#do not expect the house of worm to welcome you with open arms any longer

[silvertonguespoon]

All I feel is betrayal from the snail stans we should take up arms together against a common enemy but you instead choose to belittle the worm and blame us for ur loss.

[fanficimagery]

Take on the World; pt. 1

Anonymous asked: can I request something where the reader falls asleep on Rick's lap or something and the group is in awe of the two of them?

Words: 3.4K Warnings: Requests? What are those? Turns out I don't know how to make someone appear "in awe" and forgot how to fulfill someone’s request. JFC why was this so hard? Also after I started writing this, I saw the second message where you requested no Alexandria. I'm sorry to admit I had already included this particular safe haven and didn't know how to rewrite it. Mentions past violence/trauma.

The first couple of days at Alexandria are not as relaxing as one would hope for. Yes the place is a goddamn luxury resort compared to what you and your group are used to, but after everything you've been through you can't help but be suspicious. Because after literal years of running for your lives and putting your life on the line to defend whatever safe haven your group ended up finding, a place like Alexandria should not exist.

But it does and every single person in your group, with the exception of Father Gabriel, can't seem to relax. You and your large group have been given a few houses and nearly an entire block to spread out in, but you've all congregated together in two houses and refuse to wander too far from one another. It was hard to decide who went where, but Rick managed to do it without any problems. He instructed Michonne to take Tara, Rosita, Abraham, Eugene, Sasha, and Father Gabriel into one house while he himself took on Carl, Judith, you, Daryl, Carol, Glenn, and Maggie. No one fussed and seemed to be a little at ease during the day, but when night fell that's when everyone's guard went back up.

It also doesn't help that the couple of days you've been here, everyone's been called into Deanna's office for a bullshit interview so she could decide which job best fit your skills. Jobs? Skill sets? The goddamn dead were walking around eating people and Deanna was trying to fill in a teaching position for the teenagers in the secluded little town.

The locals are wary, and have every right to be after the way you all showed up, but a few of them have managed to be welcoming and bring in extra food to feed everyone and extra clothes so you could all bathe the blood and trauma away. Huh. Fat chance.

But though you've showered and managed to change into some clean, comfortable clothes, you still can't seem to sit still and rest.

A floorboard creaks and you whirl around, reaching for a knife that's no longer strapped to your thigh. Stupid Deanna and her rules!

A cleanly shaven and trimmed Rick chuckles, stepping out of the shadows and into the hallway you were pacing in as he holds his hands up in mock surrender. You frown at him, sighing, and then tiredly grin as you lean against the wall. "What's-her-face finally got a hold of you, I see. Daryl up next?"

"Carol wishes," he muses. "If he doesn't take a shower soon, I'm pretty sure she's going to hose him down in the front yard just so she can wash his current clothes." You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head in amusement. Rick smiles at you, but that smile falls as he steps closer and lowers his voice. "When was the last time you slept, Y/N?"

You grimace and cross your arms over your chest. "I sleep."

"Ten minutes every few hours is not good and you know it." Guilty, you avert your gaze. "It's three in the morning. You should be asleep."

"Yeah? Well so should you." Meeting his gaze then, your stomach swoops at the fond expression he's staring at you with. Rick Grimes is a can of worms you closed after the fallout of the prison because that's when everything really started to go wrong for your group, but it seems that behind the walls of Alexandria those worms are trying to burst free. You lightly clear your throat and kick at one of his booted feet. "I'll sleep when you sleep, oh fearless leader."

He smirks. "Fine. Lets get some sleep then."

Immediately, your smile falls. "What?"

Rick grabs you by the wrist and starts to drag you towards the living room where everyone is camped out at. Daryl is reclined in the only recliner, Carol and Judith are on the loveseat, Carl, Glenn, and Maggie are on the couch, and there's a mattress that's been pushed up in the corner of the room. Everyone is currently sound asleep, so Rick quietly kicks off his boots and gestures for you to do the same. You do and then try not to squirm when he sits down on the mattress with his back against the wall only to drag a pillow into his lap and pat it as if he's expecting you to lay your head there.

"Come on," he tells you. "I got some sleep earlier. I can doze on and off while you actually get some sleep. I'll keep watch if I have to." Oh. He really is expecting you to just lay your head in his lap.

"Rick.." You hesitate and he grins wider. The shake of his head, however, tells you he won't let this go. So heaving a small sigh, you step onto the mattress and then lower yourself so you're curled up with your head on the pillow in his lap. Immediately one of his hands goes to tuck your hair behind your ear and you huff at him. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're running yourself ragged. Go to sleep."

You shift a little to get more comfortable, your body traitorously relaxing as Rick's fingers delve into your hair and lightly scratch at your scalp. Your heart warms and your eyelids flutter shut, taking longer and longer to reopen as the minutes tick by until you're eventually asleep.

Rick's hand seems to have a mind of its own as he continues to scratch Y/N's scalp, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when she snorts and then grumbles in her sleep. Eventually though his thoughts drift off and he can't help but think back to when he had met her.

Rick had first laid eyes on Y/N at the quarry back in Georgia. He'd been so wrapped up at being reunited with his family that he didn't get further in knowing her other than the fact that she'd been a friend of Glenn's from work. Then the farm happened, loyalties were tested as a swarm of the dead demolished their little safe haven, and everyone nearly starved to death while on the run before finding the prison.

The prison was the safest haven they had, but also the one place with a bunch of terrible memories. The only good thing that actually came out of the prison was that, that was when Rick really took notice of Y/N and how much she gave so their family of misfits were as comfortable as can be. He's ashamed to admit that's when he started to develop feelings for her because a very hormonal Lori wasn't making things easy on him, but then their safety was put in jeopardy by a spurned ex-inmate they'd let loose and no one had time to think about intimacy.

Lori had given birth to a daughter everyone knew wasn't biologically Rick's, and died in the process after being secluded away from everyone because of an invasion of the dead. Rick lost himself to his grief for a few weeks after, but Y/N was there to unknowingly pull him back together piece by piece. Not once did her trust in him waver, nor did she blame him for turning away strangers when they had found their way into the prison. In the world they lived in, one had to be extremely careful with who they trusted to let around their family.

But then the Governor tried to take the prison by force, lives were lost, the group was split up, and the prison was basically given back to the dead after fences were torn down and walls were bombed open. Y/N got stuck with him, Carl, and Michonne in the chaos and that was when he noticed his feelings made a reappearance. Michonne had seen the longing looks when Y/N would try to keep Carl as safe as possible while also letting him do things on his own since being a child wasn't safe in the world they lived in now, but she would do nothing more than tease her friend about it when Y/N wasn't paying attention.

And just when things started to seem semi-okay, a group of men caught up to them which led to Daryl swooping in just in the nick of time to prevent some terrible things from happening to both Carl and Y/N. They were shaken, but happy to be reunited with a familiar face and tried to not get their hopes up when they started to see signs of a promising sanctuary for people in need. It was wishful thinking that the others missing from the group were seeing the same signs, but Rick pushed for it anyway.

Terminus ended up being a goddamn nightmare and Rick was disheartened when very familiar faces started to be shoved into the train car they were being held in.

Y/N whimpers in her sleep, startling Rick from memory lane. His fingers, which had stopped scratching, start moving again in hopes of her falling back into a peaceful slumber. But as the seconds tick by, her breathing gets heavier and faster until she's eventually gasping awake.

"Hey. Hey!" Rick quietly snaps, hoping to grab her attention without scaring her and without waking the others. "Y/N, it's okay. You're safe. We're safe. You don't have to be scared."

Your eyes take a moment to focus in the dark and when they do your breath stutters in your chest when Rick comes into focus. You sag in relief and his hands cup your face so you're only staring at him. You grasp onto his wrists to help ground yourself. "R-Rick?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. It's me. Just breathe." You do as he's requested, blinking away tears when they build up. "Where did you go just now?" He murmurs.

"T-Terminus," you exhale shakily. "I was- we were back at Terminus."

Rick's gaze subconsciously darts down to your neck and you release one of his wrists to cover the scar that resides there at the base of your throat. You had gotten it from Terminus, the cannibals who were luring people there, having tied up you, Rick, Glenn, Daryl, and Bob to dispose of first. The men were pushed to their knees on one side of an empty watering trough and you were dragged in across from them. All of your wrists were bound and bandannas had been tied around your heads and shoved into your mouths to keep your screams from being too loud.

But the second you were shoved to your knees and pushed forward to lean over the trough, your eyes widened and you started to sob. A hand gripped the back of your hair to pull your head back just so and the men from your group went wild struggling to help you. A machete had been placed at the base of your throat, but the man only got in a small slice before an explosion rocked the entire place.

"We got out of there." Rick's voice brings you back to the present and you sniffle, nodding, and you let your hand fall. He attempts to smile, but when you can't return it he pushes aside the pillow in his lap. "Come here."

Your brow furrows. "What?"

"Come here," he says again. He pulls his legs up so his knees are bent and then spreads his legs while gesturing to the space in front of him. "You need sleep and you won't sleep peacefully until you feel safe."

"Rick.."

"Nope. I don't wanna hear it. Sit in front of me and lay your back against my chest."

The longer you stare, the more you realize he's being serious. So blinking at him in surprise, you can't help but numbly crawl over to him. You're so nervous that you're actually trembling as you get into position and hesitantly lean back until you're resting against him. Rick cages you in with his arms resting on his knees until eventually he wraps them around your stomach to hold you. Your arms slowly fall atop of his and you lean your head back against his shoulder, relaxing. "Oh," you breath. "This is- this is nice."

Rick chuckles as he nudges your head with his chin. "Get some sleep, sweetheart. No one is going to harm you."

"Famous last words, Grimes. If I wake up to mayhem, I'm letting you do all the dirty work while I hide away."

His only response is to squeeze you a little tighter and you shift a little more to get comfortable enough to fall asleep once more.

The next time Rick wakes up it's because he hears someone shuffling around. His left arm tightens around Y/N while his other reaches for the Colt at his hip. Only he realizes immediately that he no longer has his gun and his eyes fly open. Almost everyone is staring at him in surprise, with the exception of Daryl who doesn't seem fazed.

"She's sleeping and letting someone touch her," Glenn says in awe. "How long has she been asleep for?"

Rick grimaces as he shifts a little, freezing when Y/N sighs in her sleep and shoves her face further into the side of his neck. Slowly but surely he stretches his legs out, exhaling softly and wrapping his second arm around her once more. "How long have you been watching?"

"About fifteen minutes," Carol muses. "We for sure thought Judith would have woken you up with her fussing."

"Was it nightmares?" Maggie asks. "She hasn't slept longer than an hour since.."

"Since Terminus," Glenn frowns. "I think we've all had trouble sleeping since then."

"Y/N more so than anyone," Daryl grumbles. He frowns, clearly remembering what he, Glenn, and Rick were witness to.

Carl stretches, smiling. "I don't know what to be more happier about: the fact that Y/N is sleeping or that my dad's finally loosened up to see what was in front of his face this entire time."

"Excuse me?" Rick says. Everyone in the room but him snickers and his grip on Y/N loosens just a little.

"Y/N has had a thing for you since the farm," Maggie admits, "but she kept it quiet because of Lori and was afraid of Shane and all his drama."

"And you've had a thing for her since we were split up after the prison." Carl grins at his dad's subtle expression of guilt. "I'm surprised it took you guys this long for anything to happen."

"But it- nothing's happened."

"You cuddling her says otherwise," Carol teases.

Rick huffs and then freezes once more when Y/N shifts.

Talking and muffled laughter is what wakes you, but you manage to stay still as everyone around you continues to talk. You do your best not to laugh at their obvious awe of you finally sleeping and then try your hardest not to blush when they call out both you and Rick for hidden feelings. Eventually though you have the urge to pee and you let your eyes flutter open, groaning slightly as you stretch your legs out and arch your back in the process.

Someone snorts and you grimace when you realize groaning was perhaps not the best thing to do while you were practically in Rick's lap. You glance around at everyone in the room, slowly leaning forward and crawling over Rick's thigh. "Hey, guys." You gulp. "Everyone sleep okay?"

Daryl smirks. "Did you?"

The room's occupants don't bother hiding their amusement. You frown at the hunter. "Get bent, Dixon." Rick chuckles at your side and you avoid his gaze. Standing then, you quickly make an excuse to flee to the upstairs bathroom. "I'll just, uh, be in the bathroom or something."

Halfway up the stairs, the front door opens and you glance over your shoulder to see the other half of the group enter the house. Sighing in relief, you hope their presence is enough to make everyone forget about you waking up in Rick's arms.

The minutes tick by and after taking a little longer than necessary in the upstairs bathroom, you finally head downstairs. You're more composed and ready for more teasing, but surprisingly the house is clear of mostly everyone. Carol is there trying to figure something out for lunch, Tara and Glenn are playing a board game, and Eugene is browsing the books that were already on the shelves in the living room. Carol catches sight of you as you're passing by and you smile tightly before heading out the front door.

Maggie is sitting on the porch steps and when she notices you she gestures for you to join her. You do, sighing as you take a seat on the same step as her and nudge her with your shoulder when you catch sight of her smile. "Go ahead, Mags. Get it all out."

"How did it feel to wake up in the beefy arms of-" You snort, punching at her thigh. Maggie laughs and leans towards you, her smile softening as she nudges you softly. "In all seriousness, how did that happen?"

You shrug. "I was pacing. Rick talked to me and said I needed sleep. He-" You trail off, chuckling. "He actually made me lay next to him and lay my head in his lap. I fell asleep with him scratching my scalp."

Maggie coos. "So then how did you end up the way you did?"

"I had a dream about Terminus." Her smile falls. "I woke up in a panic and Rick comforted me. That's all that was."

"You sure about that?" You sigh and open your mouth to deny whatever she's concocted in that brain of hers, but you see her staring somewhere down the road. Following her gaze, you see Rick bent over a bike and helping a child with the chain that'd fallen off. You slowly start to smile, especially when he glances up and catches your gaze before waving. "We're safe here, Y/N. You can let that guard of yours down and actually pursue something with him."

"We thought we were safe at the prison and look how that turned out." This time it's Maggie's turn to sigh and you turn to face her, lowering your voice. "If we stay here, Mags, we're sitting ducks. We'll become soft and, should this place ever be overrun, you know damn well every person previously living here will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off."

"Then teach them," she urges. "I've been talking to Deanna about expanding the walls to make room for a bigger garden. She's listening, Y/N. She's taking our words into account because she knows what we've been through out there. She knows we have experience."

"She also took our weapons away," you deadpan. "No one in this town is allowed a weapon, so what makes you think she'll want us teaching her precious locals the proper ways to defend themselves?"

"You never know if you don't try."

Your shoulders droop. "I want to. Believe me, I do, but you know we don't fit in here."

"I know, but we have to try for Carl and Judith." She pauses, taking a moment to quickly glance around. "And for the future babies that will possibly be born."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in and when they do your eyes widen. "What?" She shrugs and you shake your head in disbelief. "You're actually trying?"

"Not now," she sheepishly admits, "but we want to. Eventually. We just need to set down roots somewhere and Alexandria seems like a place that can happen."

"Jesus, Mags." You're still in disbelief, but when you see her expression falter as if ashamed, you're quick to grab onto her hand and squeeze. "Okay. I'll try for the kids and for my future godchild."

Maggie snorts and turns her hand to squeeze yours in return. "And while you're at it, try with Rick. The sexual tension is getting to be a bit much."

"And the moment's ruined." You're quick to toss her hand aside and stand up, ignoring her laughter and then staring longingly at Rick. You sigh softly before turning to mumble, "If I ever get that man in the sack, you and the rest of the house will only have yourselves to blame. I don't want to hear any complaints about traumatizing noises."

She laughs out loud, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "If you get that man in the sack, I'll be so proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just you wait and see."

[polar534]

Jersey Stealing Pt. 4

Titan, this was a lot longer then I had ever planned on it being. I started writing Jersey Stealing I want to say MONTHS ago. You guys have only recently seen the parts that have been sitting done for ages. I guess it's just a side effect of this being my secondary, recovery project. Something fun I can write up while I'm at work.

Anyways, I'll stop babbling now and let y'all get to the well deserved end to this arc. This one is long. It's got a lot of loose threads tied up and it's also got my first instance of me ever typing out 'I love you' in any sort of writing... so that's a thing. Hopefully I did it alright.

(If you like this/want to read the other parts/want to figure out what the heck this Hockey AU is in the first place, consider checking out the MasterPost.)

***

Amity tapped her fingers, the sharp sound echoing loudly throughout the empty house. Sighing, she pushed her chair out and set aside the homework she was working on. The quiet nature of the house was almost physically bothering her as she walked to the window.Opening up to the sounds of the street below and woods behind, Amity took a deep breath and let the sounds comfort the growing restlessness creeping into her bones. Normally on the days she didn't have practice, both her and Luz would spend the evening in the Boiling Isles, visiting Lilith and Eda at the palace. There was always something to do, and Eda in particular was always looking for some excuse to sneak away from her duties even for just a little bit. It was something they both looked forward to. A time in which everyone could catch up, Gus and Willow included, outside of school or Willow and Amity's games.

However, today was different. Luz had a lot less shine in her eyes as Amity said goodbye to her at the portal, something that rarely happened. It only furthered Amity's resolve in her decision to stay behind and find some sort of resolution to the incident that now had been plaguing her girlfriend for almost a week.

The itching in her bones began to crawl into her skin as Amity felt her restlessness increase. Moving to the bed she grabbed some shoes and slid them on, making sure to grab her stick and jersey on the way out the door. Even if it was late, she knew Luz wouldn't be home anytime soon, and there was no telling when Camilla would be off of work. Equipment in hand, she moved down the street quickly, the daylight slowly fading behind her.

***

Crack!

The slam of the puck against the stick offered little resistance to Amity's swing as she continued the course she had designed for herself. Lapping the rink she crashed into the football training dummy she and the team had borrowed (stolen) from the local highschool. Feeling the weighted dummy barely move against the slick ice had her hitting the next lap even faster then the first.

Crack!

This time the swing was straight through the puck, almost as if Amity was merely cutting through the air with her motions. The puck flew through the air and pushed the netting of the goal to it's limit as the witch ducked her head down and lapped the rink a second time, building up speed to once again charge the dummy. Her chest heaved as her feet slowed in their steps, the ice now almost like water under her skates. There was no more traction to be gained and she instead allowed her body to continue it's momentum as she practically soared towards her goal. Her mind emptied as she plowed into the object in front of her, shoulder out, intending to cause as much damage as possible. This time, the metal sled holding the dummy up slid effortlessly through the ice as it flew backwards. The force of her impact wasn't clean though. Losing her balance and with too much speed to stop, Amity careened around the edge of where the dummy had stopped and she hit the ice hard. The green-haired girl barely registered the pain as her stick flew from her hand and she was left spinning out on the ice.

The witch panted heavily as she lay on the frozen rink, completely dazed, her heartbeat thudding so loudly in her ears that she could barely think.

As the pain of her fall caught up with her, so did the emotions she had tried to outrun for the past week. She wasn't aware of the first tear that slipped down the side of her cheek, but the many following after had her face almost bitterly cold in chilly temperature of the arena. A question repeated in her mind over and over.

Why?

The tears didn't bother her. Neither did the reason she was shedding them.

Why?

What bothered her most was Luz. Why was this the thing, this hope, this person, the one thing to break Luz like Amity had never seen? Why did this emotion, this defeat, seem to haunt Luz like a ghost that was all too familiar? Amity's heart broke for Luz, and maybe she was finally allowing herself to feel the pain, the burden she had tried carrying since she had seen it. Her mind raced to fill in the gaps and answer the questions as the adrenaline from her training began to crash and her body melted further into the ice.

She thought about all she knew and had learned about Luz's history in her own world. This world that Amity now had become a part of. It seemed like every day was a struggle for Luz, her wild and dangerous ideas being so obviously unappealing to others. Forcibly being isolated, even when you are trying to reach out was a lot different from how Amity grew up. She was always welcome, but never felt like she belonged… never wanted to.

'I think that’s why Luz held on to the hope that one day they could be friends'

It was Luz's connection to Amity that severed the last chance of her bonding to her past. It was the step over the line for Sasha, the person Luz had hung her last hopes on before she met Willow, before she met Gus, before she met Amity.

The adrenaline was gone. Her body aching, Amity crawled her way to her feet feeling more hollow then ever before. Slowly, she slid the training dummy off the ice, and grabbed her stick. Her eyes glanced to the puck that was still in the empty space of the goal as she packed the last of her equipment away. Glancing at her phone she saw that there were missed messages.

-I'm home now.

Missed Call from Luz

-Amity?

-Where are you?

-I hope you're ok.

Amity took one last look at the ice behind her before she tapped out a quick response, slinging her jersey off and over her shoulder as she walked out of the building.

-Sorry. I was practicing.

-I'll be home soon.

***

Amity crept up the stairs and to the bedroom. Peeking open the door slowly she saw that Luz was curled up on the bed, wrapped up snugly in a blanket and using a small lamp to read by. As soon as the door opened her eyes shot up and the ghost of a smile lit up her face in the relative darkness.

"Ahhh, there she is!"

Amity smiled back as she wormed her way further into the room and set her equipment down. Kicking off her shoes she sat down on the edge of the bed as Luz set her book down and clung onto her back, her head resting comfortably in the crook of the witch's neck.

"I'm sorry I was late." Amity mumbled quietly as she leaned her face into Luz's, enjoying her girlfriend's warmth as it chased away the bite of cold that still lingered from the rink.

"I am too." Luz rumbled back into her ear as she squeezed her arms tightly around the witch's torso and pulled her fully down onto the bed.

"Oh? Miss me much Noceda?" Amity teased as they both wrapped the blanket around them and settled in, Luz in Amity's arms.

Luz merely responded with a low growl as she snuggled further into the other's girls embrace, making sure her face was buried into Amity's chest. After a moment of enjoying being close and together again, Luz finally lifted her face. Her eyes were tired, but they held the shine of curiosity that Amity was used to. Deep in those wide brown eyes there was a flicker of the Luz she knew and loved.

Then that flicker faded.

"So… you were out pretty late."

Amity nodded. It wasn't an accusation, just a comment. It didn't stop the guilt from rushing in however.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was caught up in practicing and didn't realize the time."

"Lokte's brother stopped by earlier." Luz said calmly.

Amity's blood froze. It wasn't as if she wanted to hide what she had been up to for the last few days, but rather didn't want to worry Luz any more then she already was. It was too late now though.

"He wanted to apologize. For what happened at the game. He looked pretty spooked. Guess Lokte didn't go easy on him."

