#had to resist the urge to draw stink lines

[emeraldotter]

baby boy

[chuluoyi]

yours, indefinitely

- geto suguru x reader

each memorable and meaningful moment shared by the two of you during your journey to parenthood ♡

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact! (yes i can't resist it) pregnancy, a lot of comfort and love, insecurities, hurt/comfort, a dash of crack, soft!geto, massive and absolute fluff !!

note: based on this and this. this... is an idea i got after writing drabbles about soft dad gojo :') you all know this is my first time writing geto and the first time in a while i'm writing a longer fic so i'm having a lot of doubts but i hope you'll enjoy it!! wc. 3k !

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

When you found out that you were five weeks pregnant, you were genuinely conflicted for two reasons— one, it was unexpected as you weren't even married yet, and two, you were anxious about your boyfriend's reaction to the news.

But contrary to your worries and fears, doubts and tears... Geto Suguru marries you. He led you to the city hall almost immediately— and just like that, in the eyes of the law, you were officially husband and wife.

Because he has always known that he wants to share his life with you, and with this newfound responsibility, it only reinforces his conviction that he wants that kind of forever with you.

MONTH TWO

Your pregnancy wasn't a breeze—no pregnancy is, to be exact—and you had resigned yourself to mornings of throwing up, but you definitely didn't expect that you would get so sick to the point of almost passing out in the bathroom.

You never wanted Suguru to see you like this, but when a strong arm got a hold of you and pulled back your hair, your heart soared regardless.

"Hey, you okay?" Suguru asked, clear worry lined in his eyes. It was five in the morning—he must've been awoken by the ruckus you caused in the bathroom.

When you heaved a breath and nodded, his frown deepened. "Why didn't you call me?"

"N-no, Sugu—" the words barely left your lips before the overwhelming urge to retch hit you again and you doubled over the toilet bowl.

Suguru maintained a steady hold on your body, and not once did he waver even when you puked your guts out. His grip only loosened when you were done, supporting you up and assisting you in rinsing your mouth at the sink.

"Do you feel better?" he asked gently, dabbing your mouth with a tissue. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"Suguru, you don't have to—" you untangled yourself from him feebly, still feeling faint. "It stinks here—"

"I have to," he reinforced, gaze boring straight at you. "Do you really think a smelly bathroom will stop me?"

“I d-don't want to trouble you...”

Suguru sighed and the next thing you knew, you found yourself being lifted in a princess carry, his hands securely under your knees. Surprised, you let out a yelp. "Suguru! P-put me down!"

"I'm telling you, you should trouble me," he pursed his lips together, face inching closer to yours, his dark eyes captivating, almost drawing you in. "We're in this together, remember?"

And in that very second, the sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and with it a renewed sense of love you had for this man, once just a figure you admired from afar and now, wholly your husband.

"Yeah..." you responded with a soft smile, completely unaware that Suguru cherished seeing that expression on your face more than anything else.

MONTH THREE

When you reached the third month, you thank all heavenly deities out there that your nausea was getting much better.

But in its place was your outrageous craving requests that more often than not sent Suguru into a daze.

"Wha? Say that again?" he looked at you with twitching eyes, mostly in disbelief. "You can't seriously ask me to... get what?"

"Ice cream with lemon toothpaste flavor," you looked at him with sad puppy eyes, almost resembling that glassy-eyed emoji. "It seemed tasty, Suguru... I want it."

His immediate response was clear this time. "No. Love, that... I doubt that combination even exists."

"Hmph... but baby wants it."

"But—!"

"Or I'll just get the toothpaste and—"

"No! Absolutely no!" okay, this was crazy, but Suguru would figure it out, somehow. "You can't eat toothpaste! I'll get it for you, okay!"

"Teehee~" your small giggle actually made his head spin even further, but if it meant you and your baby's wellbeing, Geto Suguru would cross the roads and did something to get you that non-existent ice cream.

In the end, he settled for mint and orange (because the parlor ran out of lemon) to recreate the nonsense of lemon toothpaste flavor. But when you tasted it, your eyes welled up with tears though.

“This... doesn't taste like toothpaste or lemon,” you sniffled, feeling betrayed. “Suguru, you liar.”

. . . oh, and here goes round two of wild goose chase of recreating edible ice cream for you and the baby. Sigh.

MONTH FOUR

With each passing day, your belly swelled, becoming increasingly prominent and rounder. And you wouldn’t believe it but the pregnancy glow was there—through your husband’s eyes, you looked most radiant, carrying his baby.

And it multiplied more when he saw you interact with his two girls.

"Miss Y/N, is it a boy or a girl?" Nanako inquired, touching your bump, her voice filled with excitement.

"Ah, we haven't found out yet..." you patted her in the head, quite touched that now she cared for you this much too. "What do you think it's going to be, Nanako-chan?"

"Ooh, it has to be a boy! If it's a boy, surely he'll be as handsome as Master Geto!"

Mimiko, ever the calmer of the two, hummed. "Hmm, personally I think it's going to be a girl."

"Ehh? If it's a girl... I guess, yeah— at least she's going to be cute!"

Maybe it was your hormones at play, but your spirits dampened somewhat when you noticed how Nanako leaned more towards the prospect of baby brother. The thought lingered in your mind even later that night on your marital bed, as Suguru spooned you from behind.

“Come to think about it, I think we can find out the gender right about now…” you mused, stroking your belly absentmindedly. “Suguru, do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

Suguru chuckled, placing his warm, bigger hand over yours on your growing tummy. “Hmm, you first. What do you think?”

"Honestly... a girl. At least, if it were up to me, I want a girl though."

"Ah, cute." Suguru felt his smile broaden at the very idea. "Mimiko and Nanako will get an adorable sister to play dress up with."

You nibbled your lower lip. "But you'd want a boy, wouldn't you?"

"Hm? No," he responded almost immediately. "Quite the opposite, actually. I'm with you on this one. A girl would be nice."

"Even when you already have the twins?"

"Another baby girl— what's so bad with that?" Suguru sighed against your neck, his palm still tenderly caressing your belly. "One who will look like you—the woman whom I love the most... what are you worried about?"

One thing you loved about Suguru was his eloquence. His words had the power to persuade you, even when they seemed at odds with your own beliefs. And more often than not, his words were always aimed to make you feel safe.

And right now, you couldn't have loved him more.

. . .

In your next checkup, as if the gods were all granting your wish all this time— you're having a girl.

MONTH FIVE

“Why won’t she kick?” Suguru pressed his ears on your tummy on the bed, brows knitting together.

You grinned. “She was quite lively a little while ago. She's probably resting now.”

Suguru pursed his lips into a pout, snuggling closer to your round belly. “Hmm, little one, can you hear me? Just one kick for papa, please?”

Moments like this were ones you cherished the most. Your husband's love for your unborn child always filled your heart with warmth.

“She’s not responding.” Suguru sat up with a gentle sigh, a hint of disappointment shadowing his expression. Yet, he quickly mustered a warm smile for you. “Tired after bothering mama, huh?”

Suddenly, you let out a hearty chuckle. “You know, Suguru… I think our baby resembles you.”

He blinked in puzzlement. “Eh? How so?”

“She’s so peaceful, hardly causes me any discomfort lately—she’s idyllic, just like you.” You could feel your face getting warm but you just had to say this to your husband.

Suguru was visibly taken aback, but then the hints of pink tinted his face as he smiled. “Well… I’m glad that it’s been a smooth experience for you so far.”

Your heart swelled at his tender, genuine smile. Then, as if on cue, you felt the familiar stirrings and flutter inside—

“Suguru!”

You caught his hand and placed it on your tummy, just in time for your daughter to kick.

Suguru’s eyes sparkled with awe. "Did she just—?"

It was a profound moment for him, feeling the tangible sign of the new life you both had created. And as your laughter filled the room, light and joyful, Suguru knew with unwavering certainty—

He would do everything in his power to protect you and this baby. Who had become his whole world now.

MONTH SIX

It began as one ordinary day— before came the most horrific incident Suguru never thought would happen to you.

He got a call that you had passed out in the train station. Suguru had never truly known fear until then, feeling every hair on his body stand on end. The details he was provided were frustratingly vague, and he desperately tried not to think the worst.

He was teetering on the edge of a panic attack as he made his way towards the hospital you were brought to. The mere possibility of anything harmful happening to either you or the baby was unbearable. He didn't allow himself to consider any negative outcomes, driven by the need to be by your side.

By the time he arrived, you had regained consciousness, though you were still drifting in and out, clinging onto your swimming consciousness.

"Are you okay? Love, talk to me." Suguru got a hold of your hand as soon as he arrived, voice trembling. "What happened?"

"Suguru..." you managed to reply in feeble voice, still feeling the dull pounding in your temples. You could feel him squeeze your hand tighter. "I-I'm sorry... to m-make you worry..."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Suguru gritted his teeth in frustration. Always putting others first, he loved and sometimes hated that trait of yours. He stroked your hair. "Tell me how you feel. Do you feel better? Or should I call the doctor?"

Seeing how deeply concerned he was for both you and your baby brought a tear to your eyes. "I'm f-fine... just a little dizzy is all."

Once the doctor examined you and determined that you needed to stay in the hospital for a day due to low blood pressure, Suguru was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"You really, really scared me," he said in a raspy voice. "So many things could've gone wrong. What if you fell into the tracks instead? You would— I —" his voice actually hitched. "I could've lost both of you today."

At his words, a new flood of tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you couldn't help but sniffle. Suguru immediately comforted you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay… Don’t cry, please.” He cradled your face gently, thinking he had spooked you. “Just rest. I’m here,” and his other hand rubbed your belly for reassurance. “You and the baby are safe.”

Through this, you realized once again just how secure you were, with him.

MONTH SEVEN

You had been taking the prenatal classes lately—Suguru insisted on it because there was nothing he wouldn't spare for you— and the reality once again sank into you that you were going to have a little human to love and care soon.

"You need to hold her like this..." the friendly instructor guided, positioning her hand on the back of the doll's head. "Be gentle when washing the head, and make sure not to scratch her—"

Now you were once again learning how to bathe the baby. It felt complicated at first, but after the fifth session, you were getting the hang of it.

Not the case with Suguru though. He seemed to be genuinely struggling.

"No, sir! You're going to drown her like that!" the instructor gasped in horror, pulling the baby doll out of your husband's grasp. "I'm sorry, but the way you're holding her is too risky! You have to lower her slowly—"

It brought a wide smile on your face. It was a rare sight to see him not being good at what he was doing, so seeing him totally confused like this was refreshing.

"This is... not quite as easy as it looks," he let out a long sigh, still trying to wash the doll's head as gently as he was instructed. "And I can't really tell when I'm being too rough or not."

"Just imagine it's a real baby, how soft you think you can be?" you advised, almost giggling. "Babies are delicate, sort of like... oh! You can think of them as sensitive as Gojo!"

Suguru gave you a look. "If it were a baby with Satoru's face... I might just flip and toss him away."

And yet despite having a hard time for it, Suguru was persistent in this practice. Because no way was he going to miss out bathing his baby.

MONTH EIGHT

"Suguru... we—" you said in one intake of breath, but unable to continue as he crashed his lips into yours.

With skilled hands, Suguru deftly maneuvered the inside of your maternity sleepwear, unclasping your bra and your breasts—now heavy and full of milk—spilling out.

You didn’t mean to drag him into this. You just made one comment about how you thought that he no longer seemed to desire you as much now and Suguru responded by pulling you into a searing kiss, as if to show you that he, in fact, very much still does.

He groped your left breast and your body spasmed as you let out a hitched moan, writhing under him.

“What part of you—” he drawled, eyes blazing with certain electricity, voice deep and low—and you couldn’t help getting even wetter down there. “—that you said I’m not interested in anymore, mama?”

You mewled, feeling so small under him. You could only whine as he stripped you out of your silken undergarments and let you lay there bare, ready for the taking.

In Suguru’s eyes, you were the most divine. The mother of his child couldn't be less than heavenly. Seeing you so swollen and so full, with everything that was his—made him harder than ever possible.

You would learn it the fast way as his lips latched on your neck, nimble fingers worked through your breasts, and then your pussy—

“Ride me,” he commanded, right after turning you into a wet mush three times and tasting your cum—which was still as sweet as ever. He helped you get up and sat on his hardened member, that slid so easily inside you as you let out a whimper.

Gone was your gentle husband—he always turned into another beast entirely in bed.

“Look at you, sitting so pretty for me like this,” Suguru remarked with a meaningful grin as he placed his hands on both sides of your enormous belly.

“Mmnghh!” you scrunched your eyes shut. The sounds you made were completely beyond your will by now. Everything was just overwhelming you. The way his thick cock sheathed itself inside you and made you feel full, and the way your baby twisted and turned inside you at the same time was mind-blowing— and you haven't even started moving yet.

You could already see it already, how much of a mess you were going to be in once this ended.

Suguru noticed the baby’s rambunctious movement too and lightly tapped the skin of your belly, maintaining his sly smile.

“Oh, baby… forgive your papa and mama and buckle up, yeah? It’s going to be a rough ride for a bit.”

And soon, on one fateful morning, you were awoken by signs of labor, followed by your water breaking and full-blown contractions.

Suguru was beside you the entire time, worriedly hovering over you for support. He held you tight, providing comfort as you curled inwards each time intense contraction gripped your womb like a vice, hardening it into a rock-hard mass. Now is the real deal, he thought. Suddenly he was having doubts himself— he was going to become a parent. Both of you are.

Seeing you subjected to that much pain was almost unbearable, and even more so when your pained cries and screams echoed through the room as you brought your baby into the world, but then, then, suddenly—

His baby girl is here. She fit perfectly in his arms, round and snug in her blanket, with the softest black tufts of hair that she inherited from him. She cooed and mewled in her sleep—

—and Geto Suguru thought, nothing—absolutely nothing else mattered the very moment he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter.

"She is so tiny, so precious," Suguru whispered, his finger gently tracing the soft cheeks of the sleeping baby. Leaning on his shoulder, you could only sigh in awe, marveling at the sight of your husband and your new baby.

"Thank you," he turned to you then, eyes brimming with unshed tears and emotions. For giving me a another person to care for and love.

And you were at your happiest, finding yourself falling in love with your husband all over again, knowing well that he would cherish you with everything he had.

Days and months following the birth of your daughter was hectic and eventful.

Nanako and Mimiko had been a really great help around the house, and they adored your baby daughter more than anything, always taking turns to entertain her and make her all giggly, which brought you to another level of happiness.

And most of all, Suguru had taken his new role as a dad very seriously. You remembered him visibly struggling at baby care classes, but now he was a master of diaper changing and baby bathing— and you wouldn't be surprised if he was even better than you by now.

"Suguru, how are you so great at this all of a sudden?" you genuinely wondered with a literal question mark as you watched him washing your daughter in a bubble bath, her laughter filling the room.

"Hard work and perseverance, love," he replied, his tone light but proud. And you snorted when he gave you a wink.

Your daughter had never been shy to cry her heart out at 3 in the morning too, and each time she did, whenever you were about to leave the bed, Suguru would gently hold you back with a raspy voice, murmuring, "I'll get her. Go back to sleep."

He was the best husband a woman could ask for. Throughout the five months of your postpartum, he always made sure that you stayed hydrated, had a lot of rest and consumed nutritious food to replenish your strength. He always took over the baby-rearing duties whenever possible. You were treated no less than a princess, and honestly you were ever so grateful.

And so this time, despite his willingness, you got up from the bed and went to the baby's room. And the sight there caught your heart—

"There, there..." Suguru's voice was thick with sleep, yet he rocked your daughter back and forth with gentle patience. "Do you want to change your blanket? Is it not comfy for you?"

Your heart softened, melted—perhaps even fluttered away with the wind, turning into mush. When you first discovered a year ago that you were going to have a baby, you could never have anticipated that this was the life you would find yourself in.

Suguru opted to switch the blanket for a new one, but as you watched him fold and unfold it several times, confusion evident on his face, you decided it was time to step in.

"Here, you do it like this," your sudden appearance startled him, as you gently took the fabric away from him and wrapped your fussy daughter in it. "Looks like I finally found something you're still not great at," you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He was about to usher you back to the bedroom until you said that. "Heh."

You loved this life, and he too wouldn't trade it for the world. In the quiet tranquility of dawn, after both of you had successfully put your baby back to sleep, you spoke, "Thank you... and I love you, Suguru."

But he thought— you shouldn't have to thank him for anything, because after all, Geto Suguru lives for two princesses in his life; you and his baby daughter.

And after this, all that was left was giving you the wedding celebration of your dreams, one that both of you had been setting aside for a while now.

[ecoamerica]

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[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part sixteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: netural

el's thoughts: the next part!! yayyy please let me know your favorite parts or what you are hoping to see next!!

The sick feeling in Y/N’s stomach had nothing to do with the rocking of the rowboat. She tried to breathe deeply, to focus on the lights of the Ketterdam harbor disappearing behind them and the steady splash of the oars in the water. Beside her, Kaz adjusted his mask and cloak, while Muzzen, one of the Dregs, rowed with a relentless and aggressive speed. Hellgate rested on one of Kerch’s tiny outlying islands, Terrenjel. 

Fog lay low over the water, damp, and curling. It carried the smell of tar and machinery from the shipyards on Imperjum, and something else – the sweet stink of burning bodies from the Reaper’s Barge. The place where Ketterdam disposed of the dead who couldn’t afford to be buried in the cemeteries outside the city. ‘Disgusting.’ Y/N thought, drawing her cloak tighter around her. How could these people live with themselves? Not giving the dead the respect they deserved. Then again, it was Ketterdam… How many of these people truly deserved an honoring of their name? 

Y/N shuffled away from the edge of the rowboat, accidentally brushing her arm against Kaz’s side. If her being this close to him bothered him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he spoke in a quiet whisper, “We’re almost there.”

The tightness in her chest dwindled at his words. She nodded just enough for him to notice her thanks. 

~

When the boat’s hull scraped sand, two men rushed forward to haul them farther onto land. The other boats she’d seen were making ground in the same cove, being pulled ashore by more grunting men. Their features were vague through the gauze of her veil, but Y/N caught a glimpse of the tattoos that inked their forearms. A feral cat curled into a crown– the symbol of the Dime Lions. 

“Money?” One of them had asked as the crows clambered out of the boat. 

Kaz handed over a stack of kruge and once it was counted, the Dime Lion waved them on.

They all followed a row of torches up an uneven path to the leeward side of the prison. Y/N had seen the prison from afar before but looking up at it now… She understood why the mention of the jail instilled such a strong fear in people. She tilted her head back to gaze at the high black towers of the fortress named Hellgate.

A door had been propped open, and another member of the opposing gang led Y/N and the others inside. They entered a dark, surprisingly clean kitchen, its walls lined with huge vats that looked better suited to laundry than cooking. A strong aroma of vinegar and sage filled her nose. ‘Like a mercher’s kitchen.’ She’d thought to herself. The Kerch believed that work was akin to prayer. Maybe the merchant wives came here to scrub the floors, walls, and windows to honor Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce. Y/N resisted the urge to gag. They could scrub all they liked. Beneath the wholesome scent was the indelible stench of mildew, urine, and unwashed bodies. It might take a miracle from the Saints to dislodge it.

They all continued down a dark hallway, and she thought they would head up into the cells, but instead, they passed through another door and onto a high stone walkway that connected the main prison to what looked like another tower. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N whispered. Kaz didn’t answer. The wind picked up and lifted her veil and lashed at her cheeks with salt spray.

Nina let out a breathless gasp as she looked around the familiar surroundings. “I thought we were breaking him out. Brekker, you lying bastard.”

Kaz didn’t turn around to look at her, “We are breaking him out. But he was already scheduled. He survives tonight then he gets out.”

Y/N looked between the two, confused as to what was happening.

Nina gritted her teeth, “Hellshow.”

The slow cranking of metal against metal echoed in the arena over all the shouts and loud conversations from the crowds. The two grisha women walked closer to the metal cage, Nina grasped the thick bars between her hands tightly, as if willing the metal to bend at her will. They both watched as a tall man walked out from under the gate. 

“Matthias.” Nina’s voice was barely heard over the cheering around them. 

The two men in the ring stood there for a moment before the one with ‘cannibal’ written on his back lunged first. A strong punch to the Fjerdan’s jaw caused his head to snap to the side, and with no time to recover another blow was aimed at his stomach. 

After taking a few more hits, resulting in the Heartrender flinching at every grunt, the Fjerdan finally snapped. He threw a jaw-snapping punch at the smaller man, spun around, and threw his elbow back landing on the man’s collarbone. The latter fell to the floor giving Matthias an opening to continue his attack. He picked up a leg and dragged the man on his back before crushing his leg in his grasp. 

Y/N’s eyes widened at the memory and felt a sickening feeling creep up on her. Such a dishonorable way to keep your life. But then again, what choice did these people have?

The Dime Lion led them around the tunnel to the third archway, where a prison guard dressed in a blue-gray uniform was posted with a rifle slung across his back. “Four more for you.” The Dime Lion shouted over the roar of the crowd. Then he turned to Kaz. “If you need to leave, the guard will call for an escort. No one goes wandering off without a guide, understood?”

