if he was attempting to catch running water with his hands. Which! Was not quite as impossible as it initially seemed, but it took all his concentration to bring the damage down to a slow trickle. He thanked the stars for having blessed him with such a large pool of magic reserves - he did not want to imagine running out in the middle of this.

Just when he thought he was starting to get things under control and could think about asking what in Asgore's name had happened to them, there was a soft huff next to him, then an equally soft thump as, in the corner of his eye, Red slumped to the ground.

"Oh no, not you too!" Papyrus reached out to catch him, but he wasn't quite fast enough - at least the carpet Red had landed on was soft - and as soon as his concentration on the healing slipped, Fell's HP started plummeting again.

Papyrus was not panicking! Solely for the reason that he absolutely could not afford to panic right now! He sent one desperate pulse of green magic in Red's direction before placing both hands on Fell again.

"SANS!!" There was a very small part of him that felt bad for waking his brother at one-something in the morning, but the majority of Papyrus was painfully aware that he did not have nearly enough hands to handle this situation alone. It took a few long seconds (during which Papyrus was absolutely not panicking as he tried to stabilize Fell's HP and prayed that Red wasn't about to dust in the meantime) before he heard shuffling steps upstairs.

"bro, what's-" There was a pregnant pause as Sans, thank the stars, seemed to figure out for himself what was going on. A second later, the familiar sound of a shortcut right next to Papyrus announced that his brother had foregone the stairs entirely on his way down.

Papyrus had no time to watch what exactly Sans was doing, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed him crouching down next to Red for a minute before he got up and disappeared somewhere behind Papyrus. A few moments later, the front door fell shut and the key clicked in the lock. Sans didn't say anything, for which Papyrus was grateful - he couldn't get distracted at the moment. He also didn't seem particularly panicked about Red's state, which Papyrus could only take to mean that his brother's alternate was not about to dust right there and then.

Sans wandered off again to somewhere, and Papyrus returned his full attention to Fell. It took a few more minutes before his HP wasn't dropping any further, and Papyrus finally dared to let his magic fade out.

"don't suppose you know what happened to them?" came Sans' voice from somewhere in front of Papyrus.

"No." He checked Fell again before he dared to look up, first at his brother, then at the unconscious Red next to him. The latter had been arranged into a more comfortable position, a cushion from the couch under his head. "Is Red alright? No, forget that question, what am I saying, obviously he would not be taking an impromptu nap on our living room floor if he was-"

"he should be fine," Sans reassured him before Papyrus could work himself further into his not-panic. "he isn't hurt, just exhausted. one shortcut too many, if i had to guess." He rubbed the back of his head. "'m gonna take him upstairs so he can sleep on a mattress, but… thought you could use a hand here first." He nodded towards the unconscious Fell.

Papyrus relaxed marginally. "Thank you, brother." It was only then that he noticed the first-aid kit on the ground in front of him that Sans must have brought with unusual, but very welcome helpfulness. "And yes, actually - an additional appendage or two would certainly make things easier." He carefully inspected Fell's armor, looking for a way to take it off with the least amount of movement possible.

His caution turned out to be justified. As he and Sans started removing the armor, Papyrus got the disturbing impression that the breastplate was most of what was currently holding Fell's ribcage together. It almost seemed like a miracle when they eventually managed to get the dented pieces of metal off him without causing any further damage.

Sans was looking vaguely nauseous.

The undershirt came off much more easily than the armor, mostly because Papyrus declared it unsalvageable after one look and had no qualms about simply cutting it apart. After his earlier struggle just to get him stabilized, Papyrus knew that what he was about to see would be… not good. He braced himself before he pulled the fabric aside, barely hearing Sans' muttered curse next to him.

He… had not been aware of just how many scars his counterpart had. Not that Fell usually made any attempts to hide them, but it was only now that Papyrus realized that almost every bone he could see was marked in some way. But those injuries were old, and he didn't let himself linger on them when there were much more pressing matters.

The right side of Fell's torso was a mess. There was barely a rib that wasn't broken, cracked, or bruised. Where the largest dent in the armor had been, a section of his ribcage was caved in entirely, the bone fragments just barely held together by magic. At least the healing magic had served to stop the bleeding, though, so Papyrus moved on, wanting to get a full picture first.

Fell's arms were smeared with something that could be either blood or marrow, but the cracks and cuts he found there were relatively minor by comparison. (He decided that it was not the right moment to speculate how much of the blood had belonged to someone else.) The same was true for the rest of the injuries - they were numerous but small, as if Fell had been caught in the middle of a tight bullet pattern, but aside from the ribs nothing looked immediately concerning - until Papyrus reached his legs and found one tibia snapped cleanly in half.

Sans had gone completely silent. When Papyrus glanced over, his sockets had gone dark and he looked like he was about to throw up.

"Sans?"

No response.

Papyrus swallowed dryly. "Brother?" he said, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Sans jumped slightly, blinking rapidly before his eye lights reappeared - tiny specks of light in his sockets that immediately darted over to Papyrus. "y-yeah? sorry, think i spaced out for a moment." His gaze flicked briefly to the unconscious skeletons on the floor again, then back to Papyrus. "what now?"

"First of all -" Papyrus gently squeezed Sans' shoulder, meeting his eye. "It's going to be okay, brother. This is nothing we can't handle." He adamantly refused to believe anything else. "Okay?"

"'kay."

"Secondly… If you could bring some water and clean towels, that would be much appreciated."

Sans gave a nod and disappeared, returning shortly after with the requested items and a mask of calmness plastered onto his face. If Papyrus hadn't seen him just a minute ago, it might have been convincing.

"Thank you." Papyrus looked his brother over. "I believe Red has been napping on the floor for long enough," he said.

Sans paused for a second before a look of understanding passed over his face. "right." He didn't take the out that Papyrus was trying to give him. Instead of taking Red upstairs and staying there with him, he only lifted him onto the couch and loosely draped a blanket over him before returning to Papyrus' side.

"I am quite certain that I can handle this myself, if you would rather be elsewhere," Papyrus felt the need to clarify.

"'course you can, bro." Sans crouched down next to him. "but an extra hand would help, right? 'm fine, really. just got a bit rattled there for a sec."

Papyrus rolled his eyes, more out of habit than anything else, and Sans' permanent smile became a bit more genuine.

"just tell me what to do." He wiggled his fingers. "extra hands at your service."

Alright. Alright, he could do this. He was the Great Papyrus, he knew how to fix bones, he knew how to heal, and Fell wasn't– His HP was stable now. There was no need to panic. It was fine. And Sans was helping, so it was doubly fine.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the first-aid kit, and got to work.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #papyrus #sans #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #hurt/comfort #platonic edgepuff #my writing #out of action fic

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drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

The Secret of Hurt (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The Secret is the only way for them to be together. But how long will they be able to keep it until Madam President will find out the truth? And how easily it will be for them not forget about the rules in public? Couple of drinks in and the darkness… will it be possible for them to keep a secret? Or will they fall ones again in the arms of each other?

Words: 3699

Rating: T

Warning: T only because still mention of physical hurt, some curse words

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. I hope you will like this chapter, it’s quite short and probably mostly not what I expected it to be at first. I hope you still enjoy reading this series.

Sequel for The art of Foreign Affairs

Previous parts of The Secret of Foreign Affairs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It was a few hours later, or so he thought, when he opened his eyes to the sound of someone pounding at his door. His body was still aching and his head was dizzy. Slowly he raised from the bed, groaning from the sharp pain that blinded him almost instantly.

Taking a slow shallow breath with his eyes closed he tried again. Finally after a few more attempts he managed to stand, hissing in pain. Slowly he walked to the door, feeling how each step brought him more pain that he would like to admit, but still fighting it, swallowing a cry of pain that was ready to break through.

His eyes subconsciously sought his own reflection on the way to the door, noticing that the order Madam President gave her bodyguards was executed perfectly. Looking at his clean... unbeaten face in the mirror. Noticing how his body was covered in bruises and cuts... a mix of pink and red. The way she ordered them. His suit jacket and shirt ripped open and soaked in his own blood mixed with attackers. He looked terrible. And even though his face was clear it was deadly pale and sick looking. With the beads of sweat covering his forehead. But his gaze... his gaze still cold, and all his emotions hidden.

“Just a moment,” he rasped as loudly as he could, but the voice coming out was more like a quite hoarse whisper.

He groaned quietly, when his hands started to work on the buttons of his bloodied shirt before reaching for another one in his cupboard. Wincing from a sudden pain that shooted through him, when he put it on. Slowly walking to the door.

Finally, after ten - fifteen minutes, the door was opened and he smiled weakly meeting Claire’s worried gaze.

“Where were you? I was so worried,” exclaimed Claire, rushing to him. Her body collided with his, making him draw in a sharp breath through the gritted teeth. His hands wrapped around her waist, trying to suppress a groan. “Are you okay?” she asked finally, stepping aside and taking in his pale face.

“Yes, I’m fine...,” he tried to reply with another half crooked smile, trying to lean down and kiss her. But a movement alone made him feel dizzy from a sharp pain that shot straight through him.

“Tatum, what have they done to you?” Claire breathed, knowing him better than to buy his lie. Her hand took his, studying his knuckles, noticing a dried blood and split skin there. “I was knocking at your door for at least half an hour. And I know you wouldn’t just ignore me... Not after... because you...”

“Claire...,” he breathed out, his hand still in hers. He inhaled sharply, lifting his other hand to tuck the strand of hair behind her ear. The flash of pain reflecting on his face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, but she still noticed. She also noticed the way his hand slagged back to his side.

“What have they done to you,” repeated Claire, her thumb brushing over the split skin on his knuckles. Her other hand slowly ran to his abdomen, placing it gently over his abs not missing the way how his body tensed under her touch, and he grimaced in pain. “Did they hurt you?” she asked. Her fingers running along the buttons of his shirt, feeling how his body tensed even more and his eyes closed for a split second, taking a deep shuddering breath, before meeting hers.

“I...,” he tried to reply, feeling how her fingers toyed with the top button of his shirt. Her hand shook slightly undoing the first button on its way. Working down his crispy white shirt, while he could only watch her doing that, without telling a word... without lying.

Slowly, inch by inch, she opened his shirt. Her eyes widened the lower she got, taking in his abdomen, a reddish colour of blood with some dried on his body.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat and her eyes widened even more. “Did... did my mo... oh God,” she choked, grazing her fingertips ever so lightly over his bruises, making him gasp and groan in pain with a choked inhale. Making her immediately pull her hand back.

“Claire,” he whispered, watching her to lower her head, his hand still in hers. “It will be okay. I’ll be okay. I just need...”

“Let me help you,” suddenly asked Claire, raising her head to meet his eyes. “Tell me how can I help you? Please...,” she whispered in a husky voice.

“You don’t have to,” gently replied Tatum.

“I want to... Please... Let me help you. Let me tend for you.”

“Okay,” whispered Tatum with a soft weak smile, letting Claire lead him to his bedroom.

Her hands slowly and carefully slid his shirt over his broad shoulders before sitting him on a bed, kneeling in front of him. Her eyes never leaving his, while she took his shoes off placing them neatly near to the bed. Her hands unbuckling his belt before popping the button on his pants open, sliding the zipper down. Her eyes always on his as if asking if this is okay, looking out for even a slightest sign of discomfort on his face. Her touches and movements are ever so soft and careful. And the way how she cared for him, how afraid she was to make it even more painful for him, showing in her gaze.

“Lift your hips,” she murmured, getting a crooked smile in return followed by his hoarse whisper.

“If you wanted me out of my clothes, you could just ask,” he said, lifting his hips obediently anyway. Feeling how the sharp pain shot through him, almost falling back to the bed, cursing. “Fuck...”

“Tatum... I just want to check how bad your injuries are,” she stated, feeling how her cheeks heated under his intense gaze, while dragging his pants down his legs before placing them near to his shirt on the floor.

Her fingers gently fleeting over his bruises and scars, feeling the vulnerability in his gaze that she never seen before.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, resting her hands lightly on top of his running her fingers over his knuckles.

“I have a first aid kit in a cupboard on a top shelf and you need some bowl of lukewarm water to clean the wounds,” he said, trying to stand up to get it for her, but she gently stopped him.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked with a frown. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Claire, really?... it’s top shelf. You barely can get anything from your fridge’s middle shelf, you always used to ask me,” he reminded her with a half smile, watching her raise from her knees anyway, moving toward the hall.

Five-ten minutes later, and seemingly out of breath with her hair messed up just slightly she came back with a bowl of water, first-aid medical box and with the pack of frozen fruits under her armpit.

“How did you...”

“Easily. And honestly, fruits?” She raised an eyebrow with a smile before putting everything on the bedside table.

“It’s not what you think. I just. I love fruits,” stuttered Tatum, feeling how the warmth raised up his neck.

“I love you - loving fruits,” murmured Claire with a suggestive wink, before moving closer to his side, the soft smile touching her lips before her gaze dropped to the bloodied spot on his abdomen sobering instantly. “Is it hurt?” she asked, grazing her fingertips over his abdomen.

“Nothing that I cannot handle,” he shrugged, but she saw how his body stiffen and he winced even from the slightest touch of her fingers.

“Liar,” she chastised him softly while helping him lean against the bed’s headboard, tucking more pillows under his back. Her fingertips gently ran over his knuckles, taking in the broken skin before soaking washcloth in lukewarm water and running it over the scratched skin, cleaning it from any remains of dried blood. Her touch is gentle, careful, and he took in a breath of air, holding it for a moment when their eyes met before letting it slowly out.

“You remember,” he whispered, watching how her fingers ran over his knuckles, massaging in an antibiotic cream the way he teached her so many years ago before carefully wrapping the elastic bandage over his wounds exactly the way he would do that.

“Of course, I remember. Not every day your best friend saves you from some stupid kids’ gang those parents don’t agree with yours mother’s politic and healthcare’s system. Plus you were the one who drove me home despite being injured, when my mother didn’t even bother to send someone to check on me,” she shrugged, before starting to clean the other hand as carefully as the one that was done and was resting gently on her hip.

“And you were the one who sobbed all the while, when treated my scratches.”

“Please, note, that I only did this because I thought you were going to die of blood loss,” protested Claire, while wrapping his hand with elastic bondage. “It was like ten on one.”

“Liar,” he chuckled softly with a pained smile before continuing to speak. "These were just scratches and some broken skin. Are you sure you can handle that,” asked Tatum, pointing at his bruised abdomen.

“I’m not 14 anymore,” she pointed out, trying as carefully as she possibly could lower Tatum to the bed. His abdomen tensing and he flinched in pain, sighing in relief when his back finally touched the mattress and his body relaxed. His eyes following Claire’s every movement, watching her to pick up the pack of frozen fruits before turning back to him.

“What that’s for?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow, the question stopping her in mid movement. And she frowned, not understanding what she was doing wrong.

“What? That’s to make sure you will not have bruises. You know... to make it less swelly?” she said tentatively, her voice raising in quiet question, unsure of what she did wrong. Her eyes meeting his in question, making him chuckle before hissing in pain.

“Sorry... I... it’s okay,” he said, taking a deep breath letting his body relax, closing his eyes. He could feel how she inched closer to him, feeling the warmth of her body. Her hand sliding up his chest, resting against his heart, while her fingers skated over his muscles and scars before pressing the cold pack wrapped in a cloth to his abdomen, making him gasp. Holding it here for ten minutes, before moving to another area.

Her movements were gentle, careful, trying not to hurt him. Before she felt him staring at her.

“What?” she asked quietly, raising her eyes to look at Tatum.

“I can see something is bothering you, besides the obvious” he said with a crooked pained smile, pointing to the place where she held the frozen pack. Feeling the slight shake in her fingers, when he placed his hand carefully on top of hers.

“I... yes,” she said, setting the pack of fruits aside. “When you left... I spoke with Winston about my reputation and how... how to fix that. And they... they suggested something,” sighed Claire not looking at Tatum. “Seeing how good we worked with Blaine during that project, they now have a plan how to make the people of Rutherland to stop worrying about scandal and move their attention to something else... they suggested, insisted even, for me to start dating him,” she said, before whispering what she was dreading to confess since the moment she walked through the door. “I agreed...,” The silence hung between them for a moment.

“I know...,” finally admitted Tatum, his eyes locked on their intertwined fingers. “I just hoped that this was a cruel way for your mother to hurt me more. I never thought that was true especially considering our history with Ardona,” he sighed.

“Yes... I know. But Winston said that the latest study showed that the union with Ardona is economically and politically profitable for both of our countries. And even though she still hates Hayes she is ready to try, and this is her way to make people to want for our feud to be mended. Create a Romeo and Juliette story and they will jump straight in...” “And you agreed...” quietly said Tatum, feeling how all his insecurities and fear started to come back, feeling how his heart squeezed painfully with an icy grip. Dread to lose Claire washed over him as fresh as ever.

“Tate, it’s just a fake date. You know it, right?” Asked Claire her eyes wide with worry.

“Does Blaine know it?”

“What?”

“Does he know that this is a fake date?”

“Assume though... why? Are you jealous?”

“I’m not... but the guy likes you. And I would prefer him to know it’s a fake date so he wouldn’t have any illusions.”

“He knows. At least, I hope he does, but Tate... can you sit this one out?” She asked tentatively.

“Why?”