"I wouldn't either." Amity growled stiffly. It may have been a genuine mistake, but that didn't mean the threat didn't bother her. What was worse was that Luz still seemed completely calm. Amity didn't know what to expect. Would she be mad? Or just disappointed?

Silence fell between the pair.

"You talked with them today… didn't you?"

There was another moment of silence before Amity nodded. Luz continued to face away from her, but the witch knew that her girlfriend knew the answer before she had asked. After a few more agonizing seconds, Luz finally faced her. The smallest sliver of a smile crept it's way on her face, and the light in her eyes seemed to come back ever so slightly.

"Sooo… just how obnoxious is Bryce?" Luz asked, gently teasing. Her light voice instantly broke through the stiff air between them.

Amity let out a sigh of relief as she laughed a bit to herself.

"I have no idea how you put up with him at all. He's got to be one of the dullest people I have ever met. I told him multiple times I was your girlfriend and he still couldn't take the hint! He kept trying to ask me out." The witch growled lowly, unconsciously squeezing Luz tighter.

"Oh. Huh..." Luz hummed thoughtfully.

"Luz there was no way I was going to say yes. You know that right?"

Luz sat up and waved her hand as if dismissing Amity's thought.

"Yeah of course I know that." She assured the witch almost like an after thought, now looking curiously out the window. "It's just weird. Bryce isn't the type to ask girls out. He just hasn't ever been interested in dating before."

"Could've fooled me." Amity grumbled unhappily, Byrce's aggressive way of flirting still very much prevalent in her mind.

Luz turned back to her with another smile, this one supportive and warm.

"Oh Ami. He's still very much a trashbag." Luz said slowly, her distaste for Bryce very barely hidden. "You didn't have to go talk to them for me you know." She added after a pause, her voice growing quiet.

"Well. Let's see, they threatened you, called you a liar and then tried to go on with their life as if everything was ok. As if there wasn't any consequences." Amity listed as she stared at the ceiling and counted on her fingers. After thinking for awhile she stared hard at Luz. "Yeah. I wasn't about to let that happen."

Luz's smile grew a little more genuine as both girls looked at each other. She leaned back up against Amity as they settled back down into the bed. There wasn't anything more to say.

"So practicing huh? Did you use the football dummy?" Luz asked suddenly and excitedly.

Amity couldn't help but smile, it had been Luz's idea to use it (steal it) in the first place.

"It was a little weird to use, but honestly on the second try I sent it flying."

"Awesome." Luz breathed. "I demand you take me along next time."

Amity laughed. "You've been spending too much time with King." She teased gently as she sat up to lean against the bed frame. Luz promptly flopped across her lap and uncovered her book from earlier to flip open.

"Nonsense." The human girl dismissed as her eyes began to scan the pages again.

"What are you reading anyways?" Amity asked after a pause told her the conversation might be over.

"Shhhhhhh." Luz reached over and lazily flopped a hand against Amity's face in an attempt to gently shush her. "I'm almost done with this scene."

Raising an eyebrow, Amity patiently waited, unaware that she and Luz would soon spend the next 2 hours getting into the first book of a brand new series. After thoroughly researching to find out that yes, the rest of the series was available at the library, the two girls settled in for the night. As they were drifting off, Luz holding Amity tightly to her chest, the witch had almost completely forgotten about the trials they had both been through. The weight of their trauma seemed so far away, lost in the warmth of the blankets and her girlfriend's arms.

No matter what happened, if every day ended with Luz right beside her, Amity knew they could and they would survive anything that life threw at them.

Above her, Luz buried her face into her hair, breathing in deeply as sleep overtook her.

"…mity…" She mumbled sleepily.

Amity couldn't help but giggle a bit. Luz hated falling asleep, always clinging to her consciousness despite how exhausted she was. Always finding some excuse to stay up just a little longer.

"Yes?"

"… thanks."

Amity's ears twitched before a small smile appeared on her face. She snuggled into Luz further.

"Anytime." The witch reassured her as she heard her girlfriend sigh happily above her. The room grew quiet once again and Amity was almost fully asleep by the time Luz spoke next.

"I love you."

The heat rushed to Amity's cheeks, as it always did when she heard those 3 little words. Her heart skipped a bit as it beat faster in it's desperate attempt to return the affection.

"I love you too Luz."

***

Luz didn't return to normal right away, though the night clearly had an effect on her. However, it never took long for the unbreakable spirit of Luz Noceda to rear it's head again and soon enough, The Otter's hockey practice was once again filled with the sounds of rambunctious applause and cheering. The entire team seemed to be effected by the return of their number 1 fan as they all began to work harder, feeling the hope return. After all, they were 4-1 and were still riding high on their winning streak.

Amity and Lokte especially felt the effects of Luz's return to form, not only on a personal level, but also with the renewed gusto of their team.

Which is why, on the last practice before their big game, everything came to an almost halt as the door of the rink opened and a stranger appeared looking very lost.

It wasn't as if the majority of the team knew this new person, but they recognized the bad news this person brought as their star player completely froze. Amity recognized the figure immediately. She was already furiously skating off the ice as they started to approach Luz, Lokte quickly calling for a 5 minute break behind her. Up in the stands, Luz looked up, surprised to see a face beside her in the usually barren stands. She was even more surprised by just how familiar the face was.

Beside her, Sasha was clenching tightly to her arm, looking absolutely everywhere but at Luz herself. She looked like she was trying to form a sentence as the commotion on the ice finally caught up to them. Both girls turned to see Amity, desperately pulling off her skates in the players box, her face furious.

"Wait! Wait! I can explain!" Sasha called out as they watched Lokte skate up next to Amity who growled out a quick response. Now both players seemed set on heading up to the stands, completely uncaring about the former bullies cry.

Luz didn't know what to do. Her mind had frozen when she saw Sasha and not knowing what to think, she didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were locked on Lokte and Amity as they started climbing the stairs to where she was, feeling almost grateful that she would have some sort of backup in just a few moments.

It wasn't that she was scared, but her chest seemed to ache the same way it had the last couple of days and she was acutely aware that she seemed to shrink in Sasha's presence. Luz knew that she hadn't been herself in the days following her encounter with Sasha and Bryce before. It had taken a lot out of her, and although she always wanted to look for the best in people, she wasn't keen to repeat that experience.

Especially with how worried Amity had been.

"Ok. Well since it definitely seems like I'm about to be chased from this place," Sasha spoke up, interrupting Luz's fleeting thoughts and quickly turning to her with wide eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Really. I'm not looking for any sort of forgiveness. I don't… I don't deserve that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just… I was hoping we could talk."

Luz merely blinked, her mind swirling. She was still very much aware of her girlfriend closing in on them, and Sasha's already flighty behavior. She knew she needed to make a move to stop something from happening but she couldn't think past the girl's words.

'I'm sorry'

"You… wanted to talk?" Luz finally choked out, finding some sort of sticking point to allow herself to speak again.

Sasha almost looked a little sheepish, her fearful eyes darting back and forth between the hockey players quickly coming up the stairs and the girl she had hurt.

"Yeah. For all the years I've known you… I realized I know absolutely nothing about you." The blonde haired girl laughed.

The laugh was so genuine that Luz couldn't help but laugh with her. After all, everything she said was true. They had known each other for a long time, but they were still practically complete strangers. It was Luz who had always wanted that to change, but Sasha had never made an attempt to fix anything between them before. Time was running out however as Sasha turned to leave, clearly afraid of the players coming up the steps.

She was quickly stopped by Luz's hand on her arm.

"Hey! I thought I told you not to go near her again!" Amity snarled, now being close enough to yell.

Luz could feel the shiver of fear that shot through Sasha as Amity bared her fangs. Again, she couldn't help but smile, after all, Amity was pretty terrifying when she wanted to be. Looking absolutely ready to bolt, Sasha turned to Luz with wide eyes, clearly praying that this wasn't some big trap. Luz only winked as a response.

Letting her arm go, Luz stood up and put herself between Amity and Sasha, holding her arms out to the side to fully block the girl behind her.

Amity froze as Lokte stopped on the steps below her, their arms crossing in frustration.

"Luz?" The witch asked tentatively. Her voice was full of concern and worry, all traces of anger almost completely fading as she stared at her girlfriend in confusion.

Luz took a deep breath.

"It's okay Ami. She just wants to talk."

Amity bristled in anger, but she did her best to remain calm. "Are you ok?"

Luz glanced behind her and took note of Sasha's wide, shocked eyes. Her face was blank as she turned back around to face her girlfriend.

"Give me a stick and I'll make sure she doesn't get too out of line." Luz smirked after a short pause.

A startled gasp from behind her had Lokte and Luz both laughing while Amity merely rolled her eyes. Taking a step forward she planted a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek.

"Let me know the moment she starts bothering you, ok?" Amity whispered. Luz caught her hand as she backed up again and held it tight as she flashed a confident smile.

"Of course." Luz grinned at her as she swung the witch's hand and let it go. "You just get back to practicing. No need to stop on my behalf."

"I could name several reasons." Lokte interjected, still looking rather distrustful of the girl tentatively peeking out from behind Luz.

Despite their reluctance, Amity nodded at Luz and dragged her friend back down to the rink. Luz watched them leave for just a bit before turning to Sasha with a grin.

"Alright. Crisis adverted." She laughed playfully. "Just be grateful she didn't jump at ya from the ceiling. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty."

Sasha laughed nervously. "So… does this mean we can talk?"

Luz laughed again as she fearlessly grabbed Sasha and forced her to sit next to her on the bleacher.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you ask me that?"

…

Amity slid into the seat next to Luz as she watched her teammates wrap up on the ice. Sasha had left only a little while ago and the witch could see a noticeable slouch to her girlfriends shoulders. Despite that, Luz barely moved as Amity gently reached for her hand.

"How are you doing?" She asked quietly, weaving her fingers through Luz's own.

After a short pause, Luz squeezed her fingers back and looked up at her with watery brown eyes. Amity immediately tensed. She didn’t trust that look and if Sasha had hurt her again…

Well the girl hadn't left that long ago, if she hurried, there was still a definite chance that the witch could catch her. She was preparing to grab her stick and hurry out the door as Luz finally spoke.

"We aren't friends yet…" Luz stated slowly, the light in her eyes vibrantly bright as she spoke.

"But it's a start."

[walker-journal]

Lenan and Lampchops (Adam and Caoimhe)

Characters: Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir), Caoimhe Brennan (Leanan-Sidhe-Sadie)

Timing: Before the events of Hell’s True North

Summary: The search for Nell continues on a deceptive world of sheep and stray sod where Adam happens to run into, Caoimhe, one of the music professors who isn’t quite as surprised about Sheep Hell as she should be. 

Content Warning: Gun Use

Adam looked into a bright sky with unfamiliar stars and other verdant worlds of fields and jungles that loomed in the sky. Fields of soft grass extended unbroken toward the horizon, undulating in the breeze. Towering thickets of Illuabris Ferns, larger than he’d ever seen them grow on Earth, were pillars of black and violet  that stood stark against the rolling green. 

Vegetable Lambs grazed around the Hunter, paying him no mind as they basked in the off-color light of alien suns. Adam had been wandering for what felt like many days now, but the strange sky didn’t give much clue if that was true. Only the deterioration of his clothes, now bleached by sun and sporting tattered holes hinted that the Hunter had been hiking for far longer than he realized. He couldn’t even count how many of these barometz lambs he’d eaten to keep his strength up, the rest of the herds always just staring with dull dispassion as Adam butchered and cooked one of their number. 

He was lost, and had been so long enough for  his tactical gear to fray, fade, and make  Adam look more like a beleaguered deserter than someone who’d come here  armed to the teeth on a mission. 

The Hunter had to admit that of all the worlds he’d been to so far while trying to find Nell, Lambchops Land was definitely the most surprising with its ass-kicking at the moment, and it hadn’t even given him a scratch. 

Adam felt a flicker of a paranormal presence that definitely wasn’t another goddam lamb. He crested another hill at a slow cautious gait, raising his rifle at the…

The new music teacher?

Wait….was that her? Was he…?

Ok, so if her chest burst open and she’s been a Lamb Alien the whole time Adam was just done, so done.

“Hey ...uh..Professor Brennan,” said the sunburnt ragged soldier, “what brings you to Lambchop Land?” 

It was like something Caoimhe had seen in a picture, or dancing between the flames of the bonfires they’d light in Ireland. It was a world forever just out of reach, only as permanent as any single tendril of flame. It was beautiful, painted in hues of blue and green, all movement as the grass swayed back and forth, a patchwork quilt of stars overhead, and–

And Vegetable Lambs. Vegetable Lambs as far as the eye could see. They dotted the otherwise pristine landscape, cutting figures of cotton-fluff and fruit against the horizon. The peaceful breeze brought with it the bleating of different herds. It was by far the best portal Caoimhe had poked her head into yet: picturesque with a touch of levity.

Then the view changed with the barrel of a rifle. She followed the length of it up until she was met with ruffled hair and sun-bleached clothes, and the kind of weariness only seen in well-worn travelers who hadn’t seen home in far too long. He looked out of place, a single ragged figure painted in dusty pencil over a backdrop of vibrant oils. It was a concept, but Caoimhe wasn’t sure it quite suited him. The way his grip sat against the rifle, she thought maybe he might better fit in the climax of an old western; the twanging of the guitar builds.

“Just me.” She held her hands up for a moment before letting them fall back to her side. He looked like he’d been prepared at one point in time. This trip wasn’t an accident for him. “Would you believe me, if I told you I just stumbled in? Can’t say I expected White Crest to be so...dimensionally inclusive.”

Adam cocked his head at the music professor, features moving from confusion to frowning wariness as her lack of disorientation set off alarm bells in his brain. The Hunter could feel that she wasn’t human but didn’t narrow things down much.  

“I’d believe it,” Adam affirmed. “There have been some other folks that’ve gotten yoinked by these space rips,” the planar wanderer noted. “White Crest is in a weak spot in reality,” the apocalypse prepper claimed, not really bothering to pretend ignorance when he was gun totting on the Veggie Lamb Planet. “I just hope we can find some way to seal that shit up before everything goes to hell...like permanently y’know?”

Adam sighed. “So uh...you would have happened to have seen a portal anywhere?” 

Yes.

Caoimhe hesitated a moment. She’d pegged it right, he was prepared. Whatever had actually brought him to a planet of Vegetable Lambs, he at least had a mission now. And it seemed like the knowledge to accomplish it, if he could ever find a portal again. If she helped him find a portal again. His expression shifted, and her eyebrows lifted; curious.

He needed help, something curious in and of itself, considering. The portal she’d come through herself wasn’t too far away, obscured by the rolling hills. If he could manage to walk a straight line for more than a few minutes, he might even be able to stumble back through it without her help. But the state of him told her he’d been trying just that, to no avail. If something had him that turned around–

“I haven’t been here very long, so logically there should be one not too far away.” She kicked the grass at her feet. “If we put our heads together, we can find a way out. Don’t think either of us will be doing much good solving the portal crisis here. Any ideas what’s caused it yet?”

“I uh...can’t find my way,”  Adam admitted. The Hunter reached into his pack and pulled out a battered compass. Adam closed his eyes and placed home at the forefront of his mind, focusing on the faces of friends and the DIE fraternity house. The compass Penelope had enchanted on the eve of their last night began to spin. The sorceress’ magic sensed the intention of Adam’s heart and soon the compass needle was dutifully pointing the way to portal back White Crest. 

The only problem was, no matter how far Adam walked on these paradisiacal rolling hills in the direction of an exit, he kept circling back and retracing his way out. 

“This compass was enchanted by a witch to help me find the way,” Adam said, choosing to simplify the painful knot of emotions that came with this gift. “But no matter what happens I keep circling back.” 

Adam shook his head at the question of a bigger picture. “I know there are keys and big-ass worm boring through dimensions but I’ve got no idea how they all fit together yet.”  

“I’ve gathered.” Caoimhe grinned up at the disheveled Adam, obviously having been wandering for longer than he ever should have been. Curiosity brought her the rest of the way up the hill to stand next to him. It was a neat trick, to say the least. With a needle to point him exactly where he should go, he should have found his way out long before the sun could bleach his clothes. The hills were just redundant enough to be confusing, but not that confusing.

“You focus on the compass, then. Nowhere else, just the compass. I’ll make sure we’re not doing any circles.” Placing a gentle hand on his elbow, Caoimhe led them in the direction the compass pointed, a direction she knew would eventually yield a portal and a ticket home again. “You know, if you ignore the fact this portal has you all sorts of twisted up, it’s kind of beautiful.”

It was. Blues and greens and yellows and the gentle bleating of the Vegetables Lambs. It was rather harmless, but then, Caoimhe still knew exactly where she was standing and in which direction she needed to go. “Keys and worms. That’s...way too vague. Have there always been portals, or did I just move in at the wrong time?”

“Yeah in a Little House on the Prairie butter-churning sort of way,” Adam admitted, controlling himself enough not to flinch Caoimhe put his hand on his elbow. His Hunter senses send icy hot pinpricks through him at the paranormal woman’s touch and not in the sexy way. Adam was thankful that his time in White Crest had made the feeling of being around supernatural beings routine enough that he didn't go into fight or flight mode as much as he used to. 

“So uh, is finding your way out in the country just a superpower you’d got then,” Adam asked as they crested another hill of strange colorful plants whose tendril polyps writhing and curled in the sunshine. Outright asking ‘what’ Caoimhe was seemed a bit on the nose considering that she was in a helpful mood. 

“White Crest is in a like, dimensional weakspot,” Adam posited, seeing no reason to conceal the information considering how literally to hell everything was going. “It’s properly why there are so many demons and whatnot around, but this is definitely a huge spike in Hellmouth stuff.” 

With Adam following, Caoimhe let go and walked a few steps ahead. Her fingers curled into her palms and she spun herself through a few different answers. What she did wasn’t a superpower, though some might construe it as such. With their eyes glazed over and their hands moving over the keys of a piano, with a whole world of inspiration spreading itself in front of them. The divine muse. Caoimhe swallowed. It wasn’t a superpower. It was a mystical science at best. She wouldn’t go so far as to say a curse; she could hear her mother screaming from Ireland.

“Have you considered you might be exceptionally good at getting lost?” She cast a glance his direction, tone light. She had a feeling he wasn’t. She had a feeling he’d see right through her dancing around the point. “I’ve spent a lot of my life traveling, you tend to get good at the cardinal directions.”

She didn’t want to be seen. “Lovely. Welcome to White Crest, right? Portals and Hellmouths, and– what, what is that?”

The sun blotted out and the bleating seemed to increase in volume. Something deeper and louder broke through the din, then. Something Caoimhe could feel rattle in her chest.

“I mean...that’s fair,” Adam allowed, sunburned face breaking into a smile at Caoimhe’s counterpoint as he kept his eyes locked on the compass as they weaved their way through blossoming heaths and swaying forests of Illuabris Ferns. 

Caoimhe’s exclamation raised Adam’s gaze to the verdant valley spread out below them. 

In a cleft between four grassy hills was a circle of cairn stones. Within the cairn circle was what seemed to be a pit of pure sunlight that shone like a beacon in the sudden gloom that’d encroached across the sky.  

Beyond the sunwell was what Adam had first taken to be an enormous tree before it shambled forward on hoofed feet. It was then that the Hunter realized it was a giant Barometz, bigger than any Earthly ecosystem would’ve made possible. It’s roots were a cluster of long hooved legs and scrambled forward like a bovine millipede. Engorged clusters of Vegetable Lambs hung from its branches in the matter of grapes on a vine, their discordant cacophony of shrieking growing closer. 

“Well shit, its like a…. Megalamp King.” 

“It’s coming our way, is what it is.” And directly in their way. Caoimhe thought throwing a dog on a piano might sound better than the thing trampling its way towards them. She’d heard middle-school bands who could give it a run for its money. Which was all entirely ignoring the fact that one misplaced, vine-thick hoof could squash her. It was a beautiful place, but she really didn’t want it to be the last place she ever saw.

“We shouldn’t be too far from the portal, but…” The sound of shuffling and the increasing din of the creature moving towards them was almost too loud, “We’re going to need to get through or around that. And unlike you, I don’t have a rifle.”

Nor were her gifts particularly suited for Vegetable Kombat. Round one, fight. “Any ideas?”

Adam reached behind to his back and produced a metal sphere topped with a fuse clip and safety  to offered it to the professor. “I’ll fire at it and try to draw the Lamb Tree off the side,” he suggested as the towering Barometz began to lumber up the hill. “Run to the portal while I distract it. When you get there, pull this clip and throw this explosive at it.”

Adam doubted a handheld grenade would actually kill something this big but it’d at least buy a moment or two hopefully. “That might give me enough to run to you and we can get the hell out. Sound good?”

A bomb. He handed her a bomb. And really it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, considering the rifle with which he’d greeted her, but Caoimhe still took a moment to stare at it. Her strengths had always been a little more subtle. It was in gentle but purposeful touches, encouragement, making someone weak just for existing and creating in a space with her. Adam’s strengths appeared to be explosive weaponry.

“...Sounds better than anything I could’ve come up with.” Caoimhe took the metal sphere gingerly, like it was liable to go off if she squeezed it too hard. Okay, she knew how a grenade worked. She’d watched movies before. She was entirely prepared. She nodded, “Just make sure you don’t get lost trying to find me.”

She cast a grin over her shoulder and ran. And it was shaky at best. The kind of grin worked around a desperate joke and a heart hammering a sharp staccato against her chest, through legs that felt more like jelly than muscle and bone. The ground shook as she did her best to flank it, each thunderous footstep displacing the earth around it. A quick glance up and Caoimhe could catch wide-eyes with different clusters of Vegetable Lambs dangling off the main beast, their mouths dropped open but the cacophony too loud to pick out the individuals.

She was going to throw up. Perhaps not right in the moment, but later, after the adrenaline fully wore off. After she had a chance to remember how tightly she’d been holding the grenade and how many times she’d almost tripped over her own feet. How the grass itself seemed to tangle around her ankles and she could only catch glimpses of Adam through the weaving roots and swaying lambs. She might even laugh, too. Since when was a lamb so horrifying?

By the time she spotted the portal, her chest burned, and it would be so easy to jump through and be done with the whole experience, but Adam. She pivoted around, pulled the pin, and lobbed the grenade as hard as she could.

Adam sprinted out of the ensuing cloud of splintered wood and sheep guts, wiping fleece and gory vines out of his eyes. He bled from an array of bites from entire clusters of ravenous sheep and burns from vine constriction. The Megalamp Tree staggered in a panicked frenzy, thrashing out wildly in the splinters and smoke. Enormous limbs carved deep furrows through the bright grass as they slammed blindly down. Adam wove back and forth among the heather as he tried to avoid the descent of column-like branches and the vegetable lambs being flung everywhere like shrieking dandelion seeds. 