“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kaz said from behind his ridiculous mask.

“Enjoy.” The Dime Lion said with an ugly grin. The prison guard waved them through.

Y/N stepped under the arch and felt as if she’d fallen into another nightmare. They were on a jutting stone ledge, looking down into a shallow, crudely made amphitheater. The tower had been gutted to create an arena. Only the black walls of the old prison remained the roof long since fallen in or destroyed so that the night sky was visible high above, with dense clouds and free of stars.

It was a different view from when she came with Nina before. Now higher in the stands, the crowd’s shouting echoed and made her ears ring. Around her, masked and veiled men and women crowded onto the terraced ledges, stamping their feet as the action proceeded below. The blazing light from the torches on the walls was hardly bright enough to make out anyone’s face even with a strained effort, but it was bright enough below them to see the red and damp sand of the floor.

Y/N swayed on her feet when she saw a man standing in the caged arena while a desert lizard crawled out from under the heavy metal trap door. Her sight blurred the moment she noticed the man pick up his knife and quicker than she could whisper a prayer the crowd’s volume got louder only this time they were booing. Y/N turned to the man standing next to her. “Why are they complaining? Isn’t this what they came here for?”

“They wanted a fight,” said Kaz. “They were expecting him to last longer.”

“This is disgusting.”

Kaz shrugged, “The only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”

“These men aren’t slaves, Kaz!” Y/N spoke harshly but kept her volume down. “They’re prisoners.”

“They’re murderers and rapists.”

“And thieves and con artists. Your people.” Nina spoke up from Kaz’s other side.

“Nina, sweet, they aren’t forced to fight. They line up for the chance. They earn better food, private cells, liquor, jurda, conjugals with girls from the West Stave.”

Muzzen, the man who accompanied the crows on the heist, cracked his knuckles. “Sounds better than we got at the Slat.”

The two grisha looked around the stands at all the men and women who came here to support such a violent show, all of them exchanging bets while walking up and down the aisles. The prisoners of Hellgate might line up to fight, but Pekka Rollins made the real money. At least he used to. News got out shortly after Pekka was thrown into the high-security prison where he was brutally beaten to death by a few of the other prisoners.

“Helvar doesn’t…” Y/N couldn’t get her eyes to focus on anything as she spoke and pulled herself out of her own thoughts. “Helvar doesn’t fight in the arena, does he? You bought his name off the list, didn’t you?”

A grim look passed over Kaz’s eyes as he looked down at the inferni. “We aren’t here for the ambience.”

“Are you aware that I could waggle my fingers and make you wet your trousers?” Nina was beyond furious at this point. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Easy, heartrender. I like these trousers. And if you start messing with my vital organs, Matthias Helvar will never see sunshine again.”

Once the stomach-churning sound of the heavy metal gate being cranked open was heard the crowds went wild. Y/N looked over to see Nina staring down into the arena with a pale face. She had turned to look down and felt her heart drop to her stomach at the sight before her.

Matthias emerged from the mouth of the cave while the unmistakable growls of wolves could be heard from the other side. 

The Fjerdan had to fight his most sacred animal.

[ms-existentialcrisis]

Summary: There's no hiding from his gaze, the flame in them hotter than the sun but good god Steve would let it burn him, he'd let it devour him and he would happily perish in Bucky's heat, Steve's ashes a fuel to the inferno blazing in him.

Rating/tags: EXPLICIT/MDNI {oral sex/blow job, anal sex, angst, denial, internalised homophobia, religious thoughts(?)}

Masterlist

The time reads 1:20 AM, Steve's only guiding light the moon rays that slipped through the thin curtains hung by the small window.

He sat hunched on the table, a mess of charcoal and papers spread in front of him. Steve should be asleep already, the cold seeping through his thin clothing but he stubbornly fought against the drowsiness that crept at him.

Bucky wasn't home yet.

He'd left earlier for a party, around 8 PM. Bucky had invited him, like always, but he'd declined, knowing he'd sit by the side once again to watch his pal dance and idle along the throng of other party goers, especially the girls that'd automatically gravitate towards him.

Bucky had that charm to him; a flash of grin and a flutter of his eyes, the way he'd casually find himself to your side, a flirty comment out of his lips that you can't help but return.

The ease he has in spinning around girls, the grace to his movements once he pulls you to the dance floor. Bucky would have you under the spot light, hands on your waist and a boyish smirk on his face.

Girls are just simply naturally drawn to him, with his easy confidence. Steve's just as helpless as the rest of them.

'Like a moth to a flame,' Steve thinks, a little bitter, sitting in near dark and waiting for his friend to come home.

He continues to draw, losing himself to the sound of pencil against paper, fingers light as he brought his ideas to life with lines and shapes. Steve almost misses the door to their tiny apartment opening.

Almost.

"What are you doing still up?" Bucky asks, a slight slur to his tone as he shuts door behind him. His suits slightly crumpled, a few buttons loose and his tie hung around his neck.

"'was worried you ended up in some alley or some shit," Steve shrugged casually, as if his ass and back wasn't sore with how long he's been sitting hunched and waiting for him to come home. "It's late and I know you're going to drink."

At the face of his scrutiny, Bucky snorts. He staggers from where he'd been leaning on the door frame, towards Steve with a sloppy grin on his face.

"Steeeve," Bucky croons. "Who am I? You? I don't end up in alleyways Steve, that's your schtick."

Steve lets himself be pulled into a hug, face twisting as the scent of smoke and alcohol hits him. He feels even more tiny in Bucky's arms, unable to resist the urge to sink into his warmth.

"Jerk," Steve grunts, no heat behind it and willingly going along with Bucky as he starts to spin them around in a mockery of a dance.

"Punk," Bucky says back, sounding just as fond. His grip tightens around Steve's shoulder, crushing him into his body. From the layers of his clothing, Steve could hear the beat of his heart as he rested his head on Bucky's chest and wrapped his arms around him.

They stay like that, interwined and slightly spinning, feet quiet and body swaying. Steve thinks that he wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of his short life, tangled with Bucky and dancing with him at 1 AM in the fucking morning on a music only they could hear.

Once Steve's nose has finally gotten used to the stink of alcohol, Bucky pulls back. Steve's breath gets caught in his throat, Bucky a painting come to life mere inches away from him with his hair all mussed up, a smirk curving his plush lips and the moonlight shining down on his icy blue eyes.

Steve's fingers dig into the back of Bucky's coat.

"What got you looking like that, doll?" Bucky drawls, breath hot on Steve's face.

Steve flinches back like he's been struck, both at the nickname and the fact that he got caught looking at his best friend like he's one of his girls, just waiting to be asked for a dance.

"Don't you 'doll' me," Steve snaps at him, trying and failing to push down the sudden torrent of emotions in his chest. "Thought you've had enough girls for tonight, Buck."

"No girls tonight," Bucky tells him. Confusion rises inside Steve. Bucky continues, "Danced with 'em but didn't take them out. No girls tonight."

Steve snorts. That'd explain the lack of lipstick on Bucky or the expensive feminine perfume that seemed to cling to him. Steve wonders if his own scent dripped from Bucky as well, with how they tended to share the same breath and space. He wonders if people could smell Steve on him, their scent together from the bed and blanket they both slept in.

"That's kind of hard to believe, Buck, with your reputation to effortlessly find yourself under some girls skirt," Steve says, trying to ignore the sudden tightness to his chest.

"You don't believe me? But Steeve, there really was no girl tonight," Bucky whines at him like the little shit he was. Then, he leans forward, lips ghosting Steve's ear and causing his heart to rise, he whispers, "Just you, Stevie, just you."

'abort, abort, abort,' Steve's mind screams. He tries, and fails, to untangle himself from Bucky's grasp.

"Your drunk, Buck," Steve grits out and his resistance meets Bucky's stubbornly clingy hold. He feels himself be crushed into Bucky and god, Steve wonders if Bucky could feel how hard his heart beats against his rib cage, if Bucky could feel what he does to Steve and his insides.

"'am not drunk," Bucky drunkly says and he sways them both, more aggressive and half dragging Steve with him. They dance and Steve can't resist Bucky's pull even though this whole situation was venturing into dangerous water.

"Yes you are. You're drunk, Bucky, because you party hard, you stink like alcohol and you'll probably vomit soon if you don't stop spinnin' us so much."

At that, Bucky stops. Maybe it's the bite in Steve's words, the not-so hidden bitterness to it or maybe it's whatever expression he's wearing when Bucky finally takes a look at him but it makes Bucky pause, forehead crinkling and eyes curling.

Then he shifts his grip, an arm snaking around Steve's waist while the other comes to hold his left hand.

Bucky drags Steve snug into him, chest to chest, face inches away from each other. Their fingers interwine, legs slotted with each other and Steve inhales every exhale from Bucky, strong with alcohol and warm with life.

The way he's eyeing Steve, in his arms and poised to take the dance floor, as if he's one of his girls in a nice dress, painted lips in a demure smile, just waiting to be swept off her feet.

But it's different.

Because Bucky doesn't look at his girls like he wants to devour them alive. He takes them to dances, to heaven if they're lucky enough, but the way Steve is under his gaze; like he wants to savour him bite by bite, blood like the finest wine, pieces of Steve tucked into the spaces between his ribcage for him to keep warm, to keep safe.

It's wrong. Steve shouldn't look like that to Bucky. Steve's not one of his girls. He doesn't wear dresses, nor does he have his hair up in curls and buns. Steve doesn't have a fucking pussy or plump tits. He can't give Bucky the life he wants, the family and children that is expected from a man like Bucky.

Someone like Steve, a sickly man who only knows how to get into trouble, he's not worthy of Bucky.

"Bucky, stop," Steve says but it's weak, a pathetic attempt of resistance knowing he wants this too.

All this time, Bucky's the only one who has seen him for him. Of all the people in the world he could have, he chose Steve, took him in and cradled him like he's the most precious thing in the world.

Bucky leans forward and when their lips meet, there are no fireworks or blazing flames like the dirty books between lovers claimed. Instead, there's is bitter defeat and the sweet taste of Bucky under the alcohol and smoke, tongue velvelt soft as it pried Steve's lips open.

His whimper is truth revealed and the way he returns Bucky's kiss is a surrender itself.

'Forbidden fruits taste the sweetest,' Steve thinks as Bucky fucking dips him, tongue determined to get to know his mouth, grip tight on Steve like he's afraid this was a dream and Steve was going to disappear if he loosens his hold.

Bucky drags him, legs tangling and moving till Steve's back hits the edge of the table, art supplies rattling at the force. He grunts at the impact but there's no time to dwell on the bruise that would surely appear because Bucky doesn't stop, just kisses Steve like his life depended on it, hands starting to wander.

Steve gasps once they part, lips bitten and a string of saliva connecting them. Its lewd and the heat pooling in Steve's stomach feels like the physical branding of a sin, deplorable but so so fucking good.

"Steve," Bucky groans, nosing at his cheeks before dipping lower to mouth at the column of his neck. 'wrong!' Steve's mind screams but his body says otherwise, yielding blood and shivers when Bucky sinks his teeth into his flesh, sucking bruises and kissing his way down to Steve's chest.

"Bucky wait-" Steve tries, god did he fucking try because Bucky's drunk and he doesn't, can't, want Steve that way. It's simply not allowed; it's wrong, in the eyes of society and god, this growing want between them shouldn't nourish and Steve's trying.

Bucky just got him confused with one of his girls, with his skinny frame and boney fingers, bird-like in it's fragility. He's drunk and he's confused and Steve tried, he really did but when Bucky slot's a thigh between his legs, his protests dies in a blaze of lust and want.

Steve is just a man after all.

'this is wrong,' Steve thinks before his thoughts are swallowed by Bucky feverish hot desperation.

'who gives a shit,' a part of him says. That part that's been aching, growing each day and threatening to eat him whole if Steve didn't eat Bucky first.

There are no eyes of man or god here, just you and your beloved.

Steve throws his head back in a choked moan, Bucky a ravenous beast looming over him, kissing and biting a trail of blood and marks down Steve's body. He feels on fire, molten in his veins instead of blood, erection straining against its confinements.

Bucky rips into his shirt like it's nothing, Steve gaping at the fabric hanging loose on his frame before he slaps a hand on his mouth when Bucky gets down on his knees, tugging at his pants with a desperation befitting of a man who hasn't drank water for days.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," Bucky groans, nuzzling at his crotch and looking so sinful, so fucking reverent as he stared at Steve from the under of his lashes.

Steve whimpers in his hand, the other tangling into Bucky's hair, making him groan like he's the one getting his dick mouthed at. His settles his hands on Steve's hips, peppering kisses to whatever skin he could reach; Steve's thighs, his navel, his wrist and pulse point.

It almost kills him when Bucky pulls his boxers down by his teeth, eyes on Steve and almost black with lust, a pool of want that threatened to unravel them both.

Steve jerks at the first touch of Bucky's lips and there's no urgency when he takes him into his mouth, gentle and smooth, savouring the way Steve feels and tastes in his mouth.

Bucky sucks, licking at the underside of Steve's length and swallowing at the head of it. He's groaning, voice like electricity on Steve dick, like he's also getting off on sucking his best friend at 1 AM in the morning.

Steve's helpless but to thrust into his mouth, warm and wet and he barely suppresses a loud moan, still coherent enough to remember that they have neighbours, people who could hear and discover and condemn them both-

The idea of getting caught, of them doing this in the midst of crowds that would have them locked away and beaten, sends a bolt of pleasure down his spine. The risk, the thrill, knowing that this is wrong but loving it anyways.

Steve tries to be a better man. Always the righteous one.

He pulls Bucky off of him, frame wracked by shivers, and says with a voice raspy with arousal, "We need to stop."

Bucky only stares at him, lips sore and eyes dazed. He fights against Steve's grip, gaze purposely meeting his head on as he sucks Steve's cock head into his mouth, kissing the weeping tip before nuzzling his balls with his cheek.

Steve feels like someone scooped his insides and replaced it with lava, heart a kicking rabbit behind the bars of his ribs.

It's an answer itself but Bucky must see something on his face, that he pulls back and replaces his mouth with his hand instead. "Tell me to stop and I'll stop."

He sounds destroyed, voice rough and dark. Bucky looks at him with a worshippers eyes, lips caught between sharp teeth and looking like the epitome of want.

Lord, Steve tries to be good. Always the righteous one but in the end, he is as vulnerable as any man to the temptation of heaven.

Bucky takes his silence as an answer, a smile playing on his lips and this time, when he sinks his heat down into Steve's cock, he goes at it like Steve is his last meal.

Steve bows over him, teeth cutting into his lip and choking down noises of pleasure. He's mindless and he is nothing but his dick in Bucky's mouth, white hot pleasure turning his bones to jelly.

He comes with a barely stifled shout, eyes shut tight and hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Bucky is all grace when he gets up, pushing and pinning Steve with his weight so he could lick into his mouth, share the taste of Steve still linger on his taste buds.

He eats the noises, laps at the stinging cut on Steve's lip and locks their body together.

"Want you Steve, want you so bad," Bucky pants in between kisses, desperate and hard against Steve.

"Been wanting you so long but just never had the courage to have you," A confession, shared in the dark. "But I don't care anymore. You're always lookin at me like you want to be the one whose hand I'll take when were in a party and i can't fucking take it anymore."

Steve pulls back, mouth hanging loose. Bucky's bathe in silvers and blue, shadows at the corners of his face and the only light behind Steve, from the moon who remains to be the brightest in the night sky.

There's no hiding from his gaze, the flame in them hotter than the sun but good god Steve would let it burn him, he'd let it devour him and he would happily perish in Bucky's heat, Steve's ashes a fuel to the inferno blazing in him.

Steve is gently laid down on his back, art supplies moved to the side to make space for him. Bucky's a looming presence between his legs and it's shameful, how good he looks with Steve's thighs around his waist. His top had been chucked off, pants half way off and his own hard cock leaving a wet patch on his boxers.

Steve sucks on the finger shoved into his mouth, mewling around it as Bucky leaves more marks on his skin, eyes flutter close at the taste of him.

There's no urgency when Bucky takes him apart, fingers opening him slow as if they have all the time in the world, bigger than Steve's and making him fuller than his own fingers. It shouldn't feel good but Steve's denials died in Bucky's fire, lust clouding his mind and all he can do is writhe and whimper, holding on for his dear life as Bucky unravels him with his kisses and love.

"Fuckin' love you," Bucky moans when he finally enters him, Steve feeling like he could feel him at the back of his throat. "Love you so so much Stevie, you hav' no idea how long 'been wanting this."

"Why now?" Steve cries softly, weeping from more than just a stretch, at the ache of his chest like his heart would break his ribcage so it could present itself to Bucky.

"Dunno, just thought 'why not now?' Saw you lookin' all sad and lonely and thought, my best guy shouldn't look like that. My Steve shouldn't look like I'm not going to come home to him," Bucky murmurs, rocking their bodies together and drowning themselves with love and lust.

"'Love you too," Steve says back and something loosens in his chest, tears in his eyes as Bucky starts thrusting for real, pulling out only to slam back into him deep, taking a piece of Steve with each snap of his hips.

It felt like a dream and Steve was just sort of expecting to wake up any moment now, to find Bucky asleep next to him and so close yet so fucking far. He thinks that maybe he's the one who's drunk, desperate to drown himself away from the emotions that makes his body cold and hot, that burning jealousy he refused to acknowledge whenever he sees Bucky with a girl hanging off his arm, lipstick smeared on his skin and a dopey grin on his face.

That clogging thought of 'i can do better if you give me a chance' that he oh so tries to bury, tries to kill but always fails to do so. It haunted Steve, the same way this whole ordeal haunted him with fear that he's just imagining this but another thrust from Bucky that nails him straight to his prostate makes all his doubts away, Bucky a solid warm weight on top of him.

Bucky's groaning, eyes shut tight and holding onto Steve. He turns his head, catching Steve's lips in a sloppy kiss, drool down their chins and eyes dazed with want.

When they tumble at the edge together, its with their names out of each others mouth, holding each other so tight as if they're terrified that the world would rip them apart, that they'd be taken out of this space of love they made for themselves.

Fin~

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!

Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....

W/C: 3.5k

“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”

“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.

“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.

Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.

He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”

*****

“He said WHAT?!”

Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”

You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”

Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -

“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.

Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.

“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.

“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.

“Alright, don’t stay too late.”

You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.

*****

As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.

Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.

You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.

“Hey! How- how's it goin?”

You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”

“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.

You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.

“Where is he?”

Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”

The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.

“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”

You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.

Keep it in your pants idiot

“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”

He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.

“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.

“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?

He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”

“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”

“Why should I?”

Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!

“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.

“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”

“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.

“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.

“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”

“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.

“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.

Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.

“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.

Cheeky bastard.

“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..

“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”

A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.

“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.

“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”

He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”

“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”

You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.

“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”

The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”

“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”

Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.

He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.

You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.

“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.

“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”

With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”

You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”

Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”

He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”

Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.

“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.

“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”

Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.

“One more.”

Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”

“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”

“NO”

“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

“Come on, cum for me.”

You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.

You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”

By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”

You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.

“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.

“I assume you're finished with the lab?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.

Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”

The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”

And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”

@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[soudam-appreciation]

Carousel (3)

Kazuichi further zipped his jacket from its current chest level to his chin. He shivered, taking long strides to keep up with Gundham. They had entered the event with no trouble whatsoever, and Gundham had received a congratulatory look from the man at the ticket booth. Gundham didn't want to answer why, but Kazuichi thought it was likely because he had witnessed Gundham waiting.

"What attraction would you like to visit first?"

"Hm? Oh- well, I've never really been to something like this before... what stuff is there to do?"

Gundham paused and made a wide sweeping motion, gesturing to the rows and rows of flashing lights and temporary structures that surrounded them. Kazuichi turned in a wide circle, eyes catching on nearly every sign. He had been so focused on not bothering Gundham that he hadn't paid any attention to the actual attractions. Turning back to the way they had come, he looked down the row of nothing but food trucks and booths.

Kazuichi inhaled deeply, a sweet scent drawing his attention. He stopped his odd rotation, turning to face the stand that seemed to be the source. Said source seemed to be yet another brightly flashing booth, advertising lemonade, hot dogs, and... funnel cake? His mouth watered, and he wondered what real carnival funnel cake tasted like.

Gundham noticed Kazuichi's draw. Turning the same way he was facing, he too noticed the stand. Glancing back and forth between Kazuichi and his focus, he tucked a hand into his pocket.

"Would you like one?"

"Huh?" His attention snapped back to Gundham, startled out of his deliciously scented trance.

"Would you like one?" Gundham fished for his wallet.

"Oh, well, I mean, y-you don't have to-"

"Would you?"

Kazuichi didn't quite know why, but he said, "I- I mean, yeah..."

. . .

Gundham nearly marched to the stand window, stomach in knots. He had no idea what his goal was, or why he essentially forced his "date"- no, no no no- his "friend" to agree to eat garbage carnival food. He simply had the uncontrollable feeling that he should be purchasing something for the mortal he was visiting with.