“I want... I need to make sure the story is believable... even more though I need people, including my mother to think he... he is my mystery lover.”

“What? No!!!” exclaimed Tatum, almost jolting up to seat, but stopped by his pain.Growling in frustration.

“Tatum, see what my mother did to you only because she had even the slightest suspicion it was you???

What if she will do something even worse?”

“I don’t care... but I don’t like your plan. And I do care if my girlfriend will kiss another guy who likes her so no, I will not sit this one out, especially since your mother insisted for me to accompany you as your bodyguard.”

“Here this goes again,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“What?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“You! Calling me your girlfriend,” she chuckled. “Sorry... I just thought... I shouldn’t have just assumed...”

“Stop it. I want it and I love you. So Tate, can you sit this one out? I don’t want you to see me with Blaine...”

“Why not, if it’s only a fake date?” sighed Tatum, still stubbornly refusing to back off.

“Because, I will need to kiss him,” she said quietly. So quietly that he barely could hear her confession.

The words hanging between them in a heavy silence... making her instantly regret them, wanting to take them back a little too late. She had noticed how his eyes narrowed just for a split second and the pain flashed deep inside them, before he covered it with his stony facade. His body stiffened just slightly under her soft touch, but nothing else would give his feelings away to someone else... someone who didn’t know him. Except... except she knew him too well to miss the signs of what he really felt. She saw how the muscles in his jaw tensed. She didn’t miss how his eyes became a shade darker, steely, losing their warmth. And she didn’t miss how his heart changed its rhythm, becoming a sad melody under her touch.

And she knew that even though he trusted her completely he still had this nudging feeling, that he isn’t worthy of her. That he still is nobody.

She wanted to scream that it isn’t true. Wanted to tell him how much she loved him, and how it will hurt her to kiss anyone else but him. That he is the reason why she will need to put that stupid show, and that’s why he shouldn’t be here so not to get hurt even more. That he was the only person in a whole universe she needed in her life. The only one she ever truly loved. And the only one worthy of her... everything to her. And that she would do anything to protect him, because that is what she wanted to do, protect him.

But she couldn’t say the words as if frozen in time and space, watching with guilt and pain into his eyes. Hoping that he will see in them why she was doing it.

They didn’t fight at least not as she thought they would. But she also knew that he didn't want her to kiss the guy, and she... she didn’t want him to see her doing that. Same as she didn’t want him to be her bodyguard during the date, and he... he was adamant to come even though she knew to see her with another will hurt him. But he anyway didn’t back off.

In silence she finished to tend to his wounds. Softly cleaning them before applying a cream and wrapping the elastic band around his midsection. Her lips close to his, but he stubbornly fought the urge to kiss her.

And after she was done, she hesitated just for a second before slipping next to him. His hands on an instinct wrapping around her waist, while he grunted softly turning to his side. Her back pressing to his chest, letting a sigh of relief and closing her eyes. Trying not to get too close because of his bruises, too afraid to hurt him even more. His large frame wrapped around her from behind, the gentle hiss leaving his lips when his body brushed hers.

It was a while after, when she felt a small hesitant kiss pressed to her shoulder. After she started to think that he had fallen asleep without saying even a single word to her. After her body shook ever so slightly from silent tears, hoping he didn’t feel it. After billions of thoughts that this may be the end of them, and her mother finally won. But that kiss, this soft press to her shoulder made her hope... made her realise that it wasn’t the end and together they may overcome everything.

“Sorry,” Tatum murmured, moving closer to her, gasping from pain, but stubbornly refusing to lay down.

“For what?”

“For being stubborn... for being so blinded by jealousy, for refusing to see the reason why you want to do that or need to do that. For making you cry and doing nothing, except feeling how my own heart was breaking knowing that I’m the reason you cry,” whispered he with sigh before dropping back to the bed, while Claire carefully turned to face him. Her eyes still glistened from her tears, but a soft smile touched her lips. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“You definitely have one,” she laughed, making him smile in return.

“I love you,” whispered Tatum. His thumb brushing away her tears.

“I love you,” echoed Claire, pressing her lips softly to his while he tried to deepen it, cursing with a groan.

“Shit...”

“You need to rest,” she murmured, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before carefully moving away from him and curling against his chest. His large frame wrapped around hers from behind. His arm held her closer to him stubbornly ignoring the pain in his ribs and abdomen, while his warm, steady breath caressed her neck, lulling her to sleep.

It wasn’t one of these easy night sleeps, when they could sleep peacefully through the night in each other’s arms as they did just a night before the scandal. It also wasn’t the one when they kept awake the whole night only to hold each other, kissing and making love as they did the first night after their kiss. But that was a mix of both. They were waking up every few hours only to make sure that they were okay, pressing soft kisses to each other’s skin only to reassure each other that they are here, and that they will make it out at the end. No matter how difficult or impossible it seems to be. And then they were falling back to a peaceful sleep.

It was already morning, when Claire stirred awake, groggily opening her eyes after another few hours of sleep. Her body stiff, and her eyes still heavy with sleep making her blink before finally focusing on the wall trying not to wake the man beside her. It was still dark, thanks to the heavy blinds covering windows, when Claire’s eyes sought the wall in a futile attempt to find the clock. Cursing under her breath, when she heard a pained breath to her left, when she needed to move just slightly.

“Sorry... did I wake you,” she asked in half a whisper, turning slowly on her side to meet Tatum’s sleepy smile.

“It’s okay, what time is it?” he asked sleepily.

“Have no idea, but hopefully not too late to do that,” she smiled, kissing him on the lips feeling how his arm tensed around her in an attempt to pull her on him. Making a sound of protest when she stopped him in his attempt.

“I probably need to go,” sighed Claire, feeling how Tatum’s body tensed next to her and his eyes widened looking somewhere behind her. “What?”

“Ummmmm, Claire... it’s 5 minutes till guards will start their rounds... and I have no idea how you will pass through them unnoticed and... paparazzi are still here... Shit... I think this time, we are officially screwed...,” he said in a hoarse grunt.

Claire's eyes widened, taking in Tatum’s paled face, watching him wince in pain when he tried to sit up too quickly. Her brains worked with doubled effort, sweeping aside one idea after another, until something in there... something definitely crazy has caught her attention. Tentatively she looked at Tatum, pensively chewing on her lower lip while not taking her big doe-like eyes from him.

“What?” finally asked Tatum, raising his eyebrow in question.

“I think I have a plan of how to make sure my mother got off us... ,” quietly told Claire, while her fingers played with the hem of her dress, trying to smooth out wrinkled folds after their sleep.

“Something tells me I will not like it...,” said Tatum furrowing his brows in exasperation.

“You most definitely will not like it,” confessed Claire. Admission falling between them in a heavy silence.

Tagging: @choices-bound @jamespotterthefirst @mercury84choices @k2624 @thefrenchiemama @choicesreal @starrystarrytrouble @boneandfur @walkerswhiskeygirl @sophxwithers @ramseysrookiex

#tatum mendoza #tatum x mc #tatum x f!mc #foreignaffairs #choices foreign affairs

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idnek83 · 3 years

Text

Wait, You Can Do What? Chapter 1/?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hajime Hinata/Soda Kazuichi

Words: 4,146

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot (maybe a little plot if you squint), Trans Soda Kazuichi, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining (a little bit), Vaginal Fingering, Shower Sex, Shower Head Stimulation, Roommates, Wet & Messy (Soda is just super wet the whole time), afab language

Chapter: 1, 2

Summary: Soda learns he can dye more than just the hair on his head and Hajime helps him do it.

Read on Ao3

_____________________

It had started out like a completely normal J.O. session.

They hooked up Hajime’s laptop to the shitty TV on their minifridge, scrolled through some porn while making fun of each other’s suggestions, and eventually found something they both thought looked hot. They hit play, got comfortable on their respective beds, then Hajime started stroking his dick while Soda rubbed his clit.

Normal stuff.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the most normal thing, but after a few weeks of living in their tiny dorm room - which had been advertised as a ‘Hope’s Peak University Deluxe Double Dorm With Ensuite Bathroom’ – they were both starting to get frustrated with the lack of alone time they were able to get. One day Soda had come home hot and bothered, praying his roommate would be out, only to find Hajime already inside pumping away at his dick. It was the third time one of them had walked in on the other getting off that week, and neither of them really had a fuck left to give.

Soda had just walked over to his bed, whipped out his phone, and started looking for something to jack off to. Hajime had frozen when Soda walked in, but once he saw what he was looking up he just un-paused his own porn and went back to stroking his dick. Soda had looked over and Hajime had caught him, so Soda just said the porn he was watching looked hot and Hajime suggested hooking his laptop up to the TV so they could both watch. He did and they both managed, for the first time in weeks, to get off without the stress of being walked in on.

It hadn’t been that big of a deal, they had known each other for years and had both seen each other naked before, so who really cared if they jacked off in the same room?

It quickly became a regular part of their lives; one of them would just announce he was going to watch some porn and it was up to the other whether he wanted to join or not. Simple. It made living together easier and that was all there was to it.

Soda’s fat fucking crush on Hajime had nothing to do with it.

Hajime’s crush on Soda didn’t either.

So, there they were weeks later jacking off together, Hajime fisting his cock and teasing his balls, and Soda with two fingers on his clit and two pumping into his pussy. And that’s when Soda saw it.

“Wait, what the fuck? You can dye your pubes?”

Hajime slowed his hand on his cock and looked at Soda. His eyes flicked down to watch Soda fuck himself for a moment before moving up to his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Soda pulled his fingers out of himself and got up, moving to the TV.

“Look how red this guys pubes are! There’s no way that’s natural.”

Hajime looked from Soda, pointing to the TV and standing next to it in nothing but a t-shirt, to the actual screen. Those were some pretty red pubes but…

“Wouldn’t that like, super fuck up your junk though?”

Soda turned and bent forward awkwardly to reach Hajime’s laptop, their room was pretty cluttered, so Soda had to bend nearly in half to reach the laptop without stepping on anything. He paused the porn and opened a new tab to look up if it was actually possible to dye your pubes.

Hajime just kept working his dick as he stared at Soda’s sopping wet pussy, flushed with arousal and practically dripping. Hajime wondered if Soda would let him fuck it…

“You can!”

Hajime choked, before realizing that Soda was still talking about dying pubes, not giving Hajime permission to fuck him.

“Holy shit, you can just use regular dye too! I wanna do it! Haj, lets do it!”

“Now?” Hajime looked pointedly at his still hard dick.

“Yes now! Your dick can wait dude, this is gonna be so fucking sweet.”

Hajime sighed, but tucked his dick into his boxers as he got up and followed Soda to the bathroom.

“To be clear, I’m not putting dye anywhere near my dick, I’m just coming to watch you fuck this up.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it dude, you’re a buzz kill. Now mix this together for me and shut up.” Soda handed him a brush and bowl he had filled with dye and shampoo. Hajime rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He sat on the bathroom floor, anticipating being there for a while.

Soda grabbed his jar of petroleum jelly and sat on the closed toilet lid, and if anyone asked, it was totally a coincidence that he sat at the perfect angle, and spread his thighs just so to give Hajime a clear view of his pussy. Pure coincidence.

He started to spread the jelly around his pubes, protecting the surrounding skin from the dye. He was careful, he really didn’t like the idea of having a pink stomach or something for the next while, nor did he like the idea of going to the doctor with a chemical burn on his clit. That was definitely the reason he was taking his time rubbing the jelly onto it, in slow little circles, with just the right amount of pressure…

He looked up and caught Hajime watching him, already done mixing the dye. He spread his thighs a little wider and moved his hand a little faster, loving the way Hajime was staring.

He remembered the first time they had jacked off to each other. They had been watching porn, and were just getting to the good part when the shitty university wifi cut out. The video hadn’t even stopped on something sexy. Soda had been so frustrated he shouted, but Hajime just casually remarked that they’d have to find something else to jack off to. Soda had been about to call him stupid- the internet was out after all, how were they supposed to find anything- but when he looked at his roommate, Hajime just pointedly looked down at his cock and back up at Soda. He clued in pretty quickly.

They had both moved to sit on the floor, so they could see each other’s junk better. With their backs against their own beds they were only a few feet apart, even with his legs bent and spread wide to give Hajime a clear view, Soda could easily touch Hajime’s foot with his own and call it an accident. He did, Hajime didn’t mention it, he kept it there while he fingered himself at the same pace Hajime fucked his fist. He had imagined the first was his cunt, imagined he was brave enough to get up and ride Hajime’s cock. He came on his own fingers and barely managed not to moan Hajime’s name.

“If you were just gonna jack off anyways we could have just kept watching porn, man.”

Hajime’s voice brought him back to the present, where he was still rubbing his clit with jelly.

“Hey, I’m just following the instructions, dude, it says you gotta cover everything thoroughly.” He laughed.

“Sure.” Hajime rolled his eyes and handed Soda the bowl and the brush he had been mixing with. “If you’re that horny let’s just get this done with quickly.” Hajime’s eyes flicked back down to Soda’s crotch and he smirked. “Before you ‘thoroughly coat’ the toilet.”

Soda looked down to see a little line of slick slowly dripping down from his pussy to the toilet. He couldn’t help it, he always got really wet, and it was always worse when Hajime was around.

He just ignored it and started painting on the dye.

Hajime watched Soda work for a moment. He was doing a surprisingly bad job for someone who regularly colored his own hair. From where Hajime was, the dye looked uneven and Soda didn’t seem to be putting a whole lot of effort into actually keeping on just on the hair. Some had already smeared up onto his stomach.

“Hey, you kinda suck at that. You’re getting it everywhere.”

“That’s what the jelly’s for, dude, I don’t have to be good.”

“Right, I’m not going to have to listen to you complain about the pink spot on your stomach for the next few days.”

“Wha- oh god damnit.”

Hajime laughed as Soda set down the brush and started wiping off the dye on his stomach with a wad of toilet paper. He moved closer and grabbed the brush himself.

“Thought you weren’t gonna dye yours?” Soda was smirking down at him. Hajime just shifted even closer, pushing aside one of Soda’s thighs so he could sit between them.

“I’m not. I’m gonna do yours since you’re so bad at it.” Maybe it was mostly an excuse to spend some quality time between Soda’s legs, but it only worked cus Soda was actually doing such a terrible job.

“Fuck you man, I wasn’t doing that bad.” Hajime just raised a brow. “… fine. But, like, just do the front, I’m not trying to get dye in my pussy.”

“Duh.”

Hajime got to work painting on the dye, and Soda realized he should have just asked him to do it from the beginning. The brush strokes actually felt kind of good now that Hajime was in charge of them, and the hand high up on his inner thigh, stopping him from closing his legs, was a nice bonus too.

Hajime finished up quickly, it wasn’t that big of an area to cover, and Soda set a timer for the dye’s recommended 15 minutes. Hajime stayed where he was between Soda’s legs, staring.

“Dude is this a kink or something? Is that why you dye your hair so often? Cus you get off on it?” Soda just shot Hajime a questioning look. Hajime just gestured to his pussy. “You’re definitely wetter than you were when we started.”

Hajime was right, there was a little puddle forming below him now.

“Shut up dude. It’s a lot of attention on a sensitive area, okay? It’s natural.”

“You’re such a virgin.” Hajime chuckled and Soda couldn’t help but blush.

“Yeah, well why don’t you do something about it then?”

They both froze.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Hajime was staring up at him wide eyed, mouth open like he couldn’t figure out what to say. Shit. Abort.

“Ha, ‘s a joke dude! Wow! You should totally see your face right now! You look so dumb! Haha!” He was speaking too loudly and his laughter was forced, but Hajime relaxed, so it must have been good enough.

“Oh, to bad. I totally would have fucked you.”

“WHAT.” Soda practically squawked.

Hajime had been trying to play it cool, but between that and the look on Soda’ face, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, falling back a bit with the force of it.

Soda watched Hajime laugh. Okay, so he had definitely been joking then right? Soda let out a little disappointed breath.

“Bastard.”

Soda wanted Hajime to fuck him so bad.

Hajime wanted to fuck Soda even more.

He had wanted to fuck him for months now. It had started long before they had started jacking off together, but, now that he got to see Soda naked every other day? The urge had grown so much stronger. He felt his dick twitch in his boxers as he looked back at Soda’s dripping pussy.

“So how much longer is this supposed to take? I’m pretty sure we both want to get back to jacking off.”

Soda reached over and checked the timer on his phone.

“Like 10 more minutes before I can rinse it off.”

“Jesus, you should have just waited till after we finished to do this…”

“I was excited…” Soda looked a little embarrassed about it now, but mostly he just looked horny.

“You’re still ‘excited’.” Hajime smirked and Soda just rolled his eyes at him.

“You know there’s nothing stopping you right? Like, feel free to go back and jack off without me, you totally have my blessing, dude.” Now Soda was smirking.

“Right, and leave you horny and unsupervised with dye on your pubes? No thanks. Don’t want to have to take you to the hospital cus you started fingering yourself and got dye in your pussy.”

Soda just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever man.” A moment passed and Soda couldn’t help but stare at the noticeable bulge in Hajime’s boxers. “Just do it here then, you can watch me while you get off.” He really hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but Hajime was already laughing.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Oh fuck off, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” Hajime just chuckled again as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and began slowly stroking, keeping his eyes on Soda.

Soda’s eyes were focused on his cock, hard and thick and leaking just a bit of precum. God, he wanted it inside him.