Adam sprinted over to Caoimhe, plastered in bloody fleece and leaves. He looked over to the vortex swirling between the cairn stones. “Thanks! Nearly got strangled by the Bo-Peep there.” 

Caoimhe almost didn’t expect to see him come out the other side. Between the thrashing off the Megalamp Tree and Adam’s penchant for getting completely turned around, the odds were not in their favor. But he rounded the thrashing beast with a thanks and Caoimhe promptly doubled over, dry-heaving into the once-serene, swaying grass. For a moment, a thumbs up was all she could manage over pulling in one breath after another.

She was made for classrooms. For violins in bar bathrooms and crooked smiles and french horns and running from her problems. Adam was obviously built of tougher stuff. He didn’t seem much phased by red-stained fleece and sticky leaves. He had a rifle and a bomb, and something twisted in Caoimhe’s chest, but she wasn’t going to question him when he’d handed her a ticket out. He was made for something else.

“I found the portal.” She rubbed at her eyes and grinned behind the column of her forearms. She found the portal, and he fought their way out. Caoimhe supposed she should be thankful. “Wouldn’t have been much good if I had been crushed, though.”

The ground shook as clumps of lambs fell wildly onto the ground, little feet scrambling every which direction, lost. Whatever Adam was made for, she was glad she’d found him. “Thank you.” She crooked a thumb over her shoulder at the mess of a beast behind them, “That was all you. I think...I think maybe we’d both have been stuck here.”

She stopped short of a ‘we make a good team,’ and settled for a thankful smile, stepping back to make sure he was able to pass through the portal and casting one last glance at the mess they left behind them.

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead || CHAPTER TWO.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is.  Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you,  not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                       The Walking Dead.

      Season 1-?

                                       FEM OC! and ?

Hope you like it :)) and here is the link to CHAPTER ONE!

My home is nothing but radiant. It's a place that is constantly filled with smiles and laughter and sometimes the occasional tear, but no matter what we get through it because we are a family. It's filled with so many memories; like when Corey and I tried to make mom a cake for her birthday and ended up spending her birthday at the hospital because Corey somehow got a teaspoon stuck up her left nostril, or when I came home from school claiming to have a new pet. My mom thought it would have been a snail or a worm, like something normal, but no I was a bit of a weird kid and brought home a skunk. I don't know how I found it or how I managed to get it to rest peacefully in my school backpack all day, but what I do know is that we all had to spend a week at a motel whitest our house got deep cleaned.

I had my first heartbreak in this house, my room filling up with tears like that one scene from Alice in Wonderland, only difference was I was 6 years old and claimed I had already met the love of my life.

This house has blessed me with so many things. One of those things being a chance. A chance at a normal upbringing in a comfortable home. It also blessed me with 2 sisters at the age of 4 and the most amazing mother I could have ever asked for. At the end of the day, my home, 76 Baden Way, Mormont, is the one consistent happiness in my life.

That's why I'm confused.

The drive up the all too familiar street was oddly unsettling. It didn't feel right. To be fair I didn't grow up in a white picket community with neighbours that give you cookies every fortnight or invite you to their weekly barbecues in their freshly mowed lawns, but it wasn't a bad place. 

Was I gone for too long, it's only been a couple of days.

The houses that once stood tall, the house that once signified homeliness, now appear to be on there last leg. The once standing, chipped fences are now nonexistent, flattened into the ground. The once curtained windows, with the occasional flower pot on the window sill, are now completely bored up, no light being shown into the what I assume darkened houses.

Normally finding parking in my street is a nightmare, it's always something for somebody. Whether it be a birthday or a family get together, there is never any space for me to park my car relatively close to my own house. Of course, I complain, it's annoying, but for some reason being able to just drive straight into my own driveway is sickening to me. Where's mom's car?

My car whistles to a stop as I cut the engine. Neither I or Cora dare to move as we look upon what we once called home. The once fully in season apple tree is now snapped basically in half, rotten apples scattered around the dying grass. As for the house itself, it's not doing so hot either, the garage door is now covered with large indents in the shapes of fists, the odd splatter of blood causing bile to gather in my mouth. The usually crystal clear windows are now dust-ridden and black with ash, unable to see what's within the once homely home.

"What it like this when you left for school this morning?" I question Cora, the unsettling feeling that our home is giving me makes my voice lose all strength. 

Shaking her head timidly, "No," she replies, "Everything was normal."

'Now is as good a time as any', I thought as I reach over into the passages seat pocket, grabbing my Cloy Python. Looking my scared sister in the eye I said, "You can stay in the car if you want. I'll scoop the place out, make sure it's safe."

Shaking her head vigorously at my suggesting, gripping onto my arm, prohibiting me from leaving the car alone, "I'd feel a lot safer with you." If it wasn't for the situation I would have poked fun at her for needing her big sister but honestly, I'd feel safer with her too.

Nodding my head, I exit the car and make my way around the front of our house. With shaky legs, Cora stands as tall as she could beside me. Not knowing what we're about to walk into, I detach my baton from my belt and hand it to my timid sister. With trembling but understanding hands she clutched it tightly, white-knuckled.

Mom normal locks the door, no matter what, it's always locked. That's the first sign that somethings wrong. The front down just swung open. I keep my gun raised as I slowly step into my house, the sound of glass crunching under my combat boots, the side window had been smashed. Would explain why the doors unlocked.

"Someone else could be here, be careful, stay alert," I whisper to my sister how had barely moved an inch into our house, my baton still stuck to her right hand.

The dark wood cabinet, where all our favourite captured memories were framed, is now broken, laying on its fronts, surrounded by glass and water from the Fine China flower vase. 

Bending down to flip over one of the pictures scattered on the floor, only to be met with the smiling faces of my family. We went to the Grand Canyon a few years ago, we were all so excited but we didn't check the weather. Who knew the Grand Canyon, y'know that big dry place, had flash floods, beats me, but that didn't stop out Mom from forcing us to still have a picnic on the waterlogged grass. 'It's all part of the experience' she said. If the experience was having a cold for weeks after the trip then we nailed it. I couldn't help but smile it the silly but fond memory, but I guess with the way the world is headed moments of endearment and reminiscing don't last very long.

A subtly whistle from my sister causes me to raise to my feet slowly, turning to see her pointing quietly into the family room. Standing still for a minute or so, the loud silence is broken by the soft sound of pattering feet. Signalling for my sister to stay behind me, I stalk my way into the room. Expecting to see one of those things in our living room, I flip the safety of my revolver, taking aim. As though glued to the spot, my legs for some reason forgetting how to work as my eyes settle on a figure standing, back towards us, facing the bookshelf. Not moving like any of those things from before, or making any similar noises, I come to the conclusion that's there is a person in our house. A person I don't know.

"Stay where you are and don't move," my once shaky voice now filled nothing but authority as I order the person before us to halt. Getting the picture, the person raised their hands slowly not daring to move another inch, "Who are you and why are you in my house?" I question, my aim on the back of their head never flatters.

"Ain't no need for that now little missy" their thick Geogiran accent breaking through the tense air in the room, "what happened to a little common southern hospitality?" He asks laughing clearly not taking any of this seriously.

"You broke into my house and you expect what, a welcome party. Oh wait and I'll fetch the balloons," the sarcasm rolls of my tongue like venom. The nerve of this guy.

"Correction I didn't break-in, I was pleasantly granted access," he corrects cocking his head to the side. Even though I can't see his face I already know that's there's a shit-eating grin.

"Granted access by who?" Perks up Cora, her voice not as protruding towards the figure but her point still stands.

Seeing the man nodding his head in acknowledgement, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth, "ah you're the sisters. The cop and the college chick," he laughed, his hands no longer held up but instead on his knees as he leans over slightly in laughter. Not understanding what's so funny, I cock my gun causing him to shot back up to attention, any signs of joking no completely evaporated into thin air.

Turning his head slightly despite my order to not move, his stubbly side profile coming into view, half a smirk lazily dancing along his face, "I take it you're the bad cop," he attempts to joke again, but it falls short, in a situation like this, one that has my moms safety on the line, is not the time to be Mr Comedian.

"Where's my mom" I rolled my eyes at the man, asking the serious question at hand. If he as much laid a single finger on her, I swear, if he thinks I'm the bad cop now, he's got another thing coming.

"Well if that's what you wanted this whole time you should have just asked little missy," he exclaims turning round to fully face us. He's a shaggy looking man, looking to be in his early 40s. His short blond hair sitting a mess on the top of his head. He has a few scars here and there and eyes that sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. His attire, clad in an old button-down shirt and a dirty wife-beater that looks to be stained with sweat from the Atlanta heat.

I already knew he was armed, spotting the gun that was tucked tightly into the back pocket of his cargo pants. Based on looks alone I already know what type of man I'm dealing with here. A stereotypical, boorish, southern redneck. Most of these men are ticking time bombs and the fact that one has found there way into my home, the place where my mother is, doesn't sit right with me.

"Come on out now Charlotte," He called out of the broken-down door, leading to the stairs, "I think it was a bird," he mutters, kicking this right leg quickly. Looking down at the ground, aside from the broken glass and wood chips, there are also feathers. Must have been the bird he was talking about.

The sound of light feet pattering down the stairs causes my ear to twitch, almost cat-like, but I don't flatter my aim on the man, "are you sure, I thought I heard-" the voice of my mother echos through the room from behind me. Mom. As subtly as possible I attempted to flip the safety back on my gun, not want to catch the attention of the man before me, but the silence fails me yet again, the soft clicking of my gun makes the man look at me, a knowing grin on his face. Cocky bastard.

"Cora, Macy," relieves mom, as she rushes over the glittering glass, skidding with friction, pulling both of us into a bone-crushing hug, "you're okay?" She asks as she separated from us, holding us at an arms distance, looking us over for signs of injury.

"Mom, Mom! We're fine," Cora reassures our panicking mother, holding her ageing face between her hands, looking her seriously in the eye, "we're okay." 

Yeah, we might be but what about her.

My mom is a colourful woman. She always said 'the world is simply in black and white, but that doesn't mean we can't add our own colours'. Whether it is a bold pair of earrings or an eyesore of a scarf, she is always surrounded by colour, but not today. She clad in a shirt that appears to big for her petite frame, baggy jeans and hiking boots. No colour, just black and white, not like our mother at all. Her hair resembling that of a birds nest and her glasses sitting at a slant. She doesn't look put together.

"This is Merle," my mom waves her hand in the direction of the man whose eyes have not left mine, not so subtly looking me up and down with a look that makes me feel sick to my stomach, "He and his brother saved me from those people, brought me back here safely."

"That we did Charlotte," this Merle character near enough shouts in reply. 'What is this man so damn loud for?', "Just a bit of Southern hospitality. Something your daughter here could learn about," he says clearly not liking the fact that I still have my gun pointed in his direction.

"Macy put the gun down," the stern voice of my mother caused me to holster my gun against my thigh, but I refuse to let my guard down. I don't trust this Merle, whether he saved my mom or not, something just doesn't sit right with me.

"That's more like it girly," he says sounding assertive as if he has just won. It pretty clear that the man has some military experience. I can feel it in the air. The way he thinks he can control the room and the people in it, "My baby brother should be back soon, but I say we meet him halfway."

Is this some kind of joke?

"Look thanks for help our mom," I eventually cave into thanking the man, "But no way in hell are we going anywhere with you."

"Now I think your mommy over there would disagree with that?"

I turn to look at my mother who has a reluctant look in her eye, but not at the sketchy man in our living room, but at me. Is she really thinking about leaving with this man? Everything about him screams red flags and that's not just because I'm a cop but from just general observation. This is the type of man you would not want to meet alone at night.

"He and his brother have plans to head for Fort Benning," My mom starts slowly, clearly trying to find the right words, "I thought we could go with them."

I'm already shaking my head as my mom is speaking and I can hear her breath getting quicker and quicker, panicking, "Please," she begs, her voice cracking as I notice the tears building up in her eyes, "Please Macy, I want us to be safe."

Safe.

With the way things are going, I don't know how much longer we can be safe. I’ve always seen my home as the safest place on earth. It's where I live. It's where I grew up. My whole life started here in this very house, surrounded by people that I love. I always swore to protect my family. I didn't know what I would have to protect them from but seems as though the time has come to prove this more than ever.

"Ah, now Macy, baby," Merle begins to taunt, starting to walk closer but stops when he sees my hand rest on my gun again, "What kind of daughter would you be to deny your mom of safety."

"Why don't you just stay the fuck out of this?" I snapped at the man how held his hands up in defence and walked over to our couch bending down to pick up the rifle that I failed to notice resting on the table.

"Macy," I hear Cora whisper from behind me and when I turn to look at her the look in her eye tells it all. She's scared.

She's scared.

Mom's scared.

I'm scared.

"Where's this brother of yours?" I sigh turning to face Merle who is looking out of the window, his eyes darting from left to right.

"Away hunting," he shrugs, "should be back in an hour or two, but we're losing light. I say we meet him halfway."

For some reason, my mom just agrees with this and turns to Cora, telling her to pack a bag for her and me. My mom wonders off to wait outside, but I stay put. I don't trust this man, and I sure as hell don't trust him wandering around my house where both my mom and sister are. I stand my ground and clear my throat causing merle to turn in my direction, "Try anything, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes."

"I'd like to see you try," he lets out a burly laugh before pushing his way past me and out of the front door.

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as the sound of a car door slamming shut snaps me from my own world.

Call it wishful thinking, I already knew the answers to the question that was spinning around in my head. She wasn't back, and she was never going to come back. But there was no harm in checking. Right?

Bare. Empty. Any trance of anybody living in this room had been completely erased. It's hard to believe two people I held so dearly to my heart lived here. The once painted black walls which were covered with the typical posters of any rebellious teenager are now newly painted white, hiding all the scratches or chips that were previously there. I kind of glad about the change of walls, in my opinion, once you reach the age of 30 it's maybe time to let go of your rebellion.

All that is left is a set of drawers, a double mattress on the floor with no covers and a small single mattress on the other side of the room. Moving over to the dust-ridden drawers, I pulled open the first one and to no avail, it's completely empty. What was I expecting? She's been gone for years and she was never coming back. Especially not now.

It might sound dumb but every night after she left, I would leave her bedroom light on hoping that it would encourage her to come back home. But she never did. Mom eventually got annoyed about finding me asleep outside of Ally's bedroom door every night and had to have a word with me. Sure I stopped leaving a light on for her, but that didn't mean that I missed her any less.

Without Ally being around I had to step up and fill in the gap that she had left in our family. Ally was always the hardass. The tough one. If you were in a fight you'd want Ally in your corner. Despite anything that she says, she did love her family at one point. She was always on our side. In our corner.

Then one moment that all changed. We had a new addition to the family.

Little DeeDee.

DeeDee, my sweet little niece. Such a sweet kid, not a bad bone in her body. It's almost hard to believe that she's my sister's daughter. What they lacked in a shared personality they make up for in identical looks, they look the spits of each other, a true carbon copy.

When my sister found out she was pregnant she ran away. Telling not a soul why. Except for me.

I found out on my own, we have always told her to clean up after her self or something might happen. Well hi, I'm that something. She never kept me updated through the duration of her pregnancy, not like I expected her too, she just up and left. Until DeeDee turned 3. It's only been a year since she came home and she's was more disconnected than ever, especially with mom.

The rattle of an all too familiar engine interrupts my conversation with mom. Giving each other a knowing look with flickers of uncertainty as though maybe we heard wrong.

We didn't hear wrong.

The pounding of her heavy-duty boots slapping against the hardwood floor, echoing through the entire house. The house was so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

Mom went to 'greet' her first, myself in tail, just in case this all goes south which it most likely will. We haven't seen or even heard from her for well over 3 years now, it got to the point where we all just assumed that she was never coming back. It explains the shock towards her arrival. Well, half of her arrival.

"Ally... your home," mom squeaks out unable to hide the overwhelming shock in her voice. It's awkward, so awkward that it makes me want to itch. The passing eye contact between one another speaks more than their unspoken words. 

The reunion of a mother and her absent daughter.

The shock must have gotten to mom's head because she failed to notice the new soul in the room with us. A person we have never had the pleasure to meet. Standing behind her mother, not tall enough to reach her hip yet, is a little girl. All wrapped in a cosy jacket despite the Atlanta heat is the reason why I haven't seen my sister in 3 years.

Moving forward to where Ally can fully see me, making brief eye contact before kneeling down before the little girl. Hands tugging tightly on her mother's leg as she hides her face from mine. It's understandable, I'm an unknown face, so I decided to introduce myself, "Hello," I said gentle, just looking at the innocent girl softly not wanting to overstep my boundaries, "I'm Macy."

I'm oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I didn't hear the stampede of feet rocketing down the stairs. The only thing I'm focusing on is this little girl. She just looks at me in what I'm assuming is confusion because she's never seen me before and I her. It's new for all of us.

"What's your name?"

I honestly didn't expect an answer, she looked like such a delicate flower, but a genuine smile covered my face when she said "Lydia" in the quietest voice I've ever heard.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," I say as I reached my hand forward for her to take in her own, and she did. Slowly but surely her hand was in mine, her tiny hand. Smiling softly at Lydia hoping to have her mirror my actions, she does, but it's short-lived as I'm sucked back into the reality that is the rest of my family.

"So you run off, get knocked up and have the audacity to come back here 3 years later begging for a place to stay," laughed Cora at the mentality of her older sister. I can't help but shake my head as I let go of Lydia's hand, her smile falling behind my back, "Cora, she had a kid," I said to my sister hoping to get her to understand, but it seems as though I don't understand either.

"Oh no the kid can stay, but her," she laughed at the thought, "no chance, not again," shaking her head at the idea of us welcoming Ally back into our home, into our family again. Cora is strong-minded, no doubt about it, but when it comes to her family, if anyone stands in between them and happiness, even if it's our family themselves, they best hope they don't cross Cora. 

Cora and Ally have never gotten along. I've always blamed it on the fact that they are too much alike. Cora may be extremely vocal about everything, but Ally is too, just minus the vocal part. You can tell a lot about Ally and how she's feeling just by looking at her. And right now she looks vulnerable. She has a child and I don't know where she has been staying for the last few years but right now she's homeless and what type of family would we be if we shunned out our own.

A terrible one that's what.

"Corrina, if she wants to stay she can stay. If she wants to go she can go. This is just as much her home as it is yours," mom ushered out all in one breath, still baffled that her daughter and newly found granddaughter are standing before her.

I really feel for our mother, ever since Ally vanished she hasn't been the same. It was a drastic change, not enough for the people she sees on her daily shop, but us, her family have noticed that a little light behind our mother's eyes has been duller than usual. Looking at her right now, the light is still flickering but instead with hope. Hope at a new beginning with her daughter and her granddaughter.

"If you ever leave my mother like that again, after everything she has done for us, especially you, it'll be the last thing you do," threatens Cora, never breaking her eyes from Ally who is doing the same.

Coming back to her senses, Ally snaps out of the trance that is Cora's eyes, clicking her fingers like a royal pain in the ass, "Lydia, come," she orders the little girl as she readies herself for the March up the stairs.

Noticing that her mother is no longer standing in front of her, hiding her from the picture that is her family, she rushes to her mother not before looking at me though and I can't help but feel bad, "Lydia if you want you can stay down here, I can make you something to eat," I said trying my best to convince the little girl that she doesn't have to do everything her mother says, but little Lydia shakes her head in rejection. 

Maybe it's because she genuinely just wants to stay with her mom in a foreign place or it could be that her mom is staring at her, as though waiting for Lydia to make the wrong choice. P.S I'm the wrong choice in this situation, according to her.

Stomping her away up the stairs like an angry teenager, she leaves her daughter behind assuming that she will just follow her like a helpless puppy. Unable to hide my pity for the little girl, I attempt to cheer her up a bit, "see you soon DeeDee," I promised as a subtle smile appeared on the 3-year-olds face before running after her mother's tail.

The hallway is left in silence, not an awkward silence but just a thoughtful one. The same thoughts and feelings are running through all our minds; Ally's back, with a child. She was bad enough on her own, but now with a daughter, I fear not only for us but for that little girl.

Rubbing my eyes, as the only thought that is running through my mind behind 'this is not my fault', 'there was nothing I could have done to make her stay', no matter what, if she left for a reason or not, I just hope she keeps DeeDee safe because God knows she never done that when she was here anyway.

Just as I  had enough of the energy to leave he room, a pile of papers tucked under Ally's mattress caught my attention. Behind down to pull them out, I'm shocked at what she had hidden. It as a collection of loose picture. My curiosity getting the better of me, I start to flick through them, she not here to tell me otherwise.

There are ones from her senior year of high school and her only 2 friends, who I've only had the pleasure of meeting once. On was called Barrett from what I remember, I don't remember the other name, all I know is that the unknown friend mysteriously disappeared a few years after they left high school.

The rest of the picture where weird but oddly boring, snaps of her smoking and drinking, kicking a few gravestones, y'know typical Ally behaviour. It's the last picture that struck me, made my blood run cold but in a comforting way. It's a picture of Ally and I for that time I shaved my head. I briefly remember mom taking it after me begging for hours, trying to convince her and Ally that this was a moment the was worth capturing. 

There I stood, tall and proud, both hands on my head with a cheeky grin plastering on my beetroot face, my eyes holding a sheen of water from laughing. It's a contrasting picture. Ally slouched beside me, well a wingspan away from me, because I'm was an embarrassment to her. Her eyes deadly staring into the camera, making no effort to show any emotion.

I remember being disappointed with her lack of effort in the picture, but looking at it now it's perfect. It really shows how we were and are. I always wondered where this picture went. Mom got it reluctantly developed for me and even framed it for my bedside table. I only had it for a few days before it went missing. At first, I blamed mom, believe she wanted to erase the memory from her brain, but all this time Ally had it, and that oddly warms my heart. Sure it was hidden under her bed, but she still had it and kept it. Now I'm deciding to take it back because if the world continues the way it going, I don't know when the next time I'll see my sister will be.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" the sudden voice breaking through the air causing me to jump, and I spin around to find Cora leaning on the door frame, looking around the room in wonder just as I had moments before.

"If you asked me a week ago I would have said yes," I replied looking down at the picture in my hand before folding it and putting it into my back pocket, "Now I don't know."

The thought of Ally coming home was always a distant one. I wanted to believe that the day would come where she would be back and our family would be whole again. That was when the world was normal and even then she still showed no signs of ever coming back.

It seems to me as though the world as we know it is changing, coming to an end if you will. The though of Ally coming home was a longshot before but now more than ever.