He held his place in line behind a tall woman with dark hair, shaved short on both sides, and a shorter, rounder girl with cropped red hair. Ignoring their lovestruck chatter and discussion of what to order, he turned his focus to the menu posted on the side of the construction. He selected a "fresh-squeezed" lemonade and Pespi Cola™, both for his companion. For himself, he decided upon a mere water.

Then the odd couple before them had moved on, and it was Gundham's turn to order. Preparing to express in his usual way whilst also coming across clearly and concisely, he stepped up to the window. The hot, sticky, syrupy air rolled over him from within the edifice, and he resisted the urge to gag.

"Hey, what can I get for ya?" The woman inside was a plump one, eyes shining with the fake luster of customer service. Her cornrowed braids were pulled to the crown of her head, and her large hooped earrings jingled softly.

"Ah, yes, pardon, but may I request one Lemonade, one Pespi Cola™, one water, and one... funnel cake?" His voice trembled, and he cursed his unreliable social anxieties.

The woman, however, was completely undisturbed. Her hands tapped away at a small tablet before her as she entered Gundham's total order. "And what  kinda topping on the funnel cake?"

Blinking, he took a quick moment to recover from the unexpected question. "Pardon?"

"What kinda topping on the funnel cake?" Noting Gundham's sheer confusion, she clarified further. "We have chocolate, caramel, cherry, and apple."

He stuttered a bit, stumbling on his words. Where is Souda? It's his dessert! He turned quickly, almost running headfirst into the boy standing directly behind him. On second glance, it seemed Souda had followed him to the vendor and was now cowering behind him. "Ah, Souda. Chocolate, caramel, cherry, or apple?"

"Huh?" Souda simply stared at him, eyes round with the same confusion.

"Topping on the confectionary. Which of the four would please you, chocolate, caramel, cherry, or apple?"

The mortal's face lit with understanding before wonderment took hold. Gundham briefly wondered if the boy had ever consumed the fried monstrosity they called 'funnel cake'. "Oh, um, could I maybe get caramel?"

Sighing, he nodded. "That would be precisely the reason I asked you." Then, mumbling, "Why would I offer it if it was simply out of the question?" Returning focus to the woman in the booth, he raised his tone again. "Caramel, then."

"Ok, gotcha!" She tapped a few final times, then offered his total. He paid quickly, as the heavy cloud of sickening sweetness that enveloped the cart was gnawing at his stomach. Taking his printed receipt, and thanking the woman with one final high-pitched squeak, he stepped back to wait.

. . .

Kazuichi's (clearly irradiated) taste buds met the sweet sticky caramel, and the deep-fried dough melted in his mouth. He hadn't expected it to taste as good as it smelled, but by the Gods, it delivered. The caramel sauce was rich and thick, drizzling softly across the twisted mess of pastry beneath it. The cake itself was crisp and, well... cakey.

He had difficulty walking while he experienced this new delicacy, and Gundham looked mildly annoyed at the slowness of their pace before suggesting they make their way to one of the many picnic-type seating areas scattered around nearby the food trucks.

Kazuichi also had difficulty taking small bites of this delicious treat and easily devoured around half the dish before instinctively offering Gundham a large bite as well. He waited a moment, plastic fork outstretched, as he slowly noticed Gundham's expression. When he finally did notice his look of obvious confusion, shock, and embarrassment, he quickly lowered the utensil, face reddening almost instantly.

"Ah- uhm- uh... s- sorry... I kinda..." He set the fork back on his plate, reflexively reaching up to fidget with his braid. "I kinda forgot we d-don't... we don't hang out th-that much..."

Gundham coughed quietly into his scarf, which he had tugged up over his nose. "I-It's alright..."

Kazuichi felt heat flooding his head and chest, mortification pooling near his heart like lead, making it hard to breathe. He just did something that stupid, huh?

. . .

Gundham found himself staring intensely at a grime spot on the picnic table, scarf softly scuffing against his cheeks. His mind was spinning a million miles a second, although he wasn't entirely sure why. His heart raced, and when he tried to focus on the feelings and rationalize them, he found he couldn't gather the correct words for it. It was as if the thought of eating after a mere mortal, specifically that mortal, was what was causing his confusion and embarrassment.

He tried to avoid looking too intensely at Souda as he finished consuming the fried thing. As he finished the grease-saturated confection, Gundham rose and offered to take the disposable tray. This offer came in the form of him holding out his unbandaged hand, waving it around a bit to get the boy's attention, and mumbling something incoherent into his scarf. Obliging, Soda handed him the tray, turning his attention to the lemonade and taking several large gulps.

Heading toward the nearest trash receptacle, he walked quickly, utilizing his long legs to the best of his ability. He still wasn't sure to what stimulus his emotions were responding, but it hardly mattered. He tossed the soiled cardboard into the trash, taking several steps back from the stench before taking a deep breath. He inhaled from his stomach, pushing all dizzying thoughts from his mind. Or, trying to, anyway. He was still a bit too close to the trash, and the strength of the smell invaded his lungs with every inhalation. Coughing a bit to clear his airways, he turned around and began to wander slowly back to the table.

However, it seemed Souda had begun to follow after him. Not expecting him to be so close behind, Gundham stumbled back the slightest bit.

"Ah! Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!"

"I- Pardon, it's no trouble." Gundham dismissed the apology with a wave, briefly hoping his face had ceased its embarrassing fluster. Hoping to direct them elsewhere, away from the stink of sugary carnival food and garbage, he said, "Perhaps we could wander elsewhere, to other possible attractions?"

Nodding vigorously, his tangled curls and braid bouncing, Souda displayed unsurmountable excitement. Zest for life. "Yeah! I wanna see what other cool things there are!"

As the two made strides towards the rest of the hundreds of structures, Souda turned to face Gundham once again. "I uh, I just wanna say thanks. For the food and stuff. It was super good, and also really nice of you to get stuff for me." He stumbled, having tripped while walking backward, and promptly turned around again. This was, of course, lucky for Gundham, as he was once again drawing his scarf towards the moon.

. . .

Kazuichi bounced from booth to booth, staring wide-eyed at all the bright colors and stuffed prizes. He wasn't sure he'd be good at any of the games, but he desperately wanted to win a prize. Preferably a big one. He didn't want it for himself as much as he felt like he needed to repay some insurmountable debt to Gundham, who had given him the real Funnel Cake Experience™.

He looked high and low, ping-ponging between the duck grabs to the ring toss to the dartboards and all else in the area. Gundham walked slowly behind him, allowing adequate time to jump back and forth as they moved through the fair. However, despite his searching, Gundham seemed to find the perfect gift before he did.

. . .

Gundham stalled before a silly racing game, the kind powered by water guns. He looked up, attention captured by the biggest prize available. It was an overly cute, very round hamster holding a strawberry half its size. It was absolutely ridiculous. And Gundham loved it.

Of course, he would never admit to loving it. He was a dark character. He chanted rituals and spells in the dark of night! He controlled entire worlds, and would soon conquer this one as well!

So obviously, he would never tell anyone about the way its large round eyes melted his heart, or how the soft, full cheeks reminded him of... that boy. How its tiny paws holding that ridiculously sized strawberry sparked so much joy. Or about how much he wanted to squeeze it to his chest and feel the plush fur against his face. No, he would never tell a soul.

Souda, however, had seemingly noticed the foolish god standing completely still before the booth. He must have tracked his gaze, which was very much focused on the large, round, soft plush hamster.

. . .

Kazuichi smiled, poking Gundham in the shoulder. "Whaddya think of that one?" He pointed directly at the round rodent that Gundham was fixated on.

Spluttering, Gundham took a step back. "I-It's-" He steeled his gaze, glaring at Kaz ferociously. "It's ridiculous." He crossed his arms over his chest, trapping his scarf against it. He shrugged his shoulders, wriggling a little bit to loosen the fabric.

"Really?" Kazuichi turned back to the booth. It seemed like just the kind of guilty pleasure a so-called "dark overlord" would like. he spun on his heels to face Gundham again. "I think it's kinda cute. Reminds me of you," he added, intended to be a completely separate statement.

Realizing the implications of his words far too late, Kazuichi watched in a blend of terror and embarrassment as that simple statement registered slowly on Gundham's face. His eyes widened, and he turned his attention to studying the rouge gravel on the ground. Hot blush raced to his cheeks, spilling across his nose and forehead. His hand once again flew to his scarf, and he yanked the front up almost past his eyes. He coughed, tension flowing thickly between them.

After a few more panicked seconds, Kazuichi scrambled to correct himself and promptly tumbled over his tongue. "I- I mean- not the cute part- reminds me- I mean... the- like, uh, I dunno- shit- I mean, j-just... I didn't mean- cute- I meant... the hamster stuff- cause, you know... you have- y-y'know... hamsters..." He ran his fingers through his hair, tangling it further as he desperately tried to correct himself. Tugging his hand from the mess, and wincing at the pains, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"W-well, if you insist..." Kazuichi glanced back at Gundham as he inhaled, seemingly steadying his voice. "If you desire a factual answer... I do... 'like' it..."

Kazuichi smiled wide, feeling around for his wallet. "Oh, ok! If you like it, then gimme like 5 minutes!"

"Wait-" Gundham seemed confused, but Kazuichi was already gone. He wove through small clusters of other fairgoers, sliding to a halt in front of the game booth. It was a racing game, one where the player must aim a stream of water at the center of a target, thusly causing the car to move forward. He fished out his wallet, handing the money necessary for one play to the attendant.

He lost the first round, complained about being out of practice, and paid again. On the second go, however, he pulled ahead easily and won with almost no difficulty. When prompted for the prize, he looked back at Gundham, grinned, and pointed at the Very Round Hamster.

. . .

Gundham watched in confusion and awe as Souda won a Very Good, Very Round Hamster while playing one of the strangest, most confusing carnival games he had ever seen. Souda's smile was broad as he skipped back over to Gundham, and he held out the plush.

"So? Pretty cool, right?" He was breathing hard from bouncing around so much, and he nudged the fluffy toy into Gundham's chest. Gundham took it in his hands, astonished by the size of it.

It was as big as his entire torso and made of annoyingly soft Minky synthetic. He wrapped his arms around it and squeezed it softly. He had to resist the urge to bury his face in the silky fabric as the stuffed fiend gave way to the perfect amount of plush.

Realizing he had let his guard down, he snapped to attention. The soft smile that had unknowingly appeared on his face was quickly wiped away, and he fought the need to drop the hamster and hide the rose dusting on his face.

"Are you... presenting me an offering?"

Souda's grin fell a tad in confusion. "An offering...? Oh, like a gift. Yeah, it's for you." He slid his hands back into his pockets.

"Oh..." Gundham couldn't hide his smile this time. He ducked behind the plush, hiding his face to the best of his ability.

. . .

Kazuichi couldn't keep the grin from his face as walked with Gundham. Where he almost had to run to keep up with him before, now it seemed the boy had slowed considerably. He was still burying his face in the toy Kazuichi had won for him, and he took that as a sign Gundham really liked it.

They continued walking, seeming to wander toward the space occupied by the rollercoaster and other rides. Kaz had been so distracted by the lights and signs he hadn't realized that was precisely where they were heading. He felt the bottom of his stomach drop to his toes as he thought about going on the rollercoaster.

It was easily one of the most intense rides the little fair had. Even as they were about 300 feet from it, he could hear the screams of its riders. It was a simple coaster, but it had lots of dips, bends, and, worst of all, cameras. The thought of going on such a ride made him nauseous to no end. He unconsciously gripped Gundham's sleeve, just as he began to lower the plush.

"Would you be... interested... in riding one of the other attractions here?"

Kazuichi's attention snapped to Gundham's face, and despite the sinking feeling that overwhelmed him, he asked, "Which one are you thinking about?"

"Well, there aren't too many interesting ones... perhaps the main 'coaster'?" His voice tinged with a strange disgust as he spoke the words, and Kaz got the sense he wasn't the biggest fan of them.

"No- nonono I think I'm good on that one actually. Really, I don't think that one is the best or most interesting one here so maybe... we could just skip that one!" He rushed to get the words out of his mouth, without focusing nearly enough on keeping the rising panic out of his tone.

. . .

Gundham trained his mismatched eyes on Souda's. His voice had shaken as he denied the ride, and Gundham understood that to mean he was truly terrified of it.

Nodding, he conceded that it surely wasn't the best here. He turned around and around, looking from sign to sign for a ride suitable for the two of them. His gaze landed on the carousel.

"Perhaps that one?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of the attraction, and Souda followed.

"The Merry-Go-Round??" His tone was one of confusion, and he read the words off of the sign as if they were entirely foreign to him.

"Yes, that one. It is fairly simple, all it does is turn."

Gundham watched as Souda's tension eased, the fear dripping slowly from his face. He smiled and said, "Yeah, ok! Sounds easy enough!" He laughed, still sounding a bit tense, but not nearly as fearful as before.

They stood in the annoyingly long line for nearly 15 minutes, and they both became restless. Souda had removed the hair tie from his magenta almost-curls and began to unbraid and re-braid his hair over and over, and Gundham had simply fidgeted with the trinkets at the end of his bandage clip, rolling the smooth bead over and over between his fingertips.

When it was finally their turn, Souda had replaced his hair band and buried his hands in his pockets instead. They stepped to the very front of the line as the woman operating the ride said, "There's only one pony left. Are you two riding together?"

Gundham stuttered slightly, glancing at Souda. He also seemed unsure, however, as their eyes caught and they both stumbled.

"Of course-"

"We can wait-"

The words tumbled out in unison, and Gundham choked up more as he corrected his claim to fit Souda's.

"Er, yes, we're riding together."

"Alright, to the left."

They entered the space, placing the Very Soft Hamster in one of the 'personal belongings' bins before following the edge of the attraction to the left as they had been instructed.

They soon came upon a vacant horse, presumably the only one, and stepped up to take their seat. It was a chestnut bay, sporting a  cream-and-rose saddle for two with leather reigns. The pole through it was twisted and worn of its sheen at around hand height, and it was one of the animals that was firmly affixed- it would not rise or fall.

"So this is it, huh?" Souda's voice cut through Gundham's silent assessment of their steed, and he snapped to attention.

"Yes, that is correct." He stepped closer, unsure as to who would be seated in the front, before Souda made the decision for him.

"Can you help me up onto this thing?" He had one hand on the worn pole and the other on the cast saddle. "I dunno how I'm s'posed to..."

"Here, put this foot here." Gesturing to the stirrup, Gundham held out his arm as a support. Souda gladly took it, and lifted himself into the seat. He scooted forward, looking expectantly back at Gundham.

Taking a deep breath, he followed, placing his right foot in the stirrup and swinging his other leg over effortlessly. He had already begun to settle before realizing how close he was to Souda, and that there was nothing to grip to steady himself when the ride would begin.

Glancing over his shoulder, Souda noticed his lack of a handhold. "Hey, aren'tcha worried you'll fall off?" He faced center again, muttering, "I'm worried as it is, an' I've even got these." He wriggled the reigns half heartedly.

Gundham hesitated, then held his breath as he wrapped his arms around Souda's waist. The instant their bodies came into contact, he felt Souda tense as much as he had, before reclining slightly into Gundham's chest.

. . .

Kazuichi was unused to physical touch, but anything was better than falling off a kid's ride at roughly 10 PM. He was made painfully aware of his shoulders pressing into his companion, Gundham's hands resting dangerously near to his thighs as Kazuichi felt his stomach knotting itself into a fishtail braid. He tightened his grip on the leather reigns. He didn't have much time to think about it though, as the ride began seconds later.

It began rotating, very slowly, and the music dulled to accommodate the ride attendant's voice delivering the usual spiel about holding on, keeping hands and feet in the ride, and staying seated. He stayed focused on the horse in front of him, which was white with a gold gilded saddle. Its rider was a younger girl with long dark hair, and he chose to focus on the large crimson bow that pulled her bangs from her face. However, as the ride picked up speed, he found that his eyes began to wander, only recognizing his mistake when he caught the slight blur of the world sliding past...

Oh no.

Facing front yet again, he felt the twisting discomfort rising in his abdomen, curling around his organs like a snake. It wrapped around his ribcage and arms, turning his muscles to gelatin and breaths shallow, before reaching for his skull. Spots started to dance in his vision, the swirling unease constricting his sight and mind. He felt like patterns were tracing themselves beneath his skin, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the reigns. Leaning back into Gundham, he tried to focus, but the steady and violent sickness rolled his world from side to side, and he made no feeble move to correct it. 

. . .

Feeling Souda go nearly limp in his arms, Gundham felt concern rising in his chest. He held him tightly, reaching one arm for the pole so they wouldn't fall, and leaned in next to Souda's ear to ask if he was alright. Even more worrisome, though not surprising, he shook his head no. His eyes were closed, knuckles white against the reigns, face pale, his usual blush entirely gone. Gundham wondered if there was anything he could do to make him feel better, but knowing the most likely environmental stimulus, there didn't seem to be anything that would help.

Luckily for both of them, the ride began to slow, horses and children together coming to a complete stop. Souda's eyes fluttered open halfway, and he whispered, "Is it over?"

Nodding and assuring him that yes, the ride was over, he began to dismount. When both boots had touched the ground, he held out a hand to Souda, offering the most support he could. Souda thankfully obliged, almost tumbling to the ground in his effort to stand again.

. . .

Kaz stumbled blindly, gripping Gundham's sleeve as he tried to right himself. He felt Gundham place his hands upon his shoulders, and the added support made it a bit easier to stand. Straightening his back the best he could, he allowed his partner to lead him carefully to the exit (but not before they retrieved the stuffed hamster).

As they exited the ride's grounds via the gate, he quietly searched for another attraction for them to visit. However, most of the rides nearby seemed to either be fast or a real coaster. He'd rather not die tonight.

"Do you feel alright?"

Halting, he saw that Gundham had stopped a foot or so in front of him, concern apparent on his features despite him seemingly attempting to hide it.

"Huh? Me?"

"Of course you, who else would I be speaking to?" Annoyance flashed in his eyes, and Kazuichi shrunk slightly.

"You're right, sorry... Yeah, I'm ok. Just got a little motion sick is all." He found himself toying with the end of his braid again.

"I would hardly say 'a little,'" he said, punctuated his words with air quotes around Kaz's. "You looked to be near death."

Kazuichi felt his face heat up again, and he pushed his hands deep into his pockets and scuffed his shoes in the dirt. "I guess so... sorry about that."

Gundham sighed deeply, then turned back to the rest of the fair, as if to drop the matter. Kazuichi took a few steps to stand beside him, and he once again set to surveying for the next event.

"Perhaps that should be next?" He waved his bandaged hand in the direction of the tallest ride by far, the one Kaz had only seen in movies. He was pretty sure it was called a ferret wheel.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Ok." Swallowing hard, he tried to keep the fear out of his voice again, this time very deliberately. He really did want to go on another ride with Gundham, but he wasn't sure he could handle it. The height, not the riding with Gundham.

[rainofaugustsith]

So...I realized that about a year and a half before Echoes of Oblivion, where you go through Satele Shan’s minsdcape to heal her (among other things)..there are a few chapters in The Eternal Wrath where Lana and Viri go through Viri’s mindscape to heal her. In that case it had nothing to do with Valkorion directly, they were healing the damage left from the fact that Viri had five different very strong Force ghosts involuntarily squatting in her brain, and as we know from the Sith Inquisitor story, Force Walking hurts a person on a good day.  Excerpt:

”Viri, sit here. Lana, sit next to her. You need to recite this incantation, exactly as written,” Suvia says, handing Viri a piece of parchment. “It’s written out because datapads short out in here. We found that out the hard way before.” ”HK, hold onto my datapad, and Viri’s, too,” Lana says, handing the device over. “Please wait for us outside.” Viri takes the piece of parchment and studies the High Sith incantation. “So I say this, and…” ”And you’ll take this torch and light the cauldron in front of you. These seeds need to go in the cauldron when you get to line seven. Inhale the fumes and don’t resist when they send you to sleep. Lana, you’ll be able to follow Viri into her dream state and help, but you need to remember that you’re there as a second. She has to take the lead.” ”Understood,” Lana says gravely. ”Can you give me any hints about what will happen in the dream state?” Suvia nods. “Count on fighting some of your most traumatic memories. And yourself. You’ll need to win. If there’s any deep dark secret you don’t want Lana to know, be warned. She’ll see everything.” “That’s fine. I have no secrets from Lana,” Viri says. “Are you ready? We’ll cover you outside the room,” Suvia says. Viri swallows hard. “Thank you for your guidance with this, Suvia. You’re literally saving my life.” ”You restored mine. It’s nothing,” Suvia says, as she leaves the chamber. “Safe travels.” Viri lights the cauldron and settles down before the fire, but hesitates. ”Don’t be afraid,” Lana says softly, rubbing her arm. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” Viri says nothing, but turns to embrace her. She’s shaking under her robes. ”I’ve got you. I promise.” ”I love you,” Viri whispers. “Thank you for coming with me.” ”I’d do nothing less,” Lana says. “I love you, Viri. You can do this. You’re the fucking Wrath, damn it.” Viri laughs outright, takes a deep breath, and begins to recite the High Sith incantation. When she reaches the seventh line, she tosses the seeds into the flames. A blue haze begins to fill the room, and both Lana and Viri feel their eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. As Lana slides into unconsciousness, she reaches out to Viri one more time. Safest travels, my love. … Lana’s eyes open to stare at a black sky. Black volcanic rocks cover the ground. Hills of ash surround them. The stink of sulphur chokes the air. Lana blinks as she stands up and looks around. Viri is already battling a ghost; one that looks suspiciously like Darth Baras. Her teeth are bared and she’s railing on her former master with every bit of venom she can muster. As Baras goes down, Nomen Karr rises. And Lord Draahg. And Revan. Arcann. Vaylin. Valkorion. As Valkorion’s illusion falls, a staircase opens beneath Lana and Viri’s feet. The two women run down the steps, spiraling down into Viri’s conscious mind. Around them, people are laughing. Taunting. Accusing. Screaming. Lana hears both friends and foes, and stops short when she recognizes her own voice, and Viri’s, among the cacophony. Every trauma Viri has ever experienced is spilling over them in waves, and tears run down Lana’s cheeks. The stairs lead to a long corridor with open doors, and Viri peers through each of them, seemingly searching for something. ”What – who – are we looking for?” Lana gasps, trying to keep pace with Viri. ”Her,” Viri says, and keeps running.

