#he does work in oil but not anymore he got tired of the field and all the bs

[cluethegirl]

There is an art to looking and appearing rich as shit in public, like the type of rich that does not care about the looks, and I seem to nail it. here are the instructions:

ok thanks that's all

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt.19

[part eighteen] | [part twenty] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost] 

 Geralt stumbles into the brothel, doubled over and breathing hard, sure that this is the time they'll toss him out for good. But by the grace of some unknown god, he makes it up the stairs without being stopped, his control still intact - if only just. He knocks on the door and it's opened before him quickly, but as soon as it is, Geralt is assaulted with Jaskier’s scent and he groans as the burning need claws at him.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks, "are you okay?" He reaches out to touch him, but Geralt knows better than to let him. Not when he’s like this.

"Don't," he warns, waving an arm for Jaskier to stay away without touching him. Jaskier is undeterred, the frown on his face deepening as he steps closer. "Stop fucking around Jaskier." Geralt growls, shoves Jaskier back. Even the light tough rips through him and Geralt curls that hand into a fist, dropping it to his side. "I need your help."

"Anything, darling, just tell me what it is." Jaskier’s voice is light and just this side of panicky. Geralt hates to hear him like this.

He shuts his eyes and takes a breath, which proves to be a mistake when the scent of citrus and cloves fills his senses once more. He steadies himself.

"I don't know how to explain.”

“Try, darling.”

“There are certain plants that serve, in small doses, as an aphrodisiac. They're mostly harmless if you avoid them, but in large doses, they can be-" he takes another steadying breath as arousal sears through him "-overwhelming. I was fighting a fiend, got thrown into a field of the damn things."

"So you're-" Jaskier starts and Geralt can feel his eyes track down his body, settling low with a soft gasp before snapping back up to his face. "Fuck." The smell of arousal curls up between them and Geralt grinds his teeth against it.

"It'll work through my system eventually, but if I don't submit to it, it will become excruciating. I don't know how long it could last, sometimes you just need to come once and it eases up, sometimes it's hours."

Jaskier's lips twitch and Geralt is expecting some snarky response, but he gets none. He takes a step forward and Geralt moves back.

"Jaskier, I need to hear you say it."

"Melitele's sake Geralt, of course, I'll help you!" He rolls his eyes as he steps toward him. The second Jaskier's hands are on him, Geralt lets out a low moan, letting himself be walked backward. His back hits the wall and Jaskier drops to his knees, quickly undoing Geralt's trousers and freeing his aching cock.

Geralt whines as Jaskier's mouth wraps around him. He drops his head back against the wall, sliding his hands through Jaskier's hair and trying not to push too hard. But Jaskier's mouth has never felt so fucking good and he needs more of it. His whole body burns with the need for more, to fuck, to come. And Jaskier does his best to offer that, sucking hard and taking Geralt's cock deeper than seems possible.

Geralt comes, remarkably quickly, just like that, both of them still dressed with Jaskier's mouth wrapped around him. He shudders through the aftershocks, rocking into Jaskier's mouth until he's spent. Jaskier rises to his feet, presses up against him.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure."

Jaskier hums thoughtfully as he pulls at the straps of Geralt's armour. It's such a practiced motion that he hardly even looks anymore and Geralt stands patiently as Jaskier removes each piece with care. He moves onto his clothing after that and there's a constant buzz under Geralt's skin, but he doesn't know if it's the affliction or just Jaskier, not that it matters much either way.

"It's okay," Jaskier says, taking in the frown on his face, "we'll get through this." He dips his head to kiss Geralt's shoulder where his shirt pulls away and lifts the shirt over his head before dropping to remove his trousers. Geralt's pulse spikes at that, but it's still not so urgent as it was when he arrived.

Jaskier rises back to his feet, kissing up Geralt's stomach as he presses him back toward the bed. He presses him down and smiles encouragingly at him before turning away. But the second Jaskier's hands aren't on him, the urgency returns like a storm, racing through his veins. Geralt groans at the intensity of it, dropping onto his back and wrapping a hand around his cock.

It feels... better. Not great. but better than the desperate ache when he's not touching himself. Not as good as Jaskier's hand. Not as good as his mouth.

He's not even aware of Jaskier's return until soft fingers slide around his wrist, pulling his hand from his cock. Hr groans at the loss but a moment later Jaskier's palm presses against him, slick with oil and so, so good. Geralt arches off the bed with a moan, barely aware that Jaskier is talking to him.

"If we're going to be at it all night, you're going to get sore just using your hand like that."

Geralt's breath catches as Jaskier slides over him and he reaches down, brushing his fingers over Jaskier's. He slips further, pressing back between his legs and Jaskier breathes a low fuck.

"Okay, darling, let's get you up on the bed properly, alright?" He slips off the bed himself and Geralt moves as quickly as he can, forcing down the rising heat in his skin. Jaskier arranges the pillows under his head as Geralt takes hold of himself again, getting him settled.

But after even a second, it's not enough and Geralt drops his free hand between his legs again, pressing against his hole. It feels good, better, but it's still not enough and he pushes further, grunting when it's too dry. Jaskier helps, tipping the bottle of oil onto his fingers and Geralt is quick to press deeper into himself. Jaskier's fingers slide in next to his and Geralt rolls his head back, breathing hard.

"Oh fuck," Jaskier breathes, "you're already ready." His eyes flick up to Geralt's and Geralt can't bring himself to speak. He can't tell Jaskier that he barely made it here or that he spent half an hour fucking himself on the plug before realizing that wasn't going to be enough.

Jaskier gets him off again just using his hands, stroking and fucking into him until Geralt is breathless and limp beneath him. But his cock remains firm, aching.

Jaskier ducks, nosing at the base of his cock and working his way up, mouthing at Geralt's skin. It's not enough, not nearly enough to satisfy the need, but it does feel good and Geralt doesn't want him to stop. Jaskier's knees come up under his thighs and Geralt reaches for him, slipping his hands around the back of his neck. He wants to touch as much as he wants to be touched and Jaskier is more than happy to allow him.

He ducks down into Geralt's hold and his cock nudges against Geralt's hole, pressing into him even as he shifts positions. Jaskier drops onto his elbows and Geralt presses his nose into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of Jaskeir's skin. He rocks his hips down and Jaskier doesn't hesitate any longer, pushing steadily into him.

He pauses when he's fully sheathed and Geralt rolls his hips slowly, revelling in the way Jaskier fills him. And he gives this so easily, so readily, drops everything to help him. Geralt wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulders, kissing and biting at whatever bit of skin he can reach with his mouth.

Jaskier picks up his pace, rocking a little quicker, a little harder and Geralt moves with him but doesn't let him get far away from him. The ache is lesser with Jaskier inside him, but he still needs more than he's getting, more than is likely possible, he realizes. Because this isn't arousal, this is some sort of magic at work that makes him need this. And Jaskier does his best to give it to him.

He doesn't last long when Jaskier starts talking in his ear and he comes hard, squeezing around Jaskier’s cock and pulling him over the edge with him. Geralt remains still under him, arms still wound around Jaskier's body. He's exhausted, but his body isn't satisfied unless Jaskier is touching him, so he holds him close for as long as it's comfortable.

As soon as Jaskier starts to shift, Geralt releases him, and almost immediately the need returns. He's still rock hard, his cock having refused to give up even after three orgasms. Jaskier flops onto his back next to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asks and Geralt can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"Okay," he says, "better." It's a half-truth, but Jaskier looks and sounds exhausted and Geralt would like nothing more than to lie down and sleep beside him.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

“Mm, good.” Jaskier rolls onto his side, shifting back until he bumps against Geralt and he settles with a soft sigh. Geralt takes the opportunity to curl around him, shutting his eyes and breathing in Jaskier's scent. Most nights it's comforting, but today it's like a goddamn aphrodisiac itself and Geralt doesn't need any encouragement. Already, he's struggling to get comfortable, trying to shift into any position that doesn't have his hard prick sliding against Jaskier's ass with every little movement.

Eventually, Jaskier tires of it and reaches around, grabbing Geralt's hand and pulling his arm over him. He gives a little tug, just hard enough that Geralt moves without consideration and his cock presses up between Jaskier's cheeks. Jaskier doesn't seem to mind, apparently ready to roll with whatever this night brings, but the heat of his body is overwhelming.

It picks away at Geralt's composure even as he settles in to rest and he's already so fucking hard. He doesn't need the reminder of what it feels like to be inside him, doesn't need the reminder of how ready and willing Jaskier always is for him. Heat zips up his spine and Geralt groans with the restraint it takes to not just rut against Jaskier's ass until he comes. Fuck, but it would feel so good and he can practically feel it already... His hips shift unbidden and he freezes immediately, but Jaskier isn't convinced.

"It’s still bad," he realizes. Geralt winces at the sound of his voice, thick with exhaustion, but he knows he can't lie to Jaskier. It wouldn't do him any good anyway. So he says nothing. "Geralt," Jaskier says, already turning around to face him, "you don’t have to lie to me. You asked me for my help, let me give it."

Geralt is about to insist that he can hold out a little longer, but then he's rolled onto his stomach and subjected to the wet heat of Jaskier's mouth, pressing a line of kisses down his back. Jaskier shifts to straddle his thighs and Geralt is surprised to find him already half hard. Jaskier rocks against him and it doesn't take much encouragement to bring him to full hardness again. Beneath him, Geralt just moans, pressing his face into the pillow and breathing in Jaskier's scent as the head of his cock presses into him. As soon as he's inside, the painful need stops, replaced by a different type of want that feels much more natural.

Jaskier fucks him slowly, kissing Geralt's shoulders. Like this, Geralt can hear every little moan and groan that spills from his lips and he presses his hips back to try and push him deeper. Jaskier appeases him, pushing harder with the next thrust as his teeth graze Geralt's neck.

"Good?" he hums and Geralt just whines.

There's a soft laugh against his ear and Jaskier's hand works its way beneath him, wrapping around his cock and squeezing hard. Geralt's breath catches, but his hips snap forward instinctively, fucking into the heat of Jaskier's fingers. He grinds forward, muffling a moan in the pillow as Jaskier's thumb rubs over the head of his cock.

Trapped between Jaskier's cock and his hand, Geralt is helpless to do anything but rock between the two, and it's good, fuck is it good. But after a few minutes, the pleasure plateaus and Geralt whimpers as he grinds harder against Jaskier's fingers and works his hips quicker, to no avail.

"What do you need, love?"

Jaskier's voice is low and thick with sleep and what he's sure is supposed to be an encouraging question only makes him feel guilty. Jaskier is having none of it. He pulls out and rolls Geralt onto his back, crawling up to lie against him. Geralt suspects it's a ploy to keep him from looking away, but right now he doesn't mind because he likes having Jaskier pressed up against him. Jaskier brushes his hair back, rocking his hips against him and it keeps the need away but doesn't get him any closer to coming.

"Geralt," he hums, "tell me what I can do, darling. I want to help."

"I don't know," Geralt groans. He's hot and sweaty and so fucking horny but his godsforsaken body won't cooperate with him. Jaskier runs a hand through his hair, looking down on him and Geralt groans in frustration.

"If I'd had more time to prepare, I'd tie you up," Jaskier murmurs, dipping down to kiss his neck, "you seemed to like that last time."

"Yeah," Geralt agrees. Jaskier's teeth press into his skin and electricity zips through him. He tips his head back, giving him more space and Jaskier hums thoughtfully before doing it again.

Geralt lets out a low groan and his cock throbs against Jaskier's, hips pushing up into him. It's ridiculous that he should have such a reaction; he's been taught from the beginning that a Witcher needs to protect his neck, volunteering it to be bitten is about as far from that as he could get. But Jaskier's teeth sink into the skin under his jaw and he whimpers as the lust that rushes through him.

"Oh," Jaskier breathes and Geralt almost misses it as nimble fingers tangle in his hair and tug. He's vaguely aware of Jaskier talking to him, mumbling against his skin, but Geralt sinks into the pleasure, unaware of anything until Jaskier's cock nudges against him again.

As he presses in, Jaskier tugs his head down and licks a stripe up his throat, letting his teeth graze over the cooling skin. Geralt sinks into the mattress, letting Jaskier take full control over him as he rocks into him, quick and hard. His head is foggy and he feels like he's floating, like Jaskier's mouth and hands are the only thing tethering him here and it feels good.

He knows he shouldn't want to give someone control over him, but he can trust Jaskier and aside from the other wolves, he's never felt as comfortable with someone.

Jaskier's cock bumps up against his prostate and his eyes nearly roll back in his head. Mindlessly, he reaches for his own cock, jerking himself quickly as Jaskier grinds into him, angling his hips to hit that spot with every thrust. It doesn't take long after that, with Jaskier's fingers in his hair and his mouth against his neck. Geralt spills between them, arching off the bed with a desperate cry and Jaskier follows seconds later, collapsing against him.

They both fall back to the bed, still tangled together and Geralt hums as Jaskier tucks his head under his chin. He reaches one hand up, slipping his fingers into Jaskier's hair and his eyes fall shut.

Geralt doesn't know how many hours have passed, but he awakes to something hot and wet around his cock. He moans as he blinks awake and leans up to find Jaskier halfway down the bed with his mouth around him. Any other day, he'd be overjoyed to be woken up like this, but he'd hoped he was finished with this damn curse. Evidently not.

Before he's even awake, his body jerks and he only realizes he's coming when Jaskier pulls off and it splatters against his chest. He blinks as Jaskier slips up against him, wiping his stomach with something soft.

"You were hard again in your sleep," he hums, "didn't want to wake you."

"Why were you awake?" Geralt mumbles, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders as he curls against him.

"Unimportant." He kisses Geralt's chest and Geralt knows it's a diversion. When he scents the air, Jaskier's regular scent is tinged with something sour.

"You were worried."

"I've never seen you like this," Jaskier whispers.

"Hopefully you never will again."

"What does it feel like?"

"Awful," Geralt mumbles, "hot and like I need it to survive. If I hold out for too long, it feels like I'll lose control, like I can't stop myself. You shouldn't worry though. I won't hurt you."

"Geralt," Jaskier scoffs, "I'm not worried about myself. I know you'd never do anything to hurt me."

Something shifts in Geralt's chest and it's overwhelming. To think that even like this, Jaskier trusts him so blindly is nothing short of incredible. He shifts onto his side, pulling Jaskier up against his and presses his lips into his hair. He doesn't know what to say in the face of such trust, so he just holds him close and shuts his eyes.

As they lie there, the nagging urge creeps up on him again and Geralt doesn't realize his hand is drifting until it slips around Jaskier's soft cock. He strokes him slowly and Jaskier lets out a little shuddering gasp as he presses back against Geralt's chest. He's only vaguely aware when his strokes become quicker, more focused on the sound of Jaskier's breath and the way he squirms against him, grinding back against his cock.

"Geralt," he breathes, hushed and strained, "I don't think I can come again, but I want you to fuck me."

"You're sure?"

"Completely, love. Let me help you through this." Geralt grumbles against his neck, but Jaskier just huffs another soft laugh and reaches back to thread his fingers through Geralt's hair. "I'm here for you."

Geralt slides his hand back, dragging his fingers between Jaskier's cheeks and he's surprised to find the plug missing, but Jasker is slick and ready for him anyway.

When Geralt presses into him, it takes every ounce of control not to just shove his cock in and fuck him hard, but even from the beginning, something feels different. Jaskier must be exhausted, but he still rocks back onto him like he's desperate for it, keeping one hand firmly in Geralt's hair. It's quick and hot and this time, Geralt comes quickly, burying his face into Jaskier's neck as he ruts into him.

He's tired, afterward, but the bone-deep exhaustion doesn't return and once Jaskier has cleaned them both up a little, Geralt settles. He's sweaty and sticky and sore and they'll probably both be feeling it for days, but he feels calm. The burning itch under his skin is gone and he sighs softly as he turns away from Jaskier.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles and there's barely a second's hesitation before Jaskier's fingers slide against his arm.

"Don't be sorry darling, no one keeps things interesting like you do." It's meant as a joke, Geralt knows, but it doesn't stop him from tensing up immediately. There's a soft fuck, and Jaskier presses up behind him, kissing his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to upset you, this is different for me, too."

Geralt doesn't know what to say to that because this is different, has been different for a long time, but neither of them has ever brought it up before. Geralt wouldn't trust anyone else to see him like this and he knows if another Witcher came in, unable to control his lust, Jaskier wouldn't welcome him so easily.

"Geralt?" Jaskier shifts behind him, lifting his chin to rest it on his arm. "Geralt, you know you're important to me right? This isn't just... you're not just someone I fuck because you pay me." He leans into him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder and Geralt nods.

He does know. He's terrified of it and he doesn't know what to do with it, but he does know.

[haledamage]

Coming Home

I'm a day late because this thing got much bigger than I expected, but better late than never! This is for @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer 2021! The prompt was Pacific Rim AU!

Some of the backstory stuff is from this post here. Some is just pushing ShoH canon slightly to the left so it fits better in a Pacific Rim setting. Some is the result of reading ShoH and watching PacRim at the same time and then taking a nap to see what seeds got planted. There will be a part 2 to this because I had to split it up in order to finish it on time and then I was late anyway.

Shepherds of Haven/Pacific Rim AU. Iorwen Emroth/Blade Bronwyn (well, hints of it. more in part 2)

---

The Haven Shatterdome looked very small from overhead. Iorwen watched it loom closer with a trepidation somewhere between “being late for an important exam” and “being read her last rites.”

It had been just over two years since she’d last been this close to a Jaeger, half a world away and in a different life, but all the Shatterdomes looked the same after a while. Steel and glass and everything painted in olive drab, black, and safety yellow. 

Part of her felt like it was too soon to walk into those hangar doors again, the empty space at her side where her partner used to be still a raw, open wound. She couldn’t even think xer name yet without feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Returning to work felt like a betrayal of xer memory.

Another part of her, louder with every passing minute, was just so happy to be home again.

"Wen!"

Iorwen had barely stepped out of the helicopter when she heard her name called and turned to see Red jogging toward her. He looked more tired than she remembered him, but his smile was as bright as ever, his hair vivid against their otherwise drab surroundings. She’d known he was here - he’d transferred to Haven shortly after she left Capra - but hearing it and actually seeing him were two very different things.

She dropped her bag carelessly to the tarmac and ran to meet him halfway, throwing herself at him as soon as he was close enough to wrap her arms around his neck. He hugged her back without hesitation. They were making a Hel of a scene in the middle of the landing pad, but neither of them really cared.

"I knew you'd come back," he mumbled into her hair.

"Had to." She finally pulled away, stepping back just enough that she could see him. "You can barely tie your shoes without me, Liefred."

He only laughed before leaving her side just long enough to grab her bag. He slung an arm around her shoulders as he rejoined her, dragging her towards the hangar. "Welcome home."

She stared up at the Shatterdome, hangar doors towering over them. It didn't look nearly as welcoming as Red seemed to think it should, and was much more intimidating than it had been from the air. It still smelled like blood and motor oil - or maybe it was her memory that did.