Hajime watched as Soda started shifting uncomfortably in front of him. Watched him bite his lip and shift his hips like he was searching for some little bit of friction. It was obvious how turned on he was, and how much it was killing him not to touch himself. Hajime felt kind of bad for him.

He looked at the small patch of dye, it ended just above Soda’s clit, not extending between his legs where he kept his hair trimmed short. Technically, there was nothing stopping him from fingering himself, he’d just have to be careful not to smear the dye every where while he did. But ‘careful’ wasn’t really something Soda was good at.

It was definitely best that Soda didn’t try to touch himself for now. Hajime on the other hand…

“You know… from this angle I could probably finger you without having to worry about the dye.” Hajime made sure to smirk while he said it, to keep his tone light and teasing.

“Please.” Soda hadn’t even thought before saying it. Hajime was probably just joking but he was just too worked up, he needed to get off. Watching Hajime stroke his dick while he just sat there was already hard to handle, but Hajime offering to finger fuck him? That was just too much.

Hajime watched as Soda shifted his hips forward a bit and leaned back on one of his hands, giving him and even better view of his soaked pussy.

“Wow, you must really have a dye kink or something if you’re this desperate, huh?” Hajime was starting to feel a little desperate himself, but he needed to keep things light. Couldn’t let Soda catch on to how bad he wanted this.

“Oh fuck you.” Soda sounded disappointed as he turned his head and drew back a little. Shit, too much joking. “You’d probably be bad at it anyways.”

Soda was blushing. He really hoped Hajime would take the bait.

“Is that a challenge?” Score. Now he just had to play it cool, can’t let Hajime know how badly he wanted it. He just shrugged and opened his legs a little wider, still looking away, letting Hajime interpret for himself what that meant.

He heard Hajime laugh and his stomach dropped.

“Get ready to be wrong dude, I’m gonna make you cum so hard.” Wait, what?

Before Soda even had time to process that, he felt Hajime slip a finger into him.

“Oh, fuuuck.” He couldn’t stop himself, he was already moaning. It was embarrassing, it was just a finger, slowly pumping in and out of him, but it felt so much better than it had any right to because it was Hajime’s finger. Hajime was inside of him, even if it wasn’t his cock pumping into him, it was still Hajime.

Hajime couldn’t decide where to look; Soda’s face or his pussy? Soda’s face was flushed, and he had brought a hand up to try to muffle his moans. It wasn’t working. It just made him look hotter. His pussy was dripping, literally, so wet Hajime could hardly believe it was real. He was barely even touching himself now, too caught up in watching Soda. He curled his finger up gently and picked up the pace just a little.

When he looked up, Soda was watching him, panting.

“Who said I would be bad at this again? Definitely looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Shut up, man.”

“And, god, you’re so fucking wet. Like I was kind of joking before, but this is insane.”

Soda moaned and bucked his hips a little.

“Should have seen it before I started T, straight up waterfalls down there, man.”.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Hajime smiled when Soda looked away, embarrassed by the compliment apparently. He wanted his attention back though, so he slid in a second finger, meeting with no resistance. Soda threw his head back and moaned. It felt almost too easy. “You sure you’re a virgin dude? You’re really taking my fingers like a pro.”

“No dude, I’ve definitely been sneaking people into out tiny room and banging them without you noticing somehow. Of course I’m a virgin, man, don’t rub it in.” Soda paused, feeling self-conscious. “W-why? Am I loose or something?”

Hajime hated the worried look on Soda’s face, hated that he put it there.

“No way, tight as hell, it’s just that there’s like, no resistance.” He thrust his fingers in quickly a few times, both to prove his point and to make Soda gasp.

“That’s like- ah- the whole point of getting wet, genius.” The worried look was gone and he was panting again. Good.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s like… look.” He pulled out then pushed back in with three fingers, gliding in smoothly yet again. Soda moaned and pushed his hips forward. “I’ve literally never seen a pussy this wet without lube before.”

“Do you usually talk this much? Cus if you do, then that’s why. Pussies’re probably drying up while you’re busy running your stupid mouth. I know mine is.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it.” Hajime rapidly fucked his fingers into him a few times before pulling out and showing Soda just how soaked they were. “Could use this as actual lube, man, easily.”

Hajime wrapped his fingers around his cock, coating it with Soda’s slick to demonstrate.

“Dude, gross.” He was panting as he said it, eyes half lidded and focused on Hajime’s cock. The implications of his cock being soaked with Soda’s slick… Soda felt his pussy clench down around nothing as he thought about Hajime fucking him raw.

Hajime moaned and worked his cock a little faster. He was thinking the same thing.

“Fuuuck, dude, it really is just like lube… or I guess lube is actually just like it, huh?” He flashed Soda a cocky grin and Soda hated that he thought it was funny too.

He watched Hajime work his cock, watched those wonderful fingers coated in his own slick tug and squeezed around it. He wanted it inside him, but he’d settle for just getting Hajime’s fingers back where they were.

“Way to leave a guy hanging…” Hajime laughed and shrugged a little.

“Sorry.” Hajime gave his dick a few more pumps before letting go. “But you looked like you were enjoying the show.” He slipped his fingers back into Soda easily, and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward against them. Hajime swallowed and wrapped his free hand around his cock again.

Soda couldn’t stop thinking about how the fingers inside him had just been on Hajime’s dick. It was stupid, but it somehow made the whole thing a little hotter.

Hajime picked up the pace, working them both a little faster.

“H-hey, I know I’m supposed to be showing you how good I am at this-” Oh right, that’s what this was supposed to be, Soda had completely forgotten. “-but I’m not gonna touch your clit, okay dude? That’s way too close to the dye.”

If Hajime had been touching his clit, Soda knew the whole thing would have been over almost as soon as it started. As much as he wanted Hajime’s fingers (and mouth, and lips, and tongue) on his clit, he was kind of glad he could drag this out. He wasn’t about to tell Hajime that though.

“It’s okay, dude, you can just- ah- just admit you don’t know where the clitoris is.” Hajime had started fingering him faster as he spoke. He could feel himself starting to get close. Hajime rolled his eyes at his words then stared down at his pussy again. Soda swore he saw him lick his lips, and he thought sent a chill up his body.

“I’ll just have to show you some other time…” It was quiet, and Soda wasn’t sure he was actually supposed to hear it, but the words pushed him so much closer to his release.

Soda was moaning openly and thrusting back against Hajime’s fingers, Hajime stroked his cock faster as he imagined how much sweeter those moans would sound with his lips wrapped around Soda’s clit. He leaned a little closer, fucked him a little harder on his fingers as he measured out the distance with his eyes. Maybe he could avoid the dye if he just used his tongue-

A loud ringing echoed through the room, startling them both. They froze and looked at each other for a moment before realizing it was the alarm on Soda’s phone.

Hajime laughed and pulled his fingers out as Soda turned off the alarm.

Soda felt like he was going to cry. He had been so close to cumming, and maybe he imagined it, but it really looked like Hajime was about to suck his clit. He whined when Hajime had removed his fingers, too turned on to even feel embarrassed by the noise.

“Chill, dumbass, we gotta rinse the dye off before it burns off your pubes or something.” Hajime stood and gestured towards the shower.

Soda stumbled in as quick as he could, desperate to get the dye rinsed out and Hajime’s fingers back inside of him. He grabbed the shower head and nearly dropped it before turning it on and bringing it close to his crotch, doing his best to rinse out the dye.

Then Hajime was there with him, gesturing for Soda to hand him the shower head with a devious look in his eye.

He was disappointed when Hajime just continued to rinse his pubes for him.

They both stood silently for a moment, waiting for the water to come away clear. After what felt like years to Soda, it finally did.

But before he could do anything, he was being pushed back against the shower wall and Hajime was talking.

“Guess I can show you where the clitoris is now, huh?”

Hajime move the shower head lower, focusing a stream of water directly onto Soda’s clit.

Soda shouted and his body shook as he braced himself against the wall, overcome by the intense feeling, crying out when Hajime moved closer and thrust two of his fingers back inside him. Hajime immediately began fucking his finger into Soda even faster than he had been earlier.

“Bet you do this every time you shower, huh?” Hajime was standing so close, Soda could feel him rubbing his cock up against his hip, moving in time with the fingers pounding into him.

“P-pretty muu -uh yes, fuck! Hajime! Please!” He was losing his mind. His whole body was shaking. Between Hajime and the shower head he could hardly focus. He was so fucking close.

“Knew there was a reason you started showering regularly.”

“F-fuck you”

“Later.” The word sent him over the edge. ‘Later’, Hajime would fuck him later. In his mind, Hajime’s fingers became his cock, pounding into his pussy as he came around him, trying to milk his dick for every last drop of cum it could give him. Hajime just kept fucking him through his orgasm, didn’t even start to let up until Soda was whining.

Hajime dropped the shower head and pulled his fingers out of Soda’s dripping cunt to wrap them around his cock again. He pulled back, angle himself just right and fucked his fist until he was cumming, blowing his load onto Soda’s freshly dyed pubes.

They stood panting for a few moments catching their breath. Soda looked down to where Hajime’s cum was dripping down his body, and couldn’t help but run his fingers through it, wanting to touch it. Hajime looked up at him and raised a cocky eyebrow. He blushed.

“Th-this better not fuck up the dye.”

Hajime laughed and brought his mouth to his ear.

“If it does, I promise I’ll help you out again.”

(Next Chapter)

#Kazuhina #hinasouda #Souhina #SoulFriends #Hajime hinata #Soda kazuichi #My writing #fic #Trans Soda #trans stuff #afab language #soul friends #nsft

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vivi-the-sky-kid · 3 years

Text

Sowing the Seeds (of Love), Chapter 1

Aka the Resh/OC Fix-It Fic Nobody Asked for but I'm Inflicting on All of You Anyways as Punishment for Kai's Your Hubris

The King has always been a mysterious figure in the annals of the Sky Kingdom's history, generating both awe and fear within the hearts of the sky spirits. Few can claim to have met them in person; certainly not Tav, a researcher of light creatures for the Vault of Knowledge. But when they discover their research may be used to harm the very creatures they know and love, Tav knows they cannot allow this to happen.

Somehow, they must change the King's mind. If that means throwing butterflies at their royal face, then so be it.

-<◇>-

Warnings: Will be added to each chapter when necessary, but there's not gonna be anything graphic in this (do send me an ask if you think there's something I should warn about tho)

Rating: T (just to be on the safe side)

Pairing(s): Resh/OC

Tag(s): Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies

Additional Tag(s): Resh and Alef are twins, Resh and Tav are both nonbinary, Resh uses he/they, Tav uses she/they, Resh is demiromantic and pansexual, Tav is biromantic and demisexual, no beta we die like moths in eden

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

-<◇>-

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2,477

Warning(s): None

-<◇>-

Fury powered her strides as Tav marched towards the elevator leading to Elder Lamed's level of the Vault. What they had overheard... it was unthinkable! Outrageous! And they intended to let Lamed know exactly that! She couldn't let her research be used like this. Not to harm the very creatures they had spent their life studying.

Onwards and upwards she went, a lone figure on the elevator. Scholars sorting memory cubes and acolytes tending to the spiritual residue of the Kingdom's history flew past her vision. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, its power diamond moving to rest over the Elder statues, and Tav mustered their psychokinetic powers to fly the short distance to the grassy island. That had been a trick the mantas had helped her master; if not for them, she would still struggle to get around Vault's upper levels like before. They took a breath to steady themself, adjusted the prairie lily clipped to their hair, and moved forward.

As they crested the structure bearing the Elder statues, Tav looked around. She could see no sign of Elder Lamed, which meant, more likely than not, the Elder had withdrawn into their private domain. There was nothing for it but to light the altar candles, sit before their statue, and pray.

Their legs had started to fall asleep when they finally felt the brush against their mind that meant Lamed had heard their prayer, and was ready to listen. She relaxed and let the Elder pull their consciousness into that dreamy world. When they next opened their eyes, they knelt in the same spot, although the elevator diamond was now gone, casting the area in comfortable shadows. In the statue's place stood Lamed, gazing down at her with an unreadable look.

“Ah, so you are the one who prayed. Tav, was it? Head of the light creature research effort?”

“That's correct, Elder Lamed. I've come to you regarding a decision involving my research.”

“Is that so?” Their eyes flickered beneath the mask, before they dipped their head. “Very well. Speak.”

Tav jumped to their feet, hands clenching the fabric of their robe. “Elder Lamed, I cannot permit my research to be used to develop these 'dark weapons' R&D is proposing! Light creatures are beautiful, wonderful creatures that share a great deal in common with us. They are intelligent, gentle, and loving beings. To turn them into weapons is... is... is out of the question!”

The Elder's eyes had grown wide at her outburst, but soon closed as they pressed a hand to their forehead. “Really, Tav, you're being unreasonable. R&D has already gained permission from the King to go forth with this project. Are you saying you doubt His Majesty's judgment regarding the good of the kingdom?”

“Yes!”

Silence filled the domain. Sweat began running down Tav's back as a great pressure weighed down on them. When they almost gave in and knelt once more, it lifted, and Lamed turned away.

“I expect your research to be turned in to the Vault at the appropriate deadline. Is that understood?”

Tav was silent.

“I said, is that understood, Tav?”

“...It is, Elder Lamed.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

With that, their vision swam, and they closed their eyes to ward off the nausea. Upon opening them, she found herself back at the summit, the power diamond shining coldly overhead. They looked up at the statue and sighed.

Resolve filled them once more, and they stood and walked back to the elevator. Lamed may not have listened, but there was one more person she could try to convince. All reports of the King had them as a kind and benevolent ruler who listened to the people, yet these latest projects said otherwise. Which was the truth, and which was a lie? There was only one way to find out.

Tav swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. This was no time to get cold feet. The light creatures were counting on them.

First things first, however. She needed to keep her research out of the wrong hands.

-<◇>-

Another day, another round of paperwork. Resh sighed inwardly as he dipped his manta quill into the inkwell to sign the latest report from the Golden Land's biggest sunsteel refinery. Production was holding steady due to the shipment of light from Daylight Prairie, and they would likely have enough in reserve for the little project Vault R&D had recently proposed.

A soft call from the doorway caught their attention, and they lifted their head. One of the guards—a new recruit, if their nervous demeanor was any indication—was standing there somewhat awkwardly, but snapped to attention once his gaze was upon them.

Yes, definitely new. That salute was just a little bit too sloppy to be one of the older members.

“What is it?” he said, fixing his gaze on them.

They stiffened. “Y-Your Majesty, there is... a researcher from the Vault demanding to speak with you. They refuse to leave otherwise.”

“Return them to the Vault. We have no time for a meeting, let alone with some unknown researcher,” they replied, returning to their paperwork.

“What do they want?” said a new voice, chiming up from the door leading further into the royal quarters.

Resh blinked and slowly turned towards it. Watching the exchange was their twin, Alef, still dressed in the formal wear of the golden mask, yellow-painted pizaine, and midnight-blue cloak they used for being the public face of the King. They must have returned a short time ago from their trip to the Valley.

“Your Majesty, they have requested you withdraw your support for the Dark Matter Bioweapon project.”

“Have they, now?” Resh shook his head. “Unfortunately, it is too late. The proposal has been signed and delivered to the Vault. To withdraw it now would be equivalent to saying We have made a mistake.”

They let the implications of that statement hang in the air like a sword above the guard's head. With a stammered response of, “Of course, Your Majesty,” they left, and soon only Alef and Resh remained in the office. The latter ignored the former's pointed look, turning back to the stack of paperwork that had yet to be completed with another sigh.

“You've been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps you should take a break.”

Resh shot them a glare out of the corner of his eye, but did not stop his work. Only when they had signed a petition to expand the Valley of Triumph, a tally of candle production in the Isle of Dawn, and a request for more light shipments to the Hidden Forest, did they gesture with their free hand to the desk's contents.

“As you can see, Alef, I am kept busy with the affairs of the kingdom. I am King, after all. My guidance is needed to ensure the kingdom's prosperity.” He dipped the quill into the inkwell once more and grabbed another piece of paper—this time, a request from the Valley to provide them with more boats, as some had broken recently.

“I cannot rest until I have dealt with these matters” —and they said this last bit under their breath— “even if they are incredibly dull.”

Alef hummed and moved closer, cloak swishing softly around his body. They picked up one of the papers in the discarded stack, scanned it, and then looked to Resh. “Surely you can rest from these for a short time? All work and no play makes one a dull star.”

“How rich, coming from the one who only concerns themself with attending celebrations and avoiding any work here,” they replied.

Alef narrowed his eyes, then shook his head and shrugged.

“You want me to do some work here? Very well.” They went up to the switch next to the desk, which would summon a guard when activated (not that Resh had ever used it), and called forth their inner flame in one hand to light it. Soon enough, the same guard from before came to the office. They gave the salute again, a little more firmly this time.

“You called, Your Majesty?”

“Is the researcher still here?”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty. I was on my way to relay your wishes when you summoned me back.”

“I have decided to grant them an audience. Please have them escorted to the throne room.”

“Oh, uh...” They cleared their throat. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“What are you doing?” Resh said, eyeing their sibling with suspicion.

“Work. You said you were too busy to meet with them, didn't you? Well, it just so happens that I am remarkably free. As your dear elder sibling, it is the least I can do for you, Resh.”