A redneck just apparently saved my mom life for crying out loud and now I'm having to drive with said redneck to find his brother.

The worlds went mad.

It's changed and I don't know if I like it.

But it seems like I have no choice.

And thats chapter two done. Its going to be an interesting ride thats for sure. 

You got to learn some more about Ally and we also met the lovely man that it Merle Dixon.

If you want to be tagged when I post for this AU just ask and I will for sure do that.

But anyways, yeah, I hope you liked it.

DAISY.

[bibliocratic]

👀if prompts still desired maybe jonmartin bath time??

unrelenting jonmartin fluff (soft soft soft, 160 do not interact). Thanks for the prompt!

Jon's being a one-man percussion band in the kitchen when Martin gets back. Clattering pans and clanking bowls and cutlery and tugging open drawers. The house is wreathed in the smells of spices that set off a tingling heat at the back of his throat.

The flavour is muted a little. Taste buds flat. The weather outside isn't dipping into single figures but it seems to have gotten under Martin's coat anyway, turning skin chilled and clammy.

In the past, he might have considered that he was coming down with something. A mild cold, a bout of the sniffles combated with Lemsip and cough sweets.

Martin knows a bit better now.

He kicks off his shoes without undoing the laces, throws his rucksack down to join the pile.

“That you?” Jon calls out.

Martin moves on socked feet into the tiled kitchen. Jon's trying to stir at least three pans at once, and a great waft of steam from the oven plumes in the air to throng like dragon's breath as he opens it to peer at his creations.

“Good day at work?” Jon asks, pecking Martin distractedly on the cheek before darting around him to stir something vigorously.

“Hmm,” Martin says non-committally. In truth it was regular, and uneventful, but he felt the numbness start to seep in as he sat on the Tube. He worries his lip with his teeth, wonders if he should say something at all. And it's not bad, not as it can be, and maybe it will go away in its own time, maybe Martin can deal with it alone.

But in the end, he comes up to wrap his arms bodily around Jon, his face smushed into his loose-hanging hair, pungent and twisted up with spices.

“You alright?” Jon asks, stilling for a moment, stopping to touch at the arms that have encircled him to try and ground themselves.

Martin doesn't answer for a moment. The kitchen is heavy with steam, he knows, not fog. It's a hard lesson to remember sometimes is all.

“A bit Cold, I guess,” he replies quietly after a while.

Jon knows what he means. The flat's a balmy mid-twenties in comparison to the mild outside, but that's not what he means.

Jon's hands pause before they run soothingly over Martin's exposed arms, and he turns to return the grip tightly, a haven of warm present body, before he pulls back, touches his palm against Martin's cheek briefly.

“I'll run a bath,” he says decidedly, and his eyes catch Martin's with the steadiness of waves and do not falter.

He angles his body around, briskly flicking the heat down on what was probably going to be their dinner, moving the pans off the heat so they don't burn. Whatever is in the oven clearly needs longer, because he rakes his eyes over it dismissively.

“Unless you're hungry, first?” he asks, looking back.  “It's nearly ready if you do.”

Food sounds nice, but only objectively, and Martin's already shaking his head in answer. There's a warning mutedness beginning to carpet the bottom of him, a dim night held back by the beacon of Jon's gaze. The fog burning off slowly.

A nod, like Jon had expected it. And this has not been the only night like this, so maybe he did.

Jon enfolds their hands together.

“Come on,” he says. His voice is kind, and that's never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight.  Jon's kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Martin sits on the closed toilet seat while Jon runs the bath. He sets his palms against his knees like he's trying to trap the vestiges of heat Jon left.

Jon will return, he knows. It's difficult, sometimes, to remember that. But Jon showed him that. Showed, he supposes. The constancy of this hard-won fellowship.

Jon approaches this preparation like he approaches cooking – a slapdash impatient alchemy where he adds things too soon because he can't bear to wait, dropping in whatever he unbottles, sniffs with a curious 'hm' as though he wants to see what will happen.

The bathroom mirror fogs up, but it's a tight close warmth, and Jon chatters away. Not expecting Martin to respond, aware that it's an ask of him at the moment but nonetheless leaving little doors in the conversation by which Martin might enter.

He splashes water onto his own shirt while testing the temperature of the water. He grumbles, a heatless little 'for the love of...' that trails off as he tries to twist the worst of it out, brow creased. Martin studies him, and a smile touches the corners of his lips at the sight.

Finally, Jon pronounces it ready. Martin stands, goes to take off his shirt but Jon bats his hands away, says 'Honestly, would you stop fussing and let me take care of you?' with a teasing rhythm, words furrowed into familiarity by time. Martin, recalling the lines of his role going rusty in his throat, pretends to roll his eyes, mutters 'Fine' like it's the greatest of burdens, and he's rewarded by the flickering delight of Jon's smile. Something is beginning to thaw at the base of him.  

If that didn't work to banish the shadows in him, the bathwater does. Jon, apparently formed of some volcanic rock and uncaring of lesser mortals who don't take such joy in heat as he does, has drawn the bath far too hot. Even when they cool it with lashings of cold water, Martin's skin is still prickling pink and near-scalded as he gets in, folds his too-long legs in the space to fit.

Things start to unwind inside him, and he hums. Jon looks ever so smugly pleased at such an indicator of success.

“I'll be back, just a minute,” he promises. He touches Martin's shoulder, and the contact leaves an equally scalding heat as the water.

Outside the bathroom, Jon's doing something in the kitchen, making his usual racket, before Martin hears footsteps across the hallway to their bedroom.

Martin splashes idly for a while. Messing with the bubbles – too many as usual. The heat makes his head muggy and unspooled, but it is not muted, not with the sounds of life from the rest of the flat. The slosh and fizz of over-bubbled bathwater. It is not lonely.

Jon returns quickly, opening the door and closing it again to shut them inside the sauna they've made of their small bathroom.  He's removed his socks, replaced jeans with pyjama shorts, and he goes back to the cabinet over the sink, drawing out bottles like potions from a magician's cabinet, soaks and gels and shampoos and scents, discarding a great number with a dismissive clatter.

“You can be a bit louder,” Martin mumbles. “I think downstairs might not have heard you yet.”

Jon doesn't give him a response except for a haughty 'humpf', and Martin buries his smile in the  bubbles.

It crosses his mind, a stray knifing chill of a breeze to apologise, for all this fuss, for needing this; surely Jon must be hungry, he must have made plans that Martin wouldn't have derailed if he'd grit his teeth and gotten on with it, surely this is asking too much....

Those aren't his thoughts. It's easier to see the barbs they try and snag against his mind. He knows what Jon will say to any voicing of them, and he knows that they're not worth listening to.

He sinks a little lower under the water and allows himself to be taken care of.

Jon doesn't even hiss when his feet splash into the water, the salamander. There's a short ledge by Martin's head, on the opposite end to the taps where bottles usually throng and spawn, where Jon always leaves the empty ones for Martin to find and grumble at. Jon's shifted them so he can sit there, his potions in close reach. He's brought a plastic jug, and he positions himself so Martin's head is framed by his lanky worm-scratched legs.

“Any requests?” he says, his fingers threading and fiddling with the coils of Martin's hair, tussling it  indulgently. Martin tilts his head back so he sees Jon upside down, and sleepily mumbles a no.

Jon rolls up his sleeves, leans down with obvious difficulty to press a close-mouthed kiss to Martin's crown.

“The works then, I think,” he responds, and no more is said.

Jon hums while he works. Old and sad songs that rise and coil and spiral with the rising heat.

Martin falls asleep in increments. Eyes fluttering heavy and hooded as Jon massages and lathers a cedarwood scented shampoo into his hair, limbs softened to immobile by the water as he carefully washes the suds out with water, hands on his face to shield his eyes. He's not sure how awake he is when Jon's hands starts to knead conditioner into his curls, paying devoted attention to every damp and tearaway lock.

When he wakes, he feels the water lapping lukewarm around him, and Jon's shaking his shoulder a little.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jon says, and Martin blinks blearily. “How are you feeling?”

Martin pauses before he replies. He used to say 'fine' or 'ok' automatically, like a gag reflex, learned by rote and dutifully doled out, but he's getting better, he thinks, at expressing what he feels.

“Wet,” he replies finally, and Jon's brow crinkles in confusion before he sighs at the soft, teasing tone, still muddy with stupor.

“Out then, funny-man, before you start pruning,” he replies. It's a little too late for that. The ends of Martin's fingers have scrunched up at their ends with the damp.

Jon bundles him into one of the thickest towels that he clearly put on the radiator to heat, uses another scraggier one to scrub at his hair to get most of the water out. Martin mostly stands, feeling just a little overwhelmed, stupefied by the steadfast weight of Jon's affection. And he's not Cold, not even in the slightest; the Lonely's an old refrain too distant to hear, not with Jon reminding him so completely that he's loved, and cared for. That he's allowed to have this.

Jon presses a kiss to his cheek like he's signing off his work, then leans in for another, slower one. Martin returns it sleepily, his limbs heavy and body leaning in, but his face caught by a smile.

Jon holds up the weight of him like it's nothing at all.

[hopeswriting]

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020 

PROMPT: Scary Movie Marathon

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting​

RATING: G

PAIRING: Tsuna/Hibari

SUMMARY:

Tsuna goes to Hibari’s house for their scary movies sleepover.

WORDS: 1009

*

“Who are you?”

Tsuna sleeked his hair back, put fake glasses on, and adorns a ridiculous bow tie around the collar of his obviously ironed button-up.

“A wealthy, good-mannered, straight A’s student fitting to be your boyfriend.”

Hibari snorts. “I wouldn’t have looked back at you for a second if you were, let alone looked at you at all.”

“Just let me in so I can meet two of the four horsemen and be done with it.”

“Flattering them already? They’re not even here.”

Tsuna giggles, breaking off his snob expression. Hibari smirks, and steps aside to let him in.

He leads him in the hallways of his house, past the living room and the kitchen, straight to his room.

“Wait. What about your parents?”

“They’re not here.”

“What? No way! What I’m gonna do with this then?” Hibari very pointedly doesn’t look back. He opens the door of his room, inspects it one last time from the doorway. “You’re missing on my greatest joke of all times.”

“I wish I would have missed on all of them already,” Hibari says, but turns back all the same.

“No way!” Tsuna starts again. “What I’m gonna do with this then?” He reveals his onion bracelets around both of his wrists.

A long silence follows, a deadpan look on Hibari’s face, while Tsuna shakes his bracelets at him, grinning.

“Horsemen aren’t weak to garlic.”

“And what you’re gonna do about it, mister Antichrist? Bite me?”

“Please make sense of your references.”

Tsuna snickers, throws the bracelets his way. They’re made of plastic. So that’s why he didn’t smell them.

Hibari rolls his eyes, and throws them across the room straight into the trash can.

He holds Tsuna by his collar as he walks past him, musses his hair back to its original state. He snatches his glasses before he escapes.

Fine, he can keep his bow tie a little longer if he wants.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Hibari goes back to the kitchen, puts drinks and glasses on a tray. He then glares at the cupboards, spinning on his feet slowly.

He knows he has snacks, that’s not the problem.

Hibari isn’t a snack guy, even if he is all about sweets. The Little Animal is however, and he doesn’t know which snacks he likes best, and more importantly which he doesn’t like.

He clicks his tongue, and just crams as much different snacks on the tray as he can.

He comes back to his room, only to find a blanket fort in the middle of it.

He holds the tray tighter, narrows his eyes. “I’ll bite you to death, Little Animal.”

Tsuna giggles. “You can’t expect me to watch scary movies while not being under a blanket fort. I’ll clean it up after, promise.”

“You better.”

Hibari slides the tray under the fort first, then crawls inside. Pillows surround them from all sides, which is highly suspicious because he knows for a fact he doesn’t have that many pillows in his room.

Tsuna scattered his DVDs in front of him, going over each one carefully.

“What are you doing?”

“Choosing the least worse of them.”

Hibari snatches the DVD in his hand, and gathers the rest of them near him. “No.”

“But Kyoya! They’re all horrible, I can tell just by the covers!”

“That’s the point.”

Tsuna whines, halfheartedly tries to get the DVDs back, and he ignores him, rolling his eyes.

These are Hibari’s anyway, so he obviously gets to have the last word. He looks at the mess Tsuna made of them, and rearranges them back from the least scary to the scariest.

Not that he thinks for a second they’ll get to the scariest one.

“Say, Kyoya.” Hibari glances at Tsuna, laid down on his side, hugging a pillow. “Didn’t you want me to meet your parents?”

Hibari needs a second to catch on the mental gymnastic Tsuna did to come to this conclusion.

“My parents aren’t here because something unexpectedly came up. A real something,” he adds.

“Really?”

“I had to drag them out of the house because they were adamant on meeting you.”

“Hiee, what?” Tsuna shots upwards, gets in his face. “No way, what have you been telling them about me? You can’t let them have too great expectations of me!”

“Who said I’ve been telling them anything? Don’t flatter yourself.” Tsuna pouts, and he flicks his forehead. “More importantly, how bold of you to imply people I don’t like aren’t aware of this fact every single second of their life, Little Animal.”

Tsuna laughs, then fake shivers. “I don’t even want to imagine.” He sits back on his heels, hang on the hem of Hibari’s pant. He smiles, his cheeks red. “Thanks Kyoya.”

Hibari rips his bow tie. “You’re welcome.”

“Kyoya! I paid for this!”

“Go turn off the lights, we’re starting.”

Tsuna complies, grumbling all the while. He comes back a lot more meek, and is quick to lie down and wrap himself in a blanket.

Hibari wonders how Tsuna even found out scary movies scare him, because he’s not watching at all.

Unless quick glimpses from behind the snack bag—or the pillow, or the blanket, or Hibari’s shoulder—and squeezing his eyes shut for whole sequences—sometimes in a row—count as watching, but it doesn’t.

Tsuna presses himself against him like his life depends on it, his body all tense muscles.

“Is it over yet?”

“Yes,” Hibari says, even if the man on screen is only halfway through cutting the boy in half with a saw.

Tsuna huffs. His voice comeso ut shaky. “Joke’s on you, I still can hear the screams just fine.”

Hibari rolls his eyes hard.

A particularly well acted scream of agony startles Tsuna, and he grabs his forearm tightly. He hides his face in his shoulder, and somehow worms himself under his arm, in a weird, fear induced cuddle.

“Is it over now?”

The man lowers his saw, and goes look for his next victim.

Hibari hugs Tsuna tighter against him.

“No.”

*

Tsuna apparently got to become friends with Hibari years before canon in this verse, so that’s why he’s a lot more confident. And I love that for him actually<3.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 4

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischievous Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

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You make sure your garden gate is latched properly, and put Taehyung gingerly on the ground, despite the way he snuffles and whines at you when you do so. If you’re going to hire that gardener then you don’t really need to do much with it after all…Just have to think of a way to pay his wages. ‘Make his time up to him’, he said. You scrunch your nose, deciding to focus on other matters first. He did say he’d give you a day to make up your mind, so you might as well shelve it for now. You could go back inside the house to get some less than appetizing travelling snack foods plus the junk food you purchased when you went up to the store last or you could always go back to the store and buy some ready-made sandwiches from there? At least that way you don’t have to explain the ingredients to Jin if he asks. Right on the packaging. It’s perhaps not the most elegant of meals, but something about Jin tells you he won’t mind too much. You head for the store, already feeling lighter at the prospect of seeing the keepers again.

The peal of the bell when you push the door inwards and step in is so cheery, so light and melodic, it automatically brings a smile to your face. The shop is small, barely larger than some gas stations you’ve seen. The outside is ringed with produce—local, judging by the handmade signs and cheap prices, the strong smell of freshly picked fruits and vegetables. The inside is sparsely, cheerfully, decorated but remarkably tidy. The half-length windows at the walls let in so much sunlight that the industrial lights ahead aren’t even on and yet the entire space is bright and inviting. None of the shelves are higher than your shoulder, so it’s possible to view the entire store from the get-go.

“Hello,” the elderly man at the register greets, wrinkled face brightening at your entrance. He straightens a little where he’d been leaning against the faded blue counter, chatting with the woman at the end. “Back again, eh?”

“Yes, back again,” you laugh shyly, “I’m just—oh! I’m sorry!” At the brush of fur against your ankle, you start, bending to gather Taehyung again and edging awkwardly back through the door, tucking him under one arm. Instead of struggling, he merely huffs a pleased sigh, relaxing his entire body in your grip. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t allow pets.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine!” the older lady by the counter insists quickly, shuffling forward in worn slippers to gesture you into the store. “We don’t discriminate against customers. Not this close to Spirit Lights.” She winks at you and reaches to pet Taehyung.

“He, um—“ you begin to shy away, petrified that your little terror is going to bite this lovely old lady, but instead he leans gladly into her touch, tail wagging, tongue lolling. “Oh.”

“You and your handsome escort,” she says, completely serious, almost with respect. “Are more than welcome in our humble shop.” You stifle a chuckle at that.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Perfectly alright.” She reassures you, firm.

You shift him in your arms, unsure if letting him loose is really something you should be doing, but one stern look from her has you persuaded.

“This close to spirit lights?” You repeat, curious, letting Taehyung down gently. Contrary to your fears, he sits down obediently by your feet and merely sniffs and casts mild looks about the place.

“The kids around here call it Sprite Night,” the man pipes up helpfully. The woman scoffs.

“That is not its name, and you won’t catch me repeating it. It’s disrespectful.”

“Nobody believes in the old superstitions anymore, Eunju.”

“I believe the old superstitions, Sungmin, and I say it is disrespectful.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” you say.

“Never?” the woman echoes, peering at you with surprise.

“She was very young when she was here last, she said,” the man adds, shaking his head in sympathy, throwing you a labored roll of his eyes when the woman’s back is turned. “Can’t expect such a traveled young lady to remember all the old, odd, hang-ups from each and every small village between here and the coast.”

“Not every village has Spirit Lights,” the woman insists, suddenly spinning on her heel with a fortitude shocking for her age and trudging underneath a heavy blanket hung over the doorway to the back of the store, still grumbling in concern as she goes. The grey hairs peeking beneath her bandana wave in the air with the waddling motion. “It’s dangerous. Especially for people who don’t know any better.”

“Please excuse my wife.” The man leans conspiratorially across the counter, flashing a mock fearful look to where she had disappeared. “She just worries, you know.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you return with a soft giggle. “I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that this poor girl was in danger of being spirited away, just like that.” The wife continues, volume rising as she returns. She throws the blanket hiding the back room aside as though vaguely annoyed with it and toddles closer. She’s now bearing a small, handcrafted bag in her arms that she cradles like a child.

“Shame on you, Sungmin,” she adds, slapping his arm with a frown. He recoils dramatically, closing his eyes, mouth open in a mock cry of pain. “My hearing hasn’t gotten any worse yet, you know. Apologize for me, will you?”

“What?” He leans forward, cupping his ear. He retreats, laughing, when she hits him again.

“Excuse my husband,” she says tersely, ignoring the childish face he pulls at her back. “He’s an idiot.”

She straightens to her full height, still a full head shorter than you, and begins to explain.

“Spirit Lights is a festival we hold here. It’s in four days. There will be food and drink, stalls, produce, music—the children love it. But you have to make sure you’re home before dark. Once the sun starts setting, everyone lights candles and sets them outside, to show the spirits the way through the town, so that they don’t get lost on their way to the other side. You cannot, cannot, be outside during the nighttime on Spirit Lights. Otherwise, they will take you with them as they go. Even if you see ones that you recognize, don’t follow them. It’s the one night that their contracts break, you see, so even ones that you’re familiar with could turn on you.”

Taehyung sneezes loudly and shifts to sit closer to you, nearly ontop of your foot. The woman eyes him cautiously, almost warning, but reaches into the bag.

“Now, if you absolutely must go outside during that time, you’ll need this.” She retrieves her hand gently from the bag and produces a white mask. It’s half-sized, only the top half of a cat or maybe fox face, with small pointed ears on the top and narrow eye holes. It’s intricately painted with blue and yellow markings down the forehead and up the cheeks—obviously well-crafted, hand-made, and much older than it looks. “A mask will hide you just fine—you will be no more than a ghost to them.” She pushes it back into the bag, gathering the ribbons threaded through the sides gently into the opening. When it’s all safely inside, she pulls out a small carving. It’s stone, and when she straightens her arm towards you, you copy the motion to take it from her. It’s shockingly heavy in your palm, cool, and smooth. An expertly carved tiger, mouth bared in a snarl, stepping down from its craggy perch.

“If you place this at any doorway, they won’t be able to cross the threshold—private property or no.” she says, adamant. “They can be persuasive if you let them, but they won’t be able to worm their way out of obeying a stone predator.”

“I see,” you reply. You aren’t going to remember all this, but it doesn’t escape you how serious she’s being. She probably actually thinks she’s protecting you against spirits. And considering the things you’ve been experiencing lately…you’re almost convinced yourself. You hold it back out to her, but she shakes her head, holding the bag out at arm’s length.

“Take them,” she encourages. “No charge.”

You balk, flush travelling up your face. “I—I mean, I can’t—“

“You’ll have to give the mask back after Spirit Lights is over, as it’s an heirloom,” she interrupts your stammering with a disapproving hum. “And as for the tiger...” She rolls her eyes with an exasperated chuff through shaking lips, her frame sagging in exhaustion.

Her husband pipes back up from where he’s resumed leaning onto the counter, chin in his palm. He looks half ready to fall asleep in the warm sunshine streaming in from outside. “Please, please take the tiger.” He chuckles, eyes still shut.

“My mother carves them,” she adds in a defeated tone.

You reach out for the bag, accepting it gingerly with a grateful nod. You make sure to slide the tiger back inside with a gentle hand, so that it doesn’t break or jostle the mask too hard.

“We can’t get rid of the damn things.”

“She means well,” the woman sniffs. “She does.”

“She’s convinced that being protected from the spirits means she’ll live forever.”

“Well, it’s worked so far, hasn’t it, Sungmin? I don’t see you trying to extend your life, what with all the sweets I watch you eat.”

“Bah!” he makes a dismissive gesture, eyes sparkling when he grins at you. “I will die the way I lived.”

“With your belly full and your mind empty, I expect!”

“Just like that!”

You laugh at their banter, slipping the strap of the bag over your shoulder and making sure it’s secure. Sweets. Oh! Right. While you’re here, you might as well try what the librarian suggested.

“Do you sell sweets?” You ask.

“Of course!”