She tried to put on her best smile anyway, for his sake if not her own, and let him drag her inside.

They stepped into a hive of activity, the sounds of machinery and voices echoing off the walls, laughter and shouting and clanging metal rising up to greet them. She tried to stop and take it in, but Red was still dragging her along with him out of the main hangar and into a labyrinth of hallways; she probably could have escaped him if she tried, but she didn’t really want to.

“Have you met the Marshal yet?” he asked, once they were in a quiet enough place that he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“Not yet. Mostly talked to his second so far.” Trouble Alder had, in fact, shown up out of the blue one day three months ago, sitting on her front porch with a stick of charch between his lips and looking completely at home. He’d revisited her every day for a month until he’d finally worn her down enough to convince her to come home. Stubborn bastard. “What's he like?”

“Intense,” Red answered almost immediately. “Most of the younger crew are terrified of him. He doesn't like me.”

Iorwen scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re the most exceptionally likeable person I’ve ever met. Everyone likes you.”

“He doesn't.” 

They stopped in front of a door in what was probably the barracks, the walls lined with identical doors on either side. Sure enough, there was a simple bed, a dresser, and not much else inside. Iorwen didn’t mind; she didn’t need much else.

Once she’d dropped off her bag and they started down the next hallway, Red continued, “I don't know if he likes anyone. He barely says two words to anyone but Trouble.”

She was still skeptical, but didn’t push. “Well, he must be doing something right. Look at this place. Capra barely had a skeleton crew compared to this.”

“It’s amazing!” Just like that, Red lit up again. “Some of Blest’s best and brightest are here. Pilots, mechanics, scientists, strategists, you name it.”

“And which of those are you? All of the above?”

“Mostly scientist, I think,” Red rubbed a sheepish hand over his hair. “There’s better pilots. Pan, Neon, and I serve better in the lab than on the field most of the time.” He paused, watching her cautiously, before adding carefully, “And… which will you be?”

“I’ll be working in the clinic,” she said quickly. “As a Healer. I’m not… ready to be around Jaegers again. I might never be.”

“I understand,” he assured her, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

They fell silent after that, and stayed that way until they stopped in front of a door labelled Administration. “This is Shery’s office. She’ll get you all set up.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Anytime.” With one final quick hug, he turned to leave, only to stop halfway down the hall. “Oh, and Wen?”

“Hmm?”

“Welcome to the Shepherds.”

---

It was two weeks before Iorwen finally met the Marshal, and it happened entirely by accident.

She had just finished a shift in the clinic, patching up minor burns and bruises on unlucky mechanics and restless pilots. The silence between Kaiju attacks left everyone on edge, and that led to carelessness, which inevitably meant stupid injuries. She didn’t mind. All things considered, she’d rather have the silence.

As she turned a corner, she noticed a light was on in the training room, and curiosity led her there without much input on her part.

She recognized the man in the room easily enough. Even if they’d never spoken directly, she’d seen him around enough to know who he was. He commanded the attention of a room like no one she’d ever met before. He was hard to look away from, even here, out of uniform and either unaware or uncaring of her presence.

Magnetic. That’s what he was.

He was also much younger than she expected for a Marshal. He was close to her own age, or at least she assumed he was. She wondered about the story there - obviously there must be one - but knew better than to ask the rumor mill. Gossip was like dust: inevitable, everywhere, and harder to see through the more you stirred it up.

The Marshal’s back stiffened, and Iorwen knew she’d been caught staring even before he glanced over his shoulder in her direction. She stepped into the room as casually as possible. “Hello, Marshal.”

He simply nodded, dark eyes unreadable. “Ranger.” She bit her lip to stop herself from correcting him. “Emroth, right?”

“Yes, sir.” She approached until she could finally see his face. “Iorwen.”

Another nod. “Blade.” She thought he would leave it there, but after a moment, he spoke again. “Antiqua speaks highly of you.”

“Of course he does. He's biased.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at the idea that Red was going around extolling her virtues to anyone who would listen. When the Marshal - Blade, she mentally corrected herself - gave her a look that she interpreted as curiosity, she elaborated. “We trained together as cadets. He was my first Drift partner actually.”

“But you never piloted together?”

“No. It…” Iorwen broke eye contact, the floor suddenly fascinating. “It didn't work out that way.”

“It's not too late,” he said, almost softly.

“Yes it is. I'm not a Ranger anymore. Not after…” Xer name got stuck in her throat, like it always did. She took a couple of deep breaths until she could comfortably breathe around it again, but her smile was still sad. “I'm happier on the ground. I'm a good Healer. It's where I should be.”

She could feel Blade’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back up to meet them. Eventually, all he said was, “I see.”

He turned his back on her again and it didn’t take long before her gaze was drawn to him again. He was wearing a tank top, like most people did when they came here to train or spar, and standing this close she could clearly see the web of electrical scarring trailing over his arm and shoulder.

She knew those scars well. The scars of someone forced to solo pilot a Jaeger. She should know, she had a matching set.

Blade did an admirable job of pretending he didn’t know he was being observed, but he moved too carefully for it to look entirely casual. Or maybe he just always moved like that. He picked up a bo staff and tested the weight of it.

Iorwen took the opportunity that presented without thought or hesitation. “Looking for a dance partner?”

The briefest flash of surprise crossed his face before his expression smoothed back out. “Are you… sure?” he asked carefully. If she didn’t know better, she might say he almost sounded nervous.

She found it charming. She found him charming, with his not-quite-smile and his cool confidence, this magnetic man who could simultaneously terrify the cadets while inspiring absolute loyalty in them.

But she didn’t tell him that, of course. She just grabbed a staff of her own and grinned as she lifted it in a fencing salute. “On your guard, Marshal.”

---

After that first night, it became a regular thing. Not every day, not even on a set schedule. But sometimes after she was done in the clinic or in the garage, Iorwen would stop by the training room, and sometimes when she did, Blade would already be there. Not waiting for her, not exactly, but never surprised when she arrived.

He never really said much, but she didn't mind talking for the both of them. She could tell he was warming up to her, as the weeks passed; his silence felt much less formal and stiff and more cordial. Eventually, even friendly.

Two things were apparent from the very beginning, though. Well, three things. The first was that Blade, as a fighter, was completely out of her league. She never stopped by with any expectation of beating him; she was content to follow his lead. It was nice to be active again, to feel the familiar burn in muscles left dormant in her self-imposed retirement.

The second was that they were extremely drift compatible. While Iorwen could never beat him, she could consistently predict him. They could both be blindfolded and still know what move the other would make. There was an effortlessness to the way they understood each other that bordered on the supernatural. It was a kind of connection that she hadn’t felt since Zori had been killed.

The third thing was that neither of them were willing, in any way, shape, or form, to admit the second thing.

It was barely a week before Red found out.

He flopped down on the bench next to her in the cafeteria. “I brought those papers you were looking for to your room last night, but you weren’t there.” He didn’t say it as an accusation, but it still managed to feel like one.

“I spent a couple hours in the training room,” she said as casually as possible. “Trying to get back in shape.”

Red blinked a few times, letting that sink in, before smiling wide. “That’s really good. Let me know if you ever need a sparring partner.”

“I kind of… have one?”

“You do?” His smile went from friendly to devious, the look of a man who had four sisters and was willing to tease her as if she was a fifth. “Who?”

Before she could stop herself, she looked across the room at Blade. He sat at a table with Trouble, whose laughter was loud enough to reach them even from the other side of the busy cafeteria. The Marshal’s face remained impassive, looking like he wasn’t even listening, but Iorwen knew him well enough to tell he was amused.

As if he could feel her watching him, his eyes snapped up and locked on hers. She smiled at him; he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Red cleared his throat, and she looked away quickly, turning her attention back to the smugly amused grin of her best friend. “Well, I guess maybe it’s not everyone he doesn’t like.”

“Guess it’s just you.” She nudged his shoulder and he rubbed at it as if she’d hurt him. “He’s not as bad as you made him out to be.” She couldn’t stand his knowing look anymore and turned away, but doing so led her eyes right back to Blade. “He's nicer than he looks. And surprisingly funny. He doesn't treat me like I'm fragile. Like I'll break if someone talks about… Zori.” 

Mentioning her former Drift partner and copilot didn’t hurt as much as she expected it to this time. Less like twisting a knife in her heart and more like being poked in a fresh bruise.

Mentioning xer also stopped whatever comment Red had been about to make right in its tracks. He studied her with obvious curiosity, mouth still half-open in surprise. Whatever he saw on her face had him leaning forward and tapping his forehead against hers, a quick gesture of affection and understanding. She leaned into it until he pulled away.

And then his teasing smile was back as if it had never left. “Plus, he's handsome.”

She eyed him warily, but let him have the subject change. “That too.” She picked up a piece of fruit from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Please don’t say anything about this to Pan or Neon.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“I mean it, Red. Not a word.”

---

“So I hear you and the Marshal have a thing.”

Iorwen sighed from the very depths of her soul. “I hope Red knows how very dead he’s about to be.”

Panrachus looked legitimately confused at her response. “What? I didn’t hear that from Red, I heard it from Caine.” Then he gasped, eyes widening with sudden, delighted recognition. “What does Red know?”

She only barely bit back a groan. “Why are you even here?”

“Right! We’ve got something you oughta come see.”

She followed him, with more than a little trepidation, out of the clinic, through the office labyrinth, and out into the hangar. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings and realize where exactly they were going. “Why are we going to the Jaeger bays?” He didn’t answer. “Pan?”

Then they turned the corner, and she had her answer.

Looming over her was a Jaeger unlike any she’d seen before. It looked almost lanky, the proportions lean and sleek instead of the more familiar bulky designs. It would be unbelievably fast with the right pilots; she could tell that just from looking at it. From the top of each wrist, a wicked-looking blade extended over the hand, almost long enough to drag the ground. It was painted black, navy, and silver, but its eyes glowed bright blue.

From the ground, it almost looked like iladrin. Like the same blue light that lit Iorwen’s own eyes.

“What’s her name?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the Jaeger.

“Stellar Enigma.”

“Who’s piloting her?”

“You are.”

She jumped at the unexpected voice behind her and turned to see Blade, Red, and Trouble approaching, along with an entourage of what looked to be equal parts Shatterdome leadership, actual engineers, and nosy onlookers.

“You are,” Blade said again, quieter, softer, “Ranger.”

“Blade, I--” Iorwen started, but she wasn’t sure what she actually intended to say.

He reached up and lightly pinched her cheek, a faint smile on his lips. “You’ll be alright.”

Before she could reply, Trouble gently but pointedly cleared his throat, reminding her of their audience. She glared his way, just for a second; he grinned back, unabashed and unrepentant.

“Who’s my copilot? Sir.” She added the last as an afterthought, trying to act some semblance of professional.

“I get the feeling you already have someone in mind.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Bit early to be reading my thoughts, isn’t it, Marshal?”

---

Iorwen’s suit didn’t fit as well as she remembered. Tight around the shoulders, too loose at the waist. Like it was meant for someone else, no matter how many things tried to tell her otherwise.

Blade’s fit him like a second skin. He looked like a Jaeger cockpit was where he was always meant to be. Like it was the rest of the world that didn’t fit him right instead.

She met his inscrutable gaze before ‘admiring’ could cross the line to ‘ogling’. “You look good.”

He paused for a long time, staring back at her in silence, before finally clearing his throat. “You too.”

She grinned, both at the compliment and at the sight of the Marshal so off-balance, but she took pity on him and changed the subject. “Do you want the left or right?”

“Right.”

“Good. I prefer left.”

They didn’t speak anymore as they connected to their harnesses and their suits started interfacing with the Jaeger, the computerized voice talking them through system checks. It took longer than Iorwen remembered, but it had been a long time since she last Drifted with anyone, let alone with someone new.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, once their helmets were in place and they’d run out of checks to do. “I’m not--”

“Yes,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re ready. We both are.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say. To thank him, mostly, for a list of things that seemed to be growing bigger by the hour. She kept quiet; he’d hear it in her thoughts soon enough.

“Initiating neural handshake in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… neural interface drift initiated.”

Between one breath and the next, she was somewhere else. Images flowed over her, some familiar, some new. She did her best to let them pass, to not cling too hard to any of them.

The destruction of Drummond's Point, the first attack the day the Kaiju came. Iorwen, dragging Zori's unconscious body out of town as fast as thirteen-year-old legs could carry her. Blade, stern and silent even as a child, a soldier from the day he was born. Zori, tears at the corners of xer eyes as xe laughs at a joke Pan told, Red and Neon joining in, the three of them always together even then. Blade's older brother, startlingly similar to him in appearance and demeanor, the two of them either sparring or fighting; for them, there had never been much difference.

Zori's scream as xe's ripped out of the cockpit. Gladius didn't make a sound as he met the same fate.

Iorwen's grief washed up against Blade's, soothing in it's familiarity. A gentle reminder that they weren't alone anymore, that thanks to the Drift they'd never be entirely alone again.

She saw him in her memory of their first meeting. Stern, aloof, but warm underneath, like a fire behind frosted glass. Captivating her before he even so much as looked at her. 

And then herself through his eyes at that same introduction. Sad, withdrawn, but still burning bright. The embodiment of stubborn hope, like a flower blooming in a snowy field.

And then they broke through the surface, both gasping as they came up for air. Below them, Stellar Enigma came to life. The rush of memories and emotions settled into the background, present but no longer demanding attention.

“Pilot connection stabilized.” It wasn’t the computer’s voice this time, but Shery over the intercom. “How do you feel?”

Moving as one, Blade and Iorwen lifted their hands, right fist resting on left palm, and bowed. Stellar Enigma did the same, moving as smoothly as her pilots did. Iorwen couldn’t tell which of them the wave of elation came from, but it burst out of her in a laugh.

“It feels like coming home.”

[areiton]

three days - stony

Read on AO3 | Mind the AO3 warnings, friends. 

~*~ 

The day begins like this:  

Tony is cursing, and Steve is laughing.  

It’s how they’ve woken up for years now, Steve’s hands cool and familiar against Tony’s belly as he crawls back into bed with his husband, and Tony’s rasping complaints just as familiar.  

“There’s coffee, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, hair wet where it falls into his eyes and Tony peers up at him through his good eye.  

It’s been decades since Thanos, since he gave his right arm and his eye and almost his life—since Extremis reversed the damage and so much of his aging and slowed down the remains.  

“We could stay in bed,” Tony bargains, and Steve grins at him, rolls them in the sheets until Tony is straddling his hips and drags him down for a kiss, hands skating over his sides.  

~*~  

The day begins like this:  

There is silence. Cool sheets and bright sunlight. He hasn’t slept. He can’t sleep in the utter silence, and can’t bring himself to leave their bedroom either.  

There’s the scent of familiar cologne and motor oil in the air, and he can’t bring himself to leave, isn’t sure it’ll be there, if he does.  

There’s a tap on the door, and Harley comes in, trailed by Peter.  

“Hey, Pops,” Harley murmurs, hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing his suit, already. It’s not that strange, seeing him in a suit—Harley has been CEO long enough that seeing him wearing a suit as trim and fitted as Tony’s is familiar and comforting.  

Peter is too, though, and his eyes are wet and red-rimmed and he looks-- 

He looks like Tony did. Grey streaks his hair and his eyes are tired, his smile weaker than it used to be.  

He looks younger than Harley, and Steve wonders if that’s a curse or a blessing. Tony worried about it, about how he’d handle a long life, extended by his mutation, when his husband was gone.  

Steve blinks hard, because Tony had never considered that for them. Not when Extremis and the serum evened the playing field for them, not for decades now.  

“It’s time,” Harley says, softly.  

~*~  

The day begins like this:  

An alarm is blaring, beyond the walls of his room, and Steve jerks upright. “Report?” he barks, and there’s a brief moment of silence cut only by the klaxon.  

“Commander, they’ve asked you stay behind,” FRIDAY says.  

He snorts, and moves, all efficiency as he slips into the stealth suit.  

It needs a bit of work, but it’ll do, at least until he can get to the city.  

“What’s the situation, FRI?” he asks.  

She feeds it to the comm he never goes without, and he reaches for his shield before leaving the small, unadorned room behind.  

The halls of SHIELD are crowded, bustling with agents scurrying to answer the still screaming alarm, but they all give way, something he notes with only the barest kind of interest.  

His hair falls in his eyes and he scrapes it back impatiently, securing it at the nape of his neck.  

“Need to cut that, Stevie,” Bucky says, falling into step beside him.  

“Think you should sit this one out,” Director Bishop says as they stride into command center. Her eyes are worried and her mouth is tight and Steve smiles at her, sharply.  

“Now you know that’s not gonna happen, Katie Kate,” Bucky drawls, and because he’s looking for, Steve sees her tiny flinch.  

Even now.  

“Stark,” she says, and Steve straightens.  

“What’s the mission, Director,” he asks, implacable.  

She sighs and drags up a holoscreen. “We know he’s harnessing electricity,” she begins and he settles in.  

“This might be the one,” FRIDAY murmurs and Steve closes his eyes, and hopes. 

~*~  

The morning goes like this:  

Tony leans against him, half asleep against his back while Steve makes eggs. The house is quiet today—just the two of them, the team confined to the Compound. He thinks about spending a little time in his studio, after breakfast.  

“I need to do some work on the prototypes Peter sent over,” Tony mumbles against his back and Steve mentally rearranges his plans. Sketching in the workshop and going over SHIELD mission reports it was.  

There were days, of course there were, when they retreated from each other, spent in their own separate corners of the house, days Tony spent in the city because even now, years after Pepper’s retirement and handing the reins to Harley and Peter, he’s active at SI. There are days when Steve goes on a mission for SHIELD with Bucky, and they don’t see each other for a week or more.  

But mostly, when they can, they spend their time together.  

“Too many years apart,” Steve murmured, when Tony asked him about it, right after they got married.  

Now, it’s habit, and comfortable, and Steve smiles does at the eggs while Tony snores against his back, and thinks about the long empty day stretching ahead of them.  

~*~  

The day goes like this:  

They drive together, Steve and the boys who are not boys, the men who have been his sons. Morgan is waiting, with her children, and theirs, and Steve resents them, just for a moment, resents everyone here—the remains of their family and their team, Bucky and Sam, everyone standing around him and the fucking urn waiting.  

Peter speaks first.  

Because Steve—Steve loved him, loves him still, with every breath that is in him, he thinks he will love Tony until he’s dust and faded memories—but Peter was part of Tony’s soul, all his genius and sacrifice and kindness wrapped up in a boy without a speck of his blood. Peter was the son he chose, and it’s fitting, that Peter is the one speaking first, the one saying goodbye while Steve stands over an urn that feels too heavy and too light and all wrong.  

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.  

There was Extremis and the serum, there was every villain and battle they survived and all the years they fought and all the love they built despite it.  

There was a century between them and secrets and so much love he can’t quite breath through it.  

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.  

But then, he supposes. It wasn’t supposed to end at all.  