With that, they glided from the office before Resh could stop them, leaving him standing with his hand grasping at air.

They sighed.

-<◇>-

The throne room was easily the largest chamber of the Palace, with a throne built to match—a deliberate choice on Resh's part, during its construction all those years ago. Looking the part was half the battle, and what better way to show your kingliness than by being five times the size of Elder Tsadi, he had said. Which Alef now was, having shifted in size to full height as they approached the throne room. The guards at the entrance snapped to attention, and he nodded in greeting as he passed through.

Near the far wall was the diminutive figure of the researcher, their head craned back to take in the full view of the mural displayed there. Two guards flanked them, ensuring they didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to be. Alef cleared their throat, the sound echoing to every nook and cranny due to the chamber's acoustics, and every person in the room jumped. The guards soon lined up and stood at attention, and the rogue researcher turned to look at him as he took his place on the throne. One guard said something quietly to them, and the researcher nodded, brushed out their robe, and walked forward beside the guards.

“So this is the spirit who requested an audience with Us?” Alef intoned, glancing down at the guard who escorted them, and they nodded timidly. His eyes returned to the spirit, noting that, even with the crest typical of the Vault's senior members, they barely surpassed most of the guards in height. Despite this huge difference in size between them and himself, they barely trembled.

How interesting.

“We permit you to speak, spirit.”

They bowed in acknowledgment, and upon straightening, called out, “Your Majesty, I must urge you to reconsider this Dark Matter Bioweapon project! Light creatures are our friends. They do not deserve to be treated like mere tools, to be used up and cast aside!”

Alef tilted their head to the side thoughtfully, taking their chin between their thumb and index finger.

“...What is your name, star?”

“My name is Tav, Your Majesty. Head of the Vault's research into light creatures.”

“I see.” They leaned forward, casting their shadow over Tav. “Tell Us, Tav. This project is intended to better the kingdom's future. If light creatures are our friends, do they not owe this kingdom their aid, in whatever form we require?”

Tav stepped forward, their hands balling up at their sides.

“There must be a better way than this! Whatever future that project holds is worse than one where we treat the light creatures as our allies. I know it! Please, Your Majesty, let me show you.”

How very interesting.

And exactly what they needed.

Alef steepled their fingers before them, resting their elbows on the armrests of the throne. A sly grin formed on his face. Though it was hidden by their mask, Tav seemed to sense its presence, because they took an involuntary step back.

“We have an offer for you, Tav.”

At the same time, they called out to their sibling and requested their presence in the throne room.

-<◇>-

Resh sighed as they walked.

At one point, the magnificent tapestries and luminous murals decorating the walls of the throne room had brought him such joy. But that had been many, many years ago—too many to count. Now they were just another feature of the brilliant, intricate, boringthrone room, easily ignored in favor of dealing with the unwelcome researcher currently standing before the throne. The reason they had been called away from their work by their sibling.

“Ah, there you are,” Alef said from their spot on the throne. They turned back to the spirit. “Resh is Our Will, you see. They are the one who approved the project. Now, We will send a message to the Vault requesting that they do not proceed with the project until We permit. You have until then to persuade Resh of the truth of your words.”

...What?

The two of them turned, and Resh winced when he realized he had spoken aloud.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was just wondering what this task you have given me is.”

“Ah, of course. You see, Resh, Tav here would like to show Us that light creatures should not be used in the Dark Matter Bioweapon project. However, We have our duties to contend with, and so cannot leave the Palace for such a matter. You, on the other hand, are Our Will, and so We have decided that you shall go in Our stead.”

Even from this distance, and even with the mask hiding their face, Resh could feel the gleeful smugness radiating from Alef like heat from a flame. Their most venomous thoughts, directed like psychic arrows at their twin, only increased the smugness, and so, narrowing their eyes, they bowed courteously to the researcher—Tav, was it?

“As you wish, Your Majesty. When shall we be departing?”

“I assume Tav here needs some time to prepare their case. We shall permit them a day to do so. On the morrow, you shall follow after them to...?”

“Oh, uh, Daylight Prairie, Your Majesty.”

“Daylight Prairie. I can see why you chose to do your research there.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Tav said, bowing deeply before leaving with their escorts.

When they were gone, Resh unleashed the full force of their glare at Alef, folding their arms before their chest.

“What are you plotting?”

“Why, nothing! Simply giving you the rest you deserve,” they said, rising from the throne. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I do believe there is paperwork with my name on it. Don't be late for the boat tomorrow, Resh. It would reflect poorly on Us.”

With that, they waved and left, shrinking back down to a more manageable size as they went. Resh watched them go, scowling and boring holes into the back of their head.

Then he sighed and returned to the royal quarters to rest and prepare appropriate clothing for this farce.

Alef would pay for this.

-<◇>-

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

#sky children of the light #sky #sky king #resh #resh my beloved /j #hi this fic is technically to blame for the bones thing last night #i'm very sorry #i thought of some potential headcanons and then it spiraled out of control #author's note: a pizaine (also spelled pixane) is a type of armor also called a standard or mantle #while in our world it's made of leather or chainmail #in the sky kingdom they seem to make them out of stone as seen on various spirits

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

Text

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

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

Chapter 2 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

Days go by. Crowley remains in his room, keeping the door locked and stubbornly ignoring any attempts by Sam or Dean to gain entrance, although he does spare a breath to shout that if they want something to do, they can go ward the rest of the Bunker against further intrusions from certain Hell witches. In the end, the brothers leave him alone, and Crowley tells himself he’s glad. It nearly works; he is, after all, a very good liar, even to himself.

Then comes a newer knock, a softer one, followed by a voice Crowley recognizes as belonging to the new God-Kid, Jack: “Hello? Mr. Crowley? Are you still in there?”

And maybe it’s because he’s bored—it’s certainly not because he’s lonely— but Crowley decides to answer. “Why are you knocking?” he snaps. “Can’t you just blow the bloody door off its hinges?”

A beat of silence; then: “I...could, but it wouldn’t be very polite.”

Wouldn’t be very—?! Crowley gapes at the door; dear God, the boy really was Castiel’s son. Eventually, Crowley asks, “What do you want?”

“Do you know how to play chess?”

Whatever Crowley is expecting, it isn’t that. He goes to the door, unlatching the bolt and opening it a crack. “What?”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Jack repeats and holds up a battered old set. “I found this in the storeroom a while back, but I don’t know how to play, and neither do Sam or Dean.”

And it’s...strange. Crowley knows, logically, that this is the golden-eyed man he saw in the Empty, the supremely powerful being who is not only Lucifer’s spawn but also the new God; he knows this...yet somehow, as Jack stands before him and smiles almost shyly, Crowley can’t help but think Jack looks rather...small.

He frowns, opening the door wider. “What about Castiel?” Crowley demands archly. “Surely he’s familiar with what it means to be a pawn.”

Unfortunately, the jab appears to go right over the boy’s head. “He knows what all the pieces are called,” Jack says, nodding, “but he’s never played before. Have you?”

Crowley has. He actually rather likes chess, although it’s been some time since he’s faced a worthy opponent. As King of Hell, he’d of course been able to order other demons to play with him, but most of them were so abysmally bad at it that he’d stopped bothering after a while. “Why do you ask?” he says, instead of answering.

“Will you teach me?”

The request catches Crowley off-guard; he can’t help but feel it’s some sort of joke. “You want me,” he says slowly, “to teach you how to play chess.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh.” Jack’s face falls; he looks down. “Okay. Sorry for bothering you; I’ll leave you alone.”

Jack turns and begins to walk away, and the sight really shouldn’t bother Crowley...but it does. He feels a sort of painful pressure building in his chest, and suddenly, the thought of being alone any longer is downright unbearable. Bollocks...

“Wait!” Crowley calls, stepping out into the hallway as Jack turns to peer hopefully over his shoulder. “Just...wait. I’ve changed my mind. The answer is yes.”

Jack beams. “You mean it?”

And he looks so bloody happy that Crowley has to focus his gaze on Jack’s shoulder; looking too long at that smile feels like staring into the sun. “I said as much,” he grumbles. “What more do you want?”

“Can we play in the library? The lighting’s better there.”

Crowley flicks his gaze back to Jack’s face, fully prepared to say no, they’ll play in his quarters or not at all...but Jack is giving him these blasted, begging eyes that Crowley would bet good money were learned from Sam, and what actually comes out is, “Lead the way.”

*****

They take to having daily lessons in the library. Crowley demonstrates various openings and defenses, and when they progress to actual matches, he shows no mercy, checkmating Jack’s king in what feels like a record number of moves.

Still, what Jack lacks in natural ability, he makes up for with eagerness to learn and ample appreciation of Crowley’s knowledge, which is...actually rather nice, if Crowley’s being honest with himself; he can’t remember the last time anyone appreciated him for anything.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel look in on them from time to time, although Crowley pretends not to notice them. Once, he catches a glimpse of a woman Jack says is called Eileen Leahy.

“She’s Sam’s girlfriend,” Jack explains brightly as he takes one of Crowley’s pawns with his remaining bishop. “Sam brought her back from the dead after a hellhound killed her.”

Ah. That explains the dirty look...Crowley frowns, moving a knight to capture Jack’s bishop. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Sam, years ago, that he hadn't known who Eileen was when he lent a hellhound to the British Men of Letters, and besides, they were the ones who’d decided to sic said hellhound on the woman, not him. It’s not his fault the bastards had apparently thought it sporting to use an invisible weapon against someone who couldn’t hear it coming. If Crowley had wanted to kill Eileen, he would have at least had the decency to use a weapon she could see. Still, what’s done is done, and Crowley does his best not to dwell on it. The topic of hellhounds is, after all, rather painful at present, given that he still doesn’t know what’s become of Juliet.

Not for the first time, Crowley curses himself for losing his temper with his mother before having learned the fate of his favorite hellhound. Was Juliet still in Hell, where he’d left her? Had she been well-cared for in his absence? What if one of his adversaries had harmed her out of spite? What if his mother had harmed her out of spite? Crowley has no way of knowing, not unless he wants to contact his mother again or just show up in Hell, and neither option inspires optimism. Rowena could very easily lie to him over the phone, and setting foot in Hell feels far too akin to walking into a trap: enough of Crowley’s enemies have probably survived the past few years that he’d be stabbed the moment he got through the gates, and for what? Only to learn that Juliet had been butchered years ago? At least as things currently are, he can still hold onto the chance, however slim, that Juliet is alive. If only there were some way to know…

Go on then, universe, Crowley thinks savagely, give me a bloody sign.

No sooner does the thought form than Crowley hears the click of paws against the Bunker's floor. He freezes, hardly daring to believe...but his hopes are abruptly dashed when a moment later, a tan, scruffy-looking mutt who is neither Juliet nor a hellhound enters the library. The dog pauses when it catches sight of him seated across from Jack at the table, then growls.

Jack looks over and smiles. “Hey, boy, it’s okay,” he calls soothingly, reaching a hand down to get the dog’s attention. “This is Mr. Crowley; he’s a friend. Come say hi.”

To Crowley's surprise, the dog scampers forward, apparently willing to take Jack’s word on the matter. It stops next to Crowley’s chair and sniffs him curiously until Crowley reaches out and hesitantly pats its head, at which point it starts wagging its tail and lets out a friendly sort of bark. The sound fills Crowley with a sense of unexpected warmth.

“When did you lot get a dog?” he asks, glancing back at Jack as the dog lies down at his feet.

“A little over a week ago,” Jack replies. “Dean found him after Chuck made everyone disappear. His name is Miracle.”

“Miracle,” Crowley repeats, looking down at the dog, which yawns back at him, apparently settling in for a nap. “Of course.”

After they finish their lesson, Crowley starts to return to his room, only to hear Miracle trailing after him into the hall. He turns to regard the dog with a frown.

“If it’s treats you’re after,” Crowley says, “I haven’t got any.”

Miracle cocks his head, seeming to consider him for a moment, then pads over, tail wagging and eyes bright. “Woof.”

Crowley arches a brow. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

“Woof.”

“Right.” Crowley sighs. “Well, come on, then,” he says, turning and continuing the rest of the way to his room, Miracle trotting alongside him. “You’re no hellhound, but I suppose you’ll do for company.”

And to himself, with grudging approval: Well played, universe. Well played.

*****

More days pass. Crowley spends most of his time in his room, leafing through books borrowed from the Bunker library with Miracle curled up at the foot of his bed. The dog comes to visit him more often than not, scratching insistently at the door until Crowley lets him in. Having him around doesn’t make Crowley’s anxieties over Juliet fade away, but it does lessen the sting of her absence, if only a little.

Jack also stops by with increasing frequency, and Crowley honestly still doesn’t know what to make of him. Lucifer’s blood flows in the boy’s veins, and by all accounts, that should make Jack terrible beyond reason, a vicious, manipulative creature whose only goal is to bring about the downfall of mankind in the most horrible way imaginable.

Instead, Jack sits cross-legged on Crowley’s bed and talks cheerfully about Star Wars or whatever other interest has his attention that day, and his only vice seems to be an insatiable sweet tooth. During one of his visits, he asks about Crowley’s life before they met, and there’s something so maddeningly sincere about the way he does it that Crowley finds himself telling Jack more than he means to, about himself, about Hell, about his mother...

By the time he finishes, Crowley feels raw and a little embarrassed at having said so much, but Jack just smiles softly. “It’s okay, Mr. Crowley,” he says. “We can be more than the people we come from; my dads taught me that. We can choose to be good.”

Crowley isn’t so sure about that, at least not as far as he himself is concerned. His soul is about as damned as a soul can get, and besides, his choices have a nasty habit of blowing up in his face. Still, it’s...a nice thought, if nothing else.

He’s still thinking about it later that night, long after Jack’s gone off to Heaven for a bit to do whatever it is he and Amara do up there. Crowley’s sitting in the dark kitchen having a cup of tea—cheap stuff that comes in a bag, unfortunately, but at least there’d been a kettle—when Castiel appears in the doorway, an almost-silhouette against the soft glow of the hall light, and peers in at him through the darkness.

Crowley stares stonily back. Apparently, his assessment of the shift in Dean and Castiel's dynamic had been correct: Castiel is barefoot, wearing a t-shirt and sweats that were probably once Dean’s or maybe still are. Crowley can practically smell Dean’s scent on the clothes even from where he sits, and the low-quality tea does nothing to chase the bitterness from his mouth. Who would have thought that all it would take to tear away whatever final shred of heterosexuality Dean Winchester had been clinging to all these years was a deathbed love confession followed by a romp in the Empty? Not that Crowley cares a whit about that; he doesn't, not even a little bit, not at all.

“Hello, Castiel,” he says darkly. “Out for a stroll? You should try the dungeon; from what I recall, it’s lovely this time of night.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know,” he says evenly, “having never spent the night there.” Then, before Crowley can think of a suitable comeback, Castiel gestures at an empty stool on the other side of the table. “May I?”

Crowley shrugs. “This is your home, not mine. You don’t need my permission to do anything.”

“Even so, I’d like to have it.”

“Then consider it had. I’ll take my tea elsewhere.”

Castiel frowns. “There’s no need for that.”

Crowley lets his eyes linger on Castiel’s shirt, on Dean’s shirt, then snaps his gaze back to Castiel’s face. “Not for you, perhaps.”

Silence. Crowley is hyperaware of the clock on the wall, ticking out each passing second as they stare each another down, and he half hopes Castiel will charge, practically dares him to. Crowley’s not stupid—he knows his odds against an ordinary angel aren't particularly good, let alone a former leader of garrisons—but at the moment, he doesn’t care: worst-case scenario, Castiel kills him and he goes back to the Empty. Maybe if Crowley's lucky, he’ll actually get a funeral this time.

Eventually, however, Castiel’s shoulders relax, and he sighs. “You should know,” he says, quietly, “I bear you no ill will over our past grievances.”

Crowley bristles; for a second, he considers getting up and throwing the first punch himself. He isn’t sure what Castiel is playing at, but whatever it is, he’s not in the mood for games. “Of course you don’t," he growls. "They all worked out in your favor.”

Castiel regards him carefully. “You’re referring to Dean.”

“I’m referring to everything!” Crowley snaps, nearly shattering his cup as he slams it down on the table. “Haven’t you noticed, Castiel? Your choices are lauded, held up as grand examples of what one does for love, and mine?” He lets out a mirthless laugh that comes out closer to a sob. “Mine end with me on the business end of an angel blade, dying for a world where I’m not even missed, not by Dean or anyone else.”

No sooner does he say the words than Crowley feels like he can’t breathe. Which is stupid, because he doesn’t need to breathe, hasn’t for centuries, but the feeling’s there all the same. The place his heart would be if he still had one aches; it’s as though a well-healed scar in his chest has been sliced wide open and now Crowley’s choking on all the blood. He blinks back the bitter tears he can feel prickling at his eyes, staring fixedly down at the tabletop and wishing it would swallow him whole.

Eventually, he manages to get himself under control, and by the time the choking feeling subsides, Crowley is more exhausted than angry. Maybe Dean should have left him in the Empty after all, he thinks tiredly; it would have saved a good deal of heartache.

Through it all, Castiel remains silent; when Crowley finally looks up at him, he’s surprised to be met with something strangely akin to pity. Ordinarily, it would be infuriating, but right now, Crowley just can’t find the energy to give a damn; he slumps forward over the table and sighs. “What is it you want, Castiel?” he asks listlessly. “You came here to say something, so by all means, say it. There’s nothing you can take from me that I haven’t already lost.”