Miss Eunju shows you around the shop, helping you pick out a bag of candies (You don’t mention what they’re for, but she insists the larger bag is better quality for money, anyway) as well as a few sandwiches of varying flavors. Taehyung, the entire time, is happy enough to plod along with you, and never so much as gives more than a wayward sniff at the food items at his level. Impressed, you throw in a few dog treats at the checkout. Mr. Sungmin beams at you as he tallies it all up, and though neither of you says anything, you notice he rounds your total down.

You can’t stop thanking them for their kindness and they continue to wave it off, shaking their heads.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Mr. Sungmin insists gently, laughing with a dry wheeze. “Just make sure you come back. If Eunju doesn’t see you after Spirit Lights, she’ll worry.”

“He won’t,” Miss Eunju scoffs. “He’ll take a nap and forget you were ever in here, the silly old man.”

“Your silly old man.” Sungmin leans over and slips her arm under his, patting her wrinkled hand familiarly. She allows it with a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh, but you can see the fondness in the way she leans back against him.

“Thank you again!” You call, opening the door and stepping back through, played out by the bell. Taehyung skips and hops to catch up with you, tongue lolling, tail wagging. You wave at the two shopkeepers through the glass, unable to keep the grin off your face when you spot them waving back. Feeling content, you turn and make your way back down the road. The sun is high in the sky by now, as warm as it’ll get for the day, and yet still not too hot. There’s a breeze that pulls playfully at your hair, caresses your face, smelling like green plants and sunshine.

“When will I have that?” you ask Taehyung conversationally, still smiling. “They’re still so in love, did you see them? So cute.”

He skitters after you, occasionally breaking into a canter when your own pace quickens in thought. He’s no less cheerful looking than you feel, if seemingly focused on your ankles with laser-precision. You slow down to allow him the chance to match your strides. The trees ahead cast gold-tinged, dappled light everywhere, sheltering you and turning the air cool.

“You were so good in there,” you add to your companion. “So well-behaved. I really thought you were going to attack them like you almost did with Hoseok.”

Hoseok. Your mouth quirks, now distracted. What are you going to do with his contract? Even with as little as you’ve bought just now, you certainly don’t have enough left in your budget for a professional gardener. But, to be fair, he didn’t say how much he wanted. ‘Make it worth his time’ was all he said. Not at least trying to retain him isn’t an option. You can’t imagine the kind of damage he could inflict on granny’s precious garden.

“…Do you think he likes sandwiches?” you ask wryly after a moment of listening to the leaves rustling, the distant sound of birdsong, the gravel and dirt crunching beneath your feet. “Or…maybe candy? Can I pay a gardener with candy?” The thought is entirely ridiculous, but there’s a chance it could work. You could halve it between Hoseok and the kepry apparently living underneath your porch—two birds, one stone. It might be worth a try. He might think it funny enough to laugh off and not get majorly offended. You don’t need him to continue its maintenance, even, really. You’re more than willing to put in the work yourself. You’d just prefer he didn’t snap the heads off all the roses and pull out all the lavender to begin with.

You’re still pondering the ramifications of proposing you pay off a professional with sweets when your thoughts are momentarily interrupted by a rustling noise just behind you. A shuffling, a skid, and then silence again. Probably just some small animal, going about its day. You don’t pay too much mind to it except that Taehyung is noticeably put on edge, ears twitching backwards, snapping his tongue back into his mouth with a doggie equivalent of a grim expression. You blink at him as you continue to walk, bemused by his sudden change in attitude.

“Taehyung?”

He huffs, frustrated, turning into almost a growl. His businesslike trot turns intent, his head intermittently swiveling to look behind the two of you.

“Is there—“ Another rustle, closer. You crane your head, peering at a bush to the side of the walkway that’s shifting suspiciously. “…Something wrong?”

Taehyung growls louder this time, weaving between your legs towards the bushes, and you almost step on him, tripping over your own feet trying to avoid planting your shoe on his small back or treading on his little paws.

“Oh, leave it alone, come on,” you complain.

He doesn’t heed you, instead baring his teeth in a snarl, planting his feet and standing his ground. His hackles raise, giving him even more fluff than usual and succeeding in somehow making him look even more absurd.

“Taehyung!” you chastise with a sigh. And just after praising him for being well behaved, too. Somebody isn’t getting his doggie treats, that’s for sure.

There’s another rustle, and this time you can see a dark shape darting forwards, shaded by the underbrush. Taehyung lunges and a silky brown foot intercepts his nose instantly, kicking him backwards with a yelp before the shadow breaks into a run, barreling out of the hedge with a hurried gait, ducking and weaving as Taehyung throws himself wholly into pursuit, now barking in a frenzy, the two of them streaking past you and continuing further down the trail. It’s that rabbit, the one you saw in the forest by the house, you’re sure of it. Sleek as ever, and faster, even, than Taehyung’s paws can keep up with, hauling down the dirt path at impressive speeds, sending small rocks and dirt scattering.

You stare in shock, so busy watching them racing along, when you realize they’re nearing the mouth of the trail, which opens into the road.

“W-wait!” you call, as if they can understand, picking up your feet to jog after the two animals, suddenly panicked at the thought of harm coming to either of them.

The rabbit keeps its pace, but Taehyung slows as he reaches the end of the path, skidding to a halt just before the asphalt, still barking his foolish little head off. The rabbit throws a look back, spinning ‘round, and as you come up by the small dog, you realize with shock that there’s a car coming in this direction. It isn’t moving that fast, but the driver won’t be able to see anything so small from this close. The rabbit doesn’t move, instead going completely stiff where it’s stopped, crouched, and stares at the car’s approach. Without thinking, you’re stepping onto the road, ignoring the way Taehyung immediately bursts into desperate screaming, reaching for the rabbit, who only sits, frozen in place, eyes wide and focused on the fender of the vehicle. You reach forward, gathering it in your arms, careful not to let either the shopping bag or the cloth bag touch the ground, hefting the sizeable bunny up and carrying it to the other side of the road just as the car shudders to a halt.

You spin, still holding the creature, looking to the driver. You’re a little in shock—did you really just do that…? The driver blinks at you in surprise, but understands what you’ve done when he looks to the animal in your arms. He nods, once, in gratitude, and you slowly return it, watching him continue to inch down the road with care. The minute the car has passed, Taehyung is zipping back up to your side, barking and trying to leap upwards, snapping at air just below where you’ve got the rabbit cradled. You look down at it. It looks up at you, nose twitching spasmodically, body completely still. It’s even silkier to touch than it looks, soft as Taehyung if not softer, heavy and hot—both from running and from warming itself in the sun. A waft of vanilla drifts past as the two of you lock gazes and you wonder absently if someone’s been bathing it in the stuff.

“That was close,” you say breathlessly. “You need to be more careful, little guy.” It blinks up at you. A beat passes, its nose twitching before it stops entirely. Slowly, hesitant, as though expecting you to bat it away, it raises one smooth paw. You’re almost afraid that it’s going to claw at your face (do rabbits do that?...) but instead, its paw lands at your chest, just over where you’ve hidden away the cat’s totem under your shirt. Its eyes widen. Taehyung pauses and begins barking anew, in a higher volume. The rabbit suddenly jerks, kicking upwards. In your shock, you allow it to leap up out of your arms, using your shoulder and elbow as purchase to jump off, lunging for the undergrowth on the side of the road. Taehyung darts forward, and you dart after him, but just as he snaps at the air just behind the rabbit’s foot as it disappears into the greenery, so does your hand clasp nothing as he runs—their chase, restarted with vigor.

“T-Taehyung!” you shout as he charges into the leaves, still baying in a high pitch as they crash noisily through the thickets. You pause, considering going after them, but even now as you’re considering, the sound of Taehyung’s barking is becoming faint. You’d never catch up, and you’re more than likely to become lost again anyways instead. Frowning at the trees, now slowly regaining their silence with quiet rustling, though you can still hear the yapping at a distance, you decide you’ll leave it. He isn’t really your dog, in any case, you remind yourself with a disbelieving scoff. You don’t know why he’s so insistent on hanging out with you. Protecting you from gardeners and rabbits. The devils. He’ll know this village better than you ever will. You’re certain he won’t get lost or hurt.

You shift the bags more comfortably on your shoulders and turn, heading down the path that will take you back to the intersection. As you go, you pass by the bus stop, and your mind drifts to the cat you saw on the first night. The totem hanging around your neck. The way that rabbit touched it was almost reverent, if rabbits were capable of feeling reverence.

It’s also why the others keep coming to you. They’re drawn to it.

Is it possible that the rabbit is one of them? A kepry, a spirit? What kind of ancient spirit stops in front of a moving car?... You scoff to yourself. Not a very bright one.

Maybe Taehyung is one, too, then, if the standards are so low.

That makes you giggle to yourself as you walk, looking both ways before crossing onto the side of the street that leads to Jin’s pond. You could always ask him, you reason with yourself in a spark of inspiration. Even if you see the ones you recognize, the lady had said. If the storekeepers knew about spirits, and if he’s lived here for a while, then maybe Jin will recognize some, too. If only you could show him the rabbit…You’re reminded of the librarian, warning against traps, but you agree with him too quickly. You wouldn’t want to hurt the little guy anyway…Ah, wait! Didn’t you take a photograph when you first saw him? That would be just perfect!

Suddenly excited, you dig into your pocket as you dip underneath the cover of trees again, passing the worn signpost. You retrieve your phone, inwardly rolling your eyes at the low battery percentage, and flick through to your photos. It’s the last photo you’ve taken, so it doesn’t take long to find it. You tap on the thumbnail, pulling it up. It’s definitely the same rabbit, big and shiny, peering at you from underneath the leaves, eyes wide. It’s a little blurry but it’s not a bad picture, altogether. Jin should be able to at least tell what it is…Wait. You squint closer, brow furrowing. There’s a smudge in the upper corner. Maybe you got your finger in the frame by accident or something.

You stop in your tracks. A chill races down your spine, ice-cold and reaching, turning the quiet of the trees around you into a deafening, suffocating silence. It’s not a finger. They’re shoes. Red sneakers, white socks, muscular calves. You’re frozen in place. You lift the phone closer, holding it almost at your nose as you pinch and swipe at the screen, trying to shift it this way and that, trying to understand. You wrack your scrambled brains for an explanation, squinting hard. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? But even as blurry as some of it is, it’s unmistakable now that you’ve recognized it. Two legs, socks, shoes. There’s someone standing in the corner of this photograph, just behind where the rabbit is hiding.

Was there someone there yesterday? You’re certain there wasn’t. You’re positive there wasn’t.

 “You came back.”

Jin’s voice snaps you out of your confusion, and you look up to see him standing in front of you, a gentle smile pulling at his pink lips.

“Uh,” you blink hard, switching the phone off deftly and sliding it back into your pocket, trying to return his pleased expression. You’ll revisit that mystery later. Best not to mention it to Jin until you’re certain you aren’t crazy—seeing things, or not seeing things. “Yeah. Y-yeah, uh, and I brought snacks, too! Just in case.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He nods, glancing off to the side and pulling air through his teeth. His eyes meet yours again and widen slightly, his grin growing. You can’t help the rise in your chest at his soft look. You’re glad you haven’t disappointed him, haven’t somehow been made late to your agreement. “Are you ready to clean the pond, then?”

“Definitely!”

“Not gonna go back on your word?” He teases.

You huff, crossing your arms, planting your feet in a playful show, already feeling lighter, more determined. “Never.”

He nods approvingly and turns, waving his hand in the down the dirt road, cocking his head. “Then let’s get started, while the day’s young.”

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[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 9

hey there! quick update. chapter 10 IS posted on ao3, but it won’t be getting a tumblr mirror because it’s not really plot stuff, just stupid things i wanted to share. so follow the link on my blog if you want to check that out, or just tune back in for chapter 11 instead

Chapter 9: The Reckoning

Tommy gawks at the destruction wrought upon the pavilion, and without thinking he brings his hands to cover his mouth. Never in all his life has he seen his home so damaged. Some pillars are missing entire chunks! A few of the scorch marks are still smoking!

Where is everyone?

Drawing in a deep breath, Tommy places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can.

Sure enough, it takes a bit, but Sunkist comes running from the direction of his house. The first trick Tommy ever taught her, and it still works like a charm! He’s never been so relieved to see her before, at least until she tackles him to the ground with licks.

“Ow,” Tommy whimpers out, feeling the pain in his bruised shoulders.

Sunkist seems to recognize his discomfort, but she keeps sniffing his face. Yeah, she can definitely tell his nose is fucked.

“Oh, Sunkist,” Tommy sits up and hugs her. “You would- you won’t believe what happened down there today.”

“Tommy?”

He breaks away from Sunkist, and holy shit, Bubby doesn’t look good. He’s very clearly just stumbled in, leaning on one of the intact pillars for support. Tommy almost cries out for him, but Bubby cuts him off.

“I thought I heard you call for Sunkist,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

In an instant, Tommy goes from concerned for his family’s well-being to seeing red.

“What- what am I doing!?” Tommy places a hand on his chest, offended beyond belief. He struggles to push himself up with his other arm, the thrumming pain causing him to wobble slightly, but he does stand. “What have you guys been doing?! I’ve been- I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all afternoon!”

Bubby narrows his eyes at Tommy, and for a split second he glances behind himself, back towards Benrey and Gordon’s home.

“Where’s the kid?” he asks, as if noticing for the first time Joshua isn’t present.

“He, uh. Darnold’s watching him.” Tommy frowns. Well, now that he knows things are somewhat okay up here, he turns back to his dog. “Actually, Sunkist? Could you- could you head down and keep an eye on them f-for me?” He’d appreciate something divine watching over them for a bit.

Sunkist barks in response, trotting into the Viewing Pool. She disappears with a flash, and Tommy feels like he has one less thing to worry about.

Before Tommy can ask a single question, Bubby has already turned around, gesturing for him to follow. Catching up, Tommy notices that Bubby’s legs are stiff as he walks, as if he has to mentally will them to bend.

“What- Bubby, what happened?” Tommy asks.

Bubby sighs. “Come on. I’m sure everyone is gonna want to see you.”

Wow, this is a whole new level of brushing off! Bubby’s not addressing the fact that wherever he looks, Tommy sees signs of a fight in the place he’s known as home his whole life. He really didn’t think it could get this bad.

But then again, what was Tommy supposed to think? They never told him anything.

They make it to Gordon and Benrey’s house, the door to which Bubby pushes open without knocking. Tommy almost calls him rude for it, but then he catches sight of the scene inside.

Coomer is immediately on Bubby, lecturing him for sneaking out while he’s so fragile. Tommy spies his dad in the corner, his gaze focused intently on the couch. And on that couch sits Benrey, Gordon passed out and laying in his lap. All of them look roughed up.

“Stop, Harold.” Bubby pushes his fretting husband’s hands away. “I’m fine, see?” He pauses, for the briefest of moments. “Look who I found.”

And just like that, everyone’s attention is turned to Tommy in the doorway. But Tommy’s stuck on the one person who can’t look at him, his thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘Gordon isn’t moving why isn’t he moving is he okay what happened-’

A pair of hands squish his face, and Tommy realizes it’s his dad. He’s looking down at him with such a sad look, and Tommy’s not sure if it’s intentional, but he stands right in front of him, blocking his view.

“Oh, oh dear, Tommy,” Gman says. “What happ..ened to your, nose?”

Tommy’s stunned expression turns to a glare. “Wh- my nose!? You want- you want to talk about my nose?!”

Gman obviously wasn’t expecting a hostile reaction to that, releasing his son’s face and backing away. It does little to calm Tommy.

“Do you- you have any idea how worried I’ve been!?” Tommy shouts. “You weren’t answering anything! And I come back, and- and everything is fucked up, and you’re just- just pretending nothing happened!?”

Bubby and Coomer no longer meet his eyes, but Gman just stares. Tommy continues, “Did- did any of you even check your phones!? I fucking fought a Skeleton today, and it-” All of Tommy’s fury vasnishes in an instant. Just remembering the empty feeling he got looking into that thing’s eye sockets is enough to twist his stomach. “It- s-so much about that was- it tried something-”

Tommy’s legs give out. He can feel his father by his side, holding onto him, and he thinks Coomer is there too. But his head is racing and he’s gripping at it as though he could slow it down somehow. “It- it was so cold, and everything was- was moving except me, and I couldn’t think, and if it wasn’t for-”

“It tried to possess you, bro,” Benrey finally speaks up. “Same as what it did to Gordon.” He runs a hand through Gordon’s hair.

Tommy blinks. “W-what?”

“I mean, I guess the… the cat’s out of the bag, or whatever.” Benrey sighs. “Skeletons possess people. Us mostly.”

“You’re- you’re joking?”

Bubby, who’s taken to leaning on one of the walls, shakes his head. “He isn’t.”

“Perhaps this conversation is best saved for when our friend over there wakes up, hm?” Coomer points at Gordon.

It takes Tommy a moment to process it all. ‘When Gordon wakes up.’ His dad pulls him to his chest, and making sure that he avoids his nose, Tommy presses into him with his forehead. He’s searching for a word, something he’s feeling, and then he realizes it’s trusted.

He feels trusted.

☆○☆○☆

“Your nose looks fucked,” Benrey comments from across the kitchen table. Coomer had convinced him to abandon his vigil over Gordon in favor of getting something to eat, but so far all he had done was make a few tonedeaf remarks Tommy’s way.

“Uh-huh,” Tommy responds, more preoccupied with his phone.

Darnold ♡: Wait they don’t know that I know?

Tommy: I’m not sure how to tell them???

Darnold ♡: I mean, it sounds like you’ve done enough “telling” for today Darnold ♡: So maybe don’t?

Tommy: Yeah? Then what? Tommy: They’re gonna be teasing you next time you meet!! :(

Darnold ♡: Well that just makes THEM look stupid, right?

Whatever stupid thing Benrey is about to say next is interrupted by a groan from the next room over. They both meet eyes, before scrambling out of the kitchen.

Tommy: Oh hang on Gordon’s awake!!!!!! :D

Benrey beats Tommy by a longshot, sliding to his knees in front of the couch and pulling Gordon into a hug. This only serves to agitate him.

“Ugh, Benrey!” Gordon complains, and it’s the most emotion Tommy’s heard from Gordon in a week. He almost cries.

Benrey isn’t deterred, only hugs Gordon tighter as he begins to ramble. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice I should have seen it I’m sorry Gordon I’m so sorry-”

Gordon sits up, Benrey still clutching him like a koala and apologizing. He barely seems to register it, though, instead bringing a hand to his head and wincing. “My head is fucking killing me,” he mumbles.

“We’re all hurting, asshole, get in line,” Bubby snarks. He’s sitting with his legs crossed on the other side of the room.

Coomer, who had previously been sitting next to Bubby, has made his way to the couch. He places a hand on Gordon’s back and smiles at him. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Gordon!”

Tommy can’t help it anymore. With a wide smile he jumps onto the couch next to Gordon, pulling him (and by extension Benrey) into a hug. “Thank- thank goodness you’re okay!” And yup, Tommy can definitely feel himself crying now, but he doesn’t really care! Gordon’s back!

Having gotten a few more of his faculties in order, Gordon starts to realize that things aren’t exactly normal. Like, for example, everyone around him is injured to varying degrees. “What- why do you guys look like shit?” he asks.

Benrey still hasn’t broken out of his longform apology to make any stunning rebuttals, so Tommy just answers him. “I got- I got punched in the face by a Skeleton,” he nods.

“Holy shit, Tommy,” Gordon actually processes his appearance for the first time. “Is that broken? I can-” He worms his hand out from the hug mess, and before Tommy can protest that he really shouldn’t be using his powers right now, the pain in his face is gone in a flash.

Sometimes it pays to be friends with a god with a minor healing domain. Not when he heals you instead of resting like he should be doing, but other, more fun times.

Tommy gasps. “Gordon! No! You should- you shouldn’t be blessing people, right now!”

“I also got punched in the face by a Skeleton!” Bubby points at his bruised cheek. “The Skeleton was just inside Gordon.”

Oh. Well. He just said it, didn’t he?

“The… the what?” Gordon questions, clearly distressed.

“B-Bubby!” Tommy yells at him. “Why did you say that!?”

“What? We’re sharing things today!” Bubby gestures to himself. “I, for one, would want someone to tell me if I punched them like that!”

“The Skeleton was… inside me?” Gordon stammers out. Slowly, Tommy slinks his arms away from him, and he can see Benrey doing the same.

Gman steps in. “What Bubby, is. Saying, is that. You’ve been, possess...ed, by a. Skeleton, for a whole week.”

“What?! No, they- they can do that!?” Gordon shouts. Tommy thinks he’s about two seconds away from having to stop Gordon from pulling his own hair, when…

“They did it to me.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Benrey to speak up again, not since he revealed the fact Skeletons could possess people in the first place. But here he was, staring straight down at the ground, sitting on his hands.

“Um, we… We knew the Skeletons and their cult were bad for a long time,” Benrey continues. “But we didn’t… know. How bad.” He sighs, looking towards Tommy and Gordon. “I think if we told you guys, probably wouldn’t suck as much as it has. You wouldn’t have been hurt, Gordon.”

Gman places a hand on his son’s back as Benrey talks. Bubby has found his way back to Coomer’s side. All of them have grim expressions on their face, listening to a story to which they know the ending.

“So, uh. Two-thousands years ago. I went down to look at them, and they-” Benrey scratches the side of his face. “I don’t remember much after that, but they got me.”

Benrey draws his knees to his chest. “They made me do a lot of things. I didn’t… World got- got fucked. Society two time, second one didn’t like magic so much.”

Things suddenly start making a lot more sense. It’s like a missing puzzle piece gets clicked into place in Tommy’s mind, or a lightswitch gets turned on, or something like that. They haven’t been hiding this out of malice, or messing with the new guys, it was-

Gordon reaches out, grabbing onto one of Benrey’s hands. He cups his husband’s face gently, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Hey, Benrey, look at me,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.” Benrey launches forward, clinging onto Gordon, and Gordon holds him.

It was fear.

Tommy turns to the others. He has a feeling Benrey is done talking. “But… but why didn’t they do anything this time?” he asks them. “If- if they wanted to destroy things, why wait?”

“Well Tommy, if I had to guess,” Coomer hypothesizes. “We were able to knock Benrey back to normal relatively easily last time, as well as pummel the Skeletons we did find to the ground. Perhaps they wanted to weaken us from the inside before attempt number two?”

Goodness, this is a lot for Tommy to process right now. A societal-wide reckoning caused by the possession of one of his dearest friends? It’s a little much. He leans back on the couch. Damn it, this must be what Darnold felt like earlier.

“Wait a second,” Gordon suddenly pipes up. “Where the fuck is Joshua?”