At the end of the corridor, the two women stop short. A closed door, locked with numerous chains and electric barriers, lurks in an alcove. The void is stronger here. “This is the only door that’s still closed. Is this what we need?” Lana asks. Viri goes pale and backs up. “I can’t go in there.” ”It’s your own mind. Can’t you go where you want?” Viri shakes her head. “Not there. Never there.” Lana sighs. “Do you mind if I have a peek, then?” ”You know I can’t let you go in alone, in case it’s dangerous,” Viri sighs, and heads for the door. “No!” The voice is neither Lana nor Viri’s, but that of a child. A young girl, wearing the uniform robes of the Corellia Sith Intermediate Academy, darts in front of them. Viri. Lana recognizes her instantly. She appears to be eleven, twelve – somewhere in the nebulous preteen age range – and her curly hair is pulled back in a tight bun. A well-used practice blade is strapped to her back. “Vee?” Viri asks in disbelief, staring down at the child. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but I suggest you go away.” Vee’s eyes flash. Her voice is high and squeaky; Lana has to resist the urge to smile. “And that nickname isn’t yours to use.” ”It’s one of the things your parents call you,” Viri says. ”Yes, and you’re not my parent.” Vee crosses her arms. “Get the hell out of here.” ”Nope,” Viri tells the girl. “Sorry to break the news to you, but I have final authority over this mind. It belongs to me.” ”How dare you tell me I don’t know my own mind!” Vee snaps, drawing her practice blade. ”Oh, put it away, Dragoi,” Viri rolls her eyes and bats the blade out of Vee’s hand. “You’re impossible. Don’t you recognize me?” Vee falters. “You look like me, but…” Viri kneels down and looks into her eyes. “You like girls and boys, but are attracted to none, and that confuses you. You like girls far more, and that’s totally okay. You love your mom and dad more than anything and you’re so proud of their work. You miss Naboo. You go to work with your mom on the weekends, and your favorite animals are sleen and jaggalors. You hate peas. You walk into walls a lot. You got in trouble for dyeing your school robes blue and purple. You’re really happy you’re growing so tall. You—“ Vee stares at her. “You’re me.” ”Yes, I am. I need to get into that room and see whatever we’ve locked away.” “No. You won’t like that room.” ”I’m sure I won’t,” Viri says dryly. “But I still need to go in. Do you have the key?” ”Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Vee sighs, and reaches into her pocket. She hands Viri a stack of keys. ”Which one opens this door?” Viri says, confused. ”All of them. It can’t get out.” ”You locked it up as tightly as you could, didn’t you?” Viri says softly. “It must have really scared you.” Vee puts her chin in the air. “I am to be Sith. Sith do not let their fear rule them. They channel it.” ”You’ve learned your Sith Code, that’s for sure,” Viri smiles as she starts unlocking the door. ”You’re really going in there? Force, no! No! Don’t make me hear it!” Vee screams, covering her ears. ”You don’t have to,” Viri says, conjuring memories of a few of her favorite pets. “I’ll be going in with my wife. You can stay out here with the sleen.” ”Good,” Vee says, running to the animals. “I’ll be over here. If you die in there, don’t blame me.” ”I won’t,” Viri says, and as the final lock falls away, she catches Lana’s eye. ”In we go,” Lana says gravely, grabbing Viri’s hand as they walk through the door. ***

”Viri, we’ve been through the entire fortress,” Lana gasps. “We’ve been here for hours. Who are we looking for?” Viri crouches down and puts her head in her hands. “Myself.” “We’ve run into six versions of Vee here. Three of your adolescent selves. The apprentice. The Wrath. Which memory of you do we still need to find?” ”The one who was – wait. Yes. That’s where we need to go.” Viri pushes on the stones of the corridor, and they fall away. Before them, a platform with a long staircase with a throne looms. ”This is where she was,” Viri explains. “Where she told me to go, when Valkorion shattered my mind. She had absorbed the holocron, so I could find it here. But now she’s – “ "Viri, I'm lost." "Okay. Sorry. Remember when Valkorion seized my mind, and tried to kill my soul? When I was in my own mind, fighting that battle, a version of myself was coaching me along. She told me where to go and what to do. I wouldn't have remembered the holocron otherwise; I was too scattered. But she vanished as soon as I found the holocron and started to fight Valkorion." Lana looks around. “And you think she’s still here?” ”I know she is,” Viri says, searching around the throne. “I feel her here. You take this side; I’ll take this one. We need to find her.” Lana shakes her head, but begins searching the platform. There are signs of a fierce battle – blood, hair that looks suspiciously like Viri’s, pieces of broken armor – but a pale, motionless hand, barely visible behind a rock, makes her scream. ”Viri! Over here!” Viri vaults over the rocks and picks up herself. The version of Viri who lives in her mindscape is battered, bruised and barely alive. Her armor is shredded and her shoulders and arms are bare. ”I’m sorry,” Viri says. “It took us a while to get here.” Mindscape Viri smiles faintly, but is in too much pain to talk. ”Valkorion took a lot out of her – of us. She used every bit of energy she had to help me survive.” Viri strokes her face. ”How do we help her?” Lana asks, kneeling down next to them. ”We heal her, and bring her someplace safe,” Viri says, closing her eyes. The mindscape Viri begins to glow as healing energy surrounds her. Lana puts one hand on each Viri’s back and adds her own mending powers to theirs. Viri rises, carrying her mindscape double in her arms. “She needs to get out of this room. And this room…all of it…needs to go. We’ve already cleaned Valkorion’s damage out of the rest of my mind. This is the last of it.” ”Do you need my help?” Lana asks. ”No, just hold her,” Viri says, passing the double to Lana. “I think I need to do this on my own.” ”May the Force serve you.” ”It will,” Viri says with a smile, marshalling her power and shoving it at the throne. The room explodes around them as Viri attacks it, reducing the platform, steps and throne to dust, and then to nothing. Lana gasps as the ground beneath her disappears, leaving nothing in its wake. ”You’ve got a big block of…well…nothing…here, Viri…” Lana says uncertainly, but in the next moment, the ground around her materializes again. She’s on a lush green lawn, near a waterfall and a small, but beautiful, house. ”Give her back to me,” Viri says, taking her double back from Lana. She walks toward the house. ”No, put me down…let me feel the sun.” Viri nods and conjures a lounge chair for her double, before setting her down gently. ”You’re not trapped in that throne room now,” Viri tells her softly. “You can live here.” ”Naboo,” the mindscape double says, smiling as she looks around. “Thank you.” Viri nods, but as she looks at Lana, she begins to flicker. ”I think our time here is up, love,” Lana says, and grabs Viri’s hand again as the vision goes black. ”Yeah. We did what we needed to.” * ”Wake up.” The stones are cold against Lana’s cheek. She’s back in the Temple of Strength, the room is clear of smoke, and Viri is unconscious in front of the altar. Suvia is kneeling next to them, another torch in her hand. ”You were out for a long time,” Suvia said. ”How long?” Lana asks weakly. ”Five hours.” ”Force alive…” Lana mutters, rushing to Viri’s side. Viri’s eyes are still shadowed, but there is vitality in her face that Lana has not seen in weeks. ”Did she do what she needs to do?” ”Yes. I think so.”

[notcanoncompliant]

Ain’t On the Surface

(WinterIron) I wrote this one a while back, please be kind lol

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

"You're leaving me for him?" Steve exclaims, anger quickly overtaking the hurt disbelief on his face.

James' jaw is so tight he's surprised his teeth aren't cracking. "No, Stevie." He pretends not to see Steve flinch at the nickname. "I'm leaving because you lied. You knew I murdered his parents, and you lied. You lied to me, you lied to Tony. There are other things, but, I just--" James hesitates, looks down, swallows. "You're not the guy I fell in love with, anymore."

He looks back up.

And that's it.

That's the end of the Great American Love Story, the legendary, 'star-spangled romance' that spanned almost ten decades. Through war, through incalculable violence and years of separation, after an impossible, insane reunion, and, fuck, an engagement--James winces internally--it's over.

He pulls off the ring and sets it down on the kitchen island between them. Steve makes a sound like the wind's been knocked out of him. His expression fits: shock, breathlessness, pain.

"It's over, Steve."

***

James isn't sure how long he's been hitting the reinforced bag; he'd lost track after the first hour.

Tony finds him.

"Hey, Armed and Dangerous, those bags don't grow on trees, you know."

James stops, halts the swing of the bag. He steels himself a moment, and then smirks over this shoulder.

"Yeah, well, a certain benefactor of mine has more money than God himself, and probably more brains than that; I'm sure he could find a way to make it happen."

It earns him a chuckle, and part of James preens in spite of his mood.

"Seems like a worthwhile endeavor," Tony says. He stops a couple feet from James and looks at him. His eyes are warm, but concerned; searching.

"You okay, Frosty?"

James gives him a tight smile, and turns back to the bag.

"I--uh. I ended things. With Steve." He chews his lip for a moment. Inhaling audibly, he turns back to face Tony, who looks dumbfounded. James shrugs one shoulder, sighs.

"It was coming a while. Just counting down to that last straw, you know?" He huffs a laugh.

"It never really occurred to me; us not being a unit. 'Til the end of the line', and all that." The ache radiates through James' chest, and he fights the urge to hug himself. He doesn't really want to bring Tony into this; it's not Tony's problem. It'd be easier to just push this aside for a little while and be superficial with the snarky genius.

He looks up, intending to crack some joke to steer them away from the storm that is James Barnes' personal life, but the words die on his tongue.

Tony looks...guilty.

Well, a mix of things, really: guilt is the most prominent, but there's disbelief and surprise, worry and....hope?

Before James can address any of what he's seeing, Tony's face shutters. His dark eyes go flat, tense, and his press-mask sympathetic smile doesn't reach them.

"Sorry, Buckaroo. That's rough stuff. I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have any of that Asgardian stuff laying around--I've got scotch. Wouldn't do much for you, but symbolically..."

James doesn't know what to say.

The billionaire keeps going. "Or vodka, if you're looking for a taste of the motherland--"

"Tony."

"--all I'm saying is we've got options, Barnes, options. They're limited to various kinds of liquor at the moment, but if you're looking for something in particular, I'm sure we could--"

"Stark."

Tony pulls up short, jaw clicking shut.

Bucky closes his eyes, suddenly tired. He wipes a hand down his sweat-tacky face, and looks to the side, over the other man's shoulder. Opens and closes his mouth wordlessly for a moment, and then:

"It was hard. But...you know something?"

He pauses. His skin feels too tight. Tony doesn't say anything.

"It wasn't as hard as it should have been."

The other man's silence is somehow both encouraging and nerve-wracking, and James can't quite work up the courage to look him in the face. He swallows, the click of his throat loud in the empty gymnasium.

"I feel like I should've been...devastated, broken, after...At just the thought of doing it," James says. "But I--I wasn't."

Suddenly, he needs Tony to know, needs to tell someone, that maybe Bucky Barnes didn't survive the fall from that train; not in the ways that count.

James inhales sharply, flexes his hands in and out of fists at his sides, builds it up...and then the wind goes out of his sails.

"It should've been harder," he finishes, lamely.

There's so much more he wants to say, but he doesn't think he could muster up the energy or the guts to pour it all out right now. He doesn't know if he could make it through the reveal, the truth of the matter.

Steve had wanted Bucky, that silver-tongued sniper, the childhood best friend and lover he'd known so well, and James had tried to give it to him. He really had. He'd stayed close, reminisced, fought and ate and slept by his side. The newness of the modern world had given him an excuse, something to blame for the growing distance and discomfort. But denial...denial's a weak veneer, and James has never been the type to hide.

(He'd laughed bitterly about it in private; the bullheadedness being the one thing he did feel comfortable attributing to the man he used to be.)

He is aching; not because he'd left the man he'd loved his entire life, but because of guilt--because he couldn't convince himself to stay. He's been beating himself to hell since the moment he looked up at Steve and felt...nothing.

"--ey, Barnes," Tony's voice cuts through the silence.

The soldier looks up at the other man.

The genius is projecting perfect ease, posture relaxed, both hands held up and open, his face just the same. His eyes are cautious, but the soldier can't really blame him for that. Not right now, when even James is a little worried he might fly apart.

Now that he's got his attention, Tony nods, licks his lips--the only sign of nerves.

"I didn't wanna do it without saying something," he says, "but I'm gonna put my hand on your shoulder, now; is that alright?"

After a pause, James nods shortly.

Then, as if in a dream, he watches his own hands reach forward to gather the smaller man to his chest.

To his intense (but foggy) satisfaction, there's only a moment of stiffness before Tony settles without protest. One of his arms slides up between James' shoulder blades while the other wraps tightly around the soldier's waist. He can feel Tony's breath against the side of his neck.

There's a hesitant, open energy between them, but neither man speaks.

James holds on for a while.

***

There are a few days of awkwardness after the embrace in the gym ("Um. Well," Tony'd coughed, "that's about all the Christmas spirit I think I can handle, Frosty," and he'd practically run from the room), but they fall back into their normal dynamic of easy, casual companionship fairly quickly.

James is incredibly grateful for the genius' quips and comments throughout leisure time and training alike, and the light conversation when Tony tinkers with the arm, because his other relationships are not rebounding nearly so well.

He only really has history with Sam and Natasha, and thankfully they're both of the mind to mind their own business, and interact with him per usual (Sam, slightly less so), but the others...the others radiate disapproval. They mostly just cold-shoulder him: avoid bringing him into conversations, find reasons to leave the room if he walks in. They're not giving him the stink-eye or anything, but they're not really going out of their way to be subtle, either.

At the opposite end of the spectrum are Tony's friends. Rhodes, and Spider Kid, and a few others that don't live at the compound. They're people who are unfailingly supportive of Tony, and the billionaire must have said something, because suddenly, they're supporting James, too. They draw him into their midst without him realizing.

On weekends Peter visits, James has a teenager-shaped satellite.

On the rare days Rhodes stops by the compound, the colonel goes out of his way to trade quips with James over coffee, ropes him into his and Tony's easy back-and-forth schoolyard ribbing.

The first time Ms. Potts greets him casually by his first name ("James," she says, smiling warmly and professionally), he has to resist the urge to look over his shoulder to check for the person she was actually addressing.

Hell, even Tony's driver, Happy, acknowledges him with a casual nod when they cross paths.

James definitely could've struck out on his own long ago; he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself (his solo stint after his last escape from HYDRA was evidence enough of that). Now, with these steadily forming relationships...He's grateful for the reasons to stay.

He finally feels like he's living James' life, not trying to carry on Bucky Barnes' legacy.

*

Through all of this, Steve is...there.

James can't be around him, around the broken looks Steve keeps sending his way. He doesn't want Steve to figure out that James isn't hurting for the same reason he is. He may not love the man, or see him the way he used to...but he's not soulless.

But after a few weeks, Steve starts trying to reach out.

Little things: popping up in the gym at the same time James is in there by himself, appearing in the rooms he happens to be in. James is beginning to suspect Steve might be asking FRIDAY about his whereabouts.

This has the opposite effect of what he knows Steve's going for. It pushes James to go where Steve can't.

*

The first time he shows up at the door to the workshop after everything, without an prosthetic-related issue, he's not sure he'll be welcome. He is, after all, another reason most of the team has chosen to attempt to alienate Tony further, and even if it's not something he's doing himself, he's still kind of the root of another one of Tony's problems.

His concern (fear) is laid to rest as soon as he touches the indicated scanner and the door slides open with zero pause. He steps into the room, stares around in awe for a moment (he'll never get used to the future he sees in this room), and then his eyes fall on the man at the main work station, and his heart kicks in his chest.

Tony looks...really good. Great. He's digging around in one of the suits in nothing but a tight white tank top and old worn jeans, streaks of grease scattered over his exposed skin, a light sheen all over from the exertion involved in the physical labor of machine repair.

When Tony turns to reach for something, it puts James in his line of sight, and after a flare of surprise, he smiles with open warmth.

Fine, Tony doesn't look good. He looks loveable. And fuckable.

The genius calls up to FRIDAY to turn down the music and strides towards James.

"Hey, Tasty Freeze, what's up? This a visit or a hideout?"

He says it so cavalier, like he isn't being put through the ringer by the things James has done, and it makes James want to hug him again.

"Why can't it be both?"

"Touche. I'm at a good stopping point anyway--by that I mean FRIDAY and Pep are both demanding I take a break--so how about you give me another reason to stop for a while?"

It's innocent, definitely just the inventor offering to eat some lunch or just sit and shoot the shit, but a light flush that has nothing to do with work blooms across Tony's cheeks.

James' sharp eyes track the physical manifestations of this man's desire for him, the signs Tony always tries to keep hidden: the flush, the dilation of his pupils, the almost jitters, the aborted reaching motions and the way his eyes cling to different parts of James' anatomy when he thinks the soldier won't notice.

He notices. He's always noticed. But he's never pushed or mentioned any of it.

Now, he stalks forward into Tony's space, confident, but carefully monitoring the man's reactions in case the advance is unwelcome.

Tony's eyes go wide, but he doesn't step back.

God, he's adorable. He lights a fire in James that hasn't been lit since before HYDRA, since before all of the bullshit with the return of the 'Rogues'. Through all of his internal conflict, through all of his uncertainty about his place in this new order that's been established here at the compound, he's never really doubted Tony's support. It's why he'd opened up so easily after everything, and why he's here now, staring down at the smaller man, the smaller man who is actually so much bigger than all of the people who try or have tried to crush him down.

"I can give you plenty of reasons," James says, smirking as he pulls the genius into a kiss.

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

Everything Tag List: @the-amazing-spidertwink, @starkercrossedlovers, @silkystark, @hoeforthegays

(I hope y’all don’t mind I’m tagging you on this not-Starker nonsense)

[rizlowwritessortof]

Part 3: The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Here comes the angsty part...

Pairing: Dean x Toby Matheson (female OC) 

Word Count: 1789

Warnings: Nothing but pining and angst

Final part coming next week!

God, what a mess.

The whole place reeked of death, used-up bodies of prior kills tossed like so many empty bottles against the wall, left to rot. The need to survive the battle tended to outweigh the urge to gag, since the three of them had their hands full. It was a nasty bunch, nastier than most, all big, ugly and reckless.

Toby let out a scream of frustration as she kicked at the bastard she was currently fighting and buried her machete in his cranium. She yanked it free, then swung again, taking his head off and glaring in the direction of the corpse. “How many more of you can there possibly be?” She scanned the room, spotting Sam and Dean in their own scuffles, then whirled to face a raging female behind her.

When the noise and chaos finally quieted, she moved to the middle of the room, panting for air as she stepped over pieces and parts of bodies. “Did we get them all? Finally?”

Dean swiped a forearm over his face, wiping away sweat and blood as he nodded. “I think so. I fucking hope so. Shit, Sam, I thought there were only five or six?”

“Yeah, well – they must have been having a party. Or they recruited,” he responded breathlessly. “I don’t know. I’ll go see if we have some gas in the trunk. This whole place needs to go up in flames.”

Dean nodded, and Sam headed for the front door of the barn. “Stinks so bad in here. Toby, are you good?”

She blew out a breath. “Yeah. You?” She glanced up to see his answering nod, and her eyes widened. “Dean, DOWN!” she screamed, and he dropped, rolling to the side and then leaping to his feet, the majority of a vamp’s severed head landing with a sickening squelch nearby.

“Holy fuck. Thanks.” He watched as she let her machete drop from her shaking hand, her eyes on the hatchet still in the clutches of the dead vampire. She looked up at Dean, her face almost white, and then turned to rush out the back door. “Shit. Toby...”

He followed her outside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, searching. He rounded the corner of the building to find her, arms and forehead braced against the barn wall. “Toby, it’s okay. It’s over. We’re okay.”

Her voice was muffled, panic still coming through loud and clear. “That was too close, Dean. I almost missed it. If I wouldn’t have looked up right then, he would’ve buried that axe…”

He stepped up closer, taking her shoulder and turning her to face him. “Hey. You just saved my ass in there. Stop beating yourself up. We should have checked the building again, that’s on all of us.”