For a moment, Castiel lingers on the threshold; then he steps into the dark kitchen and sits across from Crowley at the table. Crowley waits, expecting to be told off...but when Castiel speaks, his tone is surprisingly, solemnly gentle.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, “for the interest you’ve taken in Jack. What he’s been going through lately...facing Chuck, rebuilding Heaven...it’s been a great deal of change very suddenly. He’s trying so hard, and Sam, Dean, and I are supporting him as best we can, as is Amara, but it's still an incredible burden for a child to bear.” Castiel smiles sadly. “Especially when it’s so easy for others to forget that he’s a child.”

As he listens to Castiel speak, Crowley thinks back to that day in the Empty, at the cosmically powerful golden-eyed being who shielded him, shielded all of them, from the surrounding darkness. Jack is powerful in ways Crowley can only begin to imagine...but he’s also more than that. He's the boy who knocked timidly on Crowley's door and asked to learn chess, the boy who sits on the edge of Crowley’s bed and talks to him and smiles in delight when Miracle chases his tail. He’s curious and well-mannered and kind and—

And God, Crowley realizes with a start; bloody hell, when had he grown so fond of God?

“But, as I was saying,” Castiel says, snapping Crowley out of his thoughts, “the time you’ve been spending with him, treating him like he’s anyone else, giving him space to just be himself...it’s been good for him.” A pause, then: “You’ve been good for him. And while you and I have had our differences—”

Crowley can’t help it; he snorts. “That’s putting it mildly,” he says, and Castiel actually cracks a smile before continuing:

“—and while you and I have had our differences, Jack’s happiness takes precedence over all of them. He’s my son, and you matter to him.” He looks at Crowley intently, then adds, in a tone of absolute certainty, “And he would miss you if you were gone.”

The weight of Castiel’s words nearly knocks Crowley to the floor. He’s never mattered to anyone before, and now...now he matters to God. Crowley swallows; he doesn’t know what to say.

Castiel seems to understand, though. They sit in silence, and it’s not exactly amicable, but it’s not strained, either. Like for the first time since Castiel entered the kitchen, there’s enough space in the room for both of them.

Eventually, Crowley clears his throat. “There’s still some water left in the kettle,” he says, “if you’d like a cup of tea.” Then, because he doesn’t want to appear too agreeable, he gestures despairingly down at his cup and adds, “although what passes for Earl Grey according to Winchester tastes is, unsurprisingly, questionable at best.”

And Castiel, to Crowley’s surprise, smirks. “Leave that to me,” he says, rising and heading over to the cupboard. “I know where Sam hides the stash Rowena gave him for Christmas.”

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #jack kline #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fix-it fic #spn spoilers #a new kind of life #my writing #this was supposed to go up tomorrow but i finished editing early and figured what the heck #one less thing to worry about tomorrow :)

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Hold Onto the Faith as I Dig Another Grave

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 6 - Buried Alive

He can’t do it.

There’s just no way he can do it.

He can feel the air thinning, his eyesight gets steadily darker, he can almost smell fresh tilled earth (a rarity in the middle of New York City) and this is it.

He’s going to die.

Words: 2031, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Michelle Jones, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Absolutely none.

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

He can’t do it.

There’s just no way he can do it.

He can feel the air thinning, his eyesight gets steadily darker, he can almost smell fresh tilled earth (a rarity in the middle of New York City) and this is it.

He’s going to die.

“Could you be any more dramatic?” MJ asks from where she’s furiously typing into her laptop, he hair more frizzy than normal and her eyes pinched. Her usually unaffected demeanor is cracking a little at the edges and Peter has never seen her so frantic and disorganized – he feels a little bad about it.

“Seriously Peter,” Ned agrees from his section of the table where multi-colored index cards are scattered in a disorganized mess – he, too, looks on the verge of a breakdown but he’s not able to hide it as easily as Michelle – Ned always has worn his heart on his sleeve. “It’s your fault we waited until the last minute anyway,” his (now former – seriously Ned what the hell, how dare you) best friend accuses.

Peter just lets out a wounded animal noise as he edits his section of their PowerPoint, eyes nearly crossed he’s so close to the screen. Like that would help him edit any faster he thinks sardonically. “It’s not totally my fault,” he tried to rationalize.

“Yes it is,” MJ tells him bluntly, face buried in her over-highlighted notes on the vaccine apartheid in India and Africa for the comparative section of their presentation. “We could have been done weeks ago if you had actually come to the meetings we scheduled.”

“I came to the first one,” Peter protested, looking through his image folder for the proper photo for his slide – he had, at least, cropped and edited them all already so he had one less thing to do. “And besides, we divided the work up evenly – you didn’t even need me around to do your part.” He immediately flinched at the very clear ‘eat shit and die’ look Michelle gave him and murmured out a quick apology before ducking his head back into his work. Ned gave him a look of pity and a sad head shake, Peter just glared in response.

Ned bangs his head onto the table softly and moans. “Why do we always wait until the last minute? I hate waiting until the last minute.”

“Less whining, more writing,” Michelle says bluntly, adding a slide to the PowerPoint on their Google docs and making Peter groan. His job is to outline and find pictures, Michelle’s is to clean everything up and organize their presentation and Ned’s is to make sure that their presentation is cohesive and write out their speech. It’s a system that has, traditionally, worked well for them but this time may as well be a disaster. The only thing keeping them together at this point is MJ’s ruthless efficiency and Ned and Peter’s intense fear of failure.

“We were supposed to do this last week,” Ned continued, ignoring MJ’s order and then the kick she aimed as his shin; not even flinching at what was surely decent pain considering their friend had worn her Doc Marten’s to their meeting. “Why the hell did we let you cancel?”

“Because of that bank robbery remember?” Peter says, ignoring his own work for a second and risking MJ’s (well deserved not that he would admit it) wrath. “And then I got caught on patrol for a couple hours and then it was curfew.” He may have also been in the MedBay that night for a (minor) stab wound but he wasn’t telling them that – his friends worried enough about him as it was.

“Not that I necessarily support the police and the clear and rampant systemic racism of the entire system,” Michelle began, forcefully picking Ned’s head off the table and shoving a pen into his hands so he would continue working, “but that is their job. If we aren’t going to defund them the least they could do is handle a bank robbery.” This had been a frequent disagreement between the two of them for a while – MJ was one hundred percent correct in her viewpoint but Peter was a closet control freak who couldn’t leave well enough alone. They tried not to talk about it in polite conversation anymore.

“But there were hostages,” Peter whined, and there were. About twelve of them who all seemed more bored and annoyed than scared but that was the city for ya.

“And?” Michelle accused. “What do you think happened before you started running around in tights?”

“She has a point,” Ned said gently, organizing the index cards to be less chaotic.

Peter gave them both an irritated huff and muttered “They aren’t tights.”

“Spandex then,” Michelle said flippantly, waving her hand in his direction without looking up from her screen. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Well the next time we have a group project I’ll just send out a nice tweet asking all the criminals and muggers to put their crime on hold so I can do my homework,” Peter huffed sarcastically but without any real heat.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Ned said, sounding relieved and Peter rolled his eyes again but got back to work. He was only on slide thirteen of twenty-five and, at the rate MJ was adding pages, he’d never finish. They worked in silence for a while, only breaking it to ask murmured questions before, finally, MJ snapped her laptop shut.

“Well if its not done at this point its not ever going to be,” she stated causing Ned to drop his pen and massage his cramping hand and Peter to let his head fall to the table in relief with a moan – his head was starting to throb and the words on his computer were swimming in front of his eyes. “Let’s try to get to school early tomorrow to do a couple run throughs before the presentation.” Peter glanced at the clock on the library wall and groaned, receiving a conciliatory pat on the back from Ned – he still had a ton of homework to get through before he could even think about sleeping.

“Want a ride home?” Ned asked a few minutes later when they were standing on the steps in front of the library. MJ’s mom had already been waiting when they stepped outside leaving just Ned and Peter to wait on Ned’s older sister.

“Nah,” Peter said, adjusting his too heavy backpack and rocking back on his heels. “Think I might swing home, just a quick patrol you know?”

The look Ned gave him was skeptical and disapproving but Peter chose to ignore it. He wouldn’t be out long anyway – just a quick run through the areas he knew were a problem and then home. Faster than the subway for sure. “Fine,” Ned grunted, thankfully holding in his opinion. “But you should go ahead and go before my sister gets here and insists on driving you,” Ned indicated to his tracking app, showing his sister only a few minutes away.

“Thanks man,” Peter said, initiating their handshake and trotting off around the corner to find a suitable alley to change in.

—————————————————

Three hours later, Peter fell through the window of his bedroom, collapsing on the floor and pulling his mask off. His hair was limp and sweaty where it clung to his head and his headache from earlier had gotten worse – the throbbing elevating up to a stabbing behind his eyes.

“One minute,” he told himself, panting and draping his elbow over his eyes. “You can have one minute and then you have work to do.”

“Talking to yourself?”

Peter jumped up, banging his head on the side of his bed with a wince, causing his vision to grey out a little and falling back on the floor to stare dazedly at the ceiling. Tony leaned over him to block his view, his expression mixed between humor and pity as Peter groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Thought you had a tingle?” Tony teased, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him up to sit propped against the wall, ignoring the glare Peter shot him. “You’re lucky May’s working tonight.”

“Yeah I know,” Peter admitted. He was over two hours late for his midnight curfew and, if May had been home and not working in the ER, she would have skinned him alive and then grounded him for the foreseeable future.

“You’re even more lucky I covered for your scrawny spider ass and told her you were staying at the Tower tonight,” Tony said smugly, gesturing to the overnight bag that he had clearly packed for Peter. “Go ahead and change, you can shower once we get back to the Penthouse. You got everything you need for school?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, stripping off the suit and pulling on an old pair of sweats and the t-shirt he had worn to school earlier. Changed and stumbling, he followed his mentor down to the town car that was waiting in front of the door to his apartment, crawling into the back seat and resting his aching head against the window; ignoring Happy’s tired look of disapproval in the rear view mirror.

“So,” Tony began, sitting across from him to make better eye contact. “Want to tell me why you’re out so late?”

“Well I was at the library with Ned and MJ working on a project for biology until about eleven-,”

“Why so late?” Tony interrupted, brows furrowed in thought. Peter bit his lip and averted his eyes and Tony nodded in understanding. “So you procrastinated until the last minute.”

“Maybe,” Peter conceded, eyes darting over to his bag and lingering for a second. Tony clocked the movement and let out a long suffering sigh, massaging his eyes with the thumb and forefinger on his right hand and grimacing .

“How much more do you have?”

“Uh…,” Peter squeaked out. “Just… just two problem sets in physics, one in calculus and five chapters of Jane Eyre to read.” Easily three to four hours of work and Peter was starting to feel buried and suffocated under the course load, his muscles started to tremble at the impending exhaustion he would be feeling the next day on little to no sleep.

Tony gave him a look of commiseration before asking “And when is all of this due?”

“The presentation is my last period of the day, right after lunch,” Peter answered. “Everything else is due in the morning.” Tony studied him for a moment before sighing.

“Here’s the offer: you go back to the Penthouse, take a shower and go to bed,” he held up a hand to halt Peter’s protest, “and I’ll tell May you have, what I assume to be, the start of a migraine,” Peter’s hand reached up subconsciously to rub his temple under his mentor’s knowing look. “She can call you out of school and I’ll take you at lunch so you don’t miss your presentation then you have all weekend to stick your nose in a book while I do some suit modifications. Square deal?”

Peter let out a sigh of relief and melted into the soft leather, nodding. “Deal.”

The rest of the ride was silent and Peter dozed until he was urged out of the car and into the elevator. Once they reached the Penthouse, Tony relieved him of his book bag and passed over the duffle he had packed, Peter not even bothering to put up a token protest as he was shoo’ed in the direction of his room. He pulled out his phone to text his group chat with Ned and MJ and saw that he already had a message waiting.

About thirty minutes before, MJ had sent a screenshot of the SpideyWatch twitter page that had a clear picture of him stopping a mugging just before he got home. The text under it said ‘see you at lunch for a practice run’ and Peter smiled a little, chest warm, as he sent the thumbs up emoji and tossed his phone onto his bed; he was looking forward to a scalding shower and eight hours of uninterrupted blissful sleep.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump6 #summer of whump 2021 #Prompt: Buried Alive #spiderman #irondad

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aelaer · 4 years

Note

Uhh can I ask for BBC Sherlock fic recs? (Preferably friendship and/or familial fics, but romance is okay too)

Ooohh boy are you in for a list. I know you asked this like, at the start of quarantine or at sometime where I decided that I was no longer interested in communicating with the wider world, but hopefully this will still be of interest to you?

Throughout 2018 I did very little writing because I was busy consuming everything offered by the Sherlock fandom produced over 7-8 years. I definitely read well into the millions of words. A lot of them were from specific collections on both ff.net and AO3. I recommend looking in “collections” on ff.net in particular (as I still can’t really figure out how collections work on AO3 and how to find them easily... it’s really easy to find them on ff.net).

To my knowledge, these are all complete.

If there is any romance tagged here, it’s because it’s really, really fucking good as romance is my least favorite genre. I cannot remember all of them, but there’s a lot of angst, definitely humour, and definitely some great canonical bits. Also whumpy ones that are either really really good or a bit ridiculous but there you go.

It’s long, so under a cut. If the cut doesn’t work, I have tagged it as well.

From ff.net (alphabetical order) - NOTE: I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because the list was already too freaking long! But be sure to check out the authors, you can sort by “category” on ff.net on their author page and then go down to “Sherlock” to find their works:

Anything by A Wandering Minstrel (sooooo many genres)

Most anything by chappysmom (tons of genres, some are excellent, some I could take or leave, overall good stuff)

Most anything by Dayja (she writes in a ton of genres, so some I *adore* while others aren’t my cup of tea, but overall good stuff)

Anything by Gwen's Blue Box if you want angst up the wazoo.

Anything by ivywatcher for fantastic character studies.

Most anything by Jennistar1 (another multi-genre writer, both friendship and slashfic)

Anything by Radon65 - a mix of stuff. Canon IIRC.

Anything by Richefic for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

Anything by StillWaters1 for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

A Brief Account Of Life With Zombies by Silver Pard Sherlock thinks it's all a bit of a nuisance, John is having the time of his life, and Mycroft is Not Impressed. With anything, but mostly his minions' inability to provide a good cup of tea. Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,384 - Complete

A House is not a Home by selenityshiroi This is a prompt fill from the LJ Fic Meme. John and Sherlock got a flat share because they needed to split the rent. But when John comes into money, people wonder 'why hasn't he found a place of his own' The actual prompt is inside the story Rated: T - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,190 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Annie's Song by Berouge She has a second engagement with a man and his violin, in the park, at night. Sherlock's not going for it! ONESHOT! Rated: K - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,869 - Sherlock H., Molly Hooper - Complete

Basic Training by chai4anne Summary: A death at a boys' school leads to conflict and revelations among Lestrade's team, Sherlock, and John. Set between "The Hounds of Baskerville" and "The Reichenbach Fall." No slash. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 10,851 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, Sgt. S. Donavan - Complete

Breaking Point by Haelia When Sherlock and Donovan are abducted and Sherlock is grievously wounded, it is up to Donovan to get them both out. "First things first, Freak. You do not give me orders. You are going to do everything I tell you to," Sally said sharply, "because we are getting out of here." Can they both escape with their lives from the most dangerous gang in London? Rated: T - English - Mystery/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 14,401 - Sgt. S. Donavan, Sherlock H. - Complete

Firestorm by Dustbunny13 Sherlock returns, but his friendship with John is damaged. Nevertheless, they embark on their final hunt to finish off Moriarty's net, but it ends in a catastrophe: Sherlock is shot and lapses into a coma. As John keeps vigil, he reads Sherlock's diary written during the hiatus. Slowly, he begins to understand and finds himself wishing for another miracle. Completed. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Adventure - Chapters: 53 - Words: 133,754 - Complete NOTE: Probably my favorite novel-length multi-chapter you find only on ff.net for this fandom.

How To Accidentally Summon a Demon by patster223 Sherlock is possessed by a demon. A damned, wicked soul that uses the kitchen table for blood rituals and experiments. John doesn't even notice the difference. Rated: K+ - English - Supernatural/Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,411 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

Kidnapped! A Comedy by scuttlesworth Poor kidnappers. Kidnapping John Watson is like pulling on a thread tied to all sorts of crazy. It's enough to make a bloke get a job and go straight. Rated: T - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 2 - Words: 10,758 - John W. - Complete

Mobile Phones, Rubble and Shock by prettybirdy979 In the aftermath of the explosion, Lestrade must work to keep Sherlock Holmes alive and make sense of his communications... with only a mobile phone and Sherlock buried under the rubble of the pool. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,679 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete

Mouth of Babes by Morgan Stuart Several weeks after the explosion at the pool following "The Great Game" episode, Lestrade visits the recuperating Sherlock and John at 221B Baker Street. He brings case files and food... and a visitor in tow. Rated: K - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,495 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete NOTE: This is a whole series. If you like it, look up the rest under the author. It’s super cute.