~*~  

The day goes like this:  

The quinnjet is quiet. FRIDAY has fallen silent, but Steve knows she’s running all the information she can find, and after all the years she’s spent growing, there’s nothing she can’t find.  

Bucky sits next to him, silent, because there’s nothing to say anymore.  

The SHIELD agents and Avengers—there are Avengers, new ones, people whose names he can’t remember or doesn't want to learn, a Captain America that Sam chose that he doesn’t want to know—are quiet, a low murmur of voices and spike of laughter, but it’s been long enough that no one disturbs him and Bucky, until they’re coming up on the drop site and Scarlet Witch—not Wanda, not his team, they’re all gone now—says, “Eyes up. Everyone comes home safe.”  

There’s a chorus of voices, and Bucky leans briefly into his side, and Steve’s eyes cut to his brother.  

FRIDAY is quiet in his ear and the wind whistles as the fliers take to the sky. There’s a lightening storm, just beyond the quinnjet.  

He smiles.  

“Commander Stark,” he hears, shouted, a moment before he throws himself from the jet, and Bucky follows.  

~*~  

The day goes like this:  

The alarm comes in while Tony is scolding DUM-E, and Steve is laughing, and he grins at Steve, bright and beautiful. “Wanna save the world, honey?”  

“We’re retired,” Steve says, dryly.  

“FRIDAY, what is it?  

“A new threat, Boss. Something in space.”  

Steve shifts, uneasy, because space has never meant anything good for them, but Tony is grinning, bright eyes and eager, and he already knows how it’ll end.  

“Get your suit,” he sighs, “FRIDAY, let Hill know we’re coming in.”  

“Sure thing, Commander.”  

~*~  

The day goes like this:  

After they scatter the ashes.  

After the family gathers and leaves-- 

After the house has gone silent, but for DUM-E's sad lonely beeping, when the lights are off and the curtains are drawn and the studio has been closed off-- 

He sits in the dark with a gun in his hand and only the thought of Tony’s disappointment in him keeps him from pulling the trigger.  

~*~  

The day goes like this:  

The fight is brutal. The Avengers are falling in around him and Bucky, but there’s rain and the air is thick with electricity.  

Hawkeye goes down under an electric bolt from the wizard wielding it and Scarlet Witch screams his name.  

“Cap,” FRIDAY murmurs. “Wait.” 

It’s going to hell, fast, the rain and the electricity working together to blind and ground their fliers, to slow the fighters on the ground. An EMP brings down Iron Patriot with a clattering roar that almost throws him back to that fucking fight in Germany, a lifetime ago, but he grits his teeth,  tenses-- 

And waits.  

It comes in waves, pulses where the wizard gather’s his power, before it’s thrown in a scattering arc, in a sharp concentrated bolt, devastating their ranks.  

“Now,” Friday snaps, and he throws himself forward.  

The last thing he hears is Bucky’s scream.  

~*~  

The day ends like this:  

They should have stayed home.  

Where Tony was warm and grumbling and their forever stretched endless in front of them.  

They should have stayed home.  

It goes to hell, fast, faster than he can parse. The villain is an alien they’ve never faced before, and Tony’s voice is sharp and worried over the comm. 

“Cap, he’s pulling the energy of a fucking star,” Tony says.  

“A star?” Steve echoes.  

“Stars are a form of energy—that's what he’s pulling.”  

“Ours?”  

Tony’s silent and Steve almost laughs, because of course they’re on a throwaway mission with a villain who wants to drain the power of their damn sun.  

“What can we do to stop him?”  

Tony is quiet, a long moment, and then--”FRIDAY, take care of him, would you? Ferryman Protocol, code echo alpha zeta tango niner.”  

The ship jerks a little, and FRIDAY says, apologetic, “Sorry, Cap. Orders.”  

“Tony,” Steve starts, but he’s flying already, the boosters on his suit bright as stars as he slams into the alien. Giant tentacles as black as the space around them snake around the suit and Tony says, softly. “I’m so sorry, beloved.”  

“Tony, come back here,” Steve begs. “Please--” 

“I wanted so badly to grow old with you, Steve,” Tony says. The suit is flying again, pulling the alien with him, and Steve can’t breathe, it’s flying. “FRIDAY--don’t let him watch.”  

He screams when the ships monitor’s go black.  

He screams when an explosion rocks the ship.  

He screams when FRIDAY reports, her voice shaking with tears, “I’ve lost contact with the suit.”  

He screams and he screams, and Tony never responds.  

~*~ 

The day ends like this:  

He catches sight of himself in a mirror in the dark. It’s been almost a year since that day in space, a year of searching space and scanning for lifesigns and Peter frantically building tech to go search for Tony.  

It’s been a year of unending grief and wild baseless hope and silence that’s never answered.  

He catches sight of himself and he breaks, shatters the mirror and then the table, so furious suddenly he doesn’t check himself. He finds himself in his studio, shattered easels and canvases, his pencils broken and sketchbooks torn apart, chest heaving and sobs trapped in his throat.  

He’s destroyed it, the place that Tony built for him, the place where he would sleep, while Steve sketched.  

He trembles, and says, softly, “FRIDAY. I can’t stay here.”  

“I’ll inform SHIELD you’re moving back to headquarters,” she says, and he nods.  

He takes his suit, the one that Tony made him, his shield, and a picture of Tony, saved from the ruined studio, and leaves.  

~*~  

The day ends like this:  

Bucky carries him.  

He can’t breath, and there’s a panicky fear in his gut, shades from a boy that he hasn’t been in a lifetime.  

He can’t breath and there’s peace in it, because FRIDAY is almost purring in his ear, and Bucky is carrying him and crying and there’s a smile, strange and familiar, on his brother’s face. 

He waited.  

Even now, almost a decade after Sam’s death, Bucky waited.  

“End of the line,” Steve rasps and Bucky laughs, lowers him in the quinnjet that is dark and still.  

The Avengers that he doesn’t know, never let himself know, are behind him, silent and grim and he thinks maybe they are crying.  

He wants to tell them not to.  

He wants to tell them this is his choice.  

Bucky knows, and that is enough. FRIDAY knows, his faithful companion for all the long empty years since Tony died.  

He closes his eyes and his heartbeat falters.  

~*~  

The day begins like this:  

He wakes and there’s a warmth, familiar and comforting, against him, and he twists.  

Tony smiles at him, impossibly young and heartbreakingly perfect, his eyes bright, and his right hand trembling as it pushes back Steve’s hair.  

“You kept me waiting a while, beloved,” he murmurs.  

Steve curls close, and Tony hums, soft and soothing and comforting, as he holds him.  

[sp00kworm]

Home in Your Heart (Saint-14 x Female Reader)

Pairing: Saint-14 x Female Reader 

Warnings: Adult Content beneath the cut, Robot Romance, Robot x Human Romance and made up Exo anatomy. 

A/N: Thanks to a special friend for reading this through for me. I would be lost without that help for these giant pieces I end up getting myself into. I hope this is fun for people to read!

---

Saint watched from the tower wall as the pigeons fluttered up into the rafters above him. The Hangar was quiet this time of night, even with the last dregs of the Vanguard returning from missions out beyond the safety of the Last City and its walls. The Exo watched the pigeons huddle closer, cooing softly as they readied to bed down for the night, and smiled up at the birds. They were one of the things he loved about the city. They ignored him as he cocked his gun and set to unscrewing panels and readying pieces of cloth for cleaning. The Perfect Paradox. A weapon made from light and the will for him to live. It was a fine piece of craftmanship. The Titan stripped back pieces of the shotgun with practiced ease and took the lubricating oil in hand, making sure to get it into the small cracks. He took the cleaning pole and gently started cleaning the barrel, watching to see when the cloth came out clean of carbon and residual gunpowder. Saint-14 hummed a song as he worked. The children had sung him when he took his round around the city. It was about a thorny rose in a secret garden. It didn’t let a man pick it for his wife and learned later about her death. The man returned to the garden and the rose and the man grew close before it allowed him to take its beauty, enamoured with his devotion and love for his wife who had long since passed. The pressed rose was placed on the man’s grave when he passed away and the rose was honoured to mark where such a great man had been laid to rest.

 Saint hummed the sad song as he worked and sighed when he finished it, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth at the sadness. It was not a day for such a feeling. There was nothing but joy to be had.

“Hmm. The Guardian made you well.” He joked at the shotgun in his hands as he took the small screws in hand and started to fit the panels back into place, lubricated and clean, ready for action again. He didn’t see a lot of action anymore. Patrols and catching thieves were common outside of ferrying guardians too and from Osiris’ trials. With a warm feeling, he placed the shotgun aside and looked at the nights sky. The Traveller was on the other side of the tower, where Zavala and Shaxx stood during the day. Saint hummed as he looked down at the buildings again, amazed at the sheer size and scale of the buildings. Hundreds of thousands of people lived here now, under the restored safety of the Traveller.

“Saint?” You asked from behind the goliath of an Exo, “You can’t sleep either, huh?” You moved towards him, across the lines of the football field with your Ghost trailing behind you, peaking over your shoulder as you approached the legendary Titan.

“Guardian! It is good to see you!” Saint hollered from where he was sat, armoured head turning to watch you as you walked over.

You had come for a walk, unable to sleep in your small apartment below the Tower, in hopes of tiring yourself out. Guardians didn’t sleep much anyway, but sometimes you wished you could at least have the few hours that you wanted. Either way, it was better than the starving to death Guardians used to have to do. Thinking about the Dark Age made you shudder in your bed at night, the Drifter’s haunting words about the famine and death making you hope it would never come to be again. His plans made you worried that perhaps it would return, but, as you smiled, looking at the cheerful titan who was reaching to remove his helmet to match you, you couldn’t find the sadness that was keeping you up at night.

“Its good to see you as well, Saint.” You chuckled as you sat by the Titan, yawning as you flopped onto the mat next to him, taking a look at the helmet.

The Exo’s grey metal face flexed to reflect a smile as he rubbed a shine back into the plating of the Perfect Paradox, “Sleeping is sometimes difficult, yes. I find mending things to be helpful. Makes the brain sleepy.” He laughed, optics closing as he bellowed over the side of the tower, “You can help me, if you would like, Guardian?” Saint reached for another shining cloth and handed it to you along with one of his great, spiked shoulder pauldrons, “Be careful of the spikes.”

 Gently, you took the armour piece and watched Saint-14 reach to unclip the rest of the plating. The armour on his legs came off easy, along with his gauntlets, but the Exo reached for the back straps of his chest piece and grunted.

“You need some help with that, Saint?” You asked gently as you laid the pauldron he had passed you on the mat.

The titan grumbled, “It would seem so, friend.” Gracefully he took a knee before you, back exposed so you could easily reach the buckles and air locks of the armour from where you were sat.

Skilfully, you started to unlock the armour piece, “You really love clasps, huh, Saint?” You joked as you finally pulled the buckles free and heaved the heavy armour over his head, careful not to hit the metal of his head.

“It is for safety! All armour should be like this, not like that puny amount Hunters wear, and do not get me started about robes! Who in the Vanguard for Warlocks believes that fabric can stop bullets? Pah, stupid. Book smart, all of them, but stupid. The only way to survive bullets is to wear this armour.” He gestured to the heavy plating and stretched in the thick undershirt, the long sleeves being rolled up to reveal the circuitry and grey plating of his arms.

 Laughing, you took hold of his pointy pauldron again and started to clean in between the dangerous points, metal lubricant and cleaner bringing a gleaming shine to the fine armour in your hands, “Its such a task to look after!” You sighed, exasperated, “But I guess I understand why Titans are so fond of huge shoulder armour.” With a finger you eased the cloth between the spikes and began to shine them individually.

“Yet you have such care for mine…” Saint exclaimed before being cut off by the familiar noise of a yowling cat. The Exo turned his head to see a young kitten, yowling underneath the roosting pigeons, paws clenching as it looked up sadly, “Ah, damn cat. Away with you.” He moved to shoo the cat away but stopped as you grabbed his hand, tugging him back towards the mat before you got up and moved towards the thin looking kitten slowly. The cat’s back arched as you came close, hissing as the fur of its back rippled. It was a small thing, barely getting by with whatever tiny amount of food it could scrounge from the locals.

“Shh. Come on. You don’t have to be like that!” You joked as you knelt and offered your fingers gently to the kitten, “Here.” You pulled open your small bag to see if you had any leftover rations from your last mission. With a stick of beef jerky in hand you wiggled it in front of the kitten and watched it’s eyes grow wide and wild.

 Laughing, you tore some pieces free and started backing towards where Saint-14 was sat, a knee propped up, one leg hanging over the edge of the tower.

“Do not bring that rat to me!” He huffed, “It will upset the birds!”

“Its just a kitten, Saint.” You whispered back at him as the cat followed your trail, hungrily devouring the pieces of meat. When you reached the mat, it peered up at your hands and waited, watching you tear off a piece of meat, “Go on.” You offered the food between your fingers and smiled when the kitten pulled the meat free and continued to take food from your hands. With a gentle hand you stroked along its back and smiled as it purred softly, still unsure of the attention and whether to trust you.

“It is a cunning beast.” Saint mumbled as he continued to fix up some loose plating on his gauntlets, “Yet it likes you. It shows that kindness can get you a long way.” Saint-14 eyed the creature as he fixed the finger on his gauntlet, “Even if the object of such kindness delights in killing pigeons.” His face plates shifted into a scowl as the kitten pawed at your lap and climbed into the space in between your legs, purring and rumbling with delight as your fingers weaved into its fur.

 Saint-14 felt a burning jealousy begin to boil within his chest as he watched your fingers run through the animals beautiful ginger fur. It was great and fuzzy, the fur long and in desperate need of brushing and washing. A street cat. He was jealous of a stick thin street cat.

“Will you be keeping it?” Saint asked as he watched the beast stare up at him with lidded eyes. A cat that had gotten the cream.

You hummed and rubbed the kitten’s ear, “Maybe. I think I’m allowed pets, right? I don’t think the Vanguard apartments have rules against it…” Taking hold of the cat you gently reached to place it in the Exo’s lap, “Here. You should have a hold.” You cooed at the kitten as it curled up on one of the Titan’s large thighs, purring, claws nicking at the under-armour Saint was wearing.

Saint peered at the cat and sighed warmly, looking at the soft ball of fluff, “It is very fond of people, for a street cat.” He observed as he touched cool robotic fingers to the creature’s head, “I find myself liking this cat.”

With a chuckle you plucked the kitten back and smiled at Saint’s grey-scale face, “I’ll make sure he has a good home then.”

Saint’s plates moved as he laughed, “Good! Perhaps he will be less inclined to kill things with a nice owner?” He snarked as the kitten rolled onto its back, purring in delight when you tore open another piece of jerky rations to feed it with.

Saint smiled at your own smiling face, feeling the jealousy subside as you wished him a goodnight and took the kitten back to your apartment.

 “He is so large! Now he does not suit the name Peanut.” Saint-14 cooed from the doorway of your apartment, peering inside with his glowing purple helm. The Titan looked on in awe at the Maine Coon sprawled over the small couch in your room. The ginger tom looked over towards Saint, having heard his booming Russian accent in the doorway. Glancing over the Exo one, he soon reclosed his eyes and went back to dozing in the sunlight. It was winter, and the heat in the apartment was more from your radiators and the space heater facing the cushions rather than the cold, weak sun.

“Pah, and so arrogant.” Saint felt his helmet get transported away by Geppetto and frowned up at the giggling Ghost before it disappeared into the apartment with your own, “They are like children.” He complained as you let him inside, “Always giggling and doing the singing of annoying songs.” Saint felt the rest of his armour disappear and growled as Geppetto snickered again and rushed away into the small kitchenette to scan some large lemons. With a sigh he reached and plucked your adolescent cat from the couch, flopping down onto it with a large creak before placing Peanut back in his lap. The Maine Coon rumbled but stretched himself back over the Exo’s warm thighs quite happily.

 “Would you like tea?” You offered, “I have some ramen too if you want some?”

Saint chuckled, “That would be nice. I have not eaten ramen…well it has been a long time since that nuisance hunter was at my door.” He turned his head back to Peanut and scratched at the cats ears as you dished two bowls of the fresh ramen and poured tea. You returned with the tray and smiled at the Titan, placing it on the coffee table before you handed him his own, as not to disturb your grumpy, sleeping cat.

“You both look right at home.” You laughed after a mouthful of noodles as Saint tried to eat around the dozing cat in his lap, “Even if you still don’t like cats.”

Saint swallowed his noodles in his odd Exo fashion before he replied, “I like your cat. Peanut and I see eye to eye now.” He joked as he took hold of the tea and carefully poured some into his mouth, silicon tongue trying its best to help in place of his non-existent lips.

“I think he likes you because you’re a heater.” You listened to Saint’s fans whirr in embarrassment, “He’s forgotten all those mean comments last time you met.” You joked as Saint began to laugh, the noise gentle and deep.

 The titan shrugged his shoulders and watched as Peanut grumbled, removing himself from the room to go and occupy your bed, where it was a lot quieter, “He is temperamental, like all cats.” He shook his head and turned back to you, “But I came to see my favourite guardian!” He cheered, “So, how is the campaign against the darkness going?” He asked ask you slurped your ramen.

You shrugged, “About as well as everyone else. Eris has been getting me to do more and more recently. Its tiring.” You hummed as you placed your empty bowl on the tray, “Hopefully it doesn’t separate us all like last time…” You stated sadly, looking into your tea.

A heavy hand took your shoulder in a soft grip, “Do not be sad. We will fight together to protect our home and our family.”

You felt your throat tighten as Saint squeezed your shoulder softly, “I…I don’t know if I can do it, Saint. Not again.” You felt your eyes burn as you were tipped into the Titan’s lap, “We already lost so much.” Tears dripped over your cheeks as you choked on a sob.

Saint-14 was gentle as he held you, a hero of recent times, in his arms, rubbing soft circles into your back as he let you cry, “We will stand strong. We will not let what happened to the city before ever happen again. This I swear.” The Exo reached to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to smile and cheer you up as you sniffled at him. You laughed at the odd shifting of his face plates and pushed yourself from the Exo’s lap.

“Thank you, Saint.” You whispered as you moved to make more tea for the both of you.

“Anytime, guardian…anytime.”

 You wished he had called you anything but ‘guardian’ that day.

 Saint-14 rushed from his ship. The pigeons scattered from the supports as he charged from the landing dock towards where Zavala stood. The stair metal moaned as he dragged himself up them, rushing past the Postmaster bot who gave a startled ‘oh’ and pressing onwards towards Zavala. The Awoken turned around in time to raise an eyebrow at the purple Titan rushing toward him.

“If you are here to complain about the lack of bird seed, I would suggest you take it up with the courier.” Zavala sighed, bright eyes looking at the Exo with annoyance.

“You almost got her killed!” Saint hollered, “No fireteam and no back up! What were you thinking Zavala!?” He felt his metal hand creak under his own strength as Zavala eyed him with a stoic curiosity.