She looked up at him, clearly shaken. “I just almost watched you die! That’s not okay, Dean, I’m not okay!” She suddenly stepped forward, shoving at his shoulders, knocking him back a step as he stared back in surprise. “You cannot fucking die in front of me, you fucker!” she almost sobbed, drawing her fist back to swing at him, but this time he was prepared, grabbing her wrist and shoving her back against the building.

“Toby, stop!” he shouted, staring into her eyes for a few endless seconds before crashing his lips into hers, emotion and desire winning over his resistance. She whimpered and struggled against him, trying to yank her wrist free until he finally let go, and her arms clamped around his neck, pulling him closer. He stopped for one moment, looking down at her before swearing softly and kissing her again, his body crushing hers between him and the rough wood siding of the barn.

Sam’s voice calling their names brought things to an abrupt halt, and Dean stepped back, dragging his thumb roughly over his lips. “Yeah, we’re out here!” He looked at the ground as he spoke to her, his voice subdued. “If you want to wait in the car, I’ll help Sam get the fire going. Then we can get the hell out of here.”

Toby pulled herself away from the barn, giving him one last glance as she turned and walked towards the Impala. She climbed into the back seat and wrapped her arms around herself as a few of the tears she was valiantly fighting spilled over. She swiped a hand over her face and laid her head back against the seat, eyes closed and teeth clenched. By the time Sam and Dean came to the car, she had forced an emotionless mask in place and sat staring out the window. She responded to Sam’s query with an “I’m fine,” pointedly avoiding meeting Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

It was almost morning when they pulled into the bunker garage. Dean opened his door, then paused before getting out. “I say we deserve a break. Let’s get cleaned up, get some rest and head to KC for the weekend. Whatcha think?” After the non-enthusiastic mumbled replies, he piped up again. “Okay, fine. We’re doin’ it. We all need some fun around here. We leave this afternoon, let’s say 4-4:30. No arguments.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Toby smiled at Sam as he clinked their beers together, joining him in taking a few swallows of the cold brew. It was a decent hotel, Dean had booked them each their own room, and after some Kansas City barbecue, they were downing a few in the hotel bar.  

She turned her head at an exaggerated giggle, her stomach churning at the sight of the willowy brunette hanging on Dean’s arm and his every word. She rolled her eyes at another ridiculous laugh and turned to face Sam again, nodding towards the pool table. “Play me a game? Then I’m gonna call it a night. I’m feeling a little ill.”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “You know it doesn’t mean anything. I know that doesn’t help, but...”

“Nope, you’re right. It doesn’t. Come on, or are you scared to play me?” They headed for the billiards area and grabbed the unoccupied table. She took another swig of her beer and then shot to break, stiffening as a clumsy, warm body bumped into her from behind.

“Need any help there, honey?” The words were slurred, and she sent an elbow back, not too violently, but enough to make the guy back off a little.

“Pretty sure I’ve got it, Sparky. You can find somebody else to play with.”

“Wow. Just try’na be frenly, don’t hafta be such a bitch.” She rolled her eyes at the sound of Dean’s voice, turning to see him taking a fistful of the drunk’s shirt in his hand.

“I think you owe this lady an apology,” he growled, and Toby glared at him.

“Dean, if I did need any help with this douchebag, which I don’t - Sam’s right here. Why don’t you go back to your play date. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“See, told ya she’s a bitch,” the idiot mushed out, and Dean shoved him, hard.

“Get the fuck outta here before I kick your ass.” Drunk guy sneered and turned, stumbling his way out.

Toby stared at Dean, her eyes spitting fire, and he drew breath to speak, but Sam’s quiet voice stopped him. “Dean, just let it go.” He looked at Sam, then at the floor, chewing and swallowing his words as he turned and walked away.

“Thanks,” she said, and Sam nodded. “That was about to get ugly.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” He drained the last of his beer. “You want another? It’s still your shot.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She looked up to see Dean back at the bar, the bimbo firmly attached to him again, and turned back to the table, firing off a frustrated shot aimed at nothing in particular, ending in a scratch. She thanked Sam for the beer and downed half of it as he took his turn at the table.

They finished their game and Toby said goodnight, heading to the elevator as Sam went to the bar for one last drink. Her head was pounding, and not from the drinks. All she wanted was bed and unconsciousness.

She stepped off the elevator and cringed as she cursed her timing. Dean and the woman from the bar were in front of his room, and she was practically molesting him as he tried to disentangle himself enough to unlock the door. She swore softly, pulling her key card from her pocket and hoping like hell that she could get inside her room before she was seen. No such luck, though. Dean looked up as she opened her door, startled to see her at first, but then the look in his eyes made her heart lurch. He looked miserable, guilty and ashamed, and it took her several seconds to pull her gaze away and enter her room, slamming the door behind her. She stood there, numb, finally blowing out a breath and lifting a shaking hand to brush back her hair, vaguely surprised to find her face wet with tears.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet when they got back to the bunker, wordlessly moving around each other and speaking only when necessary. Toby spent most of her time in her room, avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. Just until she could get her feelings under control, she told herself, get back to normal. Because how she was feeling now couldn’t be a permanent thing. She couldn’t take it.

A couple of nights later, she was heading for the kitchen for a late-night snack when she heard Sam’s voice raise and stopped in her tracks. “Why don’t you just talk to her, Dean? Just admit it, you’re scared. Scared shitless.”

“You’re out of line, Sammy. Don’t fucking try to tell me how I feel.” She heard angry footsteps, then a door slamming, and she retreated back to her room.

She was as bad as Dean, just as afraid. They were going to have to talk about it, someday. But not today. She crawled back into bed, wrapped herself in her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, determined to stop the thoughts that ran rampant every night. She finally fell asleep, losing the battle once again, and dreamed of his green eyes staring back at her, his lips on hers, his hands gripping her arms, his body pressed close.  And she woke with a start, aching for him, wondering if he had even come home, or if he was hiding from himself again, in bed with some anonymous stranger. 

God, what a mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags for my babes:

@saenalife    @deanscarlett    @misswhizzy    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean    @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan    @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ackeviddlestan   @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451    @lovin-ackles    @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @angelofwinchester17    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirst​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @hamartiamacguffin​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​  @kathaswings​  @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​

[enkelimagnus]

Jonabelle: Monstrous

Sebastian!Jonathan/Isabelle fic, Canon Verse, Fight, Hurt/Comfort

Warning for self-harm, blood and mentions of violence

Sebastian and Isabelle have a fight after he hurts someone for her, and it sends Sebastian in a terrible spiral.

Read on AO3

Sebastian’s fingers were red with blood and he couldn’t stop staring at them. They were steady, not shaking or trembling as they should be after what he’d done. He barely even felt remorse.

He’d seen the man’s eyes follow Isabelle as she walked through the Institute. He’d seen the way he sneered at her orders, the way he shared looks with his colleagues and friends as she spoke. He’d seen the hunger in his gaze, he’d smelled the disgusting arousal the man felt when he caught her training.

He’d been doing that for weeks . Following her as she worked, staring at her like a predator. Sebastian hadn’t been able to take it.

He knew enough about lust as a weapon to know the man was dangerous. And he needed to be stopped. If it wasn’t Isabelle, it would be someone else. It was never one girl. It was always several, it was always monstrous.

He remembered Lilith’s lessons on lust and sex and love and how twisted it could be. Sebastian himself still had issues with his own lust and his own ways of showing love. They tended to be bloody, violent and not very… desired by the person he loved.

His fingers were red with blood and he pushed back the urge to lick them clean, to savor the kill. Even if there was no real kill to savor.

They’d stopped him before he could kill the man. Too fucking bad. The anger rose in him again, burning his veins. He could almost feel his eyes shifting to black, his power rising with the anger.

It was so hard to control sometimes. Often, he wished he could control it. And sometimes, he wished he didn’t have to. He wished the Clave would let him explode. He wished the Lightwoods would let him explode.

He stared at his fingers. He hadn’t been this violent in months. He hated and loved how good it felt to be mad and to be powerful.

He remembered the pale skin of the man, his face getting whiter even, his body stinking of fear. Sebastian took a deep, calming breath. The air didn’t smell like any particular emotion right now. Good.

Heels resounded in the corridor behind the door. His senses were heightened by his activated demon blood. He felt high on it, on the blood and the fear and the feeling of power that had come with grabbing the man by the throat and ripping his junk off.

Before Isabelle, before his new life, he would seek out a partner and fuck until the high wore off. He’d have broken them, or let them break him, depending on what he felt like. Sometimes even both in turn.

It was different now. Isabelle wouldn’t want to have sex with him after what he’d just done. He’d seen the look on her face, the one that made him shiver and the one that meant he’d fucked up really bad. He hated to upset her.

She took a deep breath behind the door and the key turned in the lock. The great wooden door opened and she stepped towards him. He couldn’t resist the urge to turn around and look at her.

There was blood on her tight black dress. He couldn’t see it but he could smell it. A shiver ran down his spine and he kept his eyes on her. Her dark hair, her tan skin, strong legs that he wanted around his waist and…

“Stop,” Isabelle ordered.

She knew what he was thinking. Sebastian winced. He probably had the same look in his eyes as the man had. Should he be ripping his own eyes out for that?

“Why, in the Angel’s name, did you do that?” She said, her voice harsh and cold. “Why did you think this was a good idea?”

Sebastian huffed. “He was staring at you. He was a predator.”

Isabelle crossed her arms. “I don’t fucking care. I don’t fucking care what you think you saw in him. You crossed a line!”

Sebastian couldn’t help but glare at her. “I protected you. I thought you’d be happy.”

Her nails dug into her arms and Sebastian tried not to focus on it. He tried to rein in the snarling beast in his mind. Was this what werewolves felt like?

“Happy?!” Isabelle exclaimed. She was so mad he could smell it. Fuck, it was intense. It hit Sebastian like a truck, the blood and the anger making him feel almost dizzy. “You maimed someone, almost killed the man, and now the Clave wants to put you on trial!”

Sebastian grinded his teeth. He didn’t give a fuck about the Clave. He wanted to be free, right now. He was high on blood and demonic energy and he couldn’t think of anything but riding that high.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “The Clave can do whatever they want. I was right. And you know that.”

Isabelle huffed. “That’s not the point. He didn’t do anything! You attacked him and almost killed him. That was wrong.”

Sebastian looked back down at his fingers. The blood was almost dry now, darker than before, stuck to his skin. He hadn’t felt this in months.

“I protected you,” he repeated. “That’s all that matters to me, Isabelle.”

He stood up finally from where he was sitting. Two steps below her, he was the same height as her, staring right into her eyes.

“I don’t need your fucking protection,” Isabelle hissed. “I’m not a fucking damsel in distress and I don’t want your protection. Not when you act like a monster.”

Sebastian opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew it was heranger speaking but… Isabelle had been the one person to never call him a monster. The pain of that cut through the haze of the blood high like an ice cold dagger.

He took a step closer to her, reaching to gently touch her arm, to apologize, but he couldn’t. She flinched away from him. Isabelle had realized what she’d said, but she didn’t apologize then. She looked at him with dark, angry eyes. Eyes that said, ‘I want to hurt you’.

“I see,” he replied, colder, pained.

She just looked at him. “You’re being confined to your apartment until they question you and put you on trial,” she added. “You should go now.”

Sebastian looked down at his hands. He felt the urge to scrub all of the blood off, to wash it all away. Isabelle walked away and the door snapped shut behind her. He stayed outside of the Institute, shoulders heavy, his entire body shaking.

Eventually, he turned away from the Institute and walked through the wards. He pushed his hands into his pockets, so if there were people with the Sight around, they wouldn’t see the blood.

The apartment wasn’t far, unfortunately.

The main room was quiet, as if the apartment knew what he’d done, what he’d said. He peeled off his clothes on the way to the bathroom, sweater and jeans hitting the floor on the way. The water wasn’t set to the hottest setting. Isabelle had been the last to take a shower here.

He pushed it to the hottest for himself and stood under the water until his skin hurt and his legs ached from standing too long. He stood there until he felt the burning, until he felt it cleanse the monster out of him.

Isabelle hated it when he burnt himself like this, she said it wasn’t good. But he didn’t know any other way to make it right.

It burnt brighter and brighter until he felt like blisters were forming over his skin, yet he didn’t move. He deserved it after what he’d done.

“Sebastian?” Her voice called out from the front door.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he could. The pain was blinding him. Overwhelming him. Suffocating him.

She must have heard the shower running and guessed what he was doing. She was going to be so bloody mad at him. His nails scraped at his already abused skin, hard enough to draw blood. He couldn’t stop himself.

The door of the bathroom banged open. He could barely see anything, in between the water that burnt his eyes and the steam in the bathroom. He could see the general shape of her, beautiful and perfect, like an angelic apparition. She waded through the steam and he heard her pained cry.

“Sebastian!” She shouted, running into the shower. Her mouth pressed in a thin line as the burning water hit her skin and she turned off the spray.

Unable to hold himself for much longer, dizzy with the loss of the constant burning water, Sebastian stumbled down.

She grabbed at him, pulling him closer. Her hands slipped on his wet and painful skin, making him wince. It hurt. Everything hurt. He rested against her, soaking her dress. His face settled against her collarbone, nose against the soft skin of her throat. He breathed in as much as he could, coughing from the pain immediately after. She smelled like worry. Like love too. He wanted to cry.

She moved, grabbing her stele and reaching over to his thigh. She activated his iratze, the black rune shining golden as it healed.

Immediately, he could breathe a little better.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, Isabelle, I’m so sorry.”

Isabelle shushed him, keeping him close and rocking him gently. He curled into himself, into her. His body was bigger than hers, longer for sure, but he felt so small. Isabelle’s hand caressed his wet hair, rubbing patterns soothingly onto his scalp.

The pain and the hotness left his body and soon enough, he was cold and shaking.

With one arm around his waist, Isabelle pulled him to his feet and helped dry him with the fluffy lavender-colored towel Sebastian loved.

He put on some comfortable clothing, sweatpants and a sweater and sat on the bed as she did the same. Her dress was soaked along with her tights and her underwear. She put on a large tshirt and some pyjama shorts, put her hair up in a bun and sat next to him.

Her hands were soothing on him.

Sebastian took a deep breath and reached over to touch her. She didn’t flinch away and relief and gratitude flooded him again.

“I won’t do it again,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…”

Isabelle sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean what I said,” she replied. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I just…”

Sebastian closed his eyes for a second. “I crossed a line. I know I did.” He felt so exhausted right now.

Isabelle nodded. “I won’t say that ever again. I don’t see you as a monster, Sebastian,” she promised.

“I know.”

And he truly did. He knew she didn’t see him the way the others did, she never had. Still, it had hurt more than everything else he’d been through lately. She’d crushed him, for a moment. Enough so the high dissipated and the pain took over.

“I’ll do better. I’ll control myself better,” he promised in return. “I… I’m sorry I don’t feel remorse. I still think he deserved it.”

Isabelle sighed heavily. “Maybe he did. Let’s hope the Clave will see it that way. I can’t lose you. Not when I’ve just found you.”

Sebastian took her hand in his and pulled it up to his lips. He pressed a kiss there, reverent, penitent, too. When he looked back up at her, she was smiling a little.

Underneath the tender smile, she looked sad, worried. He should be, too. The Clave didn’t like him and he wouldn’t bear to be taken from her side.

They both laid down on the bed and he shifted closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him and he rested his head against her chest, seeking comfort. Isabelle sighed, content. Sebastian closed his eyes, enjoying her perfume and her warmth surrounding him.

There was nothing that made him relax like her arms around him.  

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Embracing Recovery

Veg-notables: Well it was a month in coming but i have finally drawn this whole thing to a close. It’s been quite the trip and the learning experience to boot. Somehow it all wrapped up in a nice tidy package encompassing several story lines into one world completely by accident by there you have it.  Something just happen that way.  

Many thanks to all those that jumped on this month long whump ride with me and many, many thanks to  @gumnut-logic for putting up with me none stop pretty much for the whole duration.  Your guidance and support has been very, very much appreciated.. And the mountain loads of candied ammo that was lobbed in my direction.  I think I might have a cavity now… 

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning:  Revelations, hurt, comfort and a resolution of sorts. 

Characters: Virgil, Scott, with a dash of Kayo, Gordon and Alan.  V/K

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Part 1 Unconscious | Part 2 Shaky Hands | Part 3 Stitches | Part 4 “Don’t move”

30. Recovery & 31. Embrace

Enjoy…

oOo

The moment Virgil stepped foot into the lounge he could feel Scott’s eyes on him and he resisted the urge to roll his own.  

“I’m fine, Scott.”  He said on reflex as he crossed the space on his way to the stairs.  He needed coffee stat and nothing was going to distract him from his goal. 

Scott came around the desk,  eyes narrowing on Virgil’s face as he headed towards him.  

Virgil was well aware of what he looked like and how he felt, thank you very much.  He was fresh from a shower, clean shaven and feeling for the first time in a while, well rested. The fact he required coffee to function on any given morning was nothing new and something that decidedly didn’t warranted the frown that was brewing on his brother’s face. 

“You’re squinting.” 

Now he did roll his eyes and he didn’t care if Scott saw it or not.  Turning he trotted down the stairs, Scott hot on his heels.

“Scott,  I’m okay. Stop worrying.”  Virgil b-lined it for the coffee pot, one though in mind.  Most obtain caffeine…

His brother’s hand landed on his shoulder, preventing him from reaching his target just feet from his destination. 

“This is really getting a bit much, Scott.”  He grumbled and cursed at himself internally for not taking the elevator all the way down the kitchen.  Why oh why had he thought that stopping at the lounge on the way was a good idea?  Hind sight and all that jazz was bullshit. 

“Are you sure?”  His brother’s voice sounded worried. 

“Yes,  it’s just the usual aftermath.  Nothing new there,  I am always a bit light sensitive for a few days after a migraine,  you know this.”  Virgil slipped out from under his brother’s grasp, stepped past him and snagged his favourite mug out of the cupboard.  

“Any double vision? Blurriness?” Came the expected rapid fire questions as he stalked after him to the coffee pot.  

Virgil sighed and didn’t answer right away and concentrated on pouring the aromatic brew.  Let his brother stew for a moment,  served him right for the mother hen and interrogation routine.   

After their lovely discussion the previous morning, Virgil had retreated to his room again, only venturing out around sunset in order to obtain some much needed sustenance and to watch Kayo do her ninja thing on the pool deck.  

Thankfully he’d managed to avoid Scott as he had been called away from the island and he’d only had to deal with his very perceptive Grandmother.  

That had been an interesting exchange and not one he wished to repeat any time soon. He needed time to wrap his head around things, sort out his emotions and if that meant doing everything in his power to be on the opposite side of the island from everyone else.. So be it. 

Except there was his very real need for coffee and due to that vice he had risked the trip down from his room.   It was apparently evident that Lady Luck was so not in his corner this fine morning.

Satisfied that his cup had reached its maximum capacity,  he lifted it to his lips and took his first sip of the day.   

Scolding, hot and deliciously rich, the flavour flowed over his taste buds and sung the song of the caffeine addicted.  A thrum of ecstasy fired up his neurons and the pleasure centre of his brain lit up like a Christmas tree.  Oh sweet Baby Jeebus, he bit back on the joyful moan as his need was finally sated. 

Then his brother’s tapping foot finally registered.    

Drawing in a breathe to anchor is growing antipathy,  he finally graced his overly anxious sibling with an answer.  “No double vision or blurriness.  Like I said, I’m fine. Let it go, Scott.” 

His brother’s arms crossed over his chest, eyes still inspecting.  Searching for any sign of deceit in his answer.  

The trust they shared had been rocked and Virgil was well aware that this was the price of his actions.  Something he was going to have to learn to deal with but right now… there was coffee..

Sipping away quietly for a few minutes, he let his brother continue staring at him, assessing the minutia of his movements and facial expression with a bored air of one well used to an over protective big brother filling in the very large shoes of their Father.  

His patience lasted a lot longer than he thought it would.

“You look tired still, you get enough sleep? “  

That did it,  patience quota reached. Completely maxed out.  

“Jesus… Scott. Stop it. I’m fine.” Putting his mug down with a little more force than he intended he marked off points on his fingers.  “I have slept, done pretty much nothing but since I crashed out in Two.   I have eaten enough food to satiate a small army.   I am more hydrated than even the Fish right now and that is saying something considering he basically lives in the pool.  There is no pain and my vision is fine. “

His brother looked like he was about to say something but Virgil put up a hand to stop him.  

“No.” He sighed, hands on his hips as his head dropped down.  Closing his eyes, he counted to ten to reign in his ire.   

“Look,  Scott…”  He started,  stalled out. Gave his doubt the middle finger and plowed on.  “Globalmax was over a year ago and you can stop hovering now, I’m not going to break. Sure I get the odd migraine but that’s it. Pack it in, let it go

Scott’s face shifted,  darkened.  Eyes narrowed, he poked a finger into Virgil’s face.   “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What…?” Confused all to hell at the change in his brother, Virgil’s brow furrowed. 