Of Surgeons and Soldiers by EmRose92 Being a doctor has its advantages. He knows how to put people back together, and he knows how to take them apart. 221B is forced into a hostage situation, and John seems to be the only one who has the power to get them out of it. Includes BAMF John, protective Sherlock, and several unfortunate criminals who mess with the wrong army doctor. No slash. Rated: K+ - English - Adventure/Family - Chapters: 2 - Words: 9,695 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Empty Home by chai4anne Sherlock would always be haunted by memories of one particular case. The first body, its once-so-familiar features blurred by the passing of time and death, moved him more than he would ever have expected. But the worst was the skeleton he uncovered later, bits of hair and clothes still clinging to it—which had no effect on him whatever, until he looked up and saw John's face. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Suspense - Chapters: 28 - Words: 150,773 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The frigid trench by Nova-chan Sherlock is badly hurt. And alone. And incapacitated. Rated: T - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 15 - Words: 13,118 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Hand You're Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working. COMPLETE. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 12,092 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Secret Identity of John Watson by scifigrl47 Taken out of context, John Watson leads a terrifying life. You have to wonder what those poor women he dates thinks of it, especially if John decides to try keeping one away from Sherlock, and Sherlock decides that it'd be best if he could get rid of her Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 29,251 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

This Is What He Does For Fun by nyssa123 Sherlock and John go to the pub after a long day and Sherlock realizes that the man sitting next to them is a serial killer. He then proceeds to tell everyone how he knows. Written for a prompt on the LJ kinkmeme.

Rated: K+ - English - Humor/Mystery - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,147 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Totem by IshkabibbleScribble Rescuing Sherlock from the clutches of a violent terrorist cell forces John to rely on a long-unused, lethal skill. Rated: T - English - Friendship/Drama - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,752 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

War Wound by SoulfireInc Set sometime after Sherlock's return, before John's wedding to Mary Mortsan. An old comrade of John's arrives at 221B Baker St, scared and desperate for the consulting detective's help. Perhaps, had Sherlock known the consequences he and John would suffer as a result of this surprise encounter, he never would have accepted the case ... [Written before season three aired.] Rated: K+ - English - Drama/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 21,319 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, OC - Complete

From AO3 (alphabetical order) - NOTE: Just like the ff.net list, I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because these lists are just ginormous.

NOTE: I did *not* include warnings, pairings, etc in these summaries (too many tags to try and organize in the messy copy/pastes). Read the tags if you have any sensitivities/squicks/etc for all links!

Most anything by CaffieneKitty (over 100 shorts, so some I really love, others I can pass. Well worth checking out)

Anything by dragonnan if you want a huge wallop of angst. Also illustrations. Also writes in the MCU.

Anything by Jolie_Black (You thought stories written in script could only be bad? You thought WRONG. Very very canon-compliant goodness).

Anything by sgam76 (another multi-genre writer)

A Freak Adventure by dioscureantwins Words: 13,719 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Sally Donovan John Watson Mrs. Hudson Oh Christ, the Freak will be like a dog with two tails if she turns to him for assistance. Sally can feel her hands curling into fists ready to punch the condescending smirk off his face as she glares at the lift panel, willing the lift to go faster. But this is about Susy, Sally tells herself, not about him or Sally’s abhorrence of the atrocious git. She’s still convinced he gets off on it but he can wank himself into a stupor over Susy’s disappearance for all she cares as long as he finds her.

A Smelly Affair by dioscureantwins Words: 13,756 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Anthea Mycroft Holmes Sherlock had published an interesting thesis on the splintering of various woods on his website. As well as an equally fascinating treatise on different types of ropes and knots and the best techniques for securing someone. Obviously, his captors had followed those instructions to the letter; thereby disproving John’s theory nobody took notice of Sherlock’s website. A victory, perhaps, but one Sherlock felt he could have done without. Trust his readership to turn the tables on the author. Morons.

Constantly by thesignsofserbia Words: 4,530 Chapters: 1/1 Mature Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes Mycroft and Sherlock have a tenuous relationship at best, but with Sherlock taking down Moriarty's web, they might need each other more than they'd care to admit.

Croatia-Water-Blue by hollyesque Words: 12,117 Chapters: 1/1 Not Rated Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes “I…” John licks his lips, twitches his fingers as though he wants to reach out, “I’m here, Sherlock,” he says; “I know I haven’t been, but…but I am now.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose. Haven’t been—? “What on earth do you mean, you haven’t been here?” he asks, “You’ve been living here.”

Getting to Know You by Dimity Blue (Arnie) Words: 4,605 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes John picked up the kettle. "Nothing from Lestrade?"Sherlock flipped himself over on the sofa and presented John with his back; John sometimes felt he was living with a cat.Clicking the switch on the kettle, John grinned to himself and, keeping his tone casual, said, "Maybe you could send him an owl."There was silence for a few seconds, then Sherlock asked, "Why would I send him an owl?"

Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus by CaitlinFairchild Words: 4,572 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes John Watson Closing his eyes, Sherlock allows himself a brief swell of feeling--let’s not put a name on it, just call it a feeling--for his big brother. He knows that when Mycroft opens that steel door again, every man now inside will be a fresh corpse.The East Wind will take them all, Sherlock thinks fuzzily, before the curtain of sleep descends.

London Orbital by merripestin Words: 13,642 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Greg Lestrade Sally Donovan Sherlock Holmes John Watson "I'm driving first," Sally said. "Guv can take over after me. If we're all still mad enough to be at this after that, John can drive third shift. Then the freak, if we decide we can risk it.""John doesn't drive," said Sherlock."Then what's John along for?" Sally protested. Which Greg reckoned had to be just Sally trying to wind Sherlock up. She knew better. All night in a car with Sherlock was bad enough. All night driving round and round the M25 looking for a killer, with Sherlock deprived of John Watson, sounded like a new circle of hell.

Official Recruiter by Captain_Author Words: 49,469 Chapters: 21/21 General Audiences Clint Barton Phil Coulson Sherlock Holmes John Watson Stephen Strange Crimes were so simple before aliens, gods, and supernatural abilities made themselves known. But Sherlock Holmes never enjoyed simple and these inhumans and mutants provided quite a challenge. SHIELD needed someone to find the superpowered. Funny how both their needs can be met.

Rigging screws, size 1 3/8 inch, galvanised by AJHall Words: 15,250 Chapters: 6/6 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson "How's a woman supposed to prove her husband's a murderer, dammit?" On the eve of a planned voyage to Brittany, Marjorie Jameson starts her day with no problems more pressing than forcing a boatyard to do an emergency repair to the family yacht. A chance encounter at the Cowes hi-speed ferry terminal begins to unravel a web of conspiracy and murder, with her charming, untrustworthy husband Julian right at the centre and Marjorie as the next intended victim.But no-one's going to trust the word of an aging housewife whose complaints of abuse the police have previously dismissed as delusions.

Somewhere in the Dinaric Alps by drpepperdiva91 Words: 1,735 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Sherlock is caught off-guard by a flashback to his time in Serbia, just before John arrives home from work. Sweet, but still semi-realistic, hurt/comfort.

The Case of the Missing Bus Ticket by Unsentimentalf Words: 10,543 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Dirk Gently Sherlock Holmes Richard MacDuff John Watson Mycroft Holmes When Dirk and Richard's new client inexplicably fails to stay alive long enough to pay them, their ailing finances mean that a certain amount of subterfuge is required to get them back to London. The sudden death of their client has, however, attracted the attention of another rather more famous (if less holistic) detective and the stage is set for a long distance bus ride of suspense…

The Green Blade by verityburns Words: 72,929 Chapters: 15/15 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Lestrade (Inspector) Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Anderson (Sherlock) Mrs. Hudson As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit... WARNING: COMMENTS CONTAIN SPOILERS!

The Holiday by Scriblit Words: 18,962 Chapters: 9/9 Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes Mrs. Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Mary Morstan ACD Canon Characters A month following an horrific, sadistic attack during a case, Sherlock is still physically incapacitated and emotionally damaged. A holiday is suggested, but even stuck out in the middle of nowhere, he and John happen upon a case that could make Sherlock begin to feel like his old self again - or could kill him.BBC Sherlock Reworking of ACD's Devil's Foot, with Illustrious Client in flashbacks. Scenes of violence and implied "off screen" sexual violence/sexual assault.

The Shallow End by hollyesque Words: 6,923 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes "I told you once that I don't have friends," he says to John's back, "Now you know why."

The Silence of the Bees by trappedinathoughtbubble Words: 14,169 Chapters: 7/? Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mary Morstan Mary Watson Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes A kidnapped teenage girl. A political conspiracy. Bees. And somehow in the midst of it all, John learns a few things Sherlock forgot to mention about those two years. Note: Not completed, but the author's around and one of the sweetest people ever if you want to give encouragement to take a look again at this story!

The Triple Bluff by SarahKnight Words: 28,331 Chapters: 8/8 Mature Sherlock Holmes Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Philip Anderson Sherlock annoys his landlord at Montague street, grows to hate Donovan and gets into trouble a lot on a kidnapping case involving a woman who bullied him as a child.The events leading up to A Study In Pink. A case fic that answers questions from the first episode such as why Sherlock had to leave Montague Street and find a new flatmate, why he and Lestrade both quit smoking but didn't know the other had, why there's so much animosity between Sherlock and Donovan, and why Sherlock hates traveling in a police car.

Welcome Home by thesignsofserbia Words: 3,435 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs. Hudson Mycroft Holmes "All my nightmares escaped my head. Bar the door, please don’t let them in. You were never supposed to leave. Now my head's splitting at the seams."

And of course I have my own Sherlock/Doctor Strange crossover up on AO3 if that tickles your fancy, illustrations and all. :D

But if you haven’t delved deep into the fandom, this should tide you over for some time.

This list is by no means an exhaustive list of recs. I didn’t really include anything that concentrated on a romantic pairing, for instance. I left off anything explicit as well. But yeah, here’s a small amount of the overall goodness produced by the BBC Sherlock fandom over the last 10 years.

#neutronstardust13 #long post #bbc sherlock #fic rec #sherlock holmes #john watson #gen fic #genre: humor #genre: angst #genre: fluff #crossover #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #martha hudson #ask #answered

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aftgficrec · 4 years

Note

Hello! Firstly I want to thank you all for this blog! I’ve found some gems from your lists, and I’m super grateful! Okay so on to the ask: could you recommend me fics where Wymack raises Kevin from the day he was born or sometime earlier than what is canon?

Hello friend! It looks like most fics that feature Wymack raising Kevin from a younger age are in an AU setting, e.g.:

Wymack and Abby raise both Kevin and Katelyn in ‘It’s not family without love’ here, and the couple also raise him (and most of the other foxes) in ‘10 children, one acquarium’ here and in ‘Made of Stone’ here.

The same goes for the Avengers AU ‘if you bled, i'll bleed the same’ here.

He also lives with Wymack in ‘Fox Daycare’ here.

A teenage Kevin goes to live with his Dad, Wymack, after his mother’s death in ‘A World Alone’ here, and

a young Kevin meets his father for the first time in chapter 10 of ‘Brothers’ here.

We have also found you the following canon-divergent series exploring various options how Wymack could find out about or raise Kevin. - S

Kevin Wymack is a Terrible Name series by Shtare [Rated G-T, 24236 words, incomplete, last updated 2019]

Part 1: THE LETTER (G, 12220 words)

David checked his apartment mailbox every day, even though it was mostly junk. On one surprising day, he found an honest-to-god paper letter half covered in stamps and stuffed haphazardly into his mailslot.

When David saw the return address, he wished the letter tore down the middle or got lost in the mail. He wished he never got out of bed that morning.

David didn’t know what else Kayleigh Day would want to say to him.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 2: THE HOTEL (T, 5114 words)

David woke to a strange sound. A quiet-until-it-isn’t sound like a leaky faucet or a rat in the wall.

Someone was knocking on the door.

David lurched to his feet, half asleep. He stumbled to the door and opened it without thinking to look through the peephole.

Kevin Day stood on the other side, his face a billboard of suffering and fear.

Kevin's left hand - his playing hand - the best shot on any court, easily worth millions.

It was broken.

Kevin goes to Palmetto and tells Coach he's the father.

tw: blood, tw: injury, tw: implied/referenced emotional/psychological abuse

Part 3: THE WILL (T, 6902 words)

David Wymack receives the last will and testament of Kayleigh Day.

tw: minor character death, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Here is another AU:

the snow is melting by dorypop [Rated T, 3988 words, complete, 2020]

Andrew has run away from his last foster family, Kevin is on a trip with his dad and Nathaniel and Mary are doing their thing. They all get trapped in a random hotel by a snow storm. Mary avoids Kevin, Kevin gets anxious, Wymack gets protective and Andrew gets roped into Exy talk. There's also a weird time travel/memory regain thingy in the middle in which they suddenly acquire the knowledge of what happened in the books, just because.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

Link

Past the Stargazing Season (Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant Part II)

Words: 2,843 Warnings: Minor Spoliers in Warnings Characters: Roman, Roman’s mother (OC) Universe: Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant Rating: T+ Genre: Roman Angst

Sanders Sides Teenager/Magic AU - Friendship - Humor - Angst - Hurt/Comfort

Please read Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant First, this is a sequel!

Chapter 1: Roman - Crushed (ffn mirror)

Roman’s phone buzzed while he was checking out at Forever 21. He found two pairs of jeans and a shirt with a red pattern on the sleeves. Remy had good timing to meet up to go back into the suburbs. He swiped his card and paid for his new clothes with a bright smile to the clerk.

“Have a nice day,” The cashier said as she slid his bag of purchases towards him.

“Thanks, you too,” Roman nodded and grabbed his sack and stepped out of the way to check Remy’s text.

‘Got a ride home Thx for the ride Had fun last night’ Were the texts Remy sent. Got a ride home from who?

‘Last night was awesome! Who did you get a ride from?’ Roman relayed back and headed out into the parking lot. It was kind of hot today and the sun was warm on his skin.

Remy still hadn’t responded when he got to his car. It was only a two-minute walk, but it wasn’t like Remy to not reply quickly. Maybe he was talking with whoever gave him the ride and didn’t want to be impolite. No, Remy wants to be rude, he seemed to enjoy being bitchy. Roman stared at his phone for a moment. Remy also hated using his phone as a phone, but something felt weird about this. Roman called Remy’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. That’s even more unlike Remy.

Roman got out of his car again and checked the Starbucks. Maybe he returned for more coffee? He seems to have a big fucking problem with a caffeine addiction. Roman walked through quickly and scanned around outside near the Starbucks. He didn’t see Remyanywhere. Roman sighed and headed back to the car.

Well, it wasn’t the first time Remy had been cagey or dodged him. It was unusual recently, but if Remy was hanging out with Virgil or Remus, he wouldn’t always answer texts or things like that. Though that made this radio silence even weirder. Roman had no inkling who would give Remy a ride home. He didn’t get along with people easily and couldn’t think of anyone in town he knew to even get a ride from. Unless his dad caught him or something. Roman really hoped that wasn’t the case. Remy was already in trouble when he headed home. Roman couldn’t imagine anything good coming out of being caught in town. It was a good thing Remy was nearly 18.

Roman climbed into his car and started the engine to head home. Even after the coffee and cake, he’d kill for a nap. He wasn’t sure how late he and Remy were up together, but he probably only slept like 4 hours tops. He and Remy had meant to go to sleep, but they just got caught up chatting. Not to mention Roman had a little trouble sleeping with him right there. It wasn’t fair.

Roman pulled up to the curb outside of his house and checked his phone again. Still nothing. He shot Patton a text checking on if he was okay. He nearly texted Logan but thought better of it. His phone probably got taken when he got grounded, and Roman didn’t want to accidentally give Logan’s dad evidence of wrongdoing. Roman would have to wait till Monday to talk to him. Hopefully, Logan had enough fun last night to sustain him while he was being punished. It was a rough gig to have such tight-handed parents. Roman’s parents didn’t restrict him much as long as he kept looking and acting like they wanted him to. It was easy to manage, as much as it frustrated him.

“Mom, Dad, I’m back,” Roman called as he entered the house and locked the door behind him, sliding his keys back in his pocket.

“Roman, darling, good to see you. Where have you been?” It sounded like his mother hailed from the kitchen. Roman headed that way to meet her and get a drink.

“I was with Pat,” Roman said nonchalantly. He knew she wouldn’t push it as long as he didn’t let her know what he was up to.

“Oh, he’s such a good boy. I like that Patton. Did you eat while you were out? I can have Steve whip something up for you,” She offered distractedly. She was sitting at the table eating a small plate of fruit and working on her tablet.

“I ate. I’ll be fine until dinner, thank you though,” Roman sighed, getting himself some juice to drink from the fridge.

“Have you heard from Remus, yet, dear? The school called about him yesterday,” She sounded distant while she spoke.

“No, he’s still missing, mom,” Roman responded dourly. Not this again. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate it today.

“Oh, he’s not missing, don’t be dramatic. He’s surely off with that Virgil boy like he always is,” She waved her hand dismissively. “Those plays make you so fatalistic sometimes, life isn’t some Shakespeare play with tragic endings for everyone involved. You can be so histrionic,” She said dismissively, waving Roman off and picking up another piece of fruit.

“We checked Virgil’s house and nobody has been there, still. You don’t find it suspicious at all?” Roman asked, too tired to mask the testiness in his tone.

“Maybe they’re camping or something. It’s not the first time he wouldn’t answer our calls or disappeared, Roman,” She huffed shortly.