“It turned sour quickly. It was only a scouting mission. Gather information and leave. I did not plan for an ambush when I sent one Guardian. I expected a little tact and stealth. Her whereabouts were known as soon as she set foot on Io.” Zavala laid out the facts and spread his hands, “She is home safe. Injured but safe.”

“Yes.” Saint droned dangerously, “But she had to put a bullet through her skull to do it.” He spat before turning away, “I will not stay here…I think I might launch you over the edge of the tower if I do.”

Zavala watched the Titan leave with a sigh as he turned back to peering at the broken Traveller, hands tight around the barrier.

 “She will be fine, Saint-14, you are worrying over nothing. Ghost has done all he can to heal her. All we can do now is let her rest. She was running for three days and nights before getting free enough to transmat to her ship. You must be patient.” The hooded healer laid her hands out in front of her, “The Speaker would have known more of what to do. I was his student but…” She sighed, “The tricks of the Light evade me.” She confessed as her own Ghost span over her shoulder worriedly.

“Thank you, Sister. You have helped a great deal.” Saint gently placed his hand on her shoulder and opened the door of the small medical ward for her.

Before she left, she offered him a sleeping draft, “Even though her Ghost healed her after the gunshot, the revival was quick…it took a lot out of them both. Be careful, Saint-14, and be gentle with her.” She left, her Ghost reciting a list of other people that needed their help for the day.

Saint-14 closed the door after her and returned to your bedroom, watching your ghost bob sadly over your chest. Geppetto appeared over his own shoulder, spinning in a sad circle before he rushed over to the Ghost and tapped their shining shells together gently.

 “Geppetto…is there anything we can do to help her?” Saint asked as he sat down heavily in the chair, “Anything that the Sister could not…”

Geppetto spun counter-clockwise but shook mid-air, “The Sister can do more than me. She will wake up on her own, I think.”

The other Ghost nodded and placed himself on your chest, “Soon. I can feel the Light still there. It is healing her.”

Saint nodded, “Good. The Vanguard will suffer a great loss if she passes.” He whispered, purple optics blinking as he felt oil well underneath the lights. He had not cried tears in many years. He had forgotten that he could. The Titan reached to his face curiously and wiped away the black oil with a finger.

Geppetto watched him with one, bright eye, “You once said that you last cried when you were a baby.” The Ghost joked before landing in his palm, “I believe you think of her as more than just a Guardian that saved you.” Geppetto floated up to touch his forehead with his shell, “Maybe you should tell her that?”

The other Ghost remained quiet before coughing awkwardly, “She is waking.”

 You opened your eyes with a great groan, peering at the ceiling over your head. A throbbing pain seeped behind your eyes as you came too. Your Ghost tittered overhead, white light seeping from him into your eyes. The pain subsided somewhat, and you groaned as you remembered why there was shooting pains in your brain. The bullet had passed straight through your head.

A large hand pushed you back into the mattress, “Down. You barely made it back alive.” The harsh Russian accent of Saint-14 made your eyes widen as you turned your head to see the large Exo sat by your bedside. His metal fingers held a cold rag which he laid over your forehead.

“I have never tended to an ill Guardian…but I remember a mother doing this to her child once. It helps pain and fever.” The Titan arranged his faceplates into a smile, “Hopefully it helps.”

You looked at the grey plates of metal before laughing, loud and bright, “Thank you, Saint.” You reached and found his hand, “Thank you for being here as well.”

The Exo looked at your hands and held your own tighter, “You scared me. I feared they were bringing your Ghost’s shell when I saw the crowd.” He stopped himself and you reached your other hand over, squeezing his hands tighter.

“I’m alright, Saint.”

“And for that I am glad.” Saint smiled again before continuing, “Because you mean…a lot to me.” He whispered your name as you felt a hot blush ripple over your cheeks.

“I feel the same.”

 The grip on your hand only got tighter. You both breathed, though the Exomind’s fans seemed to simply exhale hot steam from his coolant reserves.

“I love you.” Saint-14 whispered close to your cheek before moving back to take in your face.

Your face burned as you eased your way up. Struggling, you managed to get onto one elbow and tugged Saint down by his sweater, kissing the Exo on his metal lips. The metal was cool but quickly warmed as the Exo went hot, fans whirring wildly as his hands walked to your hips, clenching around the flesh and bone gently, holding you like a precious flower.

You pulled away from the kiss and smiled weakly, flopping back into the pillows with a little huff, “I love you too.”

Saint chuckled before breaking into great laughter, arms wrapping around you as well as he could manage with you laid down, “This is fantastic!” He cheered before pressing his faceplates to your lips again, repeatedly kissing you over and over, smothering you with pecks as the both of you laughed together.

 “Happy Dawning!” A woman sang from the square as Saint-14 made his rounds, watching the children giggle and chase each other with ribbons and mistletoe. It was a happy time of year. A time for celebration when there was finally a semblance of peace. Saint-14 shouldered the two young girls on his shoulders easily, listening to their festive songs with a smile underneath his helm.

“Where is this song from, little one?” Saint asked as he placed them down by their home.

“Mama says France. I added some of my own bits to it though!” She smiled, her two front teeth missing in her smile, before she took her sisters hand, “Thank you Mister Saint.” And led her little sister through the door to their home.

“Thank you, Saint-14. I feared they had gotten lost.” Their mother bowed low.

“It is no trouble.” Saint dipped his helm, “I am glad to bring them home safe. Good evening and Happy Dawning.” He continued on his way back to the main street, his purple optics glowing behind his helm in the dark alley.

 The Titan paused in the mouth of the alley.

“If you are here for a fight. I suggest you make it quick. I have someone to get home to.” He seethed as he turned around, guns holstered as he smacked his fists together, void sparking over his arms, rippling with cold energy as he looked upwards.

You tapped the Titan on the shoulder and ducked the punch before wrapping your arms around his neck, “Calm down, big boy. Its just me!” You scrambled up his back easily and wrapped your legs tight, demanding a piggy back ride, “You were late, so I got the Hunters to scout around and find you. Didn’t take them long with all the kids singing.” You teased, head leaned on his shoulder, “Though now I owe them…And I don’t particularly like owing Hunters. Hopefully they’ll just want ramen.”

Saint-14 sighed with relief before tucking your legs through his arms, tilting his helmet to take the kisses with gusto, “I was ready to crush skulls!” He pinched your backside as he continued out of the alley, “A deal with a Hunter is like a deal with Fallen. You will regret it, zaika.” The Titan hummed as he turned onto the main street, walking easily through the crowds in the market.

“It was worth it to find you though.” You peered around at the marketplace with curious eyes, “The Dawning Markets are good this year. They even have bratwurst…Can we get some?” You asked over Saint’s shoulder.

Saint chuckled before turning in the direction of the stall, removing his helmet as you continued to cling to his back.

 Sausage and bread in hand, the two of you sat in the small park as the night sky formed overhead. You looked at the stars as Saint’s faceplates moved to let him eat the hotdog a little easier.

He manoeuvred the hotdog and hummed as he chewed, “It has been a long time since I ate hotdogs.” Saint smiled at you as you took a bite of your own food.

“I thought people had forgotten they existed.” You joked as you chewed your own hotdog.

Saint-14 nodded, “It is good to see them again. It means the people are recovering. Food is more available. It makes me happy to see the City flourishing so.”

With a smile you took hold of his hand, squeezing tight as you looked at the sky, “Saint! Look!”

The Exo peered upwards as snow began to drift from the sky, “Snow. I have seen so much of it…But since the forest…It is still beautiful.” You passed him the rest of your own hotdog and wrapped yourself around his arm, sighing up at the sky. Saint finished the hotdog and peered upwards as well.

“Happy Dawning, Saint.” You whispered as snow flakes melted on top of your head and in your eyelashes.

“Happy Dawning, my love.”

 Metal hands ran along your legs as Saint moved to gently ease your clothes off. You’d been away in the European Dead Zone, fighting off the Fallen again with their amplified Ether. Most of them had gone mad with the supply. You smiled as the grey-scale Exo’s fingers eased your under-armour clothes away, peeling them free to expose your skin. Purple optics blinked before he leaned down to press a cold kiss to your shoulder, fingers pressing against the tension knots in the muscles of your thighs.

“I missed you, zaika.” Saint rumbled as he pressed a kiss to your ankle, metal fingers trailing warm lines up your legs as he settled over the top of you again, “But I think you need shower.” He laughed and pretended to pinch his nose, “You smell like you’ve been sat in horse shit for weeks.”

“Way to a girls heart, Saint.” You rolled your eyes as he picked you up, hands holding your bottom as he walked to the shower, which was already running. The hot water spray was kind on your burning shoulders as you climbed in. Saint-14 passed you your fresh toiletries and smiled before lowering the shower curtain back into place and leaving you to freshen up.

 You left the shower wrapped in a towel, smiling softly at the Exo spread over your bed, resting in a slouchy pair of pyjama bottoms, the screen at the end of your bed showing some new-fangled television show about the current species of bird left on Earth.

“Hey there.” You sat on the edge of the bed with a smile.

Saint rolled onto his side with a smile before he reached a hand out and dragged you back to lay against the cushions, “Now you smell like fresh lemon. Much better than EDZ muck.” He cooed as he pushed his face against your head, tucking you close, “I missed you so much, zaika.” The Exo whispered against your skin as his hands traced your hips, squeezing you softly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, rolling on top of you, his weight resting on his elbows as he kissed your lips once more.

“I love you, Saint.” You pressed a kiss to each of his dark grey cheeks.

“I love you too.” He whispered as a hand slid over your collar bone and dipped between the valley of your breasts. The cool metal made you shiver as your eyelids drooped a little, looking at the plates and silicon mapped muscle over the top of you.

 A sigh escaped your lips as Saint’s fingers warmed, trailing over your stomach and hips before he pulled you down by the hips and pushed the towel from the bed. You moaned as cold fingers trailed over your outer lips before the Exo spread them gently, exposing you to his burning purple optics. You gasped and squirmed back against the sheets.

“I am moving too quickly.” Saint murmured as he moved his hands back to your hips, massaging the skin gently.

You huffed up at the huge Exo, hands moving to caress the plates of his body, enjoying the smooth feel of metal and carbon fibre under your fingertips as Saint leaned down to kiss you again.

After a phantom kiss you pulled back and pushed yourself up against the Exo, grinding your hips against the front of his loungewear, “Not fast enough.” You uttered breathlessly against him.

Saint hummed as he slowly eased your legs upwards, hands clutching your thighs as he pressed your legs open and pressed his fingers back to your mound, rubbing gentle circles against your clitoris. A soft moan escaped you as the ministrations continued, Saint rubbing circles with his thumb as a finger pressed inside of your vagina, pushing against your walls.

 “Now I see that you missed me just as much.” The Titan purred as he pressed another finger inside of you. Pumping his fingers, he watched you squirm with intense eyes before moving to kiss you once more. You moaned into the kiss as Saint scissored his fingers apart, watching you squirm as your nerves rushed with pleasure and your head swam.

“I missed you so, so much Saint.” You pressed wet kisses to his mouth, jumping as a cool, silicon tongue pushed out to meet you, pushing against your own tongue and stroking against the inside of your mouth. Responding, you pushed your tongue against him and watched the Exo’s optics dull as he pressed his fingers upwards and brushed the bundle of nerves concentrated in your sweet spot. You moaned loud and huffed at the deep chuckle that sounded over your head.

“I missed you…I missed this.” He rumbled as he removed his fingers and pushed his hips forwards, clothed bulge pressing against you.

 “Can we get these off?” You asked as Saint nodded, leaning back before standing to shrug the loungewear off his hips, exposing the silicon and metal plating of his legs. His fans whirred as he returned to the bed, hips slotting against your own as his mod pressed against you.

“Now I remember why I like them off.” You cooed, hand skirting between the two of you, wrapping around the hard length as Saint settled above you once more, “Because I missed this.” You emphasised your point by sliding your hand up his length, stroking a finger over the tip as the Titan let out a static laden moan.

“You are like minx.” He rumbled as he pulled your hands away from his body, tucking your wrists into one of his giant hands, pinning you back against the pillows as you spread your legs, heat crawling up your spine, “So naughty.” Saint hummed as he released your wrists, cupping your bottom as he positions your hips upwards and pressed your thighs apart, “Are you ready, zaika?” He asked next to your ear.

“Please.” You begged quietly as Saint held his cock in his hand, lining the head with your entrance.

His dick slid inside slowly, the inches grazing over your walls. You let out a long breath as the length settled deep inside of you, the tip brushing over your sweet spot.

 “Are you ready?” Saint asked as he kissed your neck and then your shoulder. His hands held your hips gently, the power in his grip hidden behind a loving touch.

“I am.” You confirmed, bucking your hips upwards roughly, enjoying the feel of the hard length inside you pressing against your walls.

Saint-14 took hold of your hips, pinning them in his grip before he pulled out and thrust back inside, setting a steady pace as your hands flew up to grip onto his shoulders. Your nails ground against Saint’s shoulders as you enjoyed the ride, feeling the hard, mod length inside of you, bumping against your cervix as the Exo gave a grunt and a particularly hard thrust.

“You feel so good, zaika. Better than I can recall.” Saint purred as you tightened around him, a phantom, metal laced kiss.

“You do too. Fuck, Saint, please…I’m close.” You pressed your fingers into the oblique, metal plated, silicon muscles. The Exo buzzed, his voice dipping as your fingers ground into the silicon. It shifted to expose wires and you gently ran you finger over the wires, watching as his optics pulsed and dimmed.

A static rumble escaped his parted face plates, “Y-You…minx.” Saint huffed as he pushed in roughly, “You know what that does.” He uttered as you gasped, spasming around his cock as he eased your hips upwards, roughly thrusting in and out.

“Saint!”

“Are you going to cum?” He asked through a small lacing of static as his mouth moved to kiss you again. He didn’t get an answer as you came around his dick, moaning into the air. Saint moaned in turn, metal hips stuttering as his wires singed and fans roared, pouring hot air over your stomach. You gasped as you reached upwards, fingers stroking the antenna either side of his head as you tried to get feeling in your legs once more.

 In the quiet of the room, you laid on top of Saint-14, hands wrapped around him as his fans quietened down and hummed lowly.

You peered out of your window at the dull, glowing lights of the City, “I love you, Saint.”

Saint lifted your head, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I love you, my little saviour.” The two of you met each other in a gentle, cool kiss above the city you called home.

[twomanyideas]

The Search for the Supreme Scent - Chapter 4 (Final)

Fanart used with permission from @x-thekid​. Once again, please take a moment to let her know how much you liked it. You can see her post here!

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 with @x-thekid​

This chapter is the one that touches on what is happening in the art. We had a lot of fun writing it. We hope you enjoy it!

AO3 | Ch 1 | Prev: Ch 3 

Chapter 4

The first thing Natsu registered when he came to was the heavy perfume of the flowers, immediately followed by a sharp pain in his chest as he inhaled it. He hissed, rolling over carefully so he could look around. He found himself in a green, grassy field, sheltered from the sun by the shade of a large tree, and surrounded by the very flowers they’d come to collect.

Gray sat next to him, leaning against the tree trunk with his arms crossed over his chest. His shirt was nowhere to be found, as usual.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he cocked his brow at Natsu.

“What do you mean?” Natsu answered, his voice sounding a bit shaky, “I took them out, didn’t I?”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. That whole thing had been unexpected. Just as it had the previous day with Juvia, he’d felt his control wavering, as if some deeper instinct had surged forward and taken over.

“Yeah, but that was overboard even for you,” Gray pointed out, his eyes never leaving Natsu’s face, “You turned those golems into gravel. Was that Dragon Force? I didn’t think you could do that on command yet.”

“I can’t. I saw you were in danger and-,” Natsu shrugged helplessly, embarrassed by his admission.

“Did you forget Porlyusica lives nearby?” Gray reminded Natsu, making him feel idiotic for overreacting the way he had.

Natsu looked away, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but one thing he felt sure of, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Even if he had consciously thought about the healer’s proximity, that rage he’d experienced wouldn’t have been satisfied by any other course of action.

“I was trying to protect you, you dimwit. You’re the one who's hurt,” Gray continued, pressing his lips in a slight frown. “Not that that’s ever stopped you from doing something stupid,” he added with an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, well, we managed to stumble onto the one creature that’s immune to ice, I had to do something.”

“Since we’re here, we should have Porlyusica take a look at you,” Gray suggested, clasping his hands over his head as he took in Natsu’s strained breathing. “you’ve probably made your injuries worse.”

“Hell no!” Natsu immediately protested, sitting up to show he was fine, even though he felt like throwing up just from that. Getting home was going to be a bitch.

Gray’s eyes narrowed as he examined him, “You gotta give me more than that, Pyro. Why would you want to walk home like that when there’s a healer nearby?”

“You mean you weren’t going to carry me?” Natsu feigned a pout.

Gray snorted, “Not likely, maybe if you passed out and looked all pathetic again.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” Natsu tightened his hands into fists in mock anger, “I should have let them turn you into mush.”

“Natsu,” Gray startled him by using his name, “I know things have been weird between us since you got back, but despite what I might have said at Avatar, I’m still your friend. I know when something is bothering you. And sure, we can sit here and trade insults all day, but wouldn’t you rather tell me what’s wrong?”

He’d rather not, but he could tell by the way Gray was looking at him and the serious tone of his voice that he refused to be kept in the dark any longer. The combination was enough for Natsu to cave. He didn’t like keeping secrets from Gray, and if he was honest with himself, he did want to talk about what happened, despite dreading the reaction he was sure to get.

“Wendy needs to be the one who heals me,” he explained, quickly adding, “and I'm not just saying that because I don’t want to see the old hag. After what happened yesterday, well…let’s just say it will help give her closure.”

“Closure?” Gray puzzled, “What are you talking about?”

“If I tell you this, you have to promise not to freak out, or go crying to Erza,” Natsu insisted.

“Yeah yeah, do you need me to do the needle in my eye thing?” Gray rolled his eyes at him, “We’re not kids anymore. I can keep a secret.”

Natsu closed his eyes, preparing himself mentally to go back to that plaza. When he opened them, he could see Gray studying him closely. Feeling his cheeks heating up, he quickly looked away.

“We did a job at Worth Woodsea yesterday, and when we were done training, we stopped to pick some rare mushrooms. Sting had liked them and wanted to take some back to Sabertooth for Minerva.”

“Wendy asked to stop by the Cait Shelter guild building to pay her respects, and we agreed. Everything was quiet, and we just hung around waiting for her, but then a giant monster pack appeared out of nowhere.

“We fought them off easily enough at first, even though we were already tired from training but more and more kept coming. We think it was the mushrooms that attracted them. Anyway, we’d soon run out of potions to help keep us going.” Natsu tried to swallow back the lump that was forming in his throat as the images flashed through his mind once again. “Sting was hit bad, and uhm...well, Rogue died.”

“HE WHAT?!” Gray’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his skin paling from shock.

“He’s at the hospital now, he's going to be okay,” Natsu assured him, “but it was close.”

“He’s going to be okay?!” Gray challenged, “How the hell do you go from dead to okay?”

“Do you remember that book Porlyusica gave Wendy before the Games?”