“Kind of the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

“Bullshit,”  Scott’s temper flared and it had Virgil adjusting his stance to square off against the gale force that had surged into the kitchen. “You telling me to let it go when you can’t do the same.  You act like I haven’t clued into what you’ve been doing the last few weeks ever since I put Gordon back on active duty.”

Virgil’s face blanched, his defenses suddenly evaporating in the face of Scott’s accusation and he stood dumbfounded.

“I…”

“You what?” Scott stepped up to him,  all righteous anger and indignation but Virgil didn’t know how to respond.  Caught off guard by his brother’s fury and being found out so easily, words completely abandoned him.  

Scott seemed to catch himself and forced himself to step off, to back up.  Temper radiated out of him in waves but he clamped his control down hard on it and closed off as he reeled himself in.  

“Ya, just like I thought.  You can preach to me about letting things go but I sent you in to that plant. I was the one that put you in harm’s way and we came damn close to losing you.  Almost did had it not been for a fleet of stubborn ass doctors set on keeping your heart going.”

His voice hitched at the end and he had to put some physical distance between them,  long legs taking him across the kitchen around the table and back again. 

He paced a few more steps and stopped,  the counter between them.  “Just like you did sending Gordon in after Braman at the Calypso crash site. 

The words hung like a stinking carcass in the air and Virgil’s chest heaved, breathing in the hot, foul stench of it. 

Pulse kicking he tried to come up with excuses, tried to think around what Scott had tossed to callously in front of him but he couldn’t see a way around it.  There was no avoiding it when it was strung up with flashing lights right in front of your face like some damn garish marquee sign at a theatre.  

“You..you don’t understand.”

"Try it,  make me understand.”  Scott’s voice grew soft though his posture still screamed unrestrained agitation. 

Virgil drew in a breath, thought a moment,   blew back out again as his mind tossed out and rejected several responses. Finally he settled on one. “He’s my co-pilot.”  As if that should be answer enough.   

Like those three words could explain the whole of it.  That Gordon was more than a passenger along for a ride in Two.  He was his partner on missions,   his back up when he was unable to take the controls himself,  his goofy baby brother,  his responsibility… 

Virgil had been well aware of the dangers out here,  all those feet below the ocean surface under all that atmospheric pressure of millions and millions of gallons of water but he’d still let him go.  Even with the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something didn’t feel right but they were International Rescue so they did what their Father’s legacy dictated.  

Even if just for a machine,  an automaton that had been broadcasting on all their frequencies for hours on end.  He let his baby brother go,  and he’d nearly ended up dead. 

Left to die at the bottom of the ocean, crushed beneath a mountain of a crumbled volcanic stack like his life meant nothing. Like he was just an irritant that needed to be swatted away and was done so carelessly and with such disregard for everything their family stood for.  Everything they had spent the better part of their adult lives striving to achieve.   

Hovering above the ocean waiting for some news, seeing the broken body sprawled unmoving across a med-bay gurney had torn a hole through Virgil that he hadn’t been able to fill in all the time since.   An aching pit of guilt and despair that he had thought he could handle,  hide away in some dark corner of his mind.

It had only grown and festered, like an untreated wound.  Kept him up at night with visions of alternate outcomes. Of vaguely remember funerals,  caskets draped in white flowers and the somber words. 

Kayo had clicked into the fact that something was wrong months ago maybe Scott had too. The concerned etched on his face now mirrored her own every time he looked at her but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to burden them with this.  So to throw Kayo off the trail he’d tossed something else at her feet. Hoping that it would be enough to waylay her.

The message from Bramen about their Father being alive. He hadn’t lied to her about his feelings but he hadn’t supplied her with the whole of it. The omission hadn’t been easy and the guilt of that had compounded all the rest, but he had stood firm in visage even though he was crumbling just like that stack on the inside. 

As for Scott,   he’d just closed himself off.  Withdrawn and buried himself in work and good intentions   

The stim-tabs had come in handy and as he looked down at his trembling hand he knew, he’d gone way too far with it.  All Scott had to do was look back through all of Two’s records to see how far he’d fallen. 

Scott had a right to be concerned and Kayo had a right to her tears.  

Clenching his fist, he forced himself to answer no matter how painful it was. “He should never have been down there on his own.  I should have gone with him.” 

“So you could do what exactly?”  Scott moved, settled on a stool at the counter, in for the long haul if that was what it was going to take. “Gordon knows what he’s doing better than any of us.  He was WASP.  He has more qualification for underwater rescue than all of us combined.  He is always aware of the dangers every time he heads out there but he accepts it.

Scoot looked to the counter,  his fingers playing through the cooling puddle of coffee left there by Virgil’s careless handling.   “You can’t stop him from going out there, Virg... “  His words stopped short as the sounds of voices and stomping feet came thundering down the stairs.

Inane chatter about some video game or another bounced around the lofty ceiling and abruptly came to a halt when the aquanaut in question came up short at the end of the flight, Alan nearly running into the back of him.

“The fuck, Gordon?  Why’d you sto….?”  Alan’s inquiry drifted off as he took in the open air kitchen and instantly picked up on the heaviness that clogged the space.

“What’s up?”  Gordon asked as two pair of serious eyes turned his way.  One carrying more worry and guilt then it appeared  Gordon cared for and the other, frustration at whatever was going on being interrupted.  His own gaze darted back and forth between his older siblings with some trepidation.  “Who died?” 

Virgil turned away,  walked over to the  large, open patio and leaned his bulk against the thick clear blast door where it nested by its stationary counterpart. 

Scott sighed,  and Virgil pictured him standing with his hands braced on his hips and his head shaking back and forth is annoyance"Gordon.."

"What?"He asked completely oblivious to what his words had invoked. 

Virgil listened to the exchange behind him with only half an ear and watched the play of light across the rippling water of the pool.  

Gordon's oblivion question had been more  poignant they he knew his brother had meant.  It had struck the chord of the conversation and the image of his still, unresponsive body in Two echoed through his mind with a clarity that made Virgil shudder. 

It was early in the day still so the oppressive heat this time of year usually drummed up hadn't yet settled over the island yet.  

There was a breeze whispering through the fronds of the palms and rustling the long strands of ornamental grasses that boarded the patio in quaint little arrangements that Virgil knew his Father had installed as homage to the woman who so loved to garden when they were little.  

The cadence of the conversation behind changed and his pushed his focus back inside to the room as Gordon's voice rose.  

"Oh well..it looks like the adults are talking so we better run off and play like good little boys." 

"Gordon,. That's not what I meant.". 

"Than what did you mean?" He demanded facing off with Scott glare for glare.  

When Scott failed to answer, the currently land bound human-fish bristled and turned his sights on Virgil.  

Virgil’s mouth gaped a moment as he floundered but he didn't get a chance to respond as Kayo appeared at his elbow, her hand resting a moment on the base of his spine in a gesture of support before she slipped around him and over to Gordon.  

Her voice was pitched in such a way that they could all hear her words.  "I just got word that Lady P in inbound. Should be here soon."

Gordon’s attention was instantaneously redirected. “Penny’s coming here?”

Kay nodded, “About ten minutes out. Sad something about a reef project she is working on.”

“Ya,  she mentioned that to me last week.  I didn’t think they would move so fast on it..”  

The distraction work and in short order Gordon was back up the stairs and out of the room. 

Alan remained behind, gaze ping ponging between all those gathered in the familiar space.  A little lost as to what to do and where to go now that Gordon was off chasing after her Ladyship.   “Sooooooo…?”  He ventured.  

Kayo took pity on him,  grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the pantry and gave the pair of them a look,  her eyes lingering on Virgil as she turned and walked back over to Alan.  “Hey, why don’t you show me that new Zombie game you’ve been going on about?”

Alan blinked,  shifted awkwardly on his feet as he absorbed the rising tension in the room again and was unsure what to do about it.  It was obvious from his pinched expression that he was well aware that things were far from alright between his two biggest brothers. 

“Everything okay?”  He asked instead as Kayo came up to him.  

She glanced back at Virgil as if she was interested in the answer to the question as well.  

Virgil’s large chest expanded on an inhalation before he took the reins.  “It’s cool, Alan.  Don’t worry about it.” 

Alan didn’t look convinced and neither did Kayo but she nodded in return.  

There would be words later, Virgil knew but for now she would back off and leave them to sort themselves out.  

“If you say so…” And the pair of them disappeared up the stairs. 

The kitchen grew quiet with their absence, the only sound that of the wind through the palms and a few wild birds that called the island home. 

“Listen,”  Scott was the first to break the stillness and Virgil peered back over his shoulder so Scott knew he was doing just that. “All I am saying is that I understand where you are coming from.  I’ve been there.  Am there, every day.  Every time a call comes in and I have to send one of you out there to do the impossible because it seems like no one else can, I’m right there where you are now.  I have to live with that. Remind myself that not only did I pick this life but you all did too.  You know the risks,  just trust that they know the risks too and remember that you are not alone.  

He came up to Virgil bumped his shoulder against his companionably.  “And if things ever get too hard, too much there are those on this island that are more than willing to help and if not here,”  His head inclined towards the ocean, towards the world at large,  “There are plenty of people out there that owe us a few things and would jump at the chance to return the favour.“

Virgil absorbed what was being offered and finally for the first time in days, months really the weight on his shoulders lifted.   

He chuckled slightly as a thought came to mind and just like that the tension was gone,  the animosity and outrage and all the negative crap that went along with it up and left.

“What?”  Scott asked a quizzical look popping his brow up in confusion,

“How in the hell do you put up with all of this?  All of us?” 

Scott grinned back, the devil in his smile.  “Dad’s private stash of Scotch… lots of Scotch.”

The sun was shifting outside as it made its way across the sky and a spear of light bounced off the pool which made Virgil blink, that fact that nothing speared into his brain with the flash of light didn’t go unnoticed by him.  Time took care of all things and it seemed the worst of everything had come to pass.  

The band-aid holding everything back had been torn off, the wound free to breathe and hopefully to heal now that all those party to it existence had lanced it of the festering poison that was rotting away at its core. 

The disinfectant that family supplied, was to be applied liberally and eventually all that would be left was a fading scar and life would go on.

His smile widened and grew broader as the future finally started to look brighter and he slung an arm over Scott’s shoulder, pulling him in for an unexpected hug which his brother reciprocated wholeheartedly.  

“It might be early but somewhere in the world it’s not.  Let’s go find that scotch.”  

oOo

The End.

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[peacefulwriter88]

Silent Orders - Part 1

Teacher!Steve Rogers x Reader 

Warnings: None for part one minus sweet fluff

A/N: @gifsbysimplysonia requested this a while back and my imagination was able to cluster together this cute little two parter - hope you all enjoy

Also mood board created by me so tag me if you reblog/share _______

The spring bake sale had been pushed up earlier, much to many parents dismay. The spring soccer teams were in dire need of new uniforms for every grade so the principal had suggested to use the popular small town event as a fundraiser in which every parent was encouraged to participate in.

And in a small town like Green Oaks, that meant of course that everyone participated.

It was what had led Steve walking down the narrow Green Oaks Elementary hallway, a small chubby hand encased in his own as the pair of them slowly strolled down the narrow passage. Dismissal had been an hour ago but the school was still vibrant with life, surprisingly for a Friday in March, the air drifting with laughter and the sweet smell of baked goods and other wares.

“Is my mommy going to do be down this hallway?”

Adrians voice is tiny, barely audible above the chatter and Steve looks down at him with a large smile, giving him a squeeze.

“I think so buddy. Remember, this morning she said she was going to be a little late because she had to run home and grab all of the yummy goodies you helped her bake for the fundraiser?”

Adrian nods but his small, round eyes still don’t stop from roaming from the endless array of tables. Steve gives him a squeeze, resisting the urge to lift the small boy and sing him one of the many songs that he knew would yank a grin out of him.

Biasedly, Steve adored the inquisitive five year old and he knew that half of it was because the boy had the kind of intelligence and compassion most kids didn’t find until there were far older, and the other half was because he was an extension of you.

When you had dropped Adrian off this morning, you had that worried glint in your eye that he had become accustomed to seeing.

“My father can’t pick Adrian after the bake sale,” you had sighed as you watched Adrian run around on the playground with his peers.

“I have to rush home to pick up all the things I baked which would mean an hour of Adrian being unintended for, and I’m not comfortable enough to ask any of the new moms. I know they mean well but….sometimes they just come off judgy, you know?”

Steve knew. That mixed with your pride kept you biting down on your lips, eyes trained on your son. The solution was  easy to him,

“If you don’t mind,” you had flickered your eyes to him, “ I can happily watch Adrian during that time. Dawkins likes for the staff to linger for these things, say hi before we head out so I’ll be around anyways. And I don’t mind watching Adrian.”

The smile that had erupted across your lips had been all he needed, happy for his decision as you squeezed his arm in quick thanks, before waving at your son and currying away.

You were exactly the kind of trouble he was enjoying getting lost in.  

“Steve I didn’t think you’d stay for this thing.”

The familiar low tone of his good friend draws his attention away from Adrian and he stops them both, turning and watching as Natasha makes her way through the crowd, oblivious to the many dads who give her a second look as she progresses toward him, a bag in hand.

Natasha was probably one of the most attractive people Steve has ever met in his life, point blank. Fiery red hair and a personality to match, supple lips that matched her hips and wide blue eyes. The only thing stopping her from breaking Green Oaks male population was the fact that her fiance and his best friend from childhood,  James “Bucky” Barnes,  was a respected police officer in the community.

That and she shut down most men before they could get a word out.

Regardless, she was far softer with the fifth graders she taught and Steve was grateful that he had someone else in this building he could have normal conversations with. He wasn’t oblivious to the looks he received from most of the women he worked with, the lingering touches despite if they were married or not. It was a far different experience from how he used to be treated in high school - his former scrawny self an afterthought after puberty hit him in college.

“Well I had some motivation.” Steve pulls Adrian into view who smiles widely at the redhead, beaming,

“Hi Ms. Roman….Roman….Romaneff.” the young boy furrows his eyebrows trying to get her name out and Natasha laughs as she ruffles his head,

“You can just call me Ms. R,” she shifts her eyes to Steve. “I’m going to be so happy to be Mrs. Barnes for so many reasons. Mainly so kids can finally say my last bloody name but don’t let Bucky know that’s the top reason.”

Steve laughs as he directs Adrian back in the direction of  the cafeteria and Natasha nudges him, following his pace,

“He’s stinking adorable but why are you on teacher duty? Bell rang nearly an hour ago.”

Steve stops with Adrian at a table, watching as the young boy eyes travel to the  soap dinosaur bombs with mild curiosity before flickering his eyes back to Steve. Steve knows that he shouldn’t buy it for the boy - you would hate that - but there’s something about those large bold eyes that has him tugging in his back pocket for his wallet, telling Adrian he can have one if he liked.

“And one for my mommy?” Adrian asks shyly and Steve chuckles and nods. You were going to be livid with him.

“Sure bud - that way this nice lady doesn’t have to break my ten.” he winks at the elderly woman behind the table who laughs though she blushes, shaking her head as she temporarily asks Adrian which dinosaur he’d be interested in.

Natasha raises an eyebrow as Steve turns to her and says,

“I told Y/N that I’d watch him while she prepped for this thing. Her dad couldn’t pick him up today and she was in a bind so…”

“So you just thought to play babysitter to the hot new mom in town.” Natasha kids and Steve rolls his eyes though he smiles. He notices the woman flicker her eyes between the both of them but he waves it aside.

Everyone knew about you - it was hard not to in a small town like this, a distant suburb of Boston. You had moved here two years ago with just Adrian and had been an immediate hot topic. Single mom who bought the only art gallery in town and curated some pieces for the few museum in the local area - why wouldn’t you be a gossip?

Really it was the women who gossiped and really, Natasha had pointed out the one summer evening she had dragged him and Bucky to a show you were hosting, it was because you were...different. The women were intimidated by you. You were an outsider from the city, this curvy one woman show that was also the daughter of Green Oaks former mayor.

Your dad had bee a scandal - a known Green Oaks native winning their votes despite his Brooklyn upbringing. The fact that he had always talked about you but never dragged you out - the tongues that wagged though he was voted for term until he couldn’t any more.

Then you, his daughter. Single mom with no husband fresh from the big city opening a posh art gallery in town. Obviously you were scandalous.

Except, of course, like most things time shifted the tide.

You used your space on Saturdays to host free art classes that you facilitated. Adrian participated in every class, club and sport you could sign him for and you were a proud member of the local book club and an active member in Green Oaks PTA. You volunteered at parades and organized charity runs and was a proud chair member of the city council.

Through time, people discovered how Adrian’s father ran out on you when he found out you were pregnant. That you had studied in Versailles and was a distinguished artist before you had gotten pregnant. That you moved to Green Oaks where your parents decided to retire so you could get help with raising him, not wanting Adrian to get lost in the city that was New York.

Steve had known you long before Adrian was in his class, from afar, when he would go to art nights with his friends and sometimes drop in for classes. Had enough pleasant enough conversations with you but could never break down your wall.

But then he started teaching Adrian and things had changed.

“She’s not new anymore Natasha.” Steve chuckles as Adrian runs to him with the bright Stegosaurus and T-Rex bombs he had selected. Steve helps him place the bombs in his backpack before Adrian grabs his hand and they resume their journey down the hall.

“I know,” Natasha nudges him, “I’m just curious as to why? You normally shut that down with moms month one. Playing the babysitter.”

Steve keeps the smile to himself as they turn a corner and it's obvious that this is a particularly popular hall, the noise level increasingly louder with families jammed together. The baked goods hall. Adrian tightens his hand around Steve, his hold around the plush dinosaur that he favored being bought to his chest as he looks around amused.

“This hall is busy.” Adrian finally comments and Steve agrees, nodding.

“I agree bud - this hall is busy.”

“Why?” the young man asks, the curls on his head falling back with him as he looks up at Steve with large, curious eyes.

“Hmmmm, I’d guess there’s a really popular table with a lot of yummy goodies.”

“I bet it's mommy’s table.” Adrian doesn’t miss a beat, smiling deeply as he starts to pull the large man down toward the hectiness and Natasha gives an approving nod.

“He actually is right about that.”

It only takes a few strides before they find the source of the long line and, like Adrian and Natasha pointed out, your table is the source. You’re oblivious to their presence as you talk to parents, jumping from English and Spanish depending on the individual as you exchange your baked delicacies for cash or credit card. You’re hair has been thrown into a haphazard ponytail, the bodycon professional dress fully exposed as you throw your blazer on the chair behind you exposing your bosom.

He feels the air escaping his lungs, tries not to let it show as Adrian pulls toward you more strongly, though he feels Natasha’s eyes on him as Adrian screams out,

“Mommy!”

Your head automatically snaps to his direction, eyes falling on your son before they blink up to Steve. There’s satisfaction in seeing the way you exhale a large breath, teeth tugging on your bottom lip before you shake your head, moving from behind the tight space of the table to bend down and extend your arms out for your son. Adrian moves with ease in the crowd, despite the awkward weight of his large backpack and he jumps in your arms as you lift him, placing kisses all over his face.

“Oh little man I’ve missed you.” you say as Steve and Natasha near and you flicker your eyes to the group,

“Natasha you back for more?”

The red head laughs and shakes her head,

“No way. I’ve bought enough chocolate to ruin my wedding dress size for the next few weeks. No, I figured I’d lead Steve in the right direction since he’s been looking for you.”

You smile over at Steve as Adrian burrows himself in your neck, wraps around more  as you say,

“Mr. Rogers thanks so much for looking after Adrian. I really appreciate it and am sure the last thing you wanted to do was watch a five year old for one hour longer on a Friday.”

Steve sticks his hands in his pockets, bashful grin planted on his face,

“It was no problem at all, it was fun hanging out with Adrian. And please Y/N, you can call me Steve. Especially after work hours.”

He feels silly when he’s in your presence, hard to grasp on his thoughts but he is grateful as he sees you fall into yourself, a similar shy smile on your face before you clear your throat and turn with your son in your hands.

“Well everyone bought up a lot of my cupcakes and truffles-”

“You should have an in house bakery in your gallery. Those truffles are sin.” Natasha cuts you off and you laugh as you turn back to them.

“Not sure about that Natasha but I did save these for you Mr. Roge….I mean Steve. To thank you for hanging out with Adrian...it really does mean a lot.”

You hand over the container that held four cupcakes and you shift Adrian on your hip as you say,

“They’re the dark chocolate ones you like. The ones with the salted caramel frosting. I remembered you telling me how much you enjoyed them when I made them for your class last fall so...figured you deserve the small batch I whipped up this morning.”

“Oh come on...those are Bucky’s favorite and she wouldn’t let anyone buy them! I even offered to pay 50 dollars for them. Aren’t you lucky Steve.” Natasha pretends offense though she laughs at the way Steve smiles cheekily at you, a slight blush tinging his cheeks. He doesn’t mean for the thank you he shoots your way to come off as timid as it does as you stare him back down but he also was still trying to figure out how to navigate interacting with you in public spaces.

You clear the air, promising Natasha you’d bake her and Bucky a special batch as you sit Adrian down, handing him a book as you start to clean up the little material you had on your table. Steve notices that you have nothing left, not compared to everyone else around you and doesn’t hesitate to volunteer himself and Natasha to help clean up.