“It hasn’t been just a few days. It’s been over two weeks,” Roman crossed his arms and glared at her.

“Oh, has it? Oh, that boy is in so much trouble. He’s such a disappointment. He’s going to have a lot of explaining to do. He’s losing his car privileges for sure, don’t let him drive if you see him,” His mother shook her head and daintily ate a piece of cantaloupe. She didn’t take her eyes off the tablet.

“Mother, don’t you think two weeks is enough time to maybe consider filing him as a missing person?” Roman suggested shortly. She didn’t acknowledge him glowering at her.

“No, darling, there’s no need to involve the police and make a mess of things. He’s just a delinquent. Stop overreacting,” His mother furrowed her eyebrows, but otherwise didn’t react. She was completely distraught about her missing child, surely. Roman groaned and left the kitchen before he said something he regretted, because holy shit, he had some choice words for her right now. He was even more tired after that fustercluck of a conversation.

Roman flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling in his room. He checked his phone uselessly again. He already knew he hadn’t gotten a text back from Remy or Patton yet. He should just take a nap. Somebody will probably text after an hour or two and help quell this unsettled feeling in his stomach. Though, maybe that feeling was because he got to be so close last night and he was all alone again. Roman always got the worst crushes. Why couldn’t he ever like a boy who liked him back? Stupid gay curse of getting crushes on your friends. Stupid romantic heart getting attached at the slightest attention.

He buried his face in his pillow and fought the urge to scream. He knew he was being dramatic, but it fucking hurt, damnit. To fall asleep in Remy’s arms and get ghosted the next day? It was a nightmare scenario, and he just lived it. Why did Roman do this to himself? He knew Remy wasn’t interested. He knew Remy wasn’t in a good enough or safe enough place to even consider dating anybody. He knew Remy’s dad might actually kill him if it got back to him that Remy started seeing Roman. He knew all of this and still followed him into Virgil’s room like a lovesick puppy, anyway. Neither of them was even out to their parents. But that stupid amazing kiss and the way his heart felt and-

“Ugh!” Roman shouted into his pillow and buried himself under the covers. What was the point? Remy never showed a flicker of interest. Never even a single furtive glance. Roman was only half considering asking Patton out, but maybe he really should. Roman deserved somebody who might like him back and wasn’t trying to drink himself to death out of grief. Not that Patton deserved a lovesick puppy pining after someone else, either. Oh god, Roman left that vodka in his trunk. He just wanted to get it away from Remy for the most part. He did actually like the bottle, it was very Hamlet. But Roman was more concerned Remy would just finish it by himself if Roman didn’t take it.

Roman grunted and got up to go get the extremely illegal alcohol out of his car. Open containers and under-aged drinking and all that good stuff his parents would through a snit fit over. It was exceptional vodka, at least. It was a win-win scenario. Roman doesn’t have to drink piss-beer, and Remy doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning all alone at Virgil’s house. It seemed like a good idea at the time, at least.

Patton said he hid most of the rest of the alcohol in the house while he and Remy went to bed. Remy could find some of it, but Patton and Logan were very crafty about it. If Remy wanted to drink again, he’d have to get Patton to pull out a bottle so they could watch him. Remy could assuredly find a house party, but at least he couldn’t drink himself to death alone. Somebody would hopefully help him at a party if Roman wasn’t there. And maybe Remy would be willing to come to hang out again for more of the hundred-dollar vodka and- God damn it, Roman, stop it. Stop doing this to yourself.

Roman reached in and pulled the bag out of the far end of his trunk. Remus might have a flask in his room Roman could steal and put most of this in so he could clean and display the bottle. Fill it with glitter goo and make it ominous, or maybe just paint the inside to look more realistic. Remus liked to drink tic-tacs out of a flask for some reason, and he had a few different ones. Roman took the sack inside and buried it under some winter sweaters in his closet. Roman steeled himself as he left his room and went down two doors to Remus’s room.

It was the first time in a while he’d stepped in here. He mostly avoided it because Remus’s idea of organization was a nightmare, but lately, it just reminded him Remus wasn’t here, he didn’t enjoy being here, he possibly wasn’t ever coming back. And Roman didn’t need that reminder shoved in his face, that he fell for his parents shit and pushed his twin brother so far away that they had barely shared twenty words of conversation before he disappeared. Roman started digging around in a drawer near his bed. It seemed like a reasonable place to start.

There wasn’t a flask anywhere near Remus’s bed. Roman found three flasks in Remus’s closet of all places, stored with some old toys and what looked like mementos. That location made sense, weirdly? But not in a normal way. There was a wide variety of decorative knives in his bedside table, which kind of worried Roman. They were mostly dull, but some weren’t. And he hadn’t seen Remus outside of a jacket in a while, although it was getting warmer. Patton’s worry was probably just rubbing off on him.

Patton was so freaked out on Friday about Remy hurting himself, spouting all of these facts his mom told him in a mad ramble. Remus showed no signs of doing that kind of thing. He just enjoyed playing with knives. Remy wouldn’t do that either. At least Roman didn’t think Remy would. He knew Remus was adamantly against it for other people. He didn’t even like people joking about it. But maybe that was because he did it? Roman couldn’t be sure, and he kind of felt like an ass for not knowing.

Roman took the three flasks back to his room. It felt weird in Remus’s bedroom and was glad he found what he was looking for so he could get out of there. Maybe it was just Roman’s guilt, but he swore that room felt haunted. He combined all the tic-tacs into a coffin-shaped one and placed the other two on his desk. There was a big one with a dragon motif on it that would probably fit most of the vodka, but he probably needed to clean out the minty-dust before putting nice vodka in it.

He laid back on his bed with a sigh, curling back under the covers. Patton had been freaking out about Remy a lot lately. Roman would have wanted to go party with Remy regardless because he was a hopeless idiot, but Patton practically begged them both to come over. But Remy honestly seemed fine last night. He didn’t drink too much, at Patton’s behest, and cackled freely all night. Nothing like he had been acting lately, where he never laughed unless it was sarcastic and he wasn’t interested in doing anything.

All the house parties ‘bored’ him and he wouldn’t even take free food, which Remy normally was all over. Roman knew Remy was spending way too much time at Virgil’s place, partially from Patton’s reports, but also the bruises all over Remy’s arm when he took off Virgil’s jacket to go to bed. Roman didn’t want to imagine how he got those, but Remy hadn’t bothered side-stepping anything about his home life lately, so he didn’t have to do much to connect the dots. He used to be very cagey about it.

When they went to Virgil’s room together to chat, he seemed so normal. Not give-it-all-away or uncharacteristically cheery or any of those things Patton said. Remy was his normal chatty, kind of bitchy, secretly worried about everything, and his high-energy self. Though maybe the energy part was all the coffee he drank. And he even offered to share the bed with Roman instead of Roman sleeping on the floor or Virgil’s parents’ bed, which everybody agreed was kind of weird. Somebody who was depressed and suicidal was supposed to push people away. Remy cuddled against Roman as if it was the most natural thing to do. And maybe it was with his brother. Which Roman was admittedly very jealous of. But there was nothing he saw that screamed ‘in danger’, not from Patton’s horrible warning sign list or just any gut instinct. Remy seemed okay, emotionally. Elated, even.

Though he was acting very oddly today. Why did he take a backpack into town for some secret errand? Was he pawning stuff for money? Remy told him his dad didn’t buy much food for him, mostly just stuff for sandwiches. He also didn’t get an allowance. Roman was relatively certain Remy made money by placing bets with drunk people. But he spent like twenty bucks at Starbucks like it was nothing and bought his own food for lunch. Maybe he’d just been stealing things from Virgil’s parents to piss them off. Roman wouldn’t put that past him. It was petty enough for him to want to do, Remy loved being a petty bitch. Roman was also extremely frustrated that neither of their parents was willing to do anything.

Remy was nervous about something, though. He kept checking the time and looking out the window. But Remy didn’t prefer to talk about it and pushing Remy to do things he didn’t want just involved him running off, and Roman didn’t want to risk that. It was hard enough that Remy was struggling and Roman couldn’t help him. It was nearly impossible to be so hopelessly into someone you couldn’t help. It would be completely unbearable if Remy ran off. Remy always came back after a bit, he usually needed a few days to cool down if you pissed him off. He was sensitive to that kind of stuff because of his dad or something. But Roman really didn’t want to wait through those days. Especially not when he could still remember how Remy felt in his arms.

Roman came here to sleep, damnit. He needed to stop freaking agonizing. Remy seemed okay yesterday. He was probably being the petty bitch he always was in town yesterday and selling Virgil’s parents’ belongings or something. Remy could have made friends at house parties, too, and maybe ran into somebody and got a ride home. Not that anybody Remy hung out with at parties seemed to talk to him at school… but maybe that’s just the way Remy liked things. Roman could see him soon and maybe even hang out again soon. Maybe get drunk and cuddle again- god damn it, fucking idiot! Roman would not be an enabler, Roman would not be an enabler-

Personal Taglist: @elizabutgayer @ollyollyoxinfree

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Fantasy AU: @arya-skywalker @callboxkat @rainbowbowtie @enby-phoenix @10moonymhrivertam @supernovainthenightsky @idont-freaking-know @hekking-happy-nonsense @aceawkwardunicorn

Everything Sanders Sides: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @ananonsplace @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

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ripley95 · 4 years

Text

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 6

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 3.3K

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

Kaidan’s youngest sister catches Kaidan and Shepard in an awkward situation, deepening her misunderstanding of their relationship in a way that becomes hard to refute.

Link to Chapter 6 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Read the chapter here below the cut:

Shepard began to open her eyes slowly, still in a hazy stupor that came with sleep. She was surprised to find that it was already dark outside, her last memory being from the afternoon. It felt like only minutes had passed, but it must have been hours. She didn’t even have a moment to wake up and make sense of what happened before a noise at the door shot a bolt of adrenaline throughout her entire body.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy?” Maisie said teasingly from the doorway of the Cabin.

Shepard sat up with a jolt, looking down at Kaidan, his eyes still closed, barely aware of what was going on. She had already gathered that they must have ended up falling asleep together as she comforted him, but she hadn’t realised that she was lying right on top of him until right now. She couldn’t even move, she was so baffled as to how she let this happen.

Shepard finally began to feel stirring underneath her as Kaidan was taking longer to wake to the noise than she had. He put a hand on her waist as though it was instinctual. That feeling when you’re in a relationship with someone and the first thing you want to do when you wake up is to seek out that warmth and comfort from them. He’d done it before during the brief time that they actually were together, when touches like that felt so natural. It was yet another thing she missed. He finally began to open his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them with his free hand, and started to look around. He met Shepard’s gaze, and he peeled his hand off of her waist just as instinctively as it had found her only seconds before. He finally looked towards the door to see his sister standing there, looking more thrilled than ever.

“Shit,” Kaidan muttered under his breath as he started to sit up straight.

Shepard agreed with the sentiment for plenty of reasons and moved off of him immediately to sit on her own separate side of the couch, not that it would help matters at this point. She was sure the damage was already done, both of them looking entirely guilty and suspicious.

“Not in a relationship, eh? Holding hands earlier, now catching you on the couch, cuddled up nice and close. Maybe you haven’t been in enough relationships to know what one looks like, but let me tell you, this looks like a relationship to me.” She said it entirely pleased with herself, arms crossed with a cocky confidence on her face.

Kaidan glared back at her, nowhere near as pleased with the accusation.

“I don’t hear you refuting it.”

He rubbed his forehead and let out a huff of air, annoyed by the circumstances. “Damn it, Maisie, you know this is supposed to be my private area.”

“Is that supposed to be you refuting it?” she said with an even bigger grin.

“It’s really not what you think,” Kaidan said, frustration lacing his words. “Besides, you know this area is mine. You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been here in years. I kind of took it as my hangout before the war started.”

“I guess that explains all the romance books in here now,” he said in his own teasing tone.

“Oh, shut up. Half of these are yours, and you know it.”

Kaidan let out the slightest snort of laughter, looking amused at the accusation and not denying it.

Shepard turned to him with a smile, entertained by the idea. She had to admit, ever since Kasumi got her into the genre, it had become a guilty pleasure. Maybe they’d have to trade favourites later.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally smitten,” Maisie said, noticing the look on Shepard’s face. “There’s no way you’re going to convince me that you’re not together now.”

Kaidan stared at his feet, letting out a sigh.

“Oh come on, is it really that bad that I figured this out? I already told you, if you’re keeping this a secret because of the regs, you should know that no one’s going to report you here,” Maisie said, earnestly.

Kaidan glared at her. It was clear that he had given up on trying to convince her otherwise. The evidence was stacked against them anyway thanks to their earlier antics and this mishap.

“All right. Be that way then,” Maisie said, unsatisfied with not getting an admission of guilt out of either of them, yet still pleased with herself for ‘figuring it out.’ “But anyway, I’m only here because you weren’t answering your omni-tool. Mom’s been trying to call you. She’s gotten your room ready,” she said, another grin forming on her face. “Though, I suspect neither of you will be needing much sleep tonight.”

“That’s enough, Maisie,” Kaidan said, not liking what she was implying.

“Fine. I’ll just leave you to it then,” she said with a wink before she finally left.

Kaidan let out a long frustrated sigh, resting his head on the back of the couch in defeat.

Shepard leaned forward, rubbing her forehead, upset with how bad of a mess they had gotten themselves into. She already felt like it was a mistake to hold his hand earlier, wondering how much she’d complicated their predicament, but now it seemed like any “relationship” between the two of them was practically undeniable. Not only that, but if she thought holding hands was an intimate gesture, what did that say about falling asleep on top of someone? She couldn’t help feeling like she crossed some kind of line. At least this didn’t happen on purpose. She knew that Kaidan would be understanding of it. That did nothing to help her inner thoughts of wishing she had woken up snuggled up next to him in a way that wasn’t an accident, though. Another regret to add on top of the growing pile since agreeing to come here. It was too easy to be drawn towards him when they were around each other. That didn’t exactly make it easy for her to maintain the romantic distance that she wanted to.

Kaidan finally stood up from the couch, and she took that as a signal to follow suit. They looked at each other somewhat awkwardly, before they both said, “I’m sorr-” at the same time.

They both let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension dissipating slightly.

“I’m not even sure what happened,” she said, genuinely confused at how easily they had fallen asleep and nuzzled up to each other.

Kaidan shook his head as a way to absolve her from any guilt. “Me neither, but uh… thank you, Jane.”

‘Jane.’ The last time he had ever called her that was at Apollo’s when he was asking if she wanted to try being in a relationship again. Ever since her rejection, it had been nothing but ‘Shepard.’ Perhaps she was reading too much into it. It was just her name after all, and this was a more personal setting than a warship. He was bound to be a little more relaxed here. There was no reason that it should have meant anything. The rational explanation behind it did nothing to stop her heart from fluttering at the idea.

“I think I really needed that,” he said, looking genuinely thankful. “And it means a lot that you stayed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a curt nod. What she wanted to say was that she’d be there for him any time he needed it. That she’d hold his hand and wipe away his tears, and that he wouldn’t have to feel alone. Instead, she went for something genuine but stayed in appropriate territory. “Your dad sounds like he was an amazing man.”

“He was. I was lucky to have him,” Kaidan said before stepping out of the way of the door, and showing her out.

They walked silently in the dark towards the house, the air was noticeably more chill than it was earlier in the day. She figured Maisie was probably right. She didn’t think there would be much of any sleep to be had, though not for the reasons that Maisie had been insinuating. She anticipated a night full of tossing and turning, contemplating what it was like to wake up in Kaidan’s arms again after so long. His scent was still lingering in her nose, and she could still feel his warmth. He provided a sense of safety and comfort that she missed. She’d never regretted her rejection of him at Apollo’s more than she did right now, after having a taste of what she’d been missing out on this whole time.

“Hey, uh, before we get back to the house, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry with everything that’s happened with Maisie.”

Shepard looked over to him in disbelief. “Why are you the one apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong. I seem to remember being the one mistakenly thinking it would be funny to hold your hand earlier.”

“Well, I also went along with it. I’ll admit, I thought it was actually pretty funny given how she was acting at lunch, but now it looks like we’ve dug ourselves into a bit of a weird hole here.”

Shepard let out a sigh. “Yeah,” she dragged out. “I’m not really sure how we’re going to get out of this one,” she said with a smirk, trying to at least find the humour in it.

“After what she just saw, I don’t know if there is a way out of it. When she’s convinced of something, it’s hard to sway her mind,” Kaidan said with a small laugh. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about us waking up like that, and her making assumptions.”

She did feel uncomfortable, but not because of any of that. The more significant issue for her was how strong her feelings for Kaidan had become. It was the same reason she worried about coming out here this whole time. She could ignore how she felt about him when she was stuck in London, but with everything that’s happened since seeing him in Vancouver again, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to deny how she felt.

“It was an honest mistake. I don’t particularly mind, I just hope that it doesn’t cause problems for you,” she countered.

“Nah, I can’t imagine that it would. I’m almost certain that Maisie’s already told the rest of the family, but they tend to leave well enough alone. I honestly don’t know if they’d believe her or not, but I do know they won’t make as big of a deal out of it if they do. At least they won’t be rubbing it in.”

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement, accepting that answer. She figured with everything Maisie had seen, it could lead to that kind of thing anyway.