“Sure, it had spells her dragon left for her, right?”

“Yeah, well, this was one of them. Wendy had learned it, but she’d never used it before. She was determined to give it a try if it could save Rogue, but she was terrified.”

“She’d been fighting alongside us and providing support all afternoon, and that spell- it used up all of her remaining magic,” Natsu turned away, not wanting to see Gray’s disapproval. They were protective of all their teammates, but none more so than Wendy, who was still young.

“She managed to save him, but the monsters wouldn’t let up, and we got pretty beat up in the process. She couldn’t heal us, and you know how she is,” Natsu lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, “If anyone else does it, it will reinforce what she feels is her failure.”

Natsu attempted what he thought was a reassuring smile, “It’s not so bad. If she could go through all that, I can certainly bear this for a bit longer.”

“You’re full of it, but I get what you’re saying.”

Gray remained silent for a few minutes, eyes blinking slowly until he suddenly peered at Natsu, his brows furrowed in thought, “Wait a minute, how exactly does a pack of monsters manage to get the drop on five dragon slayers?”

Natsu gazed up through the tree branches, trying to catch a glimpse of the sky as he worked himself through what had happened, putting together the situations that individually wouldn’t have been such a huge deal, but together proved to be lethal.

“It was the rain,” he muttered, “it dampened our sense of smell, and it screwed with my magic. Probably made their movements quieter too.”

“What are you talking about?” Gray frowned. “It didn’t rain yesterday.”

“It did in Worth Woodsea,” Natsu countered, “started right as we got to Cait Shelter.”

Gray’s expression once again became thoughtful as he considered Natsu’s words, his hands suddenly balling into fists for no reason Natsu could see.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Gray roared, “I thought we were done with that nonsense!”

“What are you going on about?” Natsu wondered, unable to make any sense of Gray’s outburst.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not important,” Gray dismissed his question, but Natsu could tell he was still angry.

Gray drew in a long breath, looking away for a moment before focusing his attention back to Natsu.

“I get that whatever happened yesterday was some kind of a freak occurrence,” he remarked, “but it’s not the first time you’ve come back all beat up from one of these things.”

“Look, I know you want to get stronger, I do too,” Gray’s eyes bored into Natsu with a concern that shook him, “ but the fact is, I don’t trust these guys to have your back.”

Natsu was about to argue the point when Gray followed up with something he hadn’t been expecting.

“That’s something you and I have always done, even back when we were fighting all the time,” Gray reminded him, his mouth twitching into a crooked smile.

And as much as it was in his nature to disagree with most things that came out of Gray’s mouth, Natsu had to admit this time he was right. Even though they bickered and fought often, there had never been a job or brawl where Natsu hadn’t been watching the stripper’s back, and he’d always taken it for granted that Gray did the same.

Regardless, Natsu didn’t think it was fair for Gray to compare their dynamic to the one he shared with the other slayers. The two of them had been training together for years, moving like a well-oiled machine and fighting together flawlessly. In comparison, he’d only known the other slayers for a short time. They were still learning how to work together as a team.

“Gray-”

“Do you remember when we fought at Avatar, and you told me you’d been waiting for me?” Gray interrupted his objection, not saying anything else until Natsu nodded in acknowledgment.

“Well, I couldn’t say it at the time, but I’d been waiting for you too. That whole year you were gone,” Gray confessed, “So much had happened, and I couldn’t really talk about it with anyone else.”

Natsu scanned the field they were sitting in, too nervous to meet Gray's eyes when he continued.

“You’ve always understood me better than anyone, and I had hoped that when you got back well... nevermind that now. The point is there’s no one I trust more. And I know there’s been a few times when I went too far or pushed too hard, but that’s because you’re important to me.”

Natsu's heart was racing. Was Gray going to say what he thought he was going to say? He'd been ready to make the first move himself, gathering up his courage and his thoughts, and trying to form them into sentences that hopefully wouldn't sound completely ridiculous, but now it seemed like Gray was going to beat him to it.

Natsu forced himself to look at Gray, feeling the weight of his gaze, but not able to hold it for long, too flustered by the earnestness that had replaced his friend’s usual scowl. He considered Wendy's advice once again as he looked at the flowers growing around them.

“We make a great team, and that’s why I want to ask you something important.”

For the first time since he’d started talking, Gray sounded unsure, and Natsu looked up to see his friend had curled his fingers around his sword pendant, fidgeting with it as he worked himself up to ask his question.

It only served to feed Natsu’s anticipation and excitement. He looked for the prettiest flower he could find and picked it, determined to give it to Gray as a token of his love. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening!

“Would you be my partner for the S-class exam?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Natsu answered excitedly, the hand that was holding the flower thrusting out like a piston before Gray’s words had even had a chance to sink in.

“Wait, what did you just ask me?”

Natsu felt the blood rush to his face, and the temperature around him rise as his magic responded to his emotions. He was humiliated, but that was nothing compared to the disappointment he felt at having reached the wrong conclusion.

He should never have listened to the other slayers. Their well-meaning optimism had made him believe that Gray would ask him out or, at the very least, admit to some sort of feelings for him. What a joke that turned out to be.

Natsu realized with growing horror that his arm was still outstretched, offering that stupid flower, which of course, his magic had now set on fire, the tiny flames working away at the once perfect petals.

What had been a beautiful offering now looked utterly wretched, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was his fire. So he hid his face in his scarf as best he could, looking straight ahead and desperately hoping that if he ignored it, Gray would somehow not notice.

“I asked if you wanted to be my partner for the S-Class exam,” Gray repeated, taking in the spectacle that was Natsu with barely a raised eyebrow. “Since we don’t have to compete against each other this time around. I thought we could do it together.”

Gray calmly coated the flower in his ice, putting out the flames and dousing the rest of Natsu’s hopes along with it.

Natsu did his best to act enthused, “Yeah! If we teamed up, there’s no way we could fail!”

He thought he’d done a good job until he noticed Gray studying him intently.

“What did you think I was going to ask?”

“Nothing!” Natsu answered a little too quickly, leaving Gray to frown at him in disbelief. However, in a remarkable turn of events, the stubborn stripper seemed content not to question him any further. “Speaking of teaming up,” Gray changed the subject, “I want in on the slayers’ team. If you thought you could just run off and get stronger without me, you were seriously mistaken.”

“I’d have to bring it up to the others,” Natsu answered honestly, not having any idea how the other slayers would react to having Gray be a part of what they were doing. “It’s not up for discussion,” Gray replied, his jaw set in an arrogant scowl that Natsu was all too familiar with, “It shouldn’t be a problem. In case you’ve already forgotten, I’m a slayer too.”

He gestured towards Natsu’s ribs, “That wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there. Besides, lately, you’re with them all the time. At least this way, we can still get some training in. Not to mention, someone needs to watch out for Wendy.”

Natsu sighed in defeat, wondering how a love confession had turned into this. He watched as Gray got up and began to pick some flowers to fulfill their request and decided to do the same.

“Don’t bother,” Gray called out, much to Natsu’s relief as the little movement he’d managed had been incredibly painful.

That was until the ice mage snickered, “I wouldn’t want to risk another flower upsetting you.”

“That was an accident!” Natsu whined, growing ever more irritated as Gray only laughed harder at his protests.

“It was hilarious,” Gray snorted, his laughs finally ebbing into fond chuckles, “I really did miss you, Flame Brain, it just wasn’t the same without you.”

“I, uh, missed you too,” Natsu replied honestly, watching Gray collect the flowers for Ichiya as he lay back down on the grass to rest for the long walk home. 0-0

Gray wasn’t at all surprised to find he’d been right. Natsu had put too much stress on his healing injuries during the fight, making them even worse. It was easy to tell by the way his breathing turned more shallow with every step he took, and the sweat he’d worked up just from walking. It didn’t take long before Gray decided he couldn’t stand to watch the stubborn idiot suffer any longer, and despite Natsu’s loud protests, he’d picked him up and kept walking.

Natsu fell asleep soon after, leaving Gray to consider everything he’d seen and heard- Natsu going into Dragon Force against the golems, Rogue’s “death”, Wendy’s spell- but he soon decided these were all things he could tackle at a later time.

For right now, he just wanted to savor the feeling of Natsu’s warm body pressed against his back, the weight of the arms draped over his shoulders, the strength of the legs wrapped around his sides, and the sound of ragged breaths in his ear. All of which helped to reassure him that Natsu was alive, injured but ready to fight another day.

His features worked themselves into a scowl as his mind drifted back to Natsu’s insistence that the rain had weakened the slayers’ senses and hindered their efforts. All the rage he’d tried to contain resurfaced, and he could feel the inky tendrils of his devil slayer magic trying to grab purchase, just as they had earlier. His flaring emotions making it harder for him to control this new magic his father had bequeathed him.

Natsu’s fire magic was powerful. There was no way a little rain would give him any trouble, which meant it must have been a storm. One that somehow managed to miss Magnolia completely despite its proximity to Worth Woodsea. Only one person he knew of was capable of such localized weather, especially when she let her emotions take control.

His eyes narrowed as he remembered the flyer he’d been holding when Juvia had approached him the previous morning. It had been a monster request in the Great Plains, an area located closer to Worth Woodsea than Magnolia. And Gray was very familiar with Juvia’s tendency to follow him on jobs.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Juvia had probably gone to the Great Plains looking for him, determined to get him to agree to be her partner for the S-Class exam, or talk about his outburst that morning. Either way, the result had been the same. She must have overreacted when she couldn’t find him and set off a storm around the Great Plains and Worth Woodsea. And while Gray knew that she would never purposefully put their friends in danger, it did nothing to change what had almost happened.

He would just have to make Juvia understand his feelings once and for all. He’d meant to talk to her ever since they’d returned to Magnolia but kept putting it off, knowing it would be uncomfortable and would only lead to conversations he’d rather avoid. That had been a mistake, one that had nearly cost him his friends.

He spent the rest of the walk coming up with what he would say to her, trying to determine the best approach, even though he knew all would be received poorly. By the time they arrived at Natsu’s cottage, Gray’s back was screaming in agony, and he was grateful for the distraction. Finding the door unlocked, he managed to get them inside without incident.

Happy was nowhere to be found, and Gray figured the Exceed must’ve gotten bored and headed for the guild. As Natsu was still fast asleep, he carried him into the bedroom, carefully lowering him onto the bed, thinking that he should get as much rest as he could before seeing Wendy. He’d take care of delivering the flowers and reporting back to Erza himself. Not knowing what else to do, Gray got ready to leave, and that’s when Natsu grinned, his eyes still closed, “I knew you were going to carry me, Ice Princess.” “Pfft! Well, that’s because you did look pathetic,” Gray retorted with a smile, amused to learn that the protests he’d received were all faked. He thought back to how excited Natsu had been right before he’d asked him to be his partner for the exam and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Natsu offering him that flower was supposed to have been a confession of some sort.

But that didn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t have burned it to a crisp and almost set off a forest fire if it was, right? No, Gray was sure it was just wishful thinking on his part. Still… Natsu had gone into Dragon Force to protect him from those golems, that had to mean something. Didn’t it? He quietly molded his ice into a perfect replica of the flower, creating a vase to put it in and placing both on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be brave enough to express his feelings with words. But maybe, if he let his magic speak for him, he could get his feelings across just as well. Gray quickly let himself out of the house, knowing he might chicken out if he stayed any longer.

He wondered what Natsu would think of his flower once he woke up and hoped he’d understand what it meant. You never knew with the Flame Brain.

But even if he didn’t, Gray was heartened by the knowledge that they’d be spending a lot more time together soon. And with that single thought in his mind, he headed off to the guild, in a great mood for the first time in weeks.

A/N: While this is the end of this particular story, it is not the end of their story in this world. We are currently working on a story for Sting and Rogue where it goes into more detail into what happened in Worth Woodsea and how it affects them, so if you like this world keep an eye out for that one as well, as other stories that are currently in the planning stages.

Thanks for reading and letting us know you liked it! 

Maria and Burrito

[somanycannons]

Exhaustion| Thorin X Reader

(Takes place after BOTFA , YES I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS DON’T BLOODY REMIND ME)

The Battle of the Five Armies had been won everyone in the company was alive and well, they all hugged and rejoice but you , you felt drained. From head to toe you ached but couldn’t bother tell anyone during the joyful time as everyone hugged and cheered, you took a step forward to try and join them but it felt as if the world was shifting you gripped onto the wall in front of you trying to make your legs work looking down you could see that your body was starting to betray you, you made eyes with the one person you’ve been dying to see since you’d been down on the field where you were needed and Bilbo had followed the King trying to warn him and his heirs of the danger they were walking into. Thorin started to make his way towards you a smile on his face that was only ever meant for you something that would be shocking all those week ago when you first joined the company, considering he “hated” you for being the half human/elf that you were but he’d soon after countless times of saving his dwarven ass along with his nephews, romantic feelings blossomed where even they didn’t believe it could from all the heartbreak and suffering they’d gone through but it did and was it something crazy. Black dots began spotting your vision as you tried to make your way to him and his smile fell from his face when he’d realized that something as wrong with you, you'd began to fall forward into someone not being able to make anything out anymore, the words, my love falling from your lips as you tried to grip on whatever you could passing out. Thorin yelled for anyone that could hear him to fetch Oin, that something was wrong with his love, Oin had hurried with his bag, as he’d met Thorin in the royal chamber after dusting of everything as fast as the nephews both possibly could for their Uncle Thorin. 

“Boy’s take your Uncle out of the room so  can work on Y/N “ Oin looked at Fili nodding his head 

‘I will NOT LEAVE Y/N” Thorin yelled angered with what Oin had told his nephews to do

Fili an Kili grabbed their uncle taking him out of the room while Oin worked on breaking whatever was wrong with Y/N, they’d had a fever along with cut’s and all sorts of bruises covered them from the battle which was normal. Oin began thinking of what all could be wrong exhaustion? Hunger? Both? When was the last time that they had eaten? Oin began to wonder feeding them ointments and herbs to try and reduce the fever the best he could putting a cold cloth over their head. He’d done all he could do at this point for Y/N all that could be really be done now is them be watched closely and making sure their fever breaks and doesn't last too long.

“ Y/N has a fever and what is suspect to be exhaustion Thorin, keep a close eye on their fever and I’ll make my rounds in a few hours to check, my friend” Oin placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder squeezing softy as he’d headed back to the tents to tend to the many of other wounded 

Thorin did just that, he stood by Y/N side changing out the cloth, making sure the sweat was wiped away from Y/N brow, using his rather large hands in Y/N and lovingly holding them placing soft kisses along Y/N palms, praying to the gods not to take them, that the battle would have been for nothing if he doesn’t get to see that smile that he loved so much light up the room. Day’s passed and the fever finally broke, Y/N breathed in deeply, and began to slowly open their eyes seeing Thorin asleep against the bed his head rested ever so gently on your palm, his soft snores echoed throughout the bed chambers. You shifted to move groaning as if you’d never used any of the muscles in your body before stirring a Thorin he awaken just in time to gently grab you and lay you back down.

“ I don’t think so my love ,your body is tired and by Oin’s orders you are not to leave this bed till you recover from this sickness” Thorin cooed laying Y/N down again in the bed “ I have some soup here for you and lembas bread for you to eat from Tauriel, she said it would fill you up, think you can manage to eat this for me?” brushing your hair back from your  face pressing soft kisses to your cheeks

You nodded your head enthusiastically starving , as Thorin turned around grabbing the tray and began to feed you, a warmness creeped up your cheek you didn’t know that the Thorin Oakensheild could be this loving an caring to someone in your whole life.

“ How long have you been here , Thorin? “ You questioned he looked disheveled

“A week, but that doesn’t matter right this moment all that maters is you and your health” He whispered giving you the last of the soup

“ Well my dwarven king I believe it does because I can't tell I its me or you . producing that fowl smell, but mes think we need a bath” You chuckled, smiling at him 

He smiled back, nodding his head in defeat sweeping you off the bed walking towards what you think is the bathroom  and began filling up what looked like the mountains side built in gem filled bath with hot water and oils, you’d stripped out of you clothing getting into the water sighing having some help from Thorin, as he got in behind you slowly cleaning you up, his calloused hands kneading into your aching muscles, his fingers massaging you scalp as he washed it out getting a reaction of a puppy when you’d find it’s sweet spot. You leaned back into his chest holding his hands just relaxing and enjoying the feel of him being their with you.

“Maybe I should get sick more often if I am goin to get this tendering loving Thorin “ You turned your head placing a soft kiss on his lips 

“If you get sick again my love , I am just going to leave you to my nephews to take care of” He chuckled kissing the side of your head 

You fended off as if you were upset splashing him with water turning it into a all out water fight between the both of you a sense of home washed over you and love that you’d never share with anyone else, only with your Thorin.

[syntheticsoulmates]

Day 6-Everyday

Hello everyone! Extra thanks to @duplicitywrites for coming up with the idea of a Groundhog Day! 

***

The worst part is that Harry never remembers him.

***

Tom is holding Harry's guts in.  Harry's in so much pain his eyes aren't tracking, and a bubble of blood forms at his lips. It pops and droplets flick onto Tom’s face. It doesn't matter. What's a little more blood?

“Go,” Harry wheezes, and Tom's genuinely impressed he made actual sound, with the state his diaphragm isn’t in. He lackadaisically waves one hand, before he realizes that it's missing and just. Stops. “We both know this doesn't matter.”

Tom nods.  It doesn't matter, not really. But it also does, to Tom, so Tom stops applying pressure with his hands and waits for that glow in Harry's eyes to die before he moves on.

***

Tom used to be terrified of dying. He's not anymore. He's done it so many times, so many different ways. How can you be afraid of something that happens every day?

***

“How did you get it to stop?” Tom asks, desperate, the first time he meets Harry.

Harry takes a deep breath, caps an Inferi over Tom’s shoulder. The way he moves is unreal. His voice is casual. “I got injured, real bad, but not enough to die right away. I passed out and the field medics got me. They bled me out, until it was red again.” Another burst of fire, another dropped horde of Inferi. Tom isn’t sure if he’s full of envy or dread.

“It hurt so bad I thought I died for real,” Harry laughs, cheerfully, and shoots another one.  

***

“We should fuck,” Tom states. He’s staring at the nape of Harry's neck, at the line of clean-looking skin at Harry's hairline where his sweat has pushed away the grime. He wants to lick it. Or bite it. He's not picky.

Harry glares at him out of the corner of his eye, still maintaining good coverage with his gun. It's pointless. There aren't any Inferi until they hit the second outbuilding, and Tom will kill those three.

“I’m going to go with no, Riddle. And I'm not even flattered.” Harry's voice is dry, but Tom knows him so well he can tell he's amused despite himself.

Tom shrugs, like he doesn't want this almost as bad as he wants the morrow. “We have before,” he lies.

Harry shakes his head, obviously exasperated. There's a smile on the corners of his lips. Tom loves that smile. “I don't believe you.”