“We were headed out anyways.” he notes when you protest and though Natasha throws him  questioning eyes she doesn’t challenge him, happily helps fold the black tablecloth you’ve bought, pile the left over plastic containers into your travel cart.

“I’m happy I sold out early, means I can head home and start my weekend early.” you say as the four of you head out of the school, Adrian unwilling to leave the embrace of your arms as you carry him and your work bag. Steve is carrying the four tubs of plastic ware and Natasha has the rolling bin that held your tablecloth - the table decorations. You stop temporarily to speak with the principal about your contribution, handing him your moneybox before you proceed with the group back to the parking lot.

“Tell me about it. I don’t know why we planned for a late spring wedding. School is out and then a wedding? I’m an idiot - I have so much to plan for and have little motivation to want to get it all done.” Natasha mumbles and you click your Nissan Rogue open as you say,

“If you want, I could come over this weekend. I took Saturday off and I’ve been in a wedding or two...I’d happily help out if you need it.”

“Oh my god would you? Bucky would be eternally grateful….would even forgive you for giving his best friend all of his cupcakes.”

You laugh as you place Adrian in the back seat, buckling him in and nodding.

“Let me give you my number. Text me when I can come over...as long as you don’t mind Adrian tagging along. We were going to go to the zoo but if the weather is going to be bad like predicted he’d happily watch some movies while we plan and drink wine.”

Steve places the containers in the trunk, and the bin before closing it and checking on Adrian who is playing with the bath bombs like action figures.

“You have a good evening little man. Don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

“I won’t Mr. Rogers. I’m gonna tell her about the dinosawr bones we found!” the young boys face is enthusiastic and Steve ruffles his head before coming to the other side, waiting on you patiently as you and Natasha see each other off, Natasha waving goodbye to Steve before heading to her car.

“Natasha’s kind of had a girl crush on you for months...you don’t know how much that means to her.” he says when you turn to him and you laugh as you cross your arms, tightening your hands around your body as you try to block it from the early spring chilly air.

“I doubt that. Natasha is too cool of a girl to want to hang out with a dork like me.”

Your voice is teasing and he laughs as he shuts the door at Adrian’s side, waving at Adrian through the tinted glass as you turn on your heels, moving toward the drivers side. He’s not too far behind you.

“Well it was a pleasure getting to spend time with you, Ms. Y/L/N,” you stop at your door, leaning on it as he stands in front of you, mirroring your movement, “You really know how to brighten up a man’s day.”

You blush as you play with your keys, shaking your head before looking back up at him and smiling,  

“Well you’re the one who saved my ass earlier today Mr. Rog….I mean Steve,” a gust of wind hits and you tighten your hold around you. “Thanks for watching Adrian. I really appreciate it.”

There was so many words going unsaid as he watched you in the twilight, your eyes twinkling as they looked back at him, hair getting tugged out of your ponytail and whipping against your face. He loved that when you smiled your dimples dug into your cheeks, loved the faint smell of perfume that wafted to his nose. If he could, he’d lean over and kiss your lips, succulent and teasing - whisper how much he loved you and how he was looking forward to seeing you later. But you weren’t ready for that, not yet.  You wanted to make sure that it was okay with your son, knows it would be a big step for him to have someone like Steve in his life.

Instead he digs in his pockets, finds the scrap of paper he’s written out to you earlier and grabs your fumbling hands, rubs the soft skin that's gone cold from the wind before giving it a quick squeeze.

“Anytime,” he places the small note in your hands before raising them to his lips, giving it a quick peck and saying, “See you around.”

He opens your car door, waits until you’re in before he closes it, giving you a wink that you return before waving to Adrian one last time. Waits until you’ve safely left the parking lot before he walks to his own car, getting in and waiting for it to warm up. Barely puts his car into drive before Natasha is calling him and he doesn’t get a chance to say hello as Natasha barrels out,

“Holy shit how long have you and her been dating and how the fuck has this town not known and put it on the front page of our herald!?”

He’s on Bluetooth and looks around the parking lot, sighing as he sees her car still in its parking space,

“Did you really stay back in your car to spy on us?”

A snort,

“Uh yes. Bucky and I have been trying to hook you and her up for months now! You always chicken out when we go to the gallery nights. Apparently we should have just brought her to your world, she’s into the whole naughty teacher act.”

He laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot,

“That's not….that's not how that happened at all. I was surprised same as you when I saw Adrian on my roster. But it all gave me some one on one time and we started chatting more casually. And a little before Halloween I finally got the nerve to ask her out and she said yes. That's all.”

“Why haven’t you told your two best friends!?” Natasha counters and Steve shrugs though he knows it falls on silent eyes.

“We wanted to keep it quiet for a bit because everyone in this town is always gossiping about something. And...she wants to make sure Adrian is ready for a new person in his life. It's not just her I’m dating - she wants to be considerate of her son.”

Natasha wait's a beat before saying,

“That’s fair. I get that, I guess, you’d think I’d gossip to the harlots of this town -”

“You’d completely tell at least Sam and Wanda and Wanda actually works for the herald - Sam is a government official…..we all know the minute they know everyone does. So yes, gossiping to the harlots indeed.”

“Whatever,” Natasha continues, “How did you both manage to date for five months without anyone else knowing? Seriously, you sneeze in this town and everyone’s texting about it.”

“We drive to Boston or stay at my place.” he says simply and Natasha laughs,

“Well then you both deserve this secret romance. Well played. Next question - can I ask her about you tomorrow?”

“I’m hanging up now.” he deadpans and Natasha laughs

“I mean I was going to regardless, you kept giving each other fuck me eyes. God you should have seen Alison Johnson - she has such a hard on for you and got so sour when you didn’t even acknowledge her waving at you and instead was drooling over hot mom. She’s definitely going to be gossiping about it….”

“Good night Natasha. Tell Bucky I said hello.”

He hangs up on his friend, laughing in good nature. Natasha was probably right and that was something he could talk to you about later. In the meantime, he needed to make a minor adjustment to dinner plans and he knew exactly where to begin.

________

Tag List: 

@Sad-af1121, @whichwayisthebeach-Sebass, @theplumbclub79, @4theluvofall, @tatathekissypatato, @baezen, @lostinthoughtsandfeelings-blog, @plumbfondler, @pegasusdragontiger, @prettybubblesintheair, @docharleythegeekqueen, @brieannakeogh, @palaiasaurus64, @emotchalla, @thejenniferincident, @shayla-markele, @jalapenobarnes  @toastmaster94, @brandybucky, @papi-chulo-seb, @jaamesbbarnes, @paulxrudd, @badassbaker, @letsalltakeanap @papi-chulo-bucky, @moonbeambucky, @jaceyfade, @samingtonwilson, @violentlybarnes, @wehaveathor, @buckfics, @frostbitebakery,  @killmongerdreams, @plussizeappreciationfics, @softlybarnes, @prettyyoungtragedy, @angryschnauzer,  @221bshrlocked,  @yslbucky @zohoffman @ssweet-empowerment @capsofwinchesters @tacohead13@harleycativy @pietrotheavenger @francezka10 @papichulosebastian@obsessionsofmynerdheart @melaninmarvel @avengedqueen26 @nasteaxluvgal@winterbuttmunch @nys30@buckyslongasshair @ohlumi @wellthirsted@geminimoonbeamx @jetaimeamore @gifsbysimplysonia @harleycativy @microgirl8225 @mississippifangirl @younghades

[thehollowprince]

A little snippet that popped into my head because @toenail-stink-hate-echo-chamber put the idea of a MCU/Sense8 AU into my head.

The cluster for this consists of Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Jane Foster, Claire Temple and Prince T'Challa. (I switched out Gamora for Claire). For this, Claire and T'Challa are on blockers because she's at work and he's attending a meeting or something.

-------------------------------------------------------

Jane tried to be subtle about picking up the pace, not wanting to draw extra attention to herself as she entered the crowded mall. She was just supposed to be here for a lecture on astrophysics, and now she was being stalked by creepy men that all but had the word VILLAIN stamped in their foreheads.

She shook her head. That thought wasn't hers. It was someone else's. The guy in prison for stealing.

"Burgaling" Scott corrected, standing beside her in his prison jumpsuit, causing her to jump. "Sorry," he said, stepping back from her side and disappearing again. She didn't think she would ever get used to this, random voices and people in her head that turned out to he real people around the world. But right now her focus should be on getting out of here. Jane started to turn her head to see if the men were still following her, but her gaze fell on the apparition of the redheaded woman, Natasha.

"Never look back," she said firmly, marching along and Jand kept up with her. Or was she piloting now. This was so confusing.

"I count two on your six." Another masculine voice said, deep on account of his broad chest. Jane passed by one of those mirrored pillars that some malls have and didn't ser herself, but the big muscular blond from Brooklyn. Steve. "And another three up on the balcony keeping pace with you." She (or Nat) resisted the urge to look up. "If we take this next turn, we can cut them off and take them out."

"There's an emergency exit two stores back." Nat countered. We just need to slip into a crowd and backtrack without them noticing us."

"There's a police officer." Scott pointed out, now walking abreast with Natasha on her left while Steve was on her right. (Shut up! Jane knew they weren't really there, but that's how she made sense of it in her head.)

"These are government agents, Scott." Natasha pointed out. "Theres not going to be anything the police can do to them."

"No, you don't get it." Scott said before looking (not looking?) at Jane. "Cry."

"What?"

"You're a pretty woman in public being followed by stereotypical henchmen. If you cry, you'll make a scene and the police will get involved."

"What would that do?" Steve asked.

"Get her out of their line of sight and force them to play their hand to soon," Nat said, picking up on Scott's thinking. "Good job, Scott." The convict beamed.

"I don't know how to cry on command." Jane pointed out. They all "looked" at Natasha, who opened her mouth to say something before Scott chimed in.

"I can," and then just like that, he started sobbing. Loudly. Loudly enough that everyone in the immediate vicinity stopped what they were doing to look. There was nothing more entertaining than a free show in public. She (he?) was crying so had that the next thing she knew the police officer was there, asking her (him? them?) what was wrong. Theough broken sobs, Jane (Scott) explained that he (she) was being followed. A quick glance back as the officer ushered them (her) toward an employee-only area saw the two following her stopping and looking pissed as well as confused, apparently unsure if they should do anything.

"Nice job," Steve commented Scott, Nat nodding in impressed agreement.

"Thanks." Scott sniffled. "I just read The Fault In Our Stars."

"Okay, ma'am, I'm going to need you to calm down." The officer said, earning a scoff from Natasha.

"Men. Always telling women to calm down."

As Jane was spinning the story about being followed, the door opened and two of the thugs following her walked into the off-limits area. The officer stepped forward, hand on the butt of his gun, and his other hand out, telling the men to stop.

One of the two held out a badge of his own, explaining that she was wanted in connection to the bombing of the UN that happened earlier in the week. Beside her, Steve's shoulders tensed and he uttered one word, "Bucky." The officer looked between the badge and Jane before stepping back toward her, hand still on his gun, though this time he was looking at her instead of the men.

"He's right handed, so he's going to go for your left." Steve said, while Nat pointed out the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall to their right and the empty mop bucket beneath it. "When I say, move." The officer had cuffs in his hand now and was approaching her cautiously, talking about remaining calm, like how you would to a wounded animal or a person on a ledge.

"Now!"

Natasha moved, hand clamping around the officer's wrist and twisting it until the cuffs were dropped, kicking out with Jane's right foot and sending the mop bucket skidding toward the other two, causing one to trip and the other to move to avoid it, allowing her to use the officer as a shield. Natasha grabbed the stun gun and pulled it free, tagging the officer and riding his shuddering body to the ground where she rolled to her feet, shoulders and feet squared in a boxing stance, Steve moving forward to take out the goon moving toward her.

The next few seconds were a blur, the other goons entering the hall, with Jane watching the Steve and Natasha fend off the attackers by doing things she'd only ever seen in action movies. A haymaker from Steve sent the last guy into unconsciousness and Jane straightened up, her knuckles sore from Steve hitting the man.

"Is that all of them?" Steve asked, looking down at the unconscious men, before Natasha saw one move and start to sit up. In a fluid motion, she plucked the fire extinguisher off of the wall and swung it around, hitting the man in the head and knocking him out.

"That's all of them."

"Let's get the hell out of here." Scott said, moving down the hall toward the exit at the other end.

"We won't get far on foot." Steve pointed out.

"We won't be on foot." Scott grinned, holding up his (Jane's) hand to reveal a set of keys dangling from the fingers. "Courtesy of our friend back there."

"Scott, you son-of-a-bitch," Steve grinned.

"Ooh, you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Natasha joked as they made for the exit, pulling the fire alarm casually along the way.

---------------------------------------------------

So... what do we think? Should I make a full length Sense8 AU of the MCU? Or does anyone want to send me clusters and I can write little snippets? I'm inspired by this.

[ceealaina]

Title: What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve Pairing: Tony Stark x Steve Rogers Link: AO3 Rating: T Summary: Steve’s going to ask Tony out for New Year’s Eve. Really. He absolutely means it this time. He just... has to work up the nerve. Word Count: 4,598 words

Steve smiled to himself as he watched Tony pace back and forth through the common area, talking animatedly on the phone. He was wearing a suit, but the jacket had been tossed haphazardly over a chair, his sleeves shoved up as he got more and more frustrated with whomever was on the other end. His hair, which had been perfectly styled when he had left that morning, was getting wild as Tony ran his fingers through it at infrequent intervals, the thick strands damp from the snow that was falling outside. His lips were turning downward, Tony not seeming to realize that what was probably meant to be an impressive scowl was turning more and more into a pout. 

Steve kind of thought he was beautiful.

With a sharp word, Tony hung up the phone, and Steve hastily dropped his eyes back to the sketch pad in his hand, drawing a few lines to make it look like he hadn’t spent the past twenty five minutes just watching Tony. With a heavy sigh, the other man dropped on to the couch beside him, slumping down low to rest his head against the back of it.

“I’m surrounded by incompetence,” he mumbled, pressing his palms against his eyes for a long minute before rolling his head to face Steve, giving him a sleepy smile. “How about you, Cap? How are you doing?”

Steve beamed back at him, could never help himself when Tony was looking at him like that. “I’m good,” he told him, before nodding at Tony’s phone. “Anything I can help with?” 

Tony huffed out a laugh, his smile getting wider for a minute before he shook his head. “Just SI stuff. So unless you’ve gotten a degree in mechanical engineering since I last checked...?”

Steve shook his head ruefully, and Tony heaved an exaggerated, disappointed sigh. 

“Ah well, one could dream...” 

He gave Steve another cheeky grin, and Steve couldn’t help reaching out to brush a strand of Tony’s hair back from his forehead, tingles running up his spine when Tony’s eyes fluttered shut, his head turning ever-so-slightly into Steve’s touch. “You look exhausted, Shellhead. You need someone to take care of you.” 

“Weird. I feel exhausted,” Tony teased before opening his eyes, a glint in them. “Why? You offering?”  

Steve shrugged, pulling his hand back again before Tony could notice the pinpricks of sweat that had broken out. “Sure. I can order you your favourite takeout.” 

Tony burst out laughing at that, the soft moment between them gone again. He sat up, patting Steve on the thigh. “That actually sounds kind of perfect. Tell you what. You order the food, I’m gonna shower and change. Meet back here in an hour and let’s call it a date.” 

Steve made an affirmative noise as Tony used his thigh to push himself up to standing again. Luckily he didn’t seem to expect actual words as a response, because Steve’s mouth had gone dry at hearing Tony call it a date. He knew it was just a phrase, that he didn’t mean it as a date date, but... What if they did?

Tony was heading for the elevator, and Steve felt his cheeks grow hot as he told himself to just do it. This was as good a chance as any, just stop dicking around and ask Tony out. Swallowing a few times and licking his lips, he cleared his throat. “Hey, Tony? What if-”

He was interrupted by the ding of the elevator as it opened up and Rhodes stepped out. 

“Honeybear!” Tony crowed, switching places with him in the elevator. “Thai food and sweatpants date in an hour. You in?”

Rhodes grinned right back. “Of course, Tones,” he said, the two of them doing some BFF handshake left over from MIT that made Tony grin even brighter. 

“Great!” Tony shoved his hand in between the doors as they started to close again, peering over at Steve. “Sorry, Cap, what were you saying?”

Steve waved him off, ducking his head a little to try and hide the blush that he could feel beginning to color his cheeks. “Nothing important, don’t worry about it.”

Tony frowned a little. “You sure?”

Steve nodded quickly. “Yup,” he said. He grinned, and it wasn’t even forced because Tony would always make him smile. “Go shower, Iron Man. You stink.”

Tony flipped him the bird, laughing as the elevator doors shut, and Steve ducked his head, grinning to himself. When he looked up again, Rhodes was looking at him with a glint that was just a little too curious, and a little too knowing. 

“You alright there, Steve? You’re looking a little flushed.” 

Feeling his blush grow, Steve mumbled out an affirmative, busying himself with bringing up the website for Tony’s favourite Thai spot before he totally gave himself away.

***

The thing was, these weren’t exactly new feelings. Steve had been pining for Tony for what could be considered an embarrassingly long time, except falling for a man a wonderful as Tony? Steve could hardly be embarrassed about that. Tony had been Steve’s best friend since he woke up in the twenty first century, and he wouldn’t trade that friendship for anything. He just couldn’t help sometimes wishing for even more. And more and more lately, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe his feelings weren’t as unreciprocated as he‘d once thought. It seemed like maybe there was a little something extra between the two of them, an extra giggle from the other man, a look, a secret smile that made Steve think that maybe his feelings weren’t entirely one-sided. 

Steve had told himself that he couldn’t keep guessing anymore, that it was Christmas and his gift to himself was going to be to ask Tony out, to figure out one way or the other if Tony could possibly share his feelings. The problem was, every time he tried, they’d get called for Avengers business before he could get the words out, or Tony would misunderstand and think he meant coffee for everyone and not as a date between the two them, or Steve would chicken out and end up saying something completely different from what he’d intended. And so Steve was left half wondering if he was cursed, and still uncertain as to Tony’s feelings for him. 

He was lying full length across one of the couches in the common area, watching reruns of the Great British Baking Challenge and definitely not pouting over the unfairness of unrequited love when he heard the elevator doors ding open behind him. He made a face at the television and stayed still, hoping whomever it was wouldn’t notice him and would continue on with their day so he could wallow in peace. 

It only took a second to identify the newcomers as Bucky and Sam, because of course that’s who it would be, the two of them ribbing and sniping at each other like usual. Steve held his breath, like that would somehow keep them from seeing him if they came within sight of the couches. He was focused on the television and his own wallowing thoughts, and was only half paying attention to their conversation until he heard Bucky say, “so New Years? Got another date with Amanda?” 

Sam answered with some comment about how he and Amanda had stopped seeing each other almost six weeks ago now, and it was Jenny now (with a y, not an i), but Steve had stopped listening again because New Years. New Years Eve would be perfect. It was outside of the crazy Christmas rush, a time when everybody was looking for a date. Asking him out for New Years Eve specifically would be hard for Tony to misinterpret as a group outing. And a midnight kiss with Tony, now that he had the idea in his head, was exactly how Steve wanted to ring in the New Year. 

Feeling suddenly optimistic Steve sat bolt upright, forgetting for a moment that he had been purposely avoiding (not hiding, Captain America didn’t hide) the two other men in the room. Sam yelped out a ‘what the fuck’ at Steve’s sudden appearance, and Bucky’s hand was reaching for the knife hidden in his pants before he realized who it was. 

“What the fuck, Stevie?” Bucky asked, staring at him like he was a little crazy - which, Steve reasoned, probably wasn’t entirely unfair. 

“You trying to give a man a heart attack?” Sam added, a little wild-eyed. 

“Sorry,” Steve said quickly. “Just thought of something important.” Without clarifying further, he vaulted over the back of the couch and headed for the elevator, ignoring the perplexed looks he could feel both of them giving his back.

“Oh hey,” he heard Bucky say as the elevator doors closed. “Great British Baking Challenge. Love this show.”

Steve grinned to himself as the elevator started its descent to his floor, bouncing on his toes a little in anticipation. He always felt better when he had a plan, and he couldn’t help feeling like this was a good plan. 

Which was when the elevator doors opened and Tony stepped on, sweaty and disheveled in tight workout pants and a muscle shirt that had Steve’s eyes dragging over his biceps. Tony’s face lit up at the sight of Steve and he moved into the elevator, slumping against Steve’s side. 

“Save me, Captain America,” he sighed. “Nat just put me through a hell of a workout. I don’t think I can move.” He giggled when Steve’s arm moved automatically around his shoulder, and Steve couldn’t help grinning down at him. 

“I’ve always got your back, Tony.”

Tony beamed, pressing tighter into Steve’s side for just a minute. “Knew I could count on you, Cap.”

Steve felt himself go all warm and fuzzy at that, the grin on his face spreading. Figuring this was as good a time as any to put his plan into action, he drew in a slow breath. “So, Shellhead. Uh... any plans for the holiday?” He 

Steve immediately tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, wincing because what the hell was that, Rogers? That wasn’t asking him out. He could feel Tony staring at him, and gave him another quick grin. 