Tommy pulls out his phone. “He’s with Darnold. He knows what’s been going on, we’ve been texting. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Gordon sighs, but then he changes his tune. “Wait, he KNOWS?!”

[dracosignetring]

Blood in the Mist- Chapter One

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of your encouragement on the Prologue of Blood in the Mist. Here we have chapter one- I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always appreciated and welcomed. Luv you all x

Trigger Warnings- Violence 

‘Again!’ Bellatrix screamed, her black tendrils of hair falling into her face,‘if I can block your spell so easily, how on Earth do you think you’re going to get to the headmaster of Hogwarts? He might pretend to be a doddery old fool, but Dumbledore has more power than you will ever understand!’.

Draco and Bellatrix stood facing each other in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Grass that was once a lush emerald green had singed, a tinged black circle surrounding the pair a product of all Draco’s curses. Bellatrix had blocked every Killing, Cruciatus and Imperius curse sent her way.

‘I’m trying!’ Draco bellowed, he was tired to the bone and desperately aware of the time pressure weighing down upon him. It was only a week until he went back to Hogwarts hallowed halls, and he was making no progress nor improvement.

‘You think the Dark Lord’ spat Bellatrix, shoving her hair out of her face and over her exposed shoulders, ‘cares for triers? You think that he’, she flicked her wand which emitted blue light Draco narrowly blocked ‘cares about you? Because he doesn’t!’.

Tremoring, Draco felt tingles make their way from his fingertips to his elbow and then throughout his whole body, giving him the same feeling generated by Krum vodka. 

‘Crucio!’ he screamed, the green light emitted from his wand smacking his dualling partner in the middle of her chest, as though a target was painted there.

Suddenly, Draco could hear the rustle of the trees and the whisper of the grass before the silence was shattered by Bellatrix’s agonised cries. It was as though every bone in her body had dislocated itself, her core rising into the air, hair and limb all moving independently. 

‘Don’t stop just yet.’, Lucius’ smooth voice floated on the wind, making Draco shudder. He was equally desperate to make his father proud, as he was petrified to the core.Malfoy was the only one Draco had ever had to fight to impress. He had his mother wrapped around his little finger, and although he resided with Bellatrix he had no real desire to win her pride. His father on the other hand, he silently idolised and although Draco looked more like his father every day that passed, he could not believe that he would ever live up to his legacy.

Draco nodded and tightened his grip on his wand, Bellatrix’s limp body convulsing and her scream worming its way into all the dark crevices of his brain. He wondered whether Bellatrix was thinking about Longbottom’s parents, after all he was hexing her with the very same curse she had used to her advantage many years ago. He decided not. Bellatrix had not one ounce of empathy for anyone but the Dark Lord.

‘I think that’s enough for now,’ Lucius said lightly. Although he had little time for his sister-in-law he knew nobody else was strong enough to train Draco for his task.

Bellatrix dropped like a stone in water, the back of her head slamming to the floor first. 

‘Take her to her room Lobry’ Lucius ordered, a house elf clad in a dirty pillowcase sidling up to the whimpering pile of limbs and attempting to escort her to the wing of the mansion. Bellatrix made her anger at being touched by the House Elf known, swatting him weakly. 

Your first Cruciatus curse, and a strong one at that’ Lucius nodded with approval. Draco pushed the sleeves of his cable knit jumper up his pale arms and caught his father’s expression, a half smile, ‘what was it you were thinking of, it takes a lot of’, he paused delicately, ‘passion to produce such a strong curse’. 

Should I tell him?

Should I tell him that I’m petrified nobody cares?

Should I tell him that I’m scared stiff of not being able to kill the one he wants me to?

Should I tell him I’m terrified he’ll never truly believe I have the ability to live up to his legacy?

‘Only lies about the Potter boy and his friends, father’, he said curtly, of course he couldn’t make his real thoughts known.

‘I see’, nodded his father ‘we won’t have to worry about them for much longer son, once you’ve taken out that old man they’ll never be able to defeat the Dark Lord. Now come, the day is waning and we have steak for dinner. We don’t want to keep your mother waiting’. 

As the pair walked towards the house, Lucius flicking his wrist and the scorched circle of grass going back to it’s normal colour, Draco was unaware of just how similar the pair seemed. 

After making excuses of wanting to retire early, Draco withdrew from the stony dining room emblazoned with glittering sephant paraphernalia. Kissing his mother on the cheek lightly, he pulled the large oak wooden doors to a close. 

Malfoy Manor was a maze of dark corridors, hidden rooms and secrets. Often were its shadowy corners subject to meetings with the Dark Lord, the only difference in these meetings being that he was now welcomed to sit and participate with open arms. Things had been much simpler when he was sent to bed early on these nights, the last thing his childhood self saw being his mother’s kind face in the slither of open door. He preferred not to think of the snake roaming the halls when the Dark Lord was in attendance. 

However, there was no such meeting tonight and Draco was free to spend the evening as he pleased without interference. He thought of the ramshackle house he had heard the Weasley family lived in, probably bustling with people and chatter. Draco shook off the thought, his steps echoing whilst he descended the stairs to his basement room. 

Heart racing, Draco was plunged into darkness. Feeling along the wall chill metal met his finger tips. One of the candle sticks had obviously fallen. 

‘Who’s there?’he hissed, expecting to hear the murmur of Lobry or one of the other family house elves. There was no response. 

‘Lumos’ Draco spat, swinging his wand in wide arcs to illuminate as much of the corridor as possible. Once again, spying nothing, he kept the light on his wand in front of him.

Trying to lower his racing heart rate, Draco leaned his back up against the smooth wood of his door before he saw a roll of parchment which had not been there that morning. 

He stumbled over his open Hogwarts case, getting tangled in his Quidditch robes before appraising the paper before him. It had no address, the sender must have known where he lives. 

The green seal broke under pressure, allowing him to view its contents. The message was short,

Draco,

I know you aren’t strong enough for this. Meet me on your first night back at Hogwarts on the outskirts of the forbidden forest if you want to stay alive. 

There was no signature. A roll of nausea wracked through him. 

Who was it that knew about his task?

Who thought he wasn’t strong enough?

Once again, in a similar reaction to Bellatrix's goading, Draco was enraged. The parchment was a pulpy ball in his fist throwing it into the roaring fire he made his choice.

He’d show them. All of them. This anonymous author. Bellatrix. Potter. The old fool who ran the whole charade. His father. He would even show the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy was a lot stronger than any of them had ever given him credit for. 

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.35 -Epilogue

The Elementalists au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2171

Series Master List

Complete Master List

I'm sorry to say that this is the end of this series! I have been writing this for about a year now, and it's difficult to let it go, but all things must come to end. Thank you all for reading, commenting, reblogging, and just falling in love with Beckett and Oriana. They are my OTP, and this has been my favorite series I've ever written. I do have another in the works though, and you can also catch 20 Seconds of Courage still going. Love you all, and thanks so so much for the support on this journey!!!

  This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

  One Year Later

“Beck, come on, I don’t want to be late!” Oriana shouted up the stairs to her husband.

“Just grabbing a couple more things! Be right down!”

She rolled her eyes before pressing a kiss to the head of their baby girl. “Your Daddy insists on bringing every little thing when we go out. He’s so silly, isn’t he?”

Their baby cooed and Oriana’s heart melted every single time. “Okay little one, we might as well get you in the car.” She was about to open the door when Beckett came bustling down.

“Ready! I think I got everything.”

  Oriana rose an eyebrow as she saw him carrying the already overstuffed diaper bag, a swing, five stuffed animals, a play mat, and three more blankets. “You sure you managed everything? You’re not missing the bottles?”

Beckett’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, I forgot the bottles!!” He dashed into the kitchen.

“Yes, very silly indeed.” Oriana murmured, turning and walking out the door to Beckett’s SUV. Almost as soon as they found out they were expecting, he researched and raced out to buy two brand new vehicles, rated excellent in safety and style. Naturally, she thought that was overkill, but he couldn’t be convinced otherwise. They had extended their lease and in the new year were going to move into their new house, that they were having built on the land Beckett had shown her, with the trickling stream surrounded by flowers. They both loved their current neighborhood but needed a bigger space for their growing family, and often visited that place whenever they needed a break from life.  Their daughter, Eliana, was born in June on a beautiful sunny day. Beckett had insisted on a name like Oriana’s, meaning the sun.

“Eliana means daughter of the sun. It really can’t be any more perfect. You’ve always been my sun, Ori.”

Oriana had made fun of him at the time, but she adored the way he thought. Their daughter was beautiful with auburn hair and golden eyes, the spitting image of Oriana.

It was going to be their first Christmas as a family, and they were headed over to Dave and Melissa’s house for a Christmas Eve brunch. As soon as Oriana finished buckling Eliana into the car seat, Beckett came rushing out, opening the passenger door for her, out of breath. She couldn’t help but notice that not only did he bring the bag of bottles, he also had two more bags filled with books.

“Beck, we’re only going to be there a few hours…”

“We must read something to her every hour, Oriana, she loves books and I intend to keep it that way.” He huffed before turning around and putting everything into the trunk. “Honestly, how many times do I need to say this.” He muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.” She called out.

“Good.” He replied, closing the hatch and getting into the driver’s seat. “Can’t have you forgetting how important it is.” He teased, except he was completely serious.

Oriana laughed, leaning over the center console and kissing him. “You’re such a dork.”

He just shrugged. “You love me.”

“I do, don’t I?” She giggled.

The drive to Dave’s was uneventful, and before long they pulled into the driveway. “Looks like everyone’s already here.” Beckett observed the cars already in the driveway.

“Shocker. I’m sure the others only brought 5 bags, and not 10, thus cutting their time in half.” Oriana joked.

“Ha ha, very funny. Come on, let’s go.”

Oriana grabbed Eliana while Beckett grabbed everything he’d brought. Ringing the doorbell, they could hear the cheerful laughter of their friends, as well as the other kids running around. Dave and Melissa’s son had just started walking, and he was always getting into things. A minute later, the door flung open.

“Aaaahhhhhhh they’re here!!!!” Shreya shrieked, jumping up and down in excitement. “Eeeeee let me see my little munchkin!!!!”

Oriana laughed as she handed over Eliana into the arms of her best friend. “It’s good to see you too, Shreya.”

“Come on, everyone’s in the living room!”

The four of them walked into the living room where Dave, Melissa, Zephyr, Tom, Jessie, and the three other kids were.

Tom gave a cheeky grin. “Hey guys! You finally made it! Beckett, you sure you brought everything you need? I don’t see your kitchen sink in there, and I really think you’ll need it, because Dave here doesn’t have one. And he certainly doesn’t have two.”

“You laugh, but a portable sink actually wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Beckett mused, carefully setting everything down in a corner. “It would actually be pretty convenient to wash her bottles on the go, and also spray her down when she explodes. I think I’ll look into that idea.”

Tom blinked. “Uh…you know I was kidding, right?”

“A lot of great thoughts start as jokes.” Beckett replied. “But anyways, I’m happy to see everyone.”

“Eliana’s first Christmas. I’m so excited. We’re coming over tomorrow right?” Zeph cooed, taking one of Eliana’s fingers and shaking it as she gave a toothless smile.

“Sorry, Zeph, but after we have our own little Christmas, we’re going over to the Harrington’s.” Oriana chirped. “Maybe New Year’s you can come.”

Beckett leaned in, wrapping his arms around Oriana’s waist and kissing her cheek. “If we still have space left after my parents spoil our little princess.”

Beckett couldn’t even begin to explain how happy he was. When Zeph and Shreya returned from their trip abroad, Oriana made sure to introduce them to the group. They fit right in, of course, they were both so outgoing and easy to get along with. Beckett couldn’t remember why he was never friends with them in college. Seeing Oriana so happy, they welcomed Beckett with open arms. Shreya even cried. Since then, everyone hosted dinner once a month, a potluck where everyone would bring a dish. It was a new tradition, one that Beckett couldn’t imagine not having anymore. His life was so different now. He never felt lonely, and he had a support group he couldn’t live without.

Even his parents had come around about Oriana. When Beckett first announced that they were married, they completely cut off communication. But then one day, when he came home from work, Oriana was sitting at the kitchen table with his mom, dad, and sister. Apparently, his wife had written each of them a personalized handwritten letter, professing her love for him, and that he saved her life on more than one occasion. She told them all about what Beckett had been doing since graduation, and invited all of them over for a sit-down chat, but never told Beckett. He would have been mad, furious even, if he wasn’t so completely awed at the fact she did that, laid all her feelings bare and let his family decide what to do. By the end of the night, everything had gone so well, they announced their pregnancy. Mrs. Harrington immediately latched onto Oriana, thrilled she was getting a grandchild. His father hugged him for a long time, telling Beckett how proud he was of him for forging his own life. And Katrina immediately began talking about a baby shower.

After they left, Beckett cried that night in happiness, amazed with the beautiful woman he was proud to call his wife. She was able to mend the rift between him and the rest of his family simply by being honest and straight-forward with them. She asked for nothing except a chance to show them the life they made, no more and no less, and he would be forever grateful. He hadn’t even realized how important it was to have their support until he received it.

As he looked around the room now, his heart was practically bursting. How did I even get here? How did I go from having nothing…to having everything?

He looked at his wife, who had taken back their child and was swaying Eliana with the beat of the soft music playing in the background. He looked at Dave and Melissa, who were now trying to comfort their son, whom had run into a table and was now crying. He was unsteady on his feet, but adored Tom and Jessie’s two kids, and always tried to keep up with them. Eliana was always watching the other kids, and it was obvious she wanted to join in. Beckett couldn’t wait for the day that she could. She was nine months old now and trying to crawl. It was only a matter of time. Shreya was showing Jessie fashion items on her phone, and Zeph was helping Tom bring out the wine. The other two kids hadn’t stopped running.

Oriana caught his eye from across the room and winked, smiling brightly. She really was his sunshine, and he was so proud to be with her. He sidled up to he, bumping her hip lightly. “Hey beautiful.”

“Hey handsome. You doing alright?”

“Of course.” He answered. “Just thinking about how we got here, to such a good place.”

“I still have my dark moments.” She murmured quietly.

“You do. But they’re part of who you are, and so I love them too. Besides, the main cause is no longer able to try and worm his way back into your life.”

Oriana beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but grin back. They’d come such a long way. He found his thoughts wandering once more, back to the previous winter, Before Eliana was born. She’d received a call from a lawyer who was representing a young woman pressing charges against Chase for rape. It was the same type of situation Oriana had been in. She’d been drugged and used by multiple men, all under instruction of Chase.

Oriana barely spoke for days, crying, and blaming herself for not doing something about him sooner, and now he’d hurt someone else the way he had hurt her. There was no light in her then, and she was barely keeping it together. Eventually Beckett was able to get her to open up, and she agreed to be a witness for the prosecution. She wasn’t the only victim the lawyer had managed to find. There were several more girls who found the strength to put Chase away for a long, long time because they banded together and told their respective stories. Each one a bit different, each one hurt by the same men. Chase wasn’t the only one who went to jail. And because of that, no one had to look over their shoulders anymore. Chase and his friends were locked up and wouldn’t be released in their lifetime. Each received the maximum sentence of twenty years per rape, and they were found guilty on all five of the girls who testified. The judge denied the appeals due to the heinous nature of the crimes. As it turned out, one of the men had secretly taped each incident. It was shocking to see and hear, and Oriana was a complete mess, even refusing to be in the courtroom when the videos were played…but it was undeniable proof, and without it, it’s possible they would not have been convicted. Oriana still kept in touch with the other four girls, and Beckett was so relieved that she had found even more support. She had support in all aspects of her life, more than just Beckett, even though she claimed he was enough. He believed her when she said that, but it didn’t change the fact that having others who have shared your experiences, no matter how horrible, is a comforting feeling. If there was ever a time Beckett couldn’t help her, he knew without a doubt she had so many people who cared for her that at least one of them would be able to help her through the moment.

They were happy. Their friends were happy. Wrapping his arm around Oriana’s shoulder, he saw her eyes turn to gold, and a soft glow emanate from her body. The first time he’d ever seen it was their first date. He hadn’t known it was possible for a person to glow, but then, Oriana wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. He was thrilled to call her his own.

Oriana set Eliana down on a chair so she could wrap her arms around Beckett’s neck, kissing his lips sweetly. “I love you, Beckett Harrington. Even with the 10 bags you insist we need for every outing.”

He kissed her again. “And I love you, Oriana Harrington. The love of my life. My heart has always belonged to you, you know.”

“I know.” She said slyly. “Actually…I think I always knew.”

“I’m so proud of you, Ori, truly. You are a remarkable human being.”

“And you, sir, are a sap.”

Beckett let out a hearty laugh. “But I’m your sap.”

Oriana placed a hand on his heart, smiling. “Yes. Yes, you are my sap.”

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[dannifielding]

Danni Regeneration AU

I had an ask, a little bit ago, who agreed with me that Danni appearing and regenerating for the first time in front of Ten and Donna would have been great.

Here’s the start. Expect more

“I know,” Rassilon said and his voice just really pissed Danni off. Even so, she felt herself moving slightly towards Koschei, a little scared of where he was going. “But you won't. I will give you the regenerations, you will take me with you and I will save her life.”

That was strange, and Danni frowned, confused. “Save my life?”

Rassilon's hand shot out before either of them noticed, a bolt of energy shooting out of his gauntlet and it hit her straight in the stomach. She screamed as she flew backwards, hitting the marble dome that housed the Eye with a crunch and she fell to the ground. Pain spread from the impact zone like tree branches, burning her from the inside out and her hands flew to her stomach as she held it in reaction to the attack. Her vision was white, her ears were ringing and everything hurt so much.

“Danielle!” a voice shouted, panicked and scared and she tried to focus on it, but she couldn't. All she could feel was the pain that her body was screaming at and the rabid warmth she could feel in her hands.

Koschei was on the floor next to her, cupping her face even as the dome opened like eyelids, slowly and groaning with the effects of being closed for so long. Her hands clutched her abdomen like it was her lifeline, but the red liquid was already soaking through her clothes. She was dying, and rapidly as well. He shot up, arm at the ready as his rage caused him the flash blue.

“What have you done?!” he screamed and Rassilon smiled evilly, which was something since he was the Master, and therefore the villain of any piece.

“Take me with you, and I can save you both,” he offered, like he was doing them both a favour and wasn’t the cause of the problem in the first place. “Without me, she will die.”

Koschei shook, torn between killing the man and trying to save Danni. He crouched, taking her roughly by her arm and pulling her up. She could barely hold her own weight, the light flickering in her eyes and he only had one chance. He hugged her tightly.

“Listen to me,” he whispered in her ear as she leant on him. “Look into the Eye for only a moment, press the button then close your eyes. I'll hold him off.”

“I'm not leaving you,” she slurred, her knees giving way and he caught her. He was so happy that he still had such a tight hold on her that she was ready to die than leave his side. However, there was absolutely no way that he would let Rassilon win. He was the Master. He always won.

“I'm right behind you,” he promised her. “Do it.” He turned to Rassilon, looking like he'd decided to accept. Rassilon obviously believed him, until Koschei pushed Danni onto the dome. “Never,” he declared and Rassilon's face dropped.

“Then you'll both die,” he retorted and Koschei shook his head.

“Not quite,” he promised. “Now, Danni!”

And as Danni forced herself to do as he told, one hand pressed on her stomach and the other poised over the big green button on the control pad, he began to fire as much energy as he could at the President.

Danni opened her eyes, looking into what could only be described as eternal, soul-destroying abyss and she pressed the button, her hand immediately shot out to grab Koschei, but feeling nothing but emptiness.

~0~0~0~

The Doctor was living the best life he had lived in a while. There was just nothing better than seeing the universe with someone by his side that enjoyed it just as much as he did. And boy, did Donna Noble enjoy life in the TARDIS. They both were grinning at each other, happily tired from their day exploring a monastery about 3500 years into Donna’s future, and a couple if lightyears away.

“Where to next?” he asked her. “A bit of sun? Or some greenery? I know a lovely little place where…”

Donna held her hand up, specifically the one with the bottle of wine in it. “Actually, I have a date with the sofa and this gift I was given by a couple of monks as an apology for almost locking you up.”

The Doctor frowned. “Wait, what? When did that happen?”

“When I spent ten minutes convincing them that you weren’t there to steal all the things you wouldn’t stop touching.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but then became too curious for his own good. “How did you manage that?”

“Oh, by just telling them that if you even thought something illegal, I would know and had permission to kick your arse.”

“Hang on a minute!”

She smiled her sweetest smile. “It worked, didn’t it, Spaceman?”

“That is not the point…”

He was cut off by a loud crash from the other side of the console. A golden light illuminated the opposite wall like a spotlight and Donna’s brows furrowed as she stepped towards it. “What on Earth is that?”

The Doctor reached out and grabbed her arm before she got too close. She glanced up at him and all of the fond happiness that was there had fallen away to a grave look. “It’s the heart of the TARDIS,” he told her.

“You mean, the thing that Rose looked into?”

He didn’t nod, instead he took a step closer himself. “Don’t look into it,” he warned. He had no idea what would cause the TARDIS to open herself up like that, but he knew that it wasn’t good, and it certainly had to be important. Something dangerous was about to happen and he needed to work out what, and fast.

There was a flash of light from within the golden glow, almost like the flash of a camera, and then a scream. A bundle of clothes and red hair skidded across the floor and hit the railings with a painful cry. The hatch on the console slammed shut and even though the levels of light returned to normal, the room felt almost dark in comparison.

He didn’t step forward at first, a little wary of what could travel through the heart in such a fashion. Donna, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “Danni!” she shouted, rushing over to the figure.

His hearts skipped a beat, and his eyes widened a fraction as he caught up to what Donna could see. Danni, on the floor, curled up like a wounded animal. He rushed over as well, dropping the floor next to her. Donna looked up at him from her friend, pale and terrified.

“Doctor, she’s bleeding,” she exclaimed. “What’s happened to her?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been here as long as you have,” he snapped rudely. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. She was pale, a different pale to normal. She was curled up and clutching her stomach tightly. He needed a better look, so he took her hands in his, ready to move them away. Then he saw the blistering, scarred burn on her wrist. “Her manipulator,” he breathed.

“What? Did that thing do this?”

He met Donna’s eyes again. “No, it’s gone,” he replied. He turned back to her friend, the woman who had wormed her way into his hearts long before he was ready to admit it. “Danni, Danni, can you hear me?” he asked.

“Koschei?”

Her voice was weak, but the word was clear and he swallowed back the dread that the word brought up. Had she could from the Valiant? He remembered the state she was in at the time vividly, though, and she hadn’t been injured then.

“No, it’s me,” he replied and her eyes opened. He could tell she was struggling to focus on him and he tightened the grip on her hands. “Hey, Danni-Girl,” he offered gently.