Tom shouldn't be surprised. Tom is new to Harry every day, but he still hasn't managed to successfully lie to him even once. Every day, Harry just looks up from where Tom blows the Inferi off of him, says a small, ‘Oh, you too?’, and follows him off the battlefield. Just like that. Still, Tom’s offended, more than he should be.

“What, you don't think you would ever condescend to bed me? You're straight?” Tom snarls. “I'm not ‘your type’?”

“No.” Harry's smiling outright now, and it takes the edge of Tom's anger, just like that. “I think I've been waiting. I’ll keep waiting. I'll wait until it will motivate you the most,” he says, sly, eyes gleaming.

***

“Good luck today, Tom,” Harry wishes him, voice soft. Tom can't feel his body, can't move his legs. The Inferi are screaming for flesh, and Tom can hear it getting closer. They have one bullet. Harry puts the barrel of his service pistol to Tom’s forehead and pulls the trigger.

***

Dumbledore twinkles at him, the rat bastard, and tells him he’s needed on the front lines, to boost morale. Tom declines. That's not what he does. He's handsome and he knows it. His father had abandoned him, left him only a face, but it's a damn good one, and he's used it to stay invaluable and thus invulnerable, in the war. Tom does recruitment and public relations and social media relations. He does not fight.

Dumbledore twinkles and twinkles until he stops. Tom ends up in the front lines anyway.

***

Tom vomits after he kills his first Inferi. It's not because it looks almost human, despite being over pale with a strange triangle circle amalgamation on its brow. He's killed humans before—father. grandfather. grandmother—and he didn't puke then. He'd felt high, as close to believing in God that he'd ever been. It had felt addictive and heady and right and he'd decided right then he’d never do it again because otherwise he'd never stop.

No, Tom vomits because the creature explodes into viscous black sludge, splattering his nose and mouth, squirting on his tongue. The fluid tastes like anise and motor oil and Tom knows the instant he tastes it everything is wrong. He dies for the first time, fifteen minutes later, teeth still stained black.

***

He and Harry are in a tiny cabin. Tom plucks a shotgun from inside the pantry and some buckshot from a drawer in the bathroom. He hands both to Harry.

Harry smiles at him, wan. He’s tired, and Tom knows he’s in pain all up his side from being thrown by the Inferi. “Thanks, Tom.”

Tom kisses him, brief, his mouth scorching hot against his own. He's been cold, so very cold, ever since he started dying. He's not sure if it's psychological or because there is black sludge to replace the blood in his chest.

Harry’s smile brightens, his cheeks the tiniest bit red. “Thanks for that too.”

***

Dumbledore doesn't believe them about the Deathly Hallows. He calls Harry his boy and fixes Tom tea and listens as Tom drags up his whole life history from Gellert and his baby Aryan group to his poor sister and the hospice incidents.

He doesn't and doesn't and doesn't and doesn't, until Tom presses a kiss to Harry’s brow and pushes Harry's gun down and asks him not to shoot, that doesn’t work, please love. He’s not sure if he even means it. He's so sick of Dumbledore’s twinkle.

Dumbledore hands over the Deathstick Harry had confiscated from the Inferi. After that Tom remembers the goddamned combination.

***

The Resurrection Stone Tom knows by now to pry out of the forehead of that first Inferi he killed, and still kills. He has to be quick about it, because every day Harry's nearly half the field away, every day Harry's got an Inferi poised over his neck for Tom to punt off of him.

He gets very fast.

***

“I just don't know where the Cloak is,” Tom whispers. He and Harry are playing hooky today, pretending the lights in the sky are fireworks instead of mortar and heavy artillery fire.

Harry's head is heavy on Tom’s shoulder. He's crying, silent with it, eyes so swollen Tom can only see slits of green. It's so painful for him to sit here, Tom doesn't think he'll ever ask Harry to do this again, no matter how many more years this stretches.

He folds his arm around Harry, squeezes him tight. He presses a kiss to Harry's hair. It smells good for once, from their selfish shower. His brain doesn’t quite know how to reconcile it as Harry.  

***

The Cloak is in the Inferi’s Spawn Maw. Tom and Harry scope it out over the course of three days, and his stomach flips when he sees the pattern, or lack of one.

The few Inferi he and Harry kill at the Maw don't recycle. For the first time, since this never ending day began, something different is happening.

It’s only at the Maw, but that's enough. Time doesn't reset there. A fear he thought long dead—ha! rekindles in his belly.  

Harry gets it a good while after he does, when they retreat, after Tom zips him into a shared sleeping bag and curls up beside him, breathing in the scent of his filthy hair. He’s exhausted, bone deep, but he fights the urge to sleep, choosing instead to savor these last moments with Harry, before Tom goes to shoot himself and they cycle back around. His mind has honed and honed and honed itself, but his body is still the same as that first day, fit but not hardened with it.

Harry goes perfectly still. He takes Tom’s hand in between his, grip tight. Tom knows if he looked, he'd see Harry's fingers dimpling hard enough to blanch Tom's skin even paler white. “Promise me, Tom. Promise me you won't do it alone.”

Tom nuzzles deep into Harry's hair. It smells awful, like blood and burnt gunpowder and Harry’s drying fear sweat. He breathes in deeper and doesn't reply.

Harry always knows when he's lying, after all.

***

They’re back at the cabin. Tom leaves the shotgun and the buckshot where they are. He takes a step towards Harry instead.

“Please,” Tom whispers. He gently pulls the gun from Harry’s hands, then hooks his fingers into the curls of Harry’s belt loops.  He pulls Harry to him, gentle. “Please,” he repeats. In another time, another life, he'd have never said that word, never could have meant it. But this one day has become a new lifetime, and he means it now.

Harry melts to him, body going soft, pliant. He holds Tom’s face in his hands. They're gritty and acrid-smelling from gunpowder. Tom rubs his cheeks against them, presses kisses against the calluses on the inside of his palms.  

“Please, Harry, let me have you.” He whispers into Harry's skin. “Let me remember this for the both of us,” he pleads. He pulls Harry closer, grinds his hips, slow. “Let me.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. “Okay.” He kisses Tom back.

***

In the end, the Spawn Maw’s is just as horrific as he never could have imagined.

He does end up taking Harry, if only because he can’t fucking shake him after punting that Inferi off his almost-corpse, and he refuses to fix a future where Harry dies. He can’t shake Harry, so he also ends up taking a ragtag bunch of deserters he quite literally stumbled across about five years in todays ago instead of just stealing their Semtex. They’re crazy, and it takes less than fifteen minutes of convincing before they’re game.

“Groundhog Day!” The crazy curly haired woman who runs the group gleefully crows. She shot and killed him the first time, and Tom literally just saw her put a blasting cap in her mouth and bite down, so he thinks it’s understandable he misses her name. Stranger, maybe?

There are more Inferi in this maw than Tom could ever imagined, and half of the deserters are gone before they even get inside.

Inside holds a huge pool of black liquid, like the sludge Tom holds in his veins. It’s still, still, until one of the deserters trips as one of the Inferi tries to rip off his arms falls in. Then Inferi come pouring out, more bodies than that slick black morass could possibly hold.

The Cloak doesn’t turn out to be an object in quite the way the Stone and the Deathstick are, but more like a thick fur-like thing grown into a giant Inferi’s skin. It’s marked with the same bastardized circle triangle as that very first Inferi he killed and kills. He and Harry end up kneeling on the shrieking Inferi’s too many jointed limbs as Stranger-maybe laughs madly and flays it.

She’s barely ripped the last stretch of the Cloak free in a burst of anise and motor oil when even more Inferi pour in. She’s still laughing and holding it triumphantly aloft as she dies. Harry pulls the Cloak from her hands, and there’s no time.

“Riddle,” Harry stares at him with wide eyes. Tom hasn’t kissed his lips once today and he feels the lack like a split in his soul. Harry passes him the Cloak. “There’s no time.”

There are neatly packed blocks of Semtex in the backpack Stranger-maybe was carrying. Tom has the Stone and the Deathstick in his own, and the thick morass of the Cloak dripping in his hands.

Tom ignores the startled look in Harry’s eyes when he takes Harry’s hand for the boom.

***

Tom wakes up. His body is not sore and the sun is shining. It’s not today. Tom looks around, and some distant dim recognition supposes it might be yesterday. He’s not certain if this is better or worse, until he notices the people sort of milling about, stunned and aimless.

“The Inferi just keeled over and stopped moving,” one woman tells him, somewhat stunned. Tom lets her go, stunned himself.

His hand bleeds red when he cuts it. Tom could laugh in sheer joy.

It takes an interminable three hours to find him.

“Harry Potter.” Tom calls out, knowing better than to startle Harry. He can’t stop smiling and it feels unnatural on his face.

Harry jerks up from where he’s polishing his gun, looks Tom up and down. He smiles back. “Oh, you too?”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Wizard of Oz Queen x pre-teen reader Chap. 6; The Emerald City

*Author’s note*

Hey sorry I hadn’t posted the next chapter of our Wizard of Oz Queen style but I’ve got some good news for everyone here. Last night I worked on the last chapter so I’ve got the remaining chapters all ready for you all to read. So like before you all will have a lovely binge read, this time reading the final 4 chapters I’ve got :) So enjoy and happy reading.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@platawnic​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

@queendeakyy​

______________________________________________________________

The next morning I woke up to Toto licking my face. I giggled and looked into those puppy dog brown eyes and he barked at me.

“Good morning Toto.”

“And sleeping beauty arises with the sun.” I turned to see Scarecrow and Tinman sitting together.

“We were beginning to think you’d never wake up.” Teased Tinman.

“You know you could’ve woken me up.”

“We know, but you were just so cute, it was a crime to force you to wake up.” Scarecrow said with a cheeky grin.  I shook my head at him before we looked towards lion who was still sleeping.  I stood up and I was surprised to feel that my ankle was no longer in pain.  

I knelt down and took off the bandages and the leaves off and I was amazed to see that my injury was now all healed up, not even a scar.

“Wow, lion sure has a knowledge of healing herbs.” Tinman said.

“Your leg looks good as new.” Scarecrow praised. I nodded before standing back up and walked towards lion who was snoring softly as he kept on sleeping.

“Lion, lion wake up.” His ear twitched and he mumbled out.

“Before sunrise he’s your son.”

“Lion, come on lion.” Toto walked up and began tugging on a strand of his hair but even then lion wouldn’t move an inch.

“Heavy sleeper isn’t he?” Scarecrow said.

“Lions typically are.” Tinman responded to him.

“Any ideas on how to wake up him?” I asked them. As they pondered, Toto walked right in front of lion and let out a single loud bark which started lion awake. He looked around frantically before looking right at my dog who softly glared at him.

“Okay, okay. I’m up I’m up.” He then let out a yawn that echoed loudly through the cave, his canine fangs shining in the glimpse of the sunlight that came through.

“I was almost about to think we’d have to drag you along to Emerald city.” Scarecrow said.

“Please, you couldn’t even carry a dozen lion cubs with those arms of yours crop boy.” Teased lion as he stretched himself out.

“You’re seriously not gonna stop with the nickname are you?”

“Not on your life.” Lion said as he fully stood up. He turned to me and he asked me, “How’s your leg?”

“It’s all healed, see?” I showed him my right leg and he got to see that it was completely healed.

“That’s good. I’m glad I remember the things my mother taught me about healing herbs and sap.”

“Okay so are we just gonna stand here all day or shall we get a move on?” scarecrow said.

“Alright, no need to get your stitches in a fix. To Oz?” Tinman said.

“To Oz!” I proclaimed and we soon left lion’s cave and walked along till we once again found the yellow brick road and proceeded onward.

*3rd Person POV*

Unaware to the four of them, they were being watched from the far out reaches to the West in an old haunted tower where the Warlock of the West lived.  

He gazed into his crystal ball to see (y/n) walking along with Scarecrow, Tinman, her dog Toto, and the newly accompanied lion.

“So they’ve gotten the cowardly lion to join your little entourage ehh? Well I’ll soon rid of him too.” The warlock walked over to his brewery table and scooped some red sand into a bowl as he said. “When I gain those ruby slippers, my magic will be the most powerful in all of Oz.”

He came back to his crystal ball as he crushed the sand with a powder crusher and he said.

“But first; to slow them down a bit. Something with poison in it. Yes~ with poison. But attractive to the eye, and soothing to the small.” The warlock smiled maliciously as he chanted.  “Poppies, poppies. Poppies will put them to sleep. Sleep~ now they’ll sleep.”

Soon enough spreading far and wide between the forest exit and the Emerald city was a field of red poppy flowers.

*My POV*

Finally we reached the end of the forest and just ahead of us was the bright green buildings of the Emerald city.

“Oh look you guys, we made it!”

“Indeed, the famous Emerald city. The heart of all of Oz.” lion said with a smile.

“Oh isn’t that just the most beautiful thing you’ve ever saw?” I asked overjoyed.

“Never have I seen anything so beautiful in my life.” Answered Tinman.

“Well come on then, it’s just right there. Race yah!” Scarecrow said as he ran on ahead.

“Hey! No fair you got a head start!” I called out to him as I raced after him.  Tinman and lion soon followed and soon it became a race to see who would reach the gates of the Emerald city first.

When we got halfway through the flower fields, Scarecrow was still in first place, followed by Tinman, then lion and I in last place.

“You lot are going so slow! It’ll be winter by the time we reach the city!” Scarecrow cried out.  I don’t know why but I was starting to feel so tired all of a sudden.  I began to slow down till I just stopped running all together.

“What’s…..what’s happening…..to me?” I said as I rubbed my eyes trying to rid of the tiredness.

“Come on! Come on let’s—(y/n)? (Y/n) what’s wrong?” the three of them came back towards me.  Scarecrow stood close beside me taking hold of my hand.

“I—I don’t think I can run anymore.” I said with a soft yawn.

“Here, let—let us carry you. We don’t have to race anymore.”

“No, no I just….need to sleep.” I fell to my knees and soon blacked out.

*3rd Person POV*

“(Y/N)!” Scarecrow exclaimed as he caught her in his arms but fell into his butt.  He looked down at the young girl in his arms as she had just collapsed right there and now lay there like a corpse.

“What’s happened to her?” asked Tinman.

“I don’t know, here help me move her. Both of you.” Scarecrow said as he got out from underneath her.

“Come to think of it, maybe some extra sleep isn’t such a bad idea.” The lion yawned as he slowly went to lay down.

“Don’t you start too! C’mon lion stay awake you furball!” Scarecrow said as he quickly stood lion back up and slapped his face trying to wake the lion up.

“Ohh this is bad. We gotta get them out of this field, we have to get (y/n) up.”

“I don’t know if I can move her, but we can try.” As scarecrow and Tinman stood over (y/n), that’s when lion suddenly collapsed to the ground and fell asleep as well.

“GAAHHH! No not him too!” Tinman exclaimed.

“Just help me with (y/n) then we’ll worry about him.” Scarecrow said as he took hold of (y/n)’s shoulders while Tinman grabbed her arm.

Together the two of them pulled and pushed but no matter how much they tugged and pushed, they just couldn’t move her.

“This isn’t working! We can budge her an inch. This has to be some sort of spell!” Scarecrow exclaimed.

“You don’t think…..” Tinman started off worriedly.

“The Warlock of the West!” they both proclaimed worriedly. “What’ll we do?” Tinman asked worriedly.  Then a second later he began crying out for help as loud as he could.

“There’s no use of screaming. No one can hear us! HELP! HELP!” Both Scarecrow and Tinman began crying out for help in the wide poppy flower field but no one came.

Fortunately for them, the good Warlock of the North, along with the Winter Fae Queen (who had kept updates on (y/n)’s travels) heard her companions pleas for help and decided to assist them.  Using both their magic, they soon made snow fall from the sky before the poppy fields.

“Wait what’s—what’s this? Snow? No it isn’t. It is snow! Snow it’s snow!” Scarecrow jumped with joy as the snow continued to fall down harder and harder till the poppies magic wore off as the flowers began to die. “Maybe that’ll help. Oh but it couldn’t help.”

He looked down at (Y/n) to see her immediately open up her eyes.  Scarecrow smiled widely and fell to his knees as he sat down beside her and immediately embraced her.

“It does help. (Y/n)! Oh (y/n), you’re alright! I knew it would work.”

*My POV*

I soon woke up and as I slowly sat up, I was suddenly tackled by the Scarecrow with him saying.

“Oh (y/n), you’re alright! I knew it would work.”

“What happened? And….why is it snowing?” before Scarecrow could answer, lion soon sat up from the flowers as he yawned and looked around to see the snow falling around us.

“Unusual weather we’re having.” We all chuckled as Toto came up onto my lap covered in snow.  When I looked towards Tinman, I gasped.

“Look! He’s rusted again. Quick get the oil can!” We all sat up and Scarecrow and lion both proceeded to help Tinman.  I helped by shaking out his arms to get them working again.  Once Tinman could move and talk again, he looked down at me and said as he embraced me.

“Oh (y/n) you’re awake!”

“Yes. I mean I don’t know what happened but I must’ve still been tired from last night. Well let’s not waste another second, look. Emerald city is closer and prettier than ever!”

“Then let’s continue onward.” Said Lion.  The five of us then walked out of the flower field (which was now covered in snow) and we got back onto the Yellow Brick road to continue onward towards the Emerald City.

*3rd Person POV*

The Warlock of the West who had seen what had happened at the poppy fields growled in anger.

“Curses! Curses! It must’ve been the work of the Winter fae Queen. Someone always has to help that brat!” it was then one of his flying monkeys held out a bag that contained some magic black powder.  

The Warlock grinned maliciously as he said.

“But, fae magic or not, I’m still powerful enough to conquer her.” He walked over and grabbed his broomstick before standing up along the large window and he proclaimed. “TO THE EMERALD CITY AS FAST AS LIGHTNING!” he then flew out of his castle cackling wickedly as he flew towards the Emerald City.

*My POV*

Finally Toto, Lion, Tinman, Scarecrow and I arrived at the gates of the Emerald city.  It’s tall green doors stood proudly like a mountain.  I noticed a green and gold rope with a tassel on the end so I reached out for it and gave it a pull which made a loud bell-like sound.

A small door-like entrance opened up at top and there stood a man with short brown hair and blue eyes.  He wore a green guard’s uniform with gloves that went all the way up to his forearm.

“Who rang that bell?” he snapped.

“We did.” My friends and I all said.

“Can’t you read?” the man asked us again.

“Read what?” asked the Tinman.

“The notice!” we looked around confused but there wasn’t any notice.

“What notice?” we chorused out.

“It’s on the door as plain as the nose on my face! It—” that’s when he began to realize that there wasn’t anything there. He muttered incoherent noises before tsking and backing away.

We all looked at each other confused when the man came back out and placed a noticed over a small hook before slamming the circle door shut.  We looked at one another as we all read the notice.

“Bell out of order. Please knock!” I then quickly grabbed the large silver switches and banged on the door.  The circle door opened and the man said in a more cheerier tone.

“Well that’s more like it! Now state your business.” He said as he leaned up against the door.

“We want to see the Wizard.” We all said.  At the mention of the Great Oz, the man jumped in shock as he leaned towards us.