“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?”

Shepard smiled sympathetically at that. Now she was also upset for making Kaidan feel guilty about everything. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m still just grateful to have a place to stay for now, so I don’t mind putting up with some harmless rumours, especially when I’m the one that poked the fire in the first place. We should probably quit joking around, though,” she said, not wanting to make matters worse.

Kaidan nodded in agreement. “Probably a good idea,” he said as they finally reached the house. “But anyway, I suppose now is as good a time as any to show you my old room.”

“After you,” Shepard said with a smile as they went into the house and up the stairs, the old wood creaking under their feet as they went.

They finally reached a door that Shepard had to presume went to Kaidan’s room. He opened it and stepped in, waiting for her to follow. The first thing she noticed was the bed. That’s right. She had forgotten that they would have to be sharing.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” Kaidan said, noticing Shepard studying the sleeping arrangements.

The bed was big enough for both of them. Shepard had half a mind to say that they’d already fallen asleep together on the couch, so what was sharing a bed at this point? She thought better of it, but that didn’t change the fact that the bed was, in fact, big enough for the two of them.

“We can sleep head to toe. Just like in combat training, right?” Shepard said, punching him in the arm lightly, and incredibly awkwardly, as though he were her guy pal, reminiscing about the old days in the Alliance. She immediately regretted it and wanted to chastise herself for not knowing how to handle herself around him. She was upset for acting like this was some school-aged crush again. She kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she let anything escape it, her voice would crack. Luckily, Kaidan didn’t seem to react as though it were all that strange.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she said after clearing her throat awkwardly.

“All right, I guess that solves that. I’ll take the foot.”

Still being chivalrous as always. At least that wasn’t the worst compromise in the world, so Shepard just accepted the offer graciously.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom over here, which was a blessing growing up with three sisters.”

Shepard laughed at that. She wasn’t much for vanity, but she knew it could still take a long time to get ready, and she could imagine that it would have been a pain having to fight over the bathroom with three sisters. “I guess I’m lucky that I mostly only ever had to share one with my mom,” Jane said with a smile.

“Yeah. It was never fun when we all went to the apartment in Vancouver. We didn’t have the luxury of having so many bathrooms there,” he said, looking through the closet. “Looks like mom already brought our bags up,” he said, pointing to them on the shelf. “Otherwise, this is it. This is where I grew up,” Kaidan said with a wistful smile, pointing to the room by way of giving her permission to look around.

That encouraged Shepard to give it a proper examination. She had never really given much thought to where he must have grown up, but the more she looked around, the more she could see little pieces of him. She walked over to a poster on his wall and turned back at him.

“An Alliance recruitment poster?”

Kaidan tried to contain the smile that spread across his face. “Listen, I haven’t redecorated in a while.”

Shepard looked at him with mirth in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to tease. I had one in my room growing up, too. Mine didn’t last as long. You know, constantly reassigned to boarding school, or wherever my mom was stationed. Eventually, it just got lost in the shuffle. Otherwise, who knows? Maybe mine would still be up, too,” she said, almost surprised by the similarity. “Crazy to think we’re on these posters now, isn’t it?”

“You could say that again. When I joined the military, I didn’t exactly expect to become a face of the Alliance.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Shepard said. They both knew the problem all too well since they saw Libby’s reaction.

Shepard glanced around the room more. There were a few medals and trophies displayed and some art and pictures of his family. He had some more books and datapads organized neatly on a bookshelf with a nice desk by the window. She also noticed the blackout curtains. Probably for his migraines whenever he’d get them at home. Every little piece she picked out, felt very much like him.

“I like it,” she said as she finished looking around and turned back to him.

“Thanks. It’s nothing fancy or anything, but it was mine,” he said with a smile.

Another awkward silence passed between them, Kaidan brushing the hairs on the back of his neck with his hand.

“Well, anyway, it’s getting late,” he said. “Not sure if you’re tired or not, but I think I’m going to settle in for the night.”

“I could sleep.” It was a lie. She’d never been more awake in her life. Still, she figured being restless in bed was better than being left alone with Maisie and some potentially prodding questions that she didn’t feel like answering.

“Okay. You can have this bathroom. I’ll take the one across the hall.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile as she brushed passed him towards her bag.

She got changed and cleaned up as fast as she possibly could, not wanting to leave Kaidan waiting on her. She made her way back out into the room and made her way over to the bed. She hadn’t even thought about it, but habit took her to the right side, where she sat down gently, almost regretting it immediately. They hadn’t shared a bed together for all that long. It was really only briefly during their shore leave after defeating Saren, but the habit of having a side of the bed had stuck. It had become her side of the bed, even when there was no one else in it, leaving space for its rightful owner.

She looked at the empty side solemnly, wondering if it would be awkward for him that she chose this side. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice. She hoped she was overthinking the whole thing.

Then he walked into the room, as though he was summoned by her thoughts, not even giving her a chance to reconsider. Her head turned towards him, trying to see if he noticed.

“Already chosen a side of the bed, I see.”

That answered her question. “Yeah. I hope you don’t mind,” was all she decided to say. Letting him in on her thoughts would do neither of them any good.

“Of course not. I’m flexible, so whatever you prefer is fine,” he said, moving to the other side.

He sat down, and Shepard could feel the bed dip slightly on the other side, his back directly to hers as they both stared at opposite sides of the room. All of the memories of them settling into bed came flooding back to her, and the tension was almost too much for her to bear.

Luckily, the torture wasn’t extended as she finally felt Kaidan grab for a pillow from the head of the bed and put it towards the foot, lifting up the blankets and settling in.

“Goodnight, Jane,” he said, prompting her to look at him. He gave her a warm smile. “Don’t hesitate to wake me if you need anything.”

She smiled back at him with a nod of acknowledgement. He took that as comfort enough to roll over onto his side, looking away from her to get comfortable. She followed suit, getting comfortable on her own side. She stared at the wall in front of her, everything about it screamed ‘Kaidan.’ Every little thing in her view, serving as a reminder for where she was and who she was with, wishing that the circumstances were different. She braced herself for the long night ahead, and finally replied, “Goodnight, Kaidan.”

#f!Shenko #f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko #f!Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #mass effect #fanfiction #mass effect fanfiction #angst #mini slowburn #friends to lovers #accidental dating #post-war #my fic on Tumblr #my writing

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drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

The Secret of Downfall (Tatum x F!MC)

Words: 2216

Rating: T

Warning: fighting / cruelty / violence

Sequel for The art of Foreign Affairs

Previous parts of The Secret of Foreign Affairs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The next morning, after getting caught in a compromising situation, Claire entered the common room of the suite only to find her mother and her whole team camped out around the kitchen island.

Nervously Claire looked around the room, throwing a quick glance toward Tatum. Her eyes trying to catch his gaze, but he almost seemed to be going out of his way to not meet hers. His fists clenched by his side and he looked as professional as ever, if not for the way his eyes darkened slightly, that it could be easily missed, but not by her.

“Uh, good morning,” she cautiously said looking around the room, feeling the tension only grew when all eyes fell on her. “Mom? I thought you left.”

“Really? I was forced to come back to clear your mess. Apparently, my daughter failed to notify me that she got caught by paparazzi with her pants down,” she snapped, showing a copy of Voyeur magazine into Claire’s hands with a picture of herself and Tatum on the cover. She could feel how her heart skipped a beat, while she took in the picture. Breathing out in relief only after realising that it wasn’t possible to tell who was on the cover with her.

“Ohmygod...,” gasped Claire, feeling how her face went pale. Thankful that no one could possibly know who she was with, blurting that out loud. “At least you can’t tell who it is with me...”

“THIS... THIS what you can tell in your defense???” fumed her mother, her eyes narrowing with spite when she glared toward Tatum. Her gaze calculating, trying to break through his facade, to read him, but still in vain. And her lips pursed by barely suppressed fury.

“It does provide us some cover...,” intervened one of her mother’s political analysts. “But it’s also causing a feeding frenzy online. Everyone is speculating on who your mystery lover is. I would suggest to give a statement identifying the mystery lover. Once we can show this isn’t Claire being... promiscuous with some random stranger...”

“So... Claire? Who is it?” asked her mother, tapping her stiletto heel against the wooden floor impatiently. “You heard her,” she said nodding her head toward the political analyst from her team. “If you want your name to be cleared and all that mistake left behind, you cannot keep that to yourself. The only way we can fight this thing is if you tell us who it is."

Claire’s eyes snapped up to meet Tatum’s gaze across the room. His expression is as impassive as ever, but the spark of fury in his eyes flaming.

“I will NOT name them,” exclaimed Claire fiercely, crossing her hands over her chest, stubbornly meeting her mother’s glare. “I will not drag them into this. The world doesn’t need to know every single detail about me or my love life.”

“Don’t you think that this is a little bit too late to thing about that? And clearly this person is a bad influence on you. You never acted like that before,” snapped her mother.

“Or maybe I just realised that I own it to myself to live a little,” bit Claire back.

“Claire...,” hissed her mother, lowering her voice so only she would hear her. “I will go through your phone if I have to. Is it clear?”

“Seriously? You have so little respect for my privacy?”

“It’s not that, but your future is in jeopardy now. And I’m worried about you.”

“Let’s at least be honest with each other. All that you care about is you and your campaign.”

Claire’s mother opened her mouth to retort, but Winston cut her off.

“Let’s all calm down and see what we can do to spin the story with information we already have,” said Winston, looking around the room before placing his hand on Claire's mother’s elbow and pulling her to the side. His voice lowered to the whisper so only she would hear. His eyes surveying the room so they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone. “Madam President, we don’t have enough evidence that this mystery lover is your daughter’s bodyguard. Last time we had letters, this time we have only words of some guy from Vancross and the fact Claire was lying. We will make sure that our plan is set in motion as soon as possible, but meantime you need to wait while your team will gather more evidence of who this mystery lover is and twist it so he is the one who sold pictures.” Both eyes fell to Tatum, watching him to put a hand to his earpiece before stepping forward.

“Madam President, the limo is ready for you,” said Tatum. His posture stiff, his voice even and his eyes looking into nowhere.

“Good. Tatum, escort me to the airport. I want to talk to you about a few things. Demarco can oversee Claire’s security this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am”

Claire’s stomach twisted, when her eyes passingly met Tatum’s, while he followed her mother out the door. Leaving Claire and Winston alone.

———————————————

Hastily, they walked to the limo, Tatum following only a few paces behind Claire’s mother with her security team walking in front of them. His mind racing, and he couldn't help but have a really bad feeling of where this was all going. The same way as all these years ago.

Just before the limo he looked back to the building, catching a quick glance of Claire, behind the blinds. Even from there he could see the worried expression painted on her face before finally tearing his gaze away, and sliding into the car.

“I know you and Claire were at the club together last night, care to explain?” started Claire’s mother, as soon as they sat in limo.

“I’m the head of her security team, ma’am. And it is my responsibility to follow her everywhere and to make sure she is safe,” said Tatum.

“Yes, but Winston checked and at this time you should have been off duty and Demarco should have been with her, and even more so not to let her wander at night to some underground club.”

“She would sneak out anyway. I overheard her speaking with some of her classmates. Ma’am with all due respect,” he spoke through gritted teeth not even looking at her. “But you know there was no way of stopping her, she would sneak out anyway with me or without and she would never take agent Demarco with her.”

“Fine, but people noticed how cosy you seemed to be... getting tequila shots, and then disappearing... together. Am I wrong?”

“No... but she insisted. She cannot understand why I’m like... like that.”

“Like what?”

“We were friends for more than a decade for almost two decades, and then I just disappeared from her life for 5 years only to suddenly reappear now.”

“Lie to her.”

“I tried, but if you think that your daughter is so naive to believe some white lies you don’t know her at all. She can see straight through me. Always could,” said Tatum with cold blooded calm, finally meeting Claire’s mother’s gaze.

“Then make her believe. I have ears and eyes everywhere, so better do as I ask and don’t you dare lie to me. As, if I will find out you or she are lying, and it seems she became surprisingly good at it, the consequences will be for both. You and her. Is it clear?” said Claire’s mother waiting for Tatum to nod, when the limo stopped. “Good. But I still believe you may need a reminder of what will happen if you will disobey me,” spoke she when the doors suddenly slid open revealing the iron walled warehouse of Vancross’ airport. And she nodded in a silence order for Tatum to get out of the limo.

He looked around after stepping outside of the vehicle, noting the fighting ring in the middle of the floor and five bodyguards waiting already next to it. Claire’s mother walked silently behind him.

Her stiletto heels tapped on the metallic floor, and her next words bounced as a muffled echo from the iron walls of the warehouse, when Tatum stopped. His eyes calmly following Madam President’s movements till she finally sat in a comfortable chair covered by the darkness.

“Fight,” the cold order came from the shadows, while Tatum’s calculated gaze moved from one President’s personal bodyguard to another.

All strong. All coming from the Rutherland’s best fighters club. All ex-soldiers... and all hated him.

He knew that he had no chance for a fair fight. He also knew that willingly or not he still will need to fight them. And he doubted that he had even a slightest chance to remain unscratched, but he still needed to try... for Claire... Always for her.

“Ma’am, wouldn’t it be easier just to kill me?” asked Tatum in a calm voice, throwing only a sideway glance at Claire’s mother, regretting only one thing, that he couldn’t say proper goodbye to Claire, couldn’t kiss her like it would be their last time. Not sure if he ever will have another chance to kiss her again.

“You may get your wish... later. After I will get more proof that you are her mystery lover. For now it’s just a warning to keep your distance from my daughter. No more disappearing together... no more smiles... no more eye contact. You may think you are subtle, but she isn’t. So you will fight them, and you,” she looked at her bodyguards with a cold unmoving gaze. “Make sure that every blow you will send his way will be excruciatingly painful but not visible. He is still a head of my daughter’s security team, and I don’t need unnecessary questions. Not from her, not anyone. I want him to remember this last lesson, and my last warning... but still be alive, at least for now. Now fight,” she barked, nodding to two others bodyguards to get Tatum and throw him onto the ring, taking him by surprise.

He landed on his hands and knees with a thud, groaning from the impact, when the first blow went straight to his guts, but his reaction was faster. He blocked it with a side of his shoulder. The force of the block sending the attacker to the floor before getting back to his feet and looking around.

His eyes darkened with rage, but it was the only thing that gave him away. With his peripheral vision he could see another blow coming his way, blocking it faster than it could reach its destination, but almost missing the swing from behind. The one that he managed to dodge at the last second, only to be met with a sharp blinding pain from someone hitting him straight in the stomach with the heavy military boot.

The pain made him sway, but he stubbornly held his balance gritting his teeth. No way he will let them beat him so easily... the thought is fleeting, but strong enough to almost physically heighten his senses, making him dodge the next strike easily. Overcoming the pain and finally sending his own hand to connect with one of the bodyguards’ jaws. Feeling how the skin on his knuckles split from the impact.

His breath elevated and ragged. And he could see how the rage started to rise in the attackers, when the blows began to pour one after the other from all directions, making them much difficult to dodge or block, and more often to miss. But he was still trying, desperately.

Tired. Angry. Bleeding. He was still bravely fighting. Gritting his teeth, ducking the punch after the punch, before landing a couple of his own. Watching how the five fighters getting tired... exhausted, but still unable to send him to the ground and make him stay there as every time he fell he was stubbornly rising back to his feet. As he was fighting for her... she was the only thing that kept him going... Claire... his Claire. The same thing, that he was so cruelly beaten for loving.

And after a while it started to seem that even five of them would be not able to break him. His eyes meeting Madam President’s gaze, distracting him only for a split second to miss the attacker behind him. He could feel a pair of hands gripping him from behind. Felt how the others started to punch and kick him from all sides taking the opportunity as a sign, while two held him still. And he could feel how with the next blow in his groin followed by another one in his stomach the wind was knocked out of him, and he fell to the cement floor with a gust of pain. His ribs aching, and he could barely breath feeling the sharp pain shooting through him with each gulp for air. His eyes closing, but he still could feel the pain, wishing for the darkness to follow, when he heard the quiet voice whispering right into his ear:

“Now clean that mess, and make sure tomorrow you will be good enough to accompany Claire to her date... with Blaine.” The cruel last words like a sharp blade sliced through him before the merciful darkness finally swallowed him.

Tagging: @choices-bound @jamespotterthefirst @mercury84choices @k2624 @thefrenchiemama @choicesreal @starrystarrytrouble @boneandfur @walkerswhiskeygirl @sophxwithers @ramseysrookiex

#tatum mendoza #tatum x mc #tatum x f!mc #foreignaffairs #choices foreign affairs

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greyias · 4 years

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FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Spoilers: Forged Alliances. SWTOR Lost Suns and Annihilation. Some things in the Vanilla storyline, including the Revan flashpoints. Author’s Notes: Out of necessity, parts of this story will contain scenes from the game itself. Whenever possible I’ve tried to rewrite them so that they hopefully remain fresh and interesting, while still retaining the essence of the scene itself (so hopefully it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a transcript). This one is also going to be a bit slow to start, but it’s going to be a long one.

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room.

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron could take orders (when they made sense), and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his mother, but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken two days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, take him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye.

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a lot of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they were going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t intentionally cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork.

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad.

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And then he could get some sleep.

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #smoke and mirrors #SoR Fic O Doom #fanfic #greyfic

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