“Spaceman?” she asked and he nodded.

“That’s me. And look, Donna’s here too.” He nodded to the other ginger, who smiled as warmly as she could.

“Welcome back,” Donna told her. “You’re going to be just fine. The Doctor can help.”

“I’m sorry,” she slurred back. “I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, there’s no time for that nonsense,” the Doctor pretended to scold. He lifted her hands out of the way. Her top was in tatters, and it was easy to see the damage underneath. It was a miracle she was even still alive? How was she still alive?

“I know, let’s get you to the medi-bay and get this sorted,” he said, keeping as calm as he could. “Donna, could you…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, because Donna was immediately helping him get her off the ground. She couldn’t hold herself up under her own weight and it was only the two keeping her from falling back down.

“Koschei?” she asked again, this time trying the find the other Time Lord. He could tell Donna was confused by the name, but he nodded anyway.

“He’s right behind you,” he promised, if only to keep her moving. “One foot in front of the other, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

They tried moving her, but she felt like dead weight between them. Donna was already tearing up, as if she knew what was happening, but he refused to let it end like this. He knew Danni had more to come. He knew they had more to come and he wasn’t about to let her die.

“Theta,” she moaned in pain. “It hurts.”

“I know, but it’ll be over soon,” he yet again promised her. “Just a few more steps.”

Danni could barely think. This must have been what it felt like when the Doctor was regenerating. It was as if she could feel each part of her body shut down. Her blood was no longer running and her limbs were turning cold and numb. Each breath felt slightly further apart, her heartbeat slowing down. She pushed away from them both out of reflex and stumbled away, into one of the railings again. It didn’t hurt as much as it probably should have.

“I think…” she muttered. “I think something’s wrong.”

“It is, but we can fix it,” the Doctor told her, stepping closer. She shook her head.

“No!” she exclaimed, suddenly very afraid of him coming towards her. She didn’t have long left. She needed to turn around. She found the strength, turning to face him. She knew Donna was there, but she couldn’t see her. She only had eyes for the Doctor. The Tenth Doctor, the one that she never had. She loved him so much.

“I think…” she started again. “I think you should stay back.”

“No…” he started, darting forward as she screamed. Her head flung backwards as she exploded. Every pore on her skin blew, every cell in her body burnt away. The Doctor could only stare, dumbstruck as golden light poured from her.

Then it stopped.

“Well,” she declared with a voice she didn’t recognised. “That’s new.” And her new eyes rolled back into her new skull as she dropped to the ground, unconscious.

[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober 18th

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

Whumptober 18th: Muffled scream

The cultists were getting daring. It must be the internet, and the ability to find people with shared interests, regardless of whether that was knitting or demonic summoning rituals.

It had been a good long time since either of them had been summoned, mostly because Aziraphale was very good at tracking down books, and kept the relevant ones under lock, key, and celestial protection. 

But that didn’t stop them from using other, Earthlier methods. 

That is to say, one day Crowley got jumped in an alley by a bunch of half-witted pseudo-demi-neo-satanists.

Aziraphale had been expecting him, waiting for the Bentley to roar down the street and pick him up for a lovely spot of supper before they went to their concert for the evening. Crowley had found, according to him, the most tempting little Hawaiian food stand, complete with tropical drinks to brighten up even the dreariest of London weather. 

Which, as it was nippy and raining, Aziraphale was rather looking forward to. Along with the company, of course. 

And, as his expected company grew later and later, and didn’t answer either his desk phone nor his pocket one, Aziraphale grew… concerned. Crowley had gotten good at letting him know if Hell was calling him back, if for no other reason than to be sure someone would see to his plants if they kept him longer than anticipated. 

But with their plans thrown into the mix… Crowley never cancelled if he could help it, and then it was with profuse promises to make it up later. He’d never once simply skipped out on Aziraphale. 

Which meant something must be wrong.

When it hit the six hour mark with no sign nor word of Crowley, Aziraphale opened his senses, searching for him the way would search for a bakery by smell. It was just that singular note of familiarity, amidst all the rest of the teeming sensory input. And he followed it, locking the shop behind him, miracling himself unseen, and launching into the sky, his wings enjoying the uncommon stretch, even as he focused on his worry and his sense of Crowley’s whereabouts. 

Everything became sharper, and Aziraphale frowned, pointing himself in the right direction and wondering what in heaven’s name Crowley was doing in Somerset of all places. 

When he landed, he was rather far removed from anything-- most of the area seemed overgrown and disused. There had been a big house, back some ways away, and a couple of lakes, but... If not for the lights ahead, and his own superior sight, he mightn’t have even made out the eerie surroundings. 

Whoever had Crowley-- and he couldn’t sense any other demons, nor any angels for that matter, so the humans who had Crowley had brought him to an abandoned childrens’ park. 

There were rails, though no trains were in sight. A river cut through the area, but it was sluggish, its banks littered with all sorts of debris-- including a massive amount of long-dead glowsticks, which spoke to the location’s popularity as a site for raves. 

He stepped distastefully over what he vaguely recognised as drug paraphernalia, and wrinkled his nose at a sign welcoming him to ‘Crinkleybottom Junction’. A niggle of familiarity wormed in his mind, and he sighed, finally realizing where they were. 

Crowley and his bloody fixation with television programming. He wound up the wiggling road and stopped in front of a small tunnel, peering through the dark towards the only building that showed any sign of life. Faintly, he was able to make out a single word: “Dunblobbin”

Which meant, of course, that the wart ridden yellow and pink spotted fixture ahead, the one with the lights coming through the empty windows, must be Mr. Blobby’s house. 

He had no time left to wax nostalgic about Crowley’s failed attempt to horrify children, though, because he heard, of a sudden, an overly familiar muffled scream and the sound of hammering. 

“Crowley!” he shouted in response, barreling around the rotting picket fencing and through the doorway,startling the half-dozen spooky looking twenty somethings that had gathered in the process. 

Crowley had a bag over his head and was being staked to the walls, spikes through his hands, spreading him across the remains of a sculptural fireplace which seemed to have been originally made of chicken wire and polystyrene. 

“Another demon!” One of the cultists cried, turning and damn near tripping over her red crushed velvet fancy-dress cape as she raised her knife. 

“I’ll have you know,” Aziraphale began, cranking up his aura and pulling out the halo for effect. “I am an angel.” 

He willed the girl to drop her blade, and she did, before sinking to her knees, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“And you--” Aziraphale said, turning his gaze to the men who had apparently just maimed his friend, “Have stolen my demon and ruined my dinner plans.” 

Their tools dropped to the floor and one of them clasped his hands together, as if in supplication. 

“We’re sorry-- we didn’t know! You can have him back, just don’t eat us! Please uh, you highness, holiness, uh-- my lord.” 

Aziraphale paused, quirked his head quizzically, and then realized they thought he’d meant his dinner plans were the demon. 

Well. Whatever put the fear of God in them, he supposed. 

Crowley was keening through whatever gag they had on him, and Aziraphale abruptly was done talking. He wanted to get him down and seen to. 

“Go reconsider whom it is you pray to, and repent.” He ordered. Then, when they still stood, stricken, he raised his voice. “GO!” 

They scattered like vermin under bright light, and he turned down the halo and aura before approaching his friend. 

“Crowley,” He said more gently, and removed the cloth bag. 

Apparently they’d been doing some sort of twisted reenactment of that famous crucifixion, because when he drew off the bag, he could feel the drag, and sharp thorns cut into the skin of Crowley’s forehead before getting tangled in his hair. 

He looked the picture of abject misery, and Aziraphale hated it. He gently pulled the crown of thorns free of Crowley’s hair, which lay tangled and stuck to the sweat and blood on his face. It was all wrong, all too far from the way Crowley always looked in Aziraphale’s mind. 

“I’m going to pull you down now, okay? Are you ready?”

Crowley visibly swallowed, but nodded. 

Aziraphale looked him over, considering, and decided it would be kinder to do it all at once. Like removing a plaster. 

He was lucky they hadn’t managed to stretch Crowley’s arms out completely, or he wouldn’t have been able to reach, but as it was, he took hold of the bit of the stakes that stuck out, cold and iron and squared enough that he suspected they might be railroad ties. 

“On three.” He said, for warning, then counted down. “One, two-- three!”

He pulled with his considerable strength and felt the cheap construction crumble. 

With the gag still in Crowley’s mouth, his scream came out muffled, which was only a kindness to Aziraphale’s ears, since no one else was around to hear it. 

Once released, Crowley collapsed to the floor, and Aziraphale threw the stakes aside, sinking to his knees with him. 

Carefully, he reached up and pulled at the duck tape, which wrapped entirely around Crowley’s head, and meant pulling at his hair even more. 

Finally, Crowley was completely freed, and the sweat and blood on his face began to mingle with his tears and the blood from his hands on the floor. 

“Bout time you got here.” Crowley said, though there was no venom in it. 

Aziraphale huffed out a soft laugh, and chose to ignore the rasp of Crowley’s voice, rough from his screaming, no doubt. 

“Can you snap?” He asked, worried for the state of the demon’s hands, and Crowley sighed and struggled for a moment, but managed. 

Aziraphale summoned his handkerchief again and began wiping at the blood left behind on Crowley’s now healed forehead before handing it to him to see to his hands. It was odd that he’d not cleaned himself up, and meant he had probably worn himself out with other attempted miracles, or fighting, or was just still out of it from the pain. Aziraphale didn’t comment, but instead did a quick miracle of his own to make them both look more presentable. 

They still had to get back, after all. 

“How did you get here?” Crowley asked, throat still sore sounding. 

“Ah, I flew.” Aziraphale admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Crowley snorted, and it was clear they weren’t getting back like that. Aziraphale wasn’t even certain he would make it back to the main road, tired as he looked. 

“Give you a ride to the bus stop?” He offered, and Crowley jerked his head around to stare at Aziraphale disbelievingly. 

Aziraphale realized too late the echo of Crowley’s offer from the night he’d given him the holy water, and he shrugged apologetically. 

“It’s all overgrown. The place is abandoned. It’s also raining. And of course, we’ll have to commandeer a coach, but…” He shrugged. “I’ve got a strong bourbon back at the shop that should help take the edge off.” 

He saw as Crowley’s mind struggled to catch up, and saw the exact moment he remembered what they’d had planned. 

“I’m sorry Angel, we missed the concert.” He looked so guilty that Aziraphale didn’t bother stopping himself from leaning forward and pulling Crowley into a hug. 

“Hardly your fault, dear boy, and I know you’ll make it up to me. Lots of other concerts out there. In the meantime though…” He stood, pulling Crowley with him, and as he’d expected, found him swaying on his feet. 

He turned around, looked back over his shoulder, and awkwardly patted his own back. 

“Hop on.”

Crowley looked like he’d bit a lemon, and though he obeyed, with his face so close to his ear, Aziraphale heard him mumble something about it being undignified, and he was grateful that Crowley couldn’t see his expression. 

“Come now, tell me about Mister Blobby. We’re in his house, you know. One of yours, wasn’t it?” 

And maybe urging Crowley to speak was unkind, with his rasping from his muffled screaming, but the glee with which he told the story did much to carry them out of the park and towards the road to home.

AN: Don’t know who Mr. Blobby is? Can’t believe they made a theme park around him? Well, now you do. You’re welcome.

[millie1536]

Safe?

The second instalment of Izzy’s story. I’ve been calling it The Little Princess AU but I’m not 100% sold on the name

TW: Panic attacks, Mentions of abuse, Voices

Kathrine was surprised at how quickly the other Queens agreed to take Izzy in. She had been expecting at least one of them to reject the idea but all five women agreed. It took a few days for all the paperwork to go through but once the formalities were out of the way Anne and Kathrine were able to pick Izzy up from her temporary foster parents and bring her home. They had told the others the bare minimum about Izzy’s past, it wasn’t their story to tell.

“She’s been through a lot,” Kathrine had told them. She was relieved when the others nodded but didn’t push for any more information. They had arranged to bring Izzy home on the cousins day off. Kathrine hoped that it would be easier for Izzy to adjust to the new environment if the others weren’t there.

The house was large, it wasn’t anything excessive but it did have 6 bedrooms. Originally the room next to Anne’s had been Kitty’s but it hadn’t taken Kathrine long to move into Anne’s room and so that became Izzy’s room.

“I know it’s plain, but we thought you’d like to decorate it yourself.” Anne said as Izzy put her rucksack on the bed. She gave Anne a small smile. “Are you hungry?” Anne couldn’t help but notice just how thin the girl was, “We could make pancakes? The others won’t be home for a few hours so we don’t need to worry about Jane or Catherine telling us to ‘clean as you go’.” Anne suggested. Izzy shrugged; she didn’t know what Anne wanted her to say so she decided that not saying anything was her best bet. Anne seemed to take Izzy’s response as a yes and the two of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Kathrine, who had been sitting in the living room reading through the information they had been given about Izzy, joined them.

“Could you grab the eggs, milk and butter from the fridge?” Anne asked Izzy, “And Kitty can get the dry ingredients from the pantry.” Izzy hurried to collect the items from the fridge, setting them down on the counter before looking back at Anne. Kathrine came back a minute later with everything they would need from the pantry. Anne couldn’t help but notice the blank expression on Izzy’s face, Kitty seemed to notice it too.

“Hey Izzy, I think I left my phone on the couch, could you get it for me?” Kathrine asked, Izzy nodded before heading into the lounge room. Once she was out of earshot Kathrine turned to Anne, “We need to be careful,” Kitty warned her cousin, “She’ll do anything we ask.”

“What do you mean?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know how long he had her but it was long enough for him to get her to a point where she won’t question anything. It’s going to be hard to break his hold on her.” Kathrine elaborated, she remembered how Mannox was able to worm his way into the minds of the people around him. How he slowly but surely broke people down until they couldn’t fight any longer. “We’re going to have to be careful what we say, the others too.” Anne nodded; they couldn’t risk hurting Izzy.

 By the time the others returned home Izzy was beginning to relax a little. She was curled up under a blanket between Anne and Kathrine watching TV when she heard the front door unlock. Instinctively Izzy jumped up from where she had been sitting and squeezed herself into the corner of the room, partially hidden by a bookshelf.

“It’s alright Izzy.” Anne went to move towards the girl but Kathrine stopped her.

“Don’t let anyone come in here just yet.” Anne nodded before going to meet the others, “Izzy, can you breathe for me? Just relax, alright.” Kathrine made no move to close the gap between the two of them. “No one’s going to hurt you.” At that Izzy’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Kitty?” Izzy murmured, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

“I’m right here, you’re alright.” There was a flash of movement as Izzy dived into Kathrine’s arms.

“Kitty, I’m scared.” Izzy whispered, her voice shaking.

“Shh, it’s alright. You don’t need to be afraid of them, they won’t hurt you.” Kathrine held the shaking girl close. Talking to her softly until she relaxed. “They’d like to meet you, when you’re ready.” Izzy nodded.

“I-I think I’m ready.” Izzy said, holding tight to Kathrine’s hand.

Izzy was aware that, alongside Anne and Kitty, there were four other women living in the house. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but it wasn’t anything close to the reality. She followed Kathrine into the kitchen to meet the four women. She studied each one carefully as they spoke. In particular, she watched their eyes. She searched for any hint of malice, any sign that one of them wanted to hurt her. Nothing. As she watched the women she could see nothing that indicated any danger. Slowly, she lessened her grip on Kathrine’s hand, though she didn’t let go entirely. Her eyes were drawn to one woman in particular. She was shorter than the rest with curly brown hair that Izzy couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to play with. After a few moments her eyes fell on the book under the woman’s arm. The woman must have noticed because she smiled before asking,

“Do you like to read?” Izzy nodded, still a little shy. “You’re welcome to read any of the books in my room anytime you like.” Izzy’s eyes widened at the prospect.

“Really?” She asked, she didn’t notice the way everyone else in the room looked at each other when she spoke. All she could see was the curly haired woman with the book under her arm.

“Of course.”

 Later that night, after Izzy had gone to bed, the queens sat together in the living room.

“She’s a sweet kid.” Aragon said, the others nodded.

“Yeah, but we need to be careful.” Kathrine told them, “It’s going to take time for her to realise that she’s safe here. Mannox had a strong hold on her and it’s going to be hard to break.”

“Mannox?” Anna asked, “As in Henry Mannox?” It wasn’t until then that Kathrine and Anne realised that they had left that out when telling the rest of the group about Izzy.

“The one and only.” Anne said bitterly.

“He’s back?” Jane couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“Yeah, but he’s in prison now.” Kathrine said, reassuring herself more than the others.

“Anything else we should know?” Aragon asked, there was nothing but concern in her voice.

“Just be gentle with her.”

 Upstairs Izzy was pacing across her bedroom floor. She was exhausted but something inside her was telling her not to sleep.

If you go to sleep they’ll hurt you, a voice whispered. Izzy shook her head.

“No they won’t. Kitty promised they wouldn’t.” She muttered to herself as she walked faster.

That’s what he said isn’t it? ‘don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.’ The voice seemed to morph into that of Mannox. ‘Just relax, it won’t hurt.’ But it did. They hurt you and so will your new friends. How many of them will it take to hold you down do you think? Or will they tie you down instead? Maybe they’ll drug you? You’ll have no chance of getting away then.

“Stop it.” Izzy growled, slamming the heel of her palm against her forehead.

What makes you think these people will be different? Everybody wants something. Maybe they don’t want you for your body, but if that’s the case what do they want? Perhaps they want a maid. After all, they were once Queens. Surely they’re accustomed to certain standards. Or maybe you’re just a publicity stunt?

“Shut up!” Izzy yelled, forgetting that there were people downstairs. “Shut the fuck up!”

 “Shut up!” Six pairs of eyes turned to the stairs. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Stay down here.” Kathrine instructed before running up the stairs and towards Izzy’s room.

Izzy could hear the footsteps approaching her door.

I told you, the voice said, everyone wants something.

“Izzy? Are you alright?”

And look who it is. Kitty’s no different to Mannox and his friends. She doesn’t care about you. None of them do.

“Izzy? Can I come in?”

Who knows, maybe she’ll be gentle. Maybe it won’t hurt as much with her as it did with them.

“No!” Izzy yelled, “Leave me alone!”

“Izzy, what’s going on?” Kathrine asked through the door. She was debating whether or not to give the girl some space when she heard a loud crash. Without wasting another minute Kathrine entered the room. She froze, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

The room was a mess. The bed had been stripped and the sheets and blankets strewn across the room. The lamp that had sat on the nightstand now lay broken on the floor. Clothes and whatever else had been in Izzy’s bag had been throw across the room. But what worried Kitty the most was the little girl in the corner of the room. Izzy was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest in the far corner of the room, her eyes were screwed tight and her hands clamped over her ears as she rocked back and forward, with each rock her head slammed into the wall behind her.

“Izzy?” Kathrine approached the girl slowly as if approaching a wild animal. “Can you hear me? It’s me, Kitty.” She sat down across from the girl, leaving about two metres between them. Izzy made no indication that she was aware of Kathrine’s presence. “Izzy, it’s alright. You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.” Kathrine could tell that she wasn’t going to get through to the girl before she knocked herself out, she’d probably already given herself a concussion. “I’m sorry Izzy.” She said before moving forward and pulling the girl off the wall. Izzy screamed as she was pulled away from the wall. Her eyes stayed shut as she fought against her attacker. Kathrine had been expecting the panicked response and was prepared for the kicks and punches that were being thrown. What she wasn’t expecting was for Izzy to bite her. Kathrine was trying to hold the girl’s arms still when she felt a sharp pain in her hand. Looking down she saw Izzy’s teeth had a firm grip on her hand.

“Izzy, I know you’re scared but I need you to open your eyes.” Katherine, despite the pain, kept her voice calm and gentle, “You’re safe here. We won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.” Something she had said must have gotten through to Izzy because the girl immediately pulled away. Kathrine could feel her trembling as her eyes began to focus.

“You can’t.” Kathrine could hear the terror in her voice, “There’s too many of them. They’ll hurt you too.” Izzy shut her eyes again as hot tears broke free, “I have to go back.” She sobbed into Kathrine’s shoulder, “They’ll be looking for me and if they find you then…” Izzy held tighter to Kathrine as she thought about what would happen to them, “I can’t let them hurt you.” Kathrine just sat there, her hand rubbing circles on Izzy’s back as she whispered soft words of comfort. Her mind, however, was spinning.

Them? There’s more than one. How many are there? What if she’s right? What if they come after us?

Kathrine’s mind continued to spiral until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, turning around to see who it was that had rescued her from falling down the rabbit hole.

“You two alright?” Anne asked, kneeling beside her cousin. Kathrine didn’t respond, instead she looked down at the exhausted child shaking in her arms.

“I’m going to take her back to our room,” Kathrine told her, “See if she’ll sleep there. Tell the others I won’t be coming back down tonight.” Anne nodded, watching as Kathrine left the room with Izzy in her arms. When she heard the door to the bedroom she and her cousin shared close she turned back to the room. She had known from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be easy but the state of Izzy’s bedroom confirmed what she already knew. They were going to have to be patient with Izzy.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 2 “Strange Whisky Man”

a/n: thank you SO much to everyone who read and left comments on the first chapter! It means everything to me when I read that you liked this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

Ch. 1 

January 21, 2019

When Claire opened her eyes to the sun streaming through the window over the white linen sheets, her mind was blank. For a few brief, quiet moments, she forgot the events of the past twelve hours. But then as she turned to her side and realized she wasn’t in her own bed, she remembered why and fear crept in.

What the bloody hell was she going to do?

She moved in with Frank three years ago when they came to Edinburgh after she graduated from university. Their home was her home. A place where they had both created memories, shared Christmases and even talked about getting married.

As she sat up, her hands moved to her forehead, pressing against the temples to ease the throbbing ache. She was going to take things one day at a time. And after all… Geillis had said she could stay as long as she needed to, thank God she had a spare room.

Feeling a bit lost without her phone, Claire sighed as she put one foot after the other on the carpeted floor and stood. Her joints popped as she stretched her hands high above her head.

“You can do this, Beauchamp.” Claire took a deep breath and steeled herself for the day, ready to face whatever new challenges came at her.

When she walked out into Geillis’ living room, she was surprised to see boxes of her stuff sitting on the floor.

“Geillis?” She called out, walking through the house to find her friend.

“In the kitchen!”

The red headed woman was standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, flipping bloody pancakes. Claire felt overwhelmed by so many different emotions and walked over to Geillis and wrapped her arms around her.

“Oh, Claire.” Geillis smiled and wrapped one arm around her waist. “Ye alright, lass?”