“The Wizard?” he gasped. “But nobody can see the Great Oz! No one’s ever seen the Great Oz! Even I’ve never seen him!”

“Then how do you know there is one?” I asked him.

“Because he—uhh….well I…Oh you’re wasting my time!” before the man could shut the circle door close, I said to him.

“Please sir wait! You don’t understand. I’ve got to see the Wizard. Fiyero the Good Warlock of the North and the four Fae Queens sent me.”

“Prove it!”

“She’s wearing the Ruby slippers he gave her.” Scarecrow said.  He looked down at my feet and I showed him the slippers.

“But what proof of the 4 Fae Queens. They’ve never trusted anyone beyond another magical being?” the man asked again.  I quickly remembered what the Spring Fae queen told me.  I touched the necklace I had tucked underneath my shirt .

Soon an air current spun around me and my clothes changed back into the gifted outfit made by the Winter Queen.  The bracelets and leaf patterns from the Autumn Queen appeared on my arms, the fiery highlights from the Summer Queen streaked across my hair, and right over my heart glowed the Spring heart gifted to me by the Spring Queen.

I looked up to the guard who stared at me in awe. I also turned to my new friends and they too were in awe.

“Oh, so you have been gifted by them. Well wiggle my fingers and tickle my toes, why didn’t you say so in the first place? That’s a horse of a different color, come on in!” he said in an excited tone. He shut the small door before the gates opened up. And inside was a thing of beauty.  

Everywhere was nothing but a beautiful emerald green. The walls, the floor, the buildings, and even the people wore emerald green.  When the people inside the city noticed that we were standing at the gate, they stopped what they were doing and looked right at us.

“Cabbie! Cabbie! Just what you’re looking for! Take you anywhere in the city we does!” said a carriage rider coming towards us in a large cart with a white horse pulling it.  I picked Toto up and we all walked towards the carriage and I asked the driver.

“Could you take us to see the Wizard?”

“The Wizard? The Wizard I—uhh well…..alright. But first let me take you somewhere where you all can tidy yourselves up a bit.”

“Oh thank you. We’ve come such a long way and we’re just—” I said as we all piled into the carriage and that’s when I noticed that the horse had changed from a white horse to a purple horse. “What kind of horse is that? I’ve never seen a horse like that before!?”

“No and never will you again I fancy. There’s only one of ‘em like it, he’s the horse of a different color you’ve been told about.” The cabbie cheered.  That’s when he urged the horse onward and we rode through the beautiful city.

All the while we waved to the people of the city and they kindly waved back to us.  Everyone of them with smiles and kind greetings to give us.  I would point out to the guys whenever the horse would change colors and they were surprised and in awe as I was.

Soon we stopped at a building called WASH & BRUSH CO. where dozens of workers already stood outside the building greeting us. The cabbie stopped the carriage and lion was the first one out followed by Tinman.  Together the both of them held out their hands to me and helped me off the carriage.

I was then greeted by a group of women who escorted me inside and had me sit down on a chair.  Toto came right up to me and I picked him up and set him on my lap while one of the women began to brush through my highlighted hair.  Another one began to put blush on my cheek before spraying me with some perfume.

Unlike the perfumes back home where it’s strong and intense, this was a gentle smelling type of perfume where it doesn’t make you want to gag or sneeze.  It smelled like—lavender? Roses? I don’t know but it was a lovely smell.  I also noticed one of the women was even starting to brush Toto’s fur, cleaning him up.

I looked around and could see in one section of the room the Scarecrow was getting new straw stuffed into him.  Just ahead of me the Tinman was getting buffed out and he no longer looked rusty.  He shined like a silver dollar.  And just to my right a few feet away from me, the lion was getting groomed and pampered.

After several minutes of getting fixed up and pampered, we all met back outside and I looked at me friends who looked better than ever.  Each of them were admiring the other but it was when they turned their attention towards me, they suddenly grew speechless.

“What?” I asked as I walked down the steps with Toto in my arms.

“Nothing it’s just—you look……beautiful.” Scarecrow said in awe.

“It’s like—you are actually one of the Seasonal faes.” Tinman said.  I looked down bashfully feeling my face grow warm with a blush.

“You guys don’t have to kiss up to me. I don’t look that beautiful.”

“I would disagree. You are beautiful (Y/n). Never doubt that for a second.” Scarecrow said.  That’s when lion wordlessly came up to me and he gave me a loving headbutt and I even heard a gentle purr come out of him.

“They’re right you know.” I heard Toto whimper softly in my arms as he touched his nose with mine and gave my chin a gentle lick. “Even Toto agrees.” I smiled and patted Toto’s side then reached out and gently placed my fingers at the bridge of lion’s nose before stroking up to his hairline.

“Thanks guys, that—means a lot to me.” They all smiled and that’s when Scarecrow said.

“Well now that we’re all cleaned up, let’s go see the Great Oz!”

“Agreed. We came all this way and now we’re just seconds away from meeting him in person.” Tinman stated.  Lion escorted me down the rest of the steps and we walked along the path.

Suddenly a horrified scream was heard.  Soon the entire city was in gasp and pointing upwards. My friends and I looked up and we were horrified at what we saw.

The Warlock of the West was flying on his broomstick with black smoke trailing along wherever he flew.  I then began to realize that he was starting to spell out a message.  Soon across the sky out in black letters in bold print.

SURRENDER

(Y/N)

I gasped as I leaned against Lion who held me close to his side.

“(Y/n)? Who’s (Y/n)?” a woman asked.

“The wizard will explain it!” another woman cried out.

“To the Wizard!” a man exclaimed.

“To the Wizard!” another man proclaimed.

“C’mon guys, if we’re gonna see the Wizard we gotta go now.” Scarecrow said.  Soon we joined in with the panicked crowd heading towards the back doors where I assumed the Wizard was at.  Every Oz citizen was exclaiming in fear and panic, that’s when a guard came up and assured everyone.

“Here, here, here! Everything is alright! Stop that now just calm down! The Great and Powerful Oz has things taken care of—I hope.” He muttered the last part. “So you can all go home now and there’s—nothing to worry about.” Just like that the crowd began to disperse but they were still hesitant.

My friends and I walked right up to the guard and I told him.

“Please sir, we want to see the Wizard right away. All four of us.”

“Orders are orders! Nobody can see the great Oz. Not nobody not know how.”

“Oh please sir it’s very important!” I pleaded.

“ORDERS ARE ORDERS! NOW GO HOME!!!” the guard snapped at us.

“But she’s (Y/n)!” Scarecrow exclaimed.  The guard’s angry face soon turned to shock as he turned back towards me and asked.

“The Warlock’s (Y/n)?” we all nodded.  He muttered to himself before saying, “Well that—makes a difference. Just uhh…..wait—wait here and I shall announce you at once.” He then turned his back and walked through the doors.

“Did you hear that? He’ll announce us at once! I’ve as good as got my brain.” Scarecrow said.

“I can almost hear my heart beating.” Tinman said.

“I could be home in time for tea.” I said.

“And in one hour, I’ll take my rightful place as King of the Forest. Long live the King.” Lion turn turned and walked with pride up some steps leading to a flower garden.  As he walked up the steps, his full lion form came out and just seeing him walk up those few steps, he really shined like a true king.

His eyes flaming with regalness, pride, nobility, honor, and warmth.

Tinman, Scarecrow, Toto and I stood before him and we all kneeled before him.

“And once I am King, each of you will be part of my pride. Tinman, you shall be guardian of the entire forest, including my kingdom. Protect us as you have every other creature you’ve helped.”

“It is a high honor, your majesty. I will do my best.” Tinman bowed his head in gratitude.

“(Y/n) and Toto,” Toto perked his head up from his downward dog position and I raised my head up, “Though you both may return to you home of Wales, you shall be remembered as the bravest lions I’ve ever met. And any future cubs I may bear in the future, shall be named after you both respectively.”

“Thank you lion. It’s an honor to have future lion cubs be named after Toto and I.” Toto barked in agreement as his butt shook happily.

“My dear if you and Toto were any braver, you both would be lions yourselves.” Toto barked again and I bowed my head to him in gratitude. “And you Scarecrow—”

Scarecrow looked up at lion with a glimmer of hope.

“You shall be—” Lion started off before pondering for a moment. “In my court you shall be……” boy he sure was milking it at this point ain’t he? “The royal mattress.” At hearing that Scarecrow’s hopeful look soon turned to anger as Tinman and I tried to hold back our laughter.

“Are you joking? The royal mattress? Just because I’m made of straw!?”

“I am kidding my friend.” Lion chuckled. He then told the Scarecrow as he stepped down from the garden and placed his paw onto Scarecrow’s shoulder “You shall be my personal advisor. Ruling a kingdom isn’t easy. And I can’t do it myself. Henceforth, once the Wizard gifts you your brain, you shall be my right hand man. Helping me rule my kingdom, seeing to our hunts, any battle plans that may come, and educating the pride with your superior knowledge.”

“Wow that’s—that’s amazing I……I don’t know what to say Lion. Thank you.” lion nodded softly as his eyes closed and his ears slightly tucked in.

Suddenly out of nowhere there was an angry cry and we all jumped to our feet and there stood the guard.

“The Wizard says go away!” he shouted at us before turning back towards the doors and slammed them shut.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Road Trip : Punk!AU

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer Word Count: 2,717 Rating: M Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ a/n: If you missed Part II you can find the link below as written by @heroics-and-heartbreak​ my partner on this adventure and co-founder of our little Punk!AU. Read on for angst!

Part III – It’s all over, baby, but I’m still yours

{Part I} {Part II}

“Give me the phone.”

Aevryn’s eyes widened and she clutched the phone tighter. Everyone had left the van quickly except for her and Yennefer who had watched as Aevryn’s mouth curled into a little smile as she looked at the phone. She knew exactly what was going on and it was time to confront her while the rest of the group was gone. Especially Jaskier.

“Yen it’s not what it looks like,” Aevryn began. Yennefer propped a hand on her hips and fixed her with her patented “don’t bullshit me” stare.

“And what do you think it looks like, Aev?” she asked. The phone buzzed in Aevryn’s hand and Yennefer looked down at it pointedly.

“Listen… I know this is going to sound stupid. But I think, maybe this time… I think he’s trying, Yen, and don’t give me that look!” Aevryn protested as Yennefer shook her head, a familiar look of disappointment in her eyes that stung, “We had a long talk and he hasn’t been shitty. He’s been worried but that’s something, right?”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Yennefer asked. Aevryn winced, Yennefer’s words striking her as painfully as her fists may have.

“I don’t owe you anything here, Yen,” Aevryn said, her voice growing distant and icy and defensive, “I’m a grown adult. So is he. People can change. For fuck’s sake, I thought you of all people-”

“What the hell does that mean?” Yennefer asked. Aevryn took a deep breath, willing herself not to say anything she’d regret later. She knew Yennefer was protective for good reason and with good intentions. But she was already having this fight with herself, she didn’t need to have it with anyone else. Not yet. There would be time for fighting later.

“Are you going to tell Jask?” Aevryn asked.

“No,” Yennefer answered quickly.

The phone buzzed again.

“Win’s going to be looking for me,” Aevryn said, moving to push past Yennefer. She held her back by the shoulder and the pair locked eyes.

“How many times are you going to let him hurt you?” she asked. If she’d said it with disdain Aevryn could have been angry. But she’d said it sadly, the weary voice of someone who has had to help pick up their friend time and time again and is watching them hurl themselves right back into the fray.

“You don’t have to take care of me if it goes wrong. I know the risks,” Aevryn said, jostling past her and heading towards the low rolling fields as quickly as she could, tears stinging her eyes.

“But I will,” Yennefer called after her. She could tell by the stiffening of Aevryn’s shoulders that she’d heard her, but she continued walking as though she hadn’t and Yennefer let her go.

“Fuck,” Yennefer whispered to herself, kicking the tire with her boot.

“Hey, leave Roach out of this.”

Yennefer wheeled around to find Geralt walking over to the other side of the van. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket and he gave her a searching stare. She’d once compared him to malware, always scanning for problems.

“How long were you standing there?” Yennefer asked, an edge to her voice.

“Not long,” he admitted, “I was looking to see if I could find someplace quiet to meditate but they’re making too much damn noise.”

The whoops and laughter of the rest of your group were carried on the slowly cooling evening air though they couldn’t be seen anymore. They’d gone deep into the fields, leaving Yennefer and Geralt to catch up when they chose. Or, as was the silent understanding, if they chose.

“Any chance you’ll tell me what’s got you all twisted up?” Geralt asked, leaning against the van and tossing her a glance that tried just a bit too hard to be casual. She knew he could see everything; the frustration, the fear, the sadness. The way her hands trembled slightly as it did after a confrontation with someone she loved, caused by the fear that it would lead at any moment to losing them forever. Geralt knew these things but he was too good to speak on it without her permission. He was too good period.

“No,” she answered bluntly, and he gave a wry, knowing smile, nodding and then tilting his head back to rest against the rusted metal. A low roll of thunder sounded overhead, the skies going grey without their notice and Yennefer thought back to another night like this one. A night that had started beautifully and ended in a storm from which neither ever fully returned.

“You still do tarot?” Geralt asked, though he knew the answer.

“Why?” Yennefer asked, cautious but intrigued despite herself. He shrugged and his eyes, such a light brown they nearly glowed golden, peered down at her.

“Thought you might give me a reading,” he said. Yennefer cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at him.

“You always said it was horseshit,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I’ve been wrong about things before,” he answered with a shrug, “So, you gonna do it or not?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes and pushed off of the van, moving towards the passenger side where she’d left her bag, Geralt’s eyes following her the whole way.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” she said sarcastically. He climbed into the back of the van and she followed suit, a deck of cards in hand that she quickly began to shuffle once they’d sat down.

“What kind of spread are you looking for?” she asked. Geralt gave her a wolfish smile and she fixed him with an unimpressed look though she had to bite back a laugh.

“What questions do you have for me?” she tried again and Geralt sat back against the window, his large frame crouching to fit into the small space.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Can’t you just pull some cards and tell me my future or whatever?”

“If you’re just going to be a dick I’m not doing this,” Yennefer said, moving to put the cards back in their box. A large, scarred hand reached out and rested on top of hers, stalling her movement. She looked up to meet his eyes which were apologetic.

“Ok,” he said, relenting, “I want to know…”

He paused and Yennefer watched breathlessly, chest tightening as she thought about the answers she knew he was still looking for, ones she couldn’t give him no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I want to know how the road trip’s going to go,” he said, and he saw the almost imperceptible shift of Yennefer’s shoulders as she exhaled with relief.

“Fair enough,” she said, continuing her shuffling. The deck was one she’d made herself, from the cardstock she’d crafted from wood pulp to the ink she’d distilled from lavender oil and other harvested ingredients. She’d designed the tarot images herself, making them unique to her. While Geralt had his reservations about magic, he unreservedly admired her ingenuity and craftmanship. He’d made the box for her cards, hewn from oak with a message burned on the inside of the box that both of them were careful not to pay attention to or mention though both knew it was there.

She spread the cards out gently and carefully facedown on the crinkly plastic covered seat.

“Pick a card, any card,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, serious in her craft but playful in her methods. Geralt took his time, staring down at them as though he were trying to will the cards to work in his favor. He was pretty sure that wasn’t how this worked but damn if he wouldn’t try. He finally pointed to one and Yennefer pulled it out, flipping it face up between the two of them.

Disembodied hands reaching out from the bottom of the card posed in supplication to a breaking dawn depicted in shimmering, golden ink. In the middle, as it was in all of her major arcana cards, a roman numeral was drawn; XX.

Geralt looked to Yennefer’s face immediately, trying to read her reaction to figure out if it was good or bad. She looked at the card for a few minutes in silence.

“Well?” Geralt asked finally, unable to wait any longer as the tension built.

“Judgement,” she said. His brows furrowed in concern and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“It’s not bad,” she explained.

“Judgment has rarely been favorable for me,” he said. “Whose judgment?”

“Good question,” she said, looking back down to the card, “It’s usually associated with resurrection and awakening. Second chances or new beginnings. Something coming to an end to make way for something else.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Geralt said, glaring at the card.

“Well you don’t believe in it, so it doesn’t matter much,” Yennefer said with a little shrug, gathering her cards and opening the box to put them back. Her eyes slipped to the words on the inside; all my love. It had been so sweet once upon a time. Now it weighed on her heart.

“I may not have always understood or believed in the methods, but I will always believe in you,” Geralt insisted.

Yennefer didn’t know if it was the urgent need in his voice the betrayed how badly he wanted her to know he believed in her – still, present tense, not past – or the closeness of their bodies in the small space. It could have been the scent of leather and aftershave that muddled her senses or the way his hand brushing against hers triggered memories throughout her body of the way it felt to be held and stroked and touched by him. It could have been the threatening knell of the Judgment card calling for an end and the panic that flooded her at the thought that the end could be this, could be them forever, finally. Destiny making a call she hadn’t been strong enough to commit to fully. Whatever the reason, be it all or none of them, she found herself pressing into his arms, her mouth seeking his and finding him eagerly receptive. His large hands seized her waist and pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him, feeling the hardening length already straining against his jeans. Her hands cupped his face, the familiar sensation of scruff and jaw and soft silver hair twining around her fingers comforting her like a song she’d turn to in times of sorrow. He ran a hand through her long, dark hair, as silky and soft as it had always been, would always be.

“This is a bad idea,” Yennefer murmured as Geralt’s lips moved down the slender column of her neck, tongue laving at the crook of her neck, undoing her in quick succession, aware of all the spots she loved best and therefore he loved too.

“You’re right,” he agreed, a hand cupping one of her breasts through the thin fabric of the cotton crop top she’d worn. “Do you want me to s-”

She cut off the question with a kiss. If she had to answer it, she had to think. And she was tired of thinking. Tired of questioning and guarding and- just tired.

“Shut up. Kiss me. Hold me tight,” she ordered. He growled in response and their bodies fell into an old dance. Hands worked at buttons and clothes were pushed aside and soon they were together again, joining as they had a thousand times before, each time peppered with an extra sense of urgency as they feared it would be the last time.

“I’ve missed you,” she sighed, the words slipping out on the heels of a moan as Geralt rocked into her.

“Gods I’ve missed you too,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers and gripping her tighter.

“I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted you,” the words fell from her lips like a confession and she found herself unable to stop them. It had always been hard to hide from Geralt for too long. He always saw her, and she always came back, eager to be found and seen and… other things she feared.

“Yennefer,” he pressed her name against her lips and she tasted the unspoken emotion he felt for her in it. The unspeakable thing that kept them tethered against all odds.

She stopped his mouth with her own, but she could feel him say her name still, every kiss a declaration her body answered in turn. It didn’t take long before she felt the tension building rapidly to a place there’d be no coming back from and Geralt could feel it too, pulling her face back to look her in the eyes, watching her soft flesh warm and redden and her chest rise and fall and her mouth wrap around the final, breathy gasps of her release. The sight alone would have been enough but the way she clenched around him brought him with her and as he came he pressed his head against her chest, feeling her heartbeat flutter rapidly. Yennefer pressed her lips onto his head, her arm wrapping around him and holding in there against her chest for a beat, and then two, and then she began to worry that she would never able to let him go.