“You mean... besides us all doing the Avengers Christmas together?” Tony asked slowly. “Like we do every year?” 

Steve resisted the urge to smack himself in his own face. “Yeah, I guess. Or like... New Years plans?” 

“Oh! No, god. I got over the New Years party scene ages ago. Trust me, Steve. It’s really overrated.” Tony looked up at Steve, eyes narrowing a little as he considered him, the look on his face almost expectant. “I’ll probably just ring in the new year working down in the lab, hanging with the bots.”

And that was it, that was the perfect moment, but Steve couldn’t quite seem to make the words come. Instead all that came out was, “Well, doing your favourite thing isn’t the worst way to ring in the new year.” 

Tony blinked at him, looking a little confused, but then he grinned. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not quite my favourite activity...” He gave Steve a lecherous wink, just to giggle when his cheeks flushed. “But I think I’ve had worse.” There was a long minute, Tony still looking at Steve expectantly, and then the elevator dinged open once more and Tony pulled away, a look on his face that could almost be disappointment. “See ya later, Steve.” 

The second the doors had closed again behind him, Steve slumped back against the wall with a groan. “Come on, Rogers,” he grumbled to himself. “You’re better than that. Quit being a coward.” He allowed himself a minute of beating himself up, and then drew in a slow breath. It was okay; he’d only just formulated the basics of a plan. Once he’d thought it all out, then he could ask Tony to be his New Years Eve date. 

Except, as it turned out, Steve wasn’t great at these types of plans. Plans for attacking Nazis? No problem. Plans for asking out the possible love of his life? Not so much. He’d thought, and overthought, and come up with nothing. He’d had a few chances, lots of alone time with Tony when he’d had the chance to ask, but couldn’t quite seem to make the words come. He’d imagined simple solutions and elaborate solutions... He’d even tried writing Tony a sappy, heartfelt letter, telling him everything he felt for him, how he felt like everything was okay when Tony was with him, how he loved every moment they spent together, and missed him when they were apart. But then Sam had walked in, and Steve had shoved the letter down the side of the couch, and after he’d had time to think about it, he’d felt silly and foolish, and hadn’t bothered to retrieve it.

So finally, with New Years Eve only two days away, Steve decided to just buckle down and do it. He’d gone to the bodega around the corner and picked up a bouquet of the brightly colored flowers that never failed to make Tony smile when they walked by on their way for coffee. Then he’d come home and put on his best suit (the one that Tony had had tailored made for him as a birthday present the first year after they’d met) with the blue tie that Tony had helped him pick out claiming it set off his azure eyes. He’d been goofy about it, teasing, but Steve hadn’t been able to help feeling pleased that Tony had even noticed his eyes. Then, flowers in hand, he’d headed for the lab were Tony was supposed to be working. 

He didn’t have a set plan for what he was going to say, but hoped the flowers and suit would to most of the talking for him - Tony was a genius, after all. He practiced in the elevator on the way down, asking the mirrored walls, “Tony, I was wondering - what are you doing New Years Eve?” until he hoped that sense memory would pick up if his brain failed him again. 

Shoulders squared in determination, he stepped off the elevator and moved toward the lab doors only to stop abruptly when he heard Tony giggling. He’d been hoping to catch him alone, because if he’d read everything all wrong, he’d rather not have any witnesses to Tony laughing in his face. And okay, admittedly Tony would almost definitely not laugh in his face, he’d be kind and sweet and let him down gently, but either way, Steve would prefer to be alone with him for this. But he’d already steeled himself, and he knew that if he backed down he might not talk himself into trying again. So he moved carefully down the hall until he spotted Tony, sitting in a stool and sprawled back against a work table. He was beaming, face bright and open and happy, and even feeling nervous as hell, Steve couldn’t help his own, answering smile in response. Then he heard a low, rumbling laugh in return and, taking a few more steps, he spotted the reason for Tony’s happy demeanor. 

Thor was there, and Steve hadn’t even realized that he was back on earth, but there he was, looming larger than life in Tony’s lab. He was grinning too, looking as delighted to see Tony as Tony was to see him, and Steve loved Thor, they got along like a house on fire, but he couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of jealousy. Thor was wearing some skintight, sleeveless Asgardian shirt, arms folded across his chest, and Tony’s eyes would flit down every few seconds, blatantly ogling him. 

“It’s settled then!” Thor announced. “The Eve of the coming New Year. I’ll see you there?” 

It had been a long time since Steve had had to worry about his heart, but he swore he felt it stop at Thor’s words. His stomach sank as Tony gave Thor one last blatant look over before grinning up at him. 

“Absolutely,” he declared, giggling again. “It’s a date!”

At least they hadn’t spotted Steve. Small mercies and all that. Feeing unreasonably sad, and a little sick to his stomach, Steve moved backwards until he was out of their line of sight, and then turned and headed back for the elevator, dumping the flowers in a garbage can as he went. He knew he had only himself to blame. Supposing Tony would have even been interested, Steve had had a million and one chances to ask him out, and he’d let every one of them pass him by. He’d waited too long, and Tony had found someone else, and Tony absolutely deserved every bit of happiness that he could find, but Steve still couldn’t help being disappointed that Tony hadn’t found it with him. So right now heading back to his rooms, avoiding everyone, and wallowing until they were firmly established in January was sounding like a really good plan. 

***

Steve was long gone by the time Tony walked Thor to elevator, firming up their plans for Tony to help Thor throw a Midgardian party for the Asgardian New Year sometime in April. He was saying good bye when he spotted a flash of color in the garbage can. Frowning, he pulled out the bouquet of flowers, looking up at Thor. 

“Were these here when you came down?” 

Thor shrugged, then grinned wide. “Maybe you have a secret admirer, Stark,” he offered, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. 

Tony rolled his eyes at him, sniffing the flowers to hide the way his cheeks flushed slightly at the thought. “Who leaves flowers in the garbage? Get real, Thor.” 

Thor just shrugged again, eyes twinkling. “Maybe they’re... very bad at being a secret admirer?” 

Tony glared at him, smacking him in the arm and very admirably fighting back his wince of pain, because dear lord, it was like hitting a brick wall. “Okay, thank you Thor. Always so wonderful when you come to visit.” 

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” Thor protested, and Tony laughed despite himself. 

“Yeah, super helpful. Go away now, I’ll see you later.” 

Still carrying the flowers, Tony headed back to his lab, flopping down the table and staring at them. Glancing back to make sure Thor wasn’t lingering in the hall outside the lab, he pulled out the crumbled letter he’d found while searching for his tablet the other day, smoothing it as flat as he could and laying it out next to the flowers. It was starting to get a little worn from how many times he’d read and reread it, the unsigned love letter addressed to Tony. It made him go all gooey inside every time he looked at it, made him grin to himself like an idiot whenever he thought about it and had earned him more than a few Looks when working out with Nat. 

The thing was, there were a very limited number of people with the access codes to be responsible for the letter and flowers. Tony certainly knew who he was hoping might be behind it - and he had to admit that love letters and flowers definitely seemed like Steve’s style. And there’d been so many moments when he was sure that Steve was going to ask him out. But admittedly, finding flowers in the trash didn’t seem particularly promising. It didn’t help that Tony had always been way better at understanding machines than people - and that went triply so when it came to people who had an actual vested interest in dating. He sighed and pouted at the flowers and letter before admitting defeat, and calling Rhodey. 

***

Steve had spent the next couple of days to himself. He figured that if he avoided everyone, then no one would realize that he was avoiding Tony specifically. And so far, at least, no one had come looking for him. He knew he only had a day or two more at most before his ‘just missed you’ texts stopped working as an excuse, but at least that would give him a little more time to adjust. 

He was a lot more devastated than he’d expected. Without quite realizing it, he’d somehow convinced himself that Tony would always be there, that he just had to get up his courage, and ask, and everything would fall into place after that. Which wasn’t a fair expectation, and he knew that, but it didn’t make things hurt any less in the meantime. He’d always have Tony as his friend, and he knew that too, but for now he just wanted to be sad and think about what he didn’t have. 

He couldn’t hide forever though, especially when he’d forgotten to order groceries, and so the morning of New Years Eve found him sneaking out of his rooms and heading for the common area in search of food. He’d checked before leaving his room, made sure that everyone was elsewhere, hoping to get in and out without running into anyone. Just his luck, then, that he’d be headfirst into the refrigerator when he heard a somewhat tentative, “Hey, Cap.” 

Steve froze for a minute and then steeled himself, forcing a smile to his face because Tony hadn’t done anything wrong. “Hey Tony!” he said, trying not to wince at how falsely cheerful his voice sounded. Judging by the look that Tony gave him, he wasn’t entirely successful, but he still returned his smile. 

“You’ve been a hard man to track down the past couple of days.”

“Uh, yeah! Just been... Busy. Working out, and um, stuff. Guess I just keep missing you. Well. Everyone.”

“Riiight.” 

Tony gave him a confused look, silence hanging heavy and awkward between them, and Steve wanted to die because it was never supposed to be like this between them. Steve didn’t think he’d ever not known what to say to Tony; the two of them could talk for hours and hours without stopping, but here he was unable to think of a single word to say to one of his best friends. He could see Tony’s hands fidgeting, probably wanting to be anywhere else, and Steve wanted to cry. 

“Um, well, I should...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the elevator, food forgotten. Tony just nodded, and Steve started to move away. 

“Hey, Steve?” Tony asked suddenly, and Steve turned back in time to see Tony wince and then smile too wide to try and hide it. He was fidgeting again, fingers playing with a loose thread at the hem of his t-shirt and he chewed at his lip as he looked up at Steve. “I was, um... I was wondering, if you - I mean, if you’re not busy, but you probably are - but I was wondering if... Shit.” 

There was a flush on his cheeks and Steve realized with a start that Tony was nervous, awkward like he never was. Despite himself, Steve felt his own heart rate pick up. “Tony?” he prompted, voice rough. 

Tony drew in a slow breath, smile going a little tight around the edges. “Sorry,” he said. “I swear, I used to be good at this. I know it’s last minute. I was going to ask you earlier, but I haven’t been able to find you the past few days, but I was wondering - what are you doing New Years Eve?” 

He gave Steve a hopeful smile, and Steve just stared at him. Distantly he thought he should probably breathe or something, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of what was happening. Tony was... asking him out? But Tony already had a date for New Years, Tony was going out with Thor, and Steve couldn’t parse those two facts in his head. 

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Tony was saying, hopeful smile fading. “I just thought you might not have plans yet. You were asking the other day, and I thought... Or I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date, if I read it wrong, I mean. We can just hang out as friends. Beats ringing in the new year alone, right?” 

Steve still didn’t answer, and Tony’s smile disappeared entirely before his gaze dropped to his hands. 

“Or we can just pretend I never said anything. Um. I’m gonna go hide in the lab until this stops being embarrassing, so I’ll probably see you in like. Three years. Call me if there’s an emergency.” 

Tony started to leave, still not looking at Steve, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he knew he couldn’t let him go. Without thinking he reached out, grabbed Tony’s arm, and pulled him in for a kiss. Tony made a startled noise against his lips, but before Steve could think of letting him go he was kissing him back, tentative at first and then harder when Steve didn’t pull away. Steve made a desperate sounding noise when Tony’s tongue slipped in his mouth, his hands moving to tangle in Steve’s hair, and he pushed harder into Tony, the two of them stumbling backwards until Tonys back hit the counter. 

They broke apart then, both breathing hard, and Tony laughed a little as he stared up at Steve. “Um, hey,” he said, smile so wide it looked like it hurt. 

“Hey,” Steve said back, flushing a little at how rough his voice sounded. Tony didn’t seem to mind, leaning up to kiss Steve again. 

“So, um... Is that a yes for tonight?” 

“Yes,” Steve said quickly. “Are you kidding? Of course it’s a yes. Do you have any idea... I’ve been trying to get up the courage to ask for ages, but I thought you were seeing Thor?” 

“Thor??” Tony repeated, looking confused but happy. “Why would I be seeing Thor? Steve, I’ve been in love you with you for years. I’m definitely not seeing anyone else, I promise.” 

Steve beamed at him and kissed him again, feeling Tony’s answering smile against his own lips. “Good,” he murmured, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop smiling. “Because I’m kind of in love with you too.” 

Tony stared at him, eyes wide, and then laughed delightedly. There wasn’t much Steve could do in the face of that other than wrap his arms around Tony, hauling him in for a hug, placing a kiss on his temple that had Tony beaming.

EPILOGUE

Twelve hours later found Steve and Tony curled up on the couch together, legs splayed out the length of the cushions with Steve’s arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulder and Tony leaning fully into Steve’s side. It was a position they’d been in a thousand times before, made all the better for the fact that Steve could now lean over and steal a kiss from Tony whenever he wanted - which was approximately every ten seconds. The sipped champagne and watched the ball drop, the sounds of the other celebrating avengers filtering in through the walls. They’d go and join them in for a bit, but for now they were content to ring in the new year with just the two of them. Steve couldn’t help hoping that the old wives’ tale about your midnight activities predicting your year ahead would be true, because he could definitely see himself spending a lot of time kissing and cuddling Tony in the immediate future. 

Smiling to himself, he leaned down to kiss Tony’s temple. “Happy New Year, Shellhead,” he whispered into Tony’s hair. 

Tony beamed right back at him. “Happy New Year, Winghead.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Swift As Karma (Part 42)

Ice came easier than water once Azula got past the obstacle of actually drawing it up and to her hands and the tedious process of separating the water into little droplets. It was an exercise in patience, control, and determination, but those were things that Azula had a generous amount of. But once she had the droplets held in the air, cooling them to the point of freezing had been an easy feat; much easier than anticipated.

She supposed that it helped that Katara wasn't bickering with her throughout this time. 

Though Azula's own mind provided a distraction of its own to makeup for Katara's lack of one. She pondered upon whether or not she should confess that the avatar state was lost to her; that it was never in her possession at all.

For the time, she pushed the thought aside. 

Her brow creased in concentration as she lifted her arms, and with them the hail balls. She swept her arms down and found herself thankful that she hadn't mastered sharpening g them into darts, for they pelted the back of her own head and neck. And from the sound of Katara's wince, the waterbender had been in the line of fire as well.

Azula cringed.

If she hadn’t had the attention of nearly everyone in the invasion party before, she did now. She very much wanted to call it quits, but the invasion was only a week away. A little over a week away and she had made little progress on her waterbending and none at all on airbending. 

Azula inhaled deeply and lifted the water once more, visibly straining to do so. 

“Do you need to take a break?” Katara asked lightly.

“No.” Azula replied, taking extra care to not let her voice betray her frustration. 

“I think that you need a break, Sparky.” Toph commented. 

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts.” Azula snapped. 

“She’s just trying to help.” Sokka stepped in. 

“And I’m just trying to learn basic waterbending so I can fight my father and keep everyone from dying!” The water fell around her, her breathing made somewhat heavy by her own outburst. “I killed him. Now I have to fix it…” She was fairly certain that this was the first time she had admitted as much out loud.

“And you’ll be able to do that a lot better if you don’t push yourself.” Katara noted. 

Azula took another sharp breath. Grueling work and training until she was ready collapse had been so deeply ingrained in her that it was still hard to train in a more leisurely fashion. 

“Why don’t you firebend for a while instead? Or earthbend?” Katara asked. 

“I might as well…” Azula grumbled. “It doesn’t really matter anyways.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can’t get into the avatar state.” Explaining that was difficult and intailed discussing what little she knew about Raava as well. It left her feeling drained and offered a dismal sense of solidity having shared the news. She found that her shoulders were slumped. Frankly, she was just tired. 

Katara dropped herself down next to Azula. “Aang always said the same thing, that he couldn’t get into the avatar state and it made him feel like he wasn’t a true avatar.” 

“He was. I’m not.” Azula replied. 

“What’s that?” Haru asked.

Azula followed the length of his extended arm, before realizing that he was pointing at the sky and her effort to answer his question would be futile. 

“A messenger hawk.” Sokka leapt to his feet. 

The avian landed upon Haru’s outstretched arm and came into Azula’s sight. Sokka unravel the scroll that had been clenched within the animal’s claws. “It doesn’t say who its from…”

“Then it’s probably Zuzu.” Azula replied, thankful to be pulled away from discussing her own fears. “Read the letter to me.” 

.oOo.

Azula had to admit that she was impressed; her brother’s letter had been brimming with information about invasion defense plans and, according to Hakoda, a crude drawing that detailed layout of Ozai’s secret bunker. If she had to guess, she’d say that Mai had drawn it. 

At least one small portion of Azula was relieved; they’d no longer have to fuss over finding Ozai’s hiding place. It would just be a matter of breaching security measures and getting there.

She stood in front a crowd of soldiers with her arms crossed. She also had to admit that she was impressed by the amount of them. She had been expecting a small gaggle of friends that the original team avatar had picked up throughout their journey. 

Sure, that much was true enough. But since their arrival on this hidden beach, more and more ships were filing through. Ships with weapons and opportunities. And enough men to perhaps hold off Ozai’s army long enough for she and the new team avatar to infiltrate the bunker. 

Azula was still utterly exhausted. She had helped Hakoda and Sokka make an inventory of their artillery and then devise a plan as to what it would be used for. 

She listened to the rustle of parchment as Sokka pinned up a map. He coughed nervously, and Azula wondered if it was a good idea to let him explain their plans. He had been twitchy with nerves all day. But she had permitted Hakoda to give the boy encouraging pep talks, rather she hadn’t intervened. 

Still, Sokka’s delivery proved to be shaky. “We’ll line our ships up here.” He pointed to somewhere on the map, Azula couldn’t say if he was pointing to the right spot. “And...and we have this plan called stink and sink…”

Azula resisted the urge to slap her own forehead, she had very specifically told him not to call it that.

“And well...umm...we’re going to use mist to sneak up on the Fire Nation, they won’t know what hit ‘em…”  he paused, “we also have these armoured tanks…”

She almost felt bad for the boy, he was giving off enough vibrations to cloud her vision. 

“Alright Sokka,” Hakoda put a hand on his shoulder. “I can take over from here.” 

She heard him give a glum sigh. 

“Myself, my son, and avatar Azula have come up with a plan…” 

The title sent an unpleasant jolt resounding through her. “Why don’t we leave your dad to it?” Azula asked Sokka, suddenly feeling as nauseous as he probably did. He nodded quietly and followed her off of the platform. 

She waited in the crowd, silently listening to Hakoda cover the points of their plan, where each team would be stationed, and who would fill what role. He went over their back up plan--a thing that was too loose for Azula’s liking but it was the best that they could do for the time being. 

“Is there anything that you’d like to add?” A pause. He must have been looking at her because he apologized and repeated, “is there anything you’d like to add, Azula?”

She thought for a moment and frowned. It would seem that they would have to do some re-planning. Their initial plan didn’t involve the submarines. But it looked like they would have to work them in afterall.  “There’s an alarm system set up at the Gates Of Azulon. Even with the fog coverage, we will be detected.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “We will carry on with the original plan, to sail in by ship. We, however, won’t be aboard any of the ships. We will be on the submarines. By the time that the…the enemy realizes that the ships are empty, we will be well on our way.”

.oOo.

“I really messed it up.” Sokka mumbled while sheepishly rubbing his arms. “I helped make the plan I should have been able to explain it better.” 

“Making plans is one thing, discussing them in front of a crowd is another.” Azula shrugged. 

“I take it that you’re not good at public speeches either?” 

Azula laughed. “I’m extremely good at them, you should have heard the speech that I gave to the Dai Li…” She trailed off, thinking again of the possibility that her father was going to make use of them. She was counting on her father handing them all to Zuko under the assumption that he couldn’t take care of himself. She tried not to dwell on that too much, it was nearly out of her hands. “It’s casual conversation and small talk that I have a problem with.” 

“No kidding, Sparky.” Toph agreed with a dismissive hand wave. 

“I think that you did great.” Katara smiled. 

“Thanks, Katara. But you’re not very good at lying.” 

“I am.” Azula declared. 

“Oh yeah, prove it.” Toph replied. 

“I am a four-hundred foot tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings.” 

“Okay, I admit it, you’re good.” Toph laughed. “Now tell Sokka that he didn’t totally flop that speech.” 

“He didn’t totally ruin it.”

“Wow, that sounded really genuine!” Toph declared.

“It was genuine.” Azula insisted. 

“You really are good at lying.” Sokka spoke.

“I wasn’t lying that time. You didn’t totally ruin the speech, just...mostly.”

“Gee, thanks, you’re reassuring.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Why are you smiling if you’re offended?” Katara asked. 

“Because, she has no social skills and it’s kind of funny.” 

Azula folded her arms over her chest, but she couldn’t exactly counter him. She had already admitted that she lacked mundane conversational elegance. She had to admit that the commentary was slightly entertaining. It was somehow reliving to be able to make mildly self deprecating jokes. To be able to put insecurity aside just long enough to do so. “Really, it wasn’t the worst public speech that I’ve ever heard. Zuzu has given some pretty dreadful ones.