“I will be,” Claire smiled as best she could. “I just… love you a lot. You’ve picked up my stuff from my shitty ex and now you’re making pancakes.”

“Aye,” Geillis grinned and then turned back to the stove. “I’m just doin’ all these nice things for ye so someday when I need a favor, ye have no choice but to help.”

Claire scoffed, “I don’t think I have a choice whether I help you or not. Geillis Duncan does not simply ask, she demands.” They both laughed at the truth of the statement. When Claire had first moved to Edinburgh, she had been quite reserved and was slow to make friends. Geillis had spoken to her on her first day of work and Claire knew they would hit it off.

Her friend was also usually right about everything. Last night, Geillis had mentioned how she never felt right around Frank and now there was a reason why. He was a cheater, a liar and a manipulative bastard.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay, Claire walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a glass for water.

“Did you get my phone by chance? I hope I don’t have too many missed messages.”

“Och, aye I did. I plugged it in on my charger in my room, ye can go and get it.”

“Thank you again,” Claire smiled and went to fetch her phone. When she unlocked it, she had only one message from a colleague updating her about a patient who was in critical care. Thankfully all was well, but Claire felt a little depressed that she only had one missed message. She really needed to get out more.

Claire joined Geillis back in the kitchen and hopped up on the counter.

“So, what’s this distillery thing again?” She swung her crossed ankles back and forth in the air, trying for any conversation that would distract her from thinking about Frank.

“Tis a company called ‘Fraser & Co.’, a family business I think. Anyways, my friends Rupert and Angus ken the owners and asked if I wanted to tag along,” she smiled, waving the spatula in the air as she talked. “There’ll be free whisky all night long, a good reason to get sloshed eh?”

“Right. Sloshed,” Claire sighed. She hoped with time that she would regain some feeling, some sense of humanness but currently all emotion had simply been drained out of her.

“It is okay for ye to try and have fun tonight, Claire.” Geillis flipped the last pancake and then turned to face her. “I ken it’s been no even twenty-four hours and ye’ve every right to be heartbroken, but sometimes a girl just needs a few stiff drinks and one night to pretend she hasna been hurt.”

Geillis was right. Again. What Claire didn’t need to do was wallow in self pity, that would only get her nowhere. And besides, she didn’t exactly want to keep crying over Frank fucking Randall — he didn’t deserve her tears.

“I’ll try my best,” she offered a warm smile and satisfied with her answer, Geillis turned back to the pancakes.

“Good. I’ll be by yer side the entire night and if ye ever want to ditch, just let me know,” the red haired woman drizzled warm syrup over the fluffy pancakes and just as she passed the plate into Claire’s hands, her stomach growled.

“Christ, I’m starving!” She laughed, took the fork offered to her and dove in. “Haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, I’ve no idea what got in the way of dinner last night,” she said sarcastically.

Kicking her in the shin lightly, Geillis laughed. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp isna lost to the world after all.”

++++++

It took Claire a bit longer than she expected to find something to wear tonight and no surprise there since all of her stuff had been quickly packed into boxes. In reality, she didn’t own a lot of clothes or personal items.

Perhaps it was because when her parents died, she had moved around a lot with Lamb. He was an archaeologist and so every few months, they traveled to a different country which meant hoarding things like band t-shirts, books and any other normal teenage girl items were out of the question.

Once on her way home from work, Claire had passed by a store with a lovely display of vases and almost purchased one. She wasn’t exactly sure why she didn’t buy it — after all, she had a home with Frank and a table or mantle to place it on. She had stability.

Had.

Muttering things to herself like, “foolish woman, should have noticed,” Claire took her time getting ready. Opting for simple black fitted jeans and a cozy sweater, her next task was to tame her curls.

Growing up, she hated having curly hair and had always wished for straight hair like her mother. But Julia Beauchamp had insisted that Claire learn to love her curls and also how to properly take care of them.

Proper care was thrown out the window when she traveled around with Lamb and since then, she hadn’t taken up putting in the effort again. It wasn’t that her hair was unkempt, but it often resembled a bird’s nest… an inviting one nonetheless.

Forcing herself to wear a little bit of foundation and mascara, Claire put the brush down and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not bad, Beauchamp.”

When she walked out to where Geillis was waiting, she stopped and stared at her friend. She was wearing a short black dress with a deep v-cut and thigh high boots. It was January… in Scotland.

“What? Too slutty ye think?” Geillis followed Claire’s gaze and looked down at herself.

“No, no not at all,” Claire whistled, her eyes wide and then laughed. “You look great actually, but now I feel rather frumpy.”

Giving her a once over, Geillis screwed up her face, “Aye, ye do, but ye have an excuse. It’s no like yer goin’ to be keen on talkin’ to any men. So this way they’ll be sure to stay away!”

“Geillis!” Claire gasped, feigning shock and hit her playfully on the arm. “Okay, now you look like a slut.”

“Grandma,” Geillis retorted and then grabbed her car keys.

++++++

The grand opening party for Fraser & Co. was being held at the owner’s estate according to Geillis’ friend Rupert. The two women had picked up their two companions, also Scots of course and made the short journey to Lallybroch. From the little Claire knew of Gaelic, the word ‘Lallybroch’ meant something like ‘lazy tower’ and she very was interested to see if such a tower existed.

“So, Claire,” Angus leaned forward from the backseat, his face a bit too close to Claire’s to be completely comfortable, “How long have ye known our lass, Geillis?”

Avoiding unnecessary contact, Claire leaned forward so that her back was at an awkward angle and turned her head towards Angus. “Almost three years, feels like ages though.”

“How come we’ve ne’vr met ye then?”

“Claire doesna get out much, ye ken,” Geillis chimed in. “She’s a big boss lady and doesna have time to hang out wi’ the lower class.”

Claire nudged her friend in the side, rolling her eyes. “You know that’s not true. It was Frank who insisted on spending all of my free time with him.”

“Who’s Frank?” Rupert, the burlier of the two men asked.

“No one important anymore,” Claire said and put an end quickly to that rabbit hole.

A short time later, they arrived at their destination. It wasn’t very late in the day, 7pm to be exact, but the sun had set a long time ago and so the only lights on the estate were hundreds of twinkling fairy lights hung all around. The home looked absolutely magical and Claire decided that this is what all typical Scottish fairytale homes looked like.

They had arrived a bit later than expected due to getting lost in the dark and therefore had missed the opening speech from the owners welcoming them to the launch. The four of them quickly found the open bar, however, and Claire was now onto her second whisky of the night.

Rupert had just told a joke that had made the entire crowd around them laugh in hysterics, but not Claire. While she enjoyed the company, her heart wasn’t in it to be surrounded by so many people.

“I’m just going to take a walk around, I’ll be fine,” She said to Geillis, giving her a cheerful smile as she slowly wormed her way out of the crowd.

As she stepped out of the house to get some fresh air and enjoy the pretty lights, Claire was thankful she had worn a comfy sweater instead of trying to give off the impression that she wasn’t absolutely freezing. Even with her hands tucked under the material of her sleeves, however, she still shivered.

“Yer shaking so hard, yer makin’ my teeth rattle just at the sight of ye.”

Jumping a little at the unexpected company, Claire looked over to her right and saw a very tall, broad, red haired man leaning against the wall.

“Do ye want a plaid or maybe a coat?” He asked her kindly and then approached her. She knew the man was waiting for an answer to his question, but when he came closer and she looked into his blue eyes, she forgot any language that made sense.

The man gave her an odd look and then reached out, waving his hand in front of her face and finally she shook her head, and her speech was restored.

“No, thank you. I’ll be just fine,” she smiled and then turned to head back inside the house. Claire had come outside to get away from people, and this man who made her incapable of coherent thought was getting in the way of that.

“Ye dinna seem like ye want to be around people,” He said just as her foot hit the first step.

“Your point is?” She gazed over at him, noticing the subtle quirk of his mouth, and the deep auburn shine to his curly hair.

“I ken of a place wi’ a few less people is all,” he smiled and before she could tell herself no and to go find Geillis and ask to go home, Claire retraced her steps and came to stand in front of the man once again.

“Show me, then.”

Observing that she had come outside for to find quiet, the man didn’t speak as he lead them around the estate and to a large stable. Only when he disappeared inside an office looking room and returned with a plaid, did Claire speak.

“Thank you,” she smiled, accepting his kind gesture to keep her warm.

“Dinna fash. Canna have ye freezin’ to death!” He laughed — a deep laugh that made Claire want to tell a joke just so she could hear it again.

“So why did you bring me to the stables?” She asked and took a few steps in, looking around at the horses that were in their stalls.

“Och, I always find the company of a horse to be more favorable than people,” the man said and walked up next to her, his hands down at his sides.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” Claire mused out loud and came to stand in front of a stall with a beautiful black horse. “Don’t know anything about them really.”

For whatever reason, Claire felt comfortable in this stranger’s presence. Perhaps it was being around the horses, but as he stood next to her, she suddenly longed to know everything about him.

“Ye are a Sassenach,” the man chortled, “That doesna exactly surprise me.”

Claire looked up at him and was once again struck by the blueness of his eyes. “A Sassenach?” She pronounced the word slowly, trying to mimic his accent.

His eyebrows shot up and an amused look crossed his face, “I only mean English, tis another term for ye… an outlander.”

“Hmmm, I hope it’s used affectionately,” she snorted a bit and then covered her mouth with her hand. Only did she snort when she felt totally relaxed and right now she blamed the alcohol.

The man only laughed and then suddenly disappeared back into the office. Claire mentally shrugged and wrapped the plaid tighter around her body, returning her attention back to the horse in front of her.

“Would ye like a dram?” The man said from behind her and she turned to see him holding two glasses of whisky.

“What do you own the place or something?” She laughed, remarking at his ability to produce items from seemingly out of nowhere but took the glass he offered her.

The scot stiffened beside her, his left hand tapping twitchy fingers along his thigh. “Och, I ken the owner a wee bit.”

“I see. And he has no problem with you showing random strangers his stable and drinking his hidden whisky?”

The man grinned over his glass, “None at all.”

Claire wondered exactly who he was, but decided not to push further. She took a sip, letting it burn her throat and then took a seat on the bench near the entrance. The man awkwardly stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do but ultimately took a seat beside her.

“What do ye think of the whisky?”

He was sitting very close to her and she could smell his aftershave — minty with a hint of spice that lingered in her nostrils. The man also radiated heat and she no longer felt the need of the plaid, letting it fall off one shoulder.

“It’s very good,” she smiled and remembering the glass in her hand took another sip.

“I’ll be sure to let the owner know that a beautiful Sassenach who’s never ridden a horse in her life enjoys his whisky,” the man said with a cheeky grin and Claire had the sudden urge to poke him in the stomach. So she did.

“Och! What was that for?” He laughed, rubbing at the spot she had poked him.

“Sorry,” she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing but ultimately burst into a fit of giggles, one so strong that tears filled her eyes.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she sighed as her laugh began to wind down. The man stared at her, clearly amused, but also maybe a bit frightened at this hysterical woman he had engaged in polite conversation with.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” He asked and she thought that he genuinely cared to know the answer.

The simple answer was yes, she was just a bit tipsy, but the real answer was far more complicated.

“I’m not really sure,” she said truthfully, earning her a distinctly Scottish noise from beside her.

“I didna expect such an honest answer,” the man grinned, his eyes full of sympathy.

“I’m not usually one to pour my heart out to a complete stranger,” Claire took another sip of whisky. “But you make me comfortable strange whisky man.”

“Strange whisky man? Yeesh,” the man chuckled and then offered his hand out to her. “Jamie, madam. Pleasure to meet ye.”

It took her a moment to move her own hand into his, but when her skin made contact with his, a bolt of electricity shot up her arm and she dropped the nearly empty glass onto the ground, making them both jump. Glass shattered at their feet, and Claire cursed herself for being so clumsy.

“Dinna move, Sassenach. I dinna want yer wee feet getting hurt,” Jamie stood and carefully avoided the glass. He went into the small office and came back with a small broom and dustpan. That room really did have a bit of everything.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said. “I’ll buy the owner another glass. Christ, Beauchamp!”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. Tis alright, I ken he willna mind, besides ’twas an accident,” he brushed up the remaining bits of glass and dumped it in a waste bin. With a final check to the area, Jamie offered both his hands to Claire and she took them, once again feeling that same buzz on her skin.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” Jamie hadn’t let go of her hands and she was fine if he never did.

“For cleaning up my mess.”

“I think I’d do anythin’ for ye, Sassenach.”

The air between them was so charged, so electric that Claire was sure if a match was struck, they’d both burst into flames on the spot.

Jamie’s hand moved from hers and slipped around her waist, holding her close to his body and she felt the heat of him against her skin. There was nothing else that mattered in this moment other than the thought of what his lips would taste like on hers.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Sassenach,” Jamie whispered and she stood on her toes and paused, her lips a breath away from his.

“Kiss me.” And he did.

Chapter 3: “Nooks & Books” 

[ikesenhell]

Admissions

Again., Chapter 6–a collaboration by myself and @a-shout-to-the-void​ AKA Vaya. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here, and Vaya’s  here. NOTES: HERE WE GO AGAIN. 

He hated to admit it, but Mitsunari was right. Something about this case didn't add up. They lingered in the office, pouring over the smallest details of the dossiers.

“So.” Mitsunari cleared his throat, those purple eyes wide and serious. “They still haven’t found the daughter.”

Ieyasu just grunted. No point in acknowledging it. In the timeframe of the murder, it would have been impossible to hide a child. They both knew it.

“I got some interesting records.” He flopped another file onto the table. “The child--sorry, Renée Ailes--she’s been having problems with her mother for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Apparently. Police interviews with the girl’s friends indicate that they’d get into fights and she would come stay at their houses regularly. It’s unclear over what just yet. And then, the week before the disappearance, she made a bunch of withdrawals from her savings account.”

“Savings account?” Ieyasu echoed, huffing a laugh. “What, did she have $20 in it?”

Mitsunari blinked. “The withdrawals total somewhere around two thousand.”

“What!? How does a high schooler have that much money? I didn't even have a bank account!”

“No?” Mitsunari looked utterly confused. “I think I had--”

“Right, your family is rich. So is theirs.” Ieyasu scowled and flapped the folder shut. “Anything else?”

“Report says there’s a boyfriend. Of the daughter, I mean, not the mother. He’s twenty-two. Jacqueline Ailes claims to have no knowledge of him.”

They both paused. Ieyasu inhaled slowly. “He’s been interviewed, right?”

“Yeah. He claims to have no information. He says he hasn’t had any contact with her since the night she disappeared. And,” Mitsunari continued, brow furrowed. “No warrant was issued for his home. That’s all the information we have about him.”

Nothing about this was adding up. Ieyasu rearranged the pieces over and over again, struggling to find where they all fit. God. Maybe someone else could make sense of this, but he was just a lawyer, not a detective. The longer they looked at the evidence, the murkier it became.

“There’s something wrong here,” Mitsunari murmured. “I don’t like it.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Ieyasu grumbled.

The other man shot him a silvery, sweet smile. Ieyasu’s heart almost beat out of his chest. How could the man make everything look handsome? “I’d try to be wrong more often, but I don’t think you’d like that, either.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

“Well then.” Mitsunari beamed; all of Ieyasu’s blood tangled and quickened at the sight. What had gotten into him? “Shall we make do with what we have in the meantime?”

“Guess we have to.”

---

For once, the pair found themselves sitting in the gallery of a courtroom the next morning. Around them, clusters of people volleyed whispers as the prosecutor settled back into his seat. Ieyasu couldn’t see his face, but the way the man tilted his chair onto its back legs and rocked felt too confident, too assured, and it irked Ieyasu. Probably some hotshot fresh into the office. Typical.

At least Williams would be offering the closing defense. That was sure to be tolerable, if nothing else. She rose from her seat with the kind of flame in her eyes that Ieyasu had never seen--a zeal that radiated off her and to the balconies like a Valkyrie.

“Oh,” Mitsunari murmured, his eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Over and over again throughout this trial, we’ve heard the prosecution present pieces of evidence that they believe condemns my client. Their language was clever, I must admit. ‘If we believe,’ ‘anyone might think,’ ‘under these circumstances.’ The prosecution has spun pretty words to distract the jury from the reality of their evidence: it’s circumstantial. There is not a single piece of evidence that definitively puts my client within a mile of the murder at the moment it happened. There is not a single piece of evidence demonstrating a clear motive.

“No, instead what we have here is what we see all too often in a courtroom: a prosecutor brought a flimsy case against a man from a disadvantaged community, assured in their belief that the jury they’d so carefully selected would be led astray by cheap theories and empty words. But that was their mistake. There is only one truly just outcome today, and it is the freedom of my client. An innocent man’s life is in the hands of the law. Use it well.”

The jury returned a verdict in less than ten minutes. “Not guilty” were the last words the head juror spoke before the entire courtroom erupted in thunderous applause.

Somehow in all the commotion, she saw them. Smiling from ear to ear, she pressed through the crowd, letting her client remain with another staffer. “Hey!”

“Hello!” Mitsunari nearly glowed. “Excellent work. You really did a phenomenal job.”

“Thank you.” She let her twists down from the tight bun, peering at Ieyasu with a teasing grin. “Find any fault with me, senpai?”

“Senpai?” Ieyasu repeated, staggering over his thoughts. “No. You--that was just fine. You did alright.”

“Ooh, high praise. Well, thank you.” And she shot him a wink. “Either way, I wanted to say thanks to you both for getting me home the other day. It really saved me. I was a bit tanked.”

“To say the least.”

Mitsunari shook his head. “It was nothing. We were happy to make sure you got back safely. Nothing happened?”

“No. Someone came on the L train to preach, but, y’know. L train.” Williams cast an eye back at the swelling crowd and offered them both a conspiratorial smile, sending shivers through Ieyasu’s body that he couldn’t entirely attribute to respect. “I have to go. Someone needs to do this press conference. I’ll see you both soon--outside of court, hopefully?”

“Hopefully.” Mitsunari shook her hand.

“Yeah,” Ieyasu muttered, and she fixed him with such a dazzling, gleaming smirk that he almost recanted all his sourness. “Probably. Probably soon.”

“Oh? I’ll hold you to that, Tokugawa. Cheers!”

She sauntered back into the crowd. Ieyasu ripped his eyes from her legs and cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s go.”

---

They did meet again. Mitsunari hadn’t expected it to be so soon afterward. Fortunately for him, he and Ieyasu were both on a run to the local coffee shop when they saw her in the packed, cramped line. She looked resplendent in the sea of black coats, her bright yellow one sunny and warm in the New York bustle.

“Here!” She called, motioning to them. “I saved us a place!”

Ieyasu shot Mitsunari a questioning glance.

“I didn't know you’d set up a coffee visit with Williams,” Mitsunari guessed, as confused as his partner.

“I didn't,” Ieyasu answered, but pressed forward anyway, jostling his way between grouchy pedestrians. Never one to turn down a good social event, Mitsunari followed, apologizing to every pushed passerby with a smile. That seemed to smooth them over. Finally they got to her corner, and she welcomed them with open arms.

“I didn't know we were meeting!”

Williams just winked at Mitsunari. He marveled at the way she made warmth spread clear to his toes. She had that same strange, unquestionable power that Ieyasu had. No doubt everyone felt this way around her. “I didn't think you guys came here.”

“Better than Starbucks,” Ieyasu grumbled. “Though usually they aren’t this damn crowded. What gives? Did everywhere else run out of beans?”

“Dunno--oop!” Someone next to her elbowed her. She jostled forward into the two of them, who caught her at the same time. “Sorry, sorry--”

“It’s fine--”

“Don’t worry! It’s nothing--”

Amidst the scent of roasting coffee and mocha, the sweet, lingering smell of honeysuckle swirled around them. Both he and Ieyasu paused. Was that her? Mitsunari parsed through the options and immediately realized it was--the perfume was woven into every twist of her long hair.

“Are you wearing that perfume?” Ieyasu asked, as if reading Mitsunari’s mind. “Honeysuckle?”

“Yeah.” She pet her hair sheepishly. “I’m fond of it. When I was a kid growing up in the south, the summers smelled like honeysuckle, so I got attached to it. We had some in the backyard with the morning glories.”

“I recall that!” Mitsunari jumped in. “When we summered in the Cape, there was some growing out back. It’s a wonderful, mystical kind of smell.”

Ieyasu and Williams both shot him looks--one flat, the other teasing.

“Summered in the Cape?” Ieyasu stared. “Could that be a bougier sentence?”

Williams barely restrained her giggles. “Extremely bougie. ‘Summered’. He said ‘summered’.”

“Yes, it could be bougier,” Mitsunari added, playing dumb. “I could say something like: ‘We stopped over at the Cape on our private jet between horse races, where we would go and attend to our stables’.”

“That didn't happen, did it?”

“No. We don’t have that many horses.”

Williams burst into unfettered laughter and hid her face in Ieyasu’s shoulder, who looked like he might write his resignation letter within the hour. Mitsunari just smiled cheerily back until he shook his head.

“The perfume is really strong. You’re getting it all over my coat.”

“Oh?” Williams teasingly brushed off his shoulder. “Sorry about that. I’m assuming you don’t have memories of summering in the Cape to that smell.”

“No.” Ieyasu paused, then lowered his head, admitting, “My grandmother… had some. I think. I don’t know. I didn't care enough to remember that, obviously.”

Mitsunari had long grown used to Ieyasu’s way of worming out of things. He didn't miss the subtle way that Ieyasu tucked his coat in closer around him, burying his nose into the collar for a moment more than necessary in the warm confines of the coffee shop. Williams didn't pretend not to notice--she just grinned at him until he turned away, his ears unusually dark in the dim light.

“I don’t suppose I’ll get to run into you both here every day?”

“Well.”

“We come in around eleven thirty,” Mitsunari calculated. “Because typically when we enter the office at eight, Umeka prepares coffee, and by the time it wears off it’s around eleven fifteen. By then she’s usually occupied with Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu doesn’t like the way anyone else prepares it--”

“--everyone else burns it,” Ieyasu muttered, almost too subtle to be heard.

“--so we typically come in for a dip here anywhere from eleven twenty-three to eleven thirty-six.” He paused. “If you were so inclined to join us.”

If looks could kill, Ieyasu might’ve committed a crime with the one he sent Mitsunari. For her part, Williams smiled. “Well, I don’t know my schedule like that, but I’m thinking I could arrange something.”

“I’d like that.” Mitsunari paused, noticing Ieyasu still hadn’t moved that horrifying stare, and added, “We would like that.”

“Perfect.” Williams laced her arm through the crook of Ieyasu’s elbow. “It’s a date.”