“I love you.”

He heard her heart skip a beat and then it was gone, her body pushing away from his too fast for him to stop, already bitterly angry with himself for letting the words out. And then angry that he had to try.

“Yennefer,” he called, quickly tucking himself back in and going after her as she jumped out of the van, pulling a top on quickly and pausing only to button her clothes as she got out.

“Yennefer I love you,” he repeated, knowing there was no way to walk it back so he might as well have it out, “I love you and I know you love me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wild like a wounded animal who’s been cornered and he knew she was dangerous and he loved her for it.

“Geralt don’t,” she said warningly, though she knew it was too late. The thunder, forgotten in their time in the van, rolled louder overhead, echoing the emotions that warred in her.

“I’m not going to ask you to marry me. Not again. But why does that have to be the end of it? Why do we have to pretend that there’s nothing here when there clearly is. What did I do?” his voice cracked at the last word and nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“You didn’t do anything,” she said.

“Then why?” he asked, “Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

“It’s not all about you, Geralt,” she snapped, retreating into anger as the other emotions became too large and terrifying to face any longer. He could see her retreating, see the icy wall she held in place slowly build back up and he grasped her arms, pulling her in as though the added warmth of his body could help melt it away. It only rose quicker, harder, colder.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, “I’m still here.”

“This was a bad idea,” she repeated, more to himself than him. She wrenched herself out of his grasp and turned, walking into the field with no clear idea of where she was going or what she would do. In any other instance she would have sought out Aevryn but the very thought of her friend twisted her heart further. She couldn’t have Geralt, she couldn’t protect Aevryn. She didn’t really have any right to hate Valdo the way she did when she of all people understood him best. Because what was she doing with Geralt if not practically doing what Valdo did with Aevryn? She’d never been disloyal to Geralt but she was just as inaccessible and just as selfishly pulled between wanting the love and attention she received and pushing everyone away out of fear of being hurt. She knew Valdo couldn’t be trusted because she couldn’t be trusted. Not with her own heart and certainly not with Geralt’s.

Tonight, she’d chosen poorly. Tomorrow, she’d choose better.

Or she’d leave.

[qvietlight]

time for the big archie fact file!!

The Basics

Name? Archie Virginia Taylor

Age? 37

Approximate height? 5′8

Hair colour? Blonde

Eye colour? Blue

Do they speak with an accent? No

Where are they from? Zuzu City

Where are they now? Stardew Valley

Backstory

Who are their parents? Charles and Anthea Taylor

What is their earliest memory? Meeting her little brother, Aubrey, for the first time. She turned to her parents and asked if they were sure he had to come home with them.

What did they want to be when they grew up? Still a ghost hunter, but more the Scooby Doo type - busting baddies and hanging out with the loch ness monster.

What did/do their parents want them to be? Archie’s job is a point of contention with her father. Charles wants her to have a ‘proper’ career. Any career. Preferably something in an office that made use of her degree.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? Brothers or sisters? Yes, one younger brother, Aubrey. He’s adopted, and they have a very good relationship.

Do they have or have they ever had children? How many? No. Gross.

Do they or have ever had a significant other? Are they still with them? Why? Why not? Penelope. They were together for fifteen years, and broke up only a couple of months ago. Penelope wanted to get married, Archie didn’t.

Up until now, what’s the most noteworthy thing they’ve done? To them? To the people around them? To Archie? Starting That’s the Spirit! To other people? Graduating summa cum laude from Colombia with joint honours in Sociology and Political Science.

Tastes

What’s your character’s favourite colour? Red

Do they/would they choose to wear a scent? What would it be? She wears a Jo Malone scent - Blackberry and Bay.

Do they care about what things look like? All things, or only some? In some ways? She likes things organised, and likes to appear put-together herself.

What’s their favourite ice cream flavour? Pistachio.

Are they a tea, or coffee drinker? Or soft drinks, or do they drink a lot of alcohol? What kind? Coffee coffee coffee! She doesn’t really drink soft drinks, but in terms of alcohol, she prefers her drinks uncomplicated. Beer, whiskey, etc.

What kind of books do they read? What TV shows and movies do they watch? Mostly non-fiction, she’s always looking to expand her knowledge in whatever way she can, but she does have a soft spot for pulpy detective novels. In terms of TV, she watches lots of documentaries, and likes British Crime dramas. She’s also a big Twin Peaks fan.

What kind of music do they like? Do they like music at all? Is it loud? Angry? Fronted by a female singer? She’s into it.

If they were about to die, what would they have as their last meal? Japanese food. Bang bang cauliflower, gyoza, yaki soba...

Are they hedonistic? In all cases? Or does practicality sometimes/always/often win out? No, Archie is practical to a fault.

Do they have any philias or phobias? Not really. She’s largely unflappable.

Morals, Beliefs, and Faith

Do they have an internal or an external moral code? Internal, I guess. She’s not above a little light law-breaking to accomplish what she needs. 

To what extent are their actions dictated by this code? Mostly?

Do they believe in a God or Gods/Goddesses/Higher being of some description? Nah.

Are they superstitious? Not really.

Do they believe in an afterlife? If so, what’s it like?  Not really. All of her research has disproved an afterlife so far.

Do they have any specific beliefs that manifest obviously? No.

Are the respectful of the beliefs of others? To what extent? She tries to be. But some people are stupid.

Have they ever had to stand up to criticism for being religious? Or not being religious? Nope.

Would they be more likely to act for the good of the one, or the good of the many? The good of the one.

Relationships

Do they make friends easily? Not at all. Her personality is kind of abrasive.

Do they have a best friend? It was Penelope. So not anymore.

Can they get people to do what they want them to? If so, how? Sometimes? Mostly though just being completely relentless.

Do they have a lot of romantic relationships? Serious, or short term? Not a lot. She had a couple of girlfriends in college before Penelope, but that’s all.

Do they fall in and out of love easily? Not at all. It takes her a long time to warm to people.

Do strangers and acquaintances actually like them when they meet? No.

Do they have a network? Probably just her dad and brother now. 

What is their relationship like with their family? Complex. After her mother died, she and Aubrey were raised very hands-off, and their father always treated them as adults rather than children because he simply didn’t know how else to relate to them. Archie and her father are very alike, which is part of the reason they butt heads so much. But there is no doubting their love for each other. 

Are they still in touch with non-family people they were in touch with a year ago? Five years? Ten? More? She’s got a couple of friends from college she still talks to, but her social group isn’t exactly huge.

Do they like children? Do they want children of their own? No, and no. 

Physical Appearance

How does this character dress? How would they choose to dress, if all options were open to them? Mostly dark clothes, clean and simple, and Doc Martens.

Do they have any tattoos? What do they mean? None.

Do they have piercings? How many? Just her ears, one in each lobe and one in her right cartilage.

Do they have scars? Where did they come from? Yes, from gender reassignment surgery. 

Do they alter their appearance in some way on a regular basis? She wears makeup almost every day.

Is there something they’d choose to change about their appearance if they had the opportunity to? Nope, she looks hot. 

Is there something about their appearance they’re particularly proud of/happy with? She’s got nice eyes, and she likes her freckles. 

Objectively, are they physically attractive? Fairly plain? Unattractive? Attractive...

Do they have an accurate mental picture and opinion of their physical appearance? Yes, I think so.

How much time do they spend thinking about their physical appearance? Not much at all anymore. She looks how she always wanted.

General Knowledge

Can they navigate their own local area without getting lost? To what degree? Yeah, she’s confident and fairly intuitive.

Do they know who the top politician or monarch is where they live? What about elsewhere? Yes, she tries to keep up to date with current affairs, being a Poli-Sci major.

Do they know if/where there are any major conflicts going on right now? Yes.

Do they know the composition of water? Yeah.

Do they know how to eat a pomegranate? Obviously.

Are they good with the technology available to them? Average? Completely hopeless? Her lifestyle is very tech-based, so yes.

Could they paint a house? Without making a mess of it? She certainly thinks she could - whether that’s actually true is debatable.

Could they bake a cake? Would you eat it if they did? She can follow instructions because she’s not an idiot, so the cake would be fine, but she wouldn’t be excited to waste time on it.

Do they know how to perform basic maintenance on the common mode of transportation? She knows how to change a tire and the oil in her car. She has to, since her car is a pile of crap.

Do they know the price of a loaf of bread? Yes.

Specific Knowledge

Do they have a specific qualification in a narrow area? No, he dropped out of college.

Is there something they do or know exceptionally well that most other people don’t? Well, she knows a lot about mythology and the supernatural. 

Do people often comment on a particular skill or area of knowledge to this character? Behind their back? Probably not?

Is there an area this character could be considered top of their field or a genius in? Probably not. She’s very intelligent, but lots of people are.

Have they deliberately sought to gain knowledge in a specific area? If so, why? She deliberately seeks knowledge in many different areas, because you can never be too educated.

Do they speak more than one language? More than two? Why? She speaks English, and some rudimentary Chinese and Spanish. It just seemed smart to learn.

Does their cultural background effect what they would be expected to know? Idk, white people shit?

Have they ever been publicly acknowledged for being well-versed in something? Well, she graduated college summa cum laude so yes!

Have they ever been bullied for knowing a lot about something? People wouldn’t dare. She’s scary.

Do they actively seek new knowledge, or let it come to them naturally? Actively.

Miscellaneous

What did they have for breakfast this morning? A cup of coffee. 

What ridiculous belief/s did they have as a child? ): None really. 

Do they like marshmallows? Not really. Not vegetarian.

Do they sleep on their side, front, or back? Side

Do they work better with sound or silence? Sound, but only sound she can moderate herself.

Do they have a strange obsession with something minor? Ghosts? Mythological creatures?

Do they like art? Some? 

How fast can they run? Fast enough.

Do they prefer to sit on the floor or on a chair? Chair.

What do they want, right now? Another cup of coffee. And a cigarette.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #257

I hope y’all are behaving and staying inside. This’ll blow over, folks.

Have you ever met a guy for coffee? No. How often do you get called on your home phone? We don't have a landline. Do you feed your leftovers to your dogs? We don't have a dog anymore. When we had them, we very rarely did. Mom did so more than me, and I wouldn't give them anything if they were begging. Except chicken nuggets with Teddy. There was no denying him chicken nuggets. Do you like salt on your popcorn? Yes. What tricks does your pet do? Well one is a snake and my cat doesn't know any because since when do cats obey you lmao. Do you believe in psychics? No. When you hear the name “Ginger” what do you think of? Jason's old fatass dog. What is the worst damage that your car has seen? N/A Who is your least favourite character on your favourite television show? In Meerkat Manor, fuck that, I loved them all, lmao. Well, I remember I was bitter towards Rita/Amira for killing Rocket Dog's pups, but even then I knew that was meerkat nature to ensure the survival of their own offspring. That '70s Show, definitely no one. I adore all the characters. For Fullmetal Alchemist, honestly, there are SO many that I don't remember probably even half of them. BUT, from what I do remember, Nina's dad whose name evades me. You watch it and you know why alkdsjf;kaldjw. Have you gotten sick this year? No. When was the last time you got a new ringtone? Eons ago. Where do you put your keys when you get home? They're always in my purse. What’s your phone background picture? Lock screen is a cute as fuck picture of Mark, home screen is two meerkats. If you could move to any country, what would it be? Realistically, Canada. Have you ever seen a snake in the wild? Plenty of times. Do you have any posters, paintings or other artwork on your walls? A LOT. My walls are cramped; it makes it feel homey to me. Would you ever take a trip to space if given the chance? Nah, too long of a journey. How do you cope with anxiety? Watch YouTube more attentively, listen to music, nap, take one of my anxiety meds. Are you expecting any phone calls or emails? No. Who makes you laugh the most? In my "real life," my dad. Out of anyone that includes those I don't actually know, probably Shane Dawson. He's a Mood, constantly. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? Oh, plenty. I have like the most common white girl middle name out there. What did you have done the last time you saw a dentist? I had a cavity filled. What does a successful relationship look like to you? Both ends are happy, communication is ideal and easy for the pair, both feel loved and accepted fully, and each has healthy freedom. What do you like to put on your baked potato? The ordinary butter, cheese, and bacon bits. What field of science interests you the most? Genetics. What’s the closest shop or restaurant to your house? A Zaxby's and McDonald's are tied, being right across the street from each other. What was the most memorable birthday you’ve had? My 16th is the one I remember best, but not in a good way. What is the best house you’ve ever lived in? Our last house, aesthetically. Right in the woods and relatively pretty, yet simple. Do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? Yeah. Have you ever seen someone quit their job in a dramatic way? No. Do you know why your parents named you what they did? No. I think Mom just liked the name, though. What do you like to dip your fries in? Ketchup, mostly. Is your house clean or messy right now? It's actually really clean right now. We've had a lot of help around the house recently thanks to family and friends with Mom's cancer, and then I've been much neater and attentive to cleanliness than usual because 1.) it's my responsibility to ensure it is for Mom's health and 2.) I dropped out of school so literally have zero excuses to not be doing at least one productive thing. What was the last email you received? That wasn't trash, it was from my old major's dean in school. She was trying to comfort me and give me options on what to do versus leave, but yeah. I'll 100% give it to the school that they deeply and sincerely care for their students, I just needed to go. Do you know someone who speaks without a filter? lmao me. Well, depends, I guess, actually. I know when to keep my mouth shut in some situations. What’s your favourite kind of museum? Science museums. Especially those with d i n o z. Do you believe in alternate universes? I'm open to it, especially with the mandela effect theories, but I don't think so. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. What games do you play on your smart phone? Pokemon GO (if I'm in an area w/ Stops to get balls) and Dragons of Atlantis. What kinds of decorations do you put up at Halloween? We don't really decorate anymore for Halloween, or holidays in general. How many tabs do you have open right now? Two. What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? Try more sites to hopefully get a poem I wrote published, but that crippling fear of rejection tho. :^) What’s the first thing you check on your phone at the start of the day? The time. Have you ever flown a kite? Yeah, I loved that as a kid. I’m guessing you’ve probably been asked this before, but which do you prefer - Coca Cola, or Pepsi? Coke. Pepsi is gross. Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? No. Did you go to your school dances? Did you dance with anyone? Just two proms. We didn't dance tho because the music was shit. What’s your relationship with the last person you talked to on the phone? What was your conversation about? Like, talk-talked, no texting? Uhhh who was that. OH YEAH, my sister. My mom didn't answer her phone so she just called me to make sure she was okay. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?
 No, I never do. It just adds oil to your hair, and mine is naturally oily enough. Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. I have a lot, none positive. If the last girl you texted told you that she was pregnant, how would you respond? Ask her who the fuck I need to kill. How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well considering 1.) she's past menopause and 2.) she has serious ovarian and Fallopian cancer, I'd say that's pretty impossible. Who do you have the most text messages from? Sara. The last time you skipped school, what was the reason?
 Uhhh if you mean "skip" as in I had seriously no realistic reason not to go, I think I was just really tired. I tried not to skip unless I was having serious mental health issues. When did you last see or speak to someone you dislike? Why do you dislike this person? I actually don't know who that would be. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I rarely sing. I just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yes. Does more than one person like you? *shrugs* Has your partner ever accused you of cheating, when you actually didn’t? No. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Jason. Of course I do sometimes. Other times I know it's probably for the better we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Do you like your middle name?
 I mean it's pretty, but boy do I wish it was more original. If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? I doubt it will ever be long again. Would you consider your parents to be strict? Dad never was at all; Mom sorta was when I was little. Do you have a mirror in your room? On the back of my door. Have you ever worked in food service? No, thank God. Do you often stay in your pajamas all day? I almost always do, unless I have to go out somewhere. I pretty much never leave my house ever, forget just quarantine, so like... why make more laundry. What are three YouTube videos you would like to film soon? N/A Do you ever listen to country music? No. What is your most severe allergy? Pollen. What’s the largest library fine you’ve ever had? Oh wow, no clue. I haven't been the library in millennia. Have you ever lost a library card? *shrugs* Name three literary characters you feel resemble you the most. UH yikes. This requires too much thought for me rn. Name three cartoon characters that resemble you, and say why. Ummmm I still don't know. Do you have a good doctor? I haven't seen her enough times yet to honestly say. Mom knows and likes her well, though. She's fine so far. Do you wear a watch every day? If so, what color is your watch? No, I never do. Does your phone alarm ever scare you? No, it's very peaceful. Which department store do you shop at the most? Wal-Mart. How old were you when you got your driver’s license? I'm 24 and am yet to have it. Do you have regrets? A good handful or two. Do you ever curl your hair? It's too short to do so. Do you know anyone who has coronavirus? No, and I pray I never do for my mom's sake. Out of all the big cities you’ve visited, which has/have been your favorite? Chicago is the only big city I've ever been it. Was pretty damn dope, though. Do you like dreamcatchers? I mean, they're cool. I don't believe in them being magical, though. Have you ever made a dreamcatcher, and if not, would you like to learn? No and no. Who was your high school’s biggest bully? I don't remember. What color was your graduation cap and gown? Red. Did you keep your graduation cap? I think I did. Did you decorate your graduation cap? Nope. What is your favorite part of nature? The animals within it. Do you use Photoshop? Yes. Favorite photo editing app on your phone? I don't have an editing app. Did you love or hate college? Well, considering I dropped out three times, guess. Favorite class in high school? Art. Favorite class in college? Idk. Probably Writing. Class you hated the most in high school? Math. Class you hated the most in college? Painting brought me the most stress. Do you know how to write in calligraphy? Not technically. Have you ever had a pen pal? No. Do you prefer brownies or cookies? Brownies. Man I could go for one. Favorite Girl Scout cookie? Those Reeses-ish ones. Did you ever go camping as a kid? No. Do you have hormone issues? No. Have you ever gotten a misdiagnosis because your parent(s) lied about you? Er, no? A shitty doctor has misdiagnosed me, though. Which Barbie doll was your favorite? I didn't even know there were "types"... Do you wake up to an alarm? No. When did you go to bed yesterday? Like, 8-something... I rarely make it past 9:30 nowadays. Do you live in a city, town, or in the country? The country. What color is your toothbrush? White. When was the last time you had a nightmare? Yesterday while I was napping. Woke up shrieking and scared Mom out of her skin. Tainted my mood almost the rest of the day. If you had a terminal illness, would you want to know? No shit I would. What was the last thing someone called you other than your real name? I don't know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I have no clue. Is there a candle in the room you are in? No. Are you currently taking any prescribed medication? More than I like. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medications for it? Yes and yes. Who was the last person you felt you were wasting your time on? I don't know. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? A suicide attempt. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? Ugh. If a random person were to look through the photos on your phone, is there anything you’d be embarrassed about? No. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No no no no. I need a reason to leave the house. I'm way more productive away from home anyway. What were you like in middle school? "The weird kid" describes it pretty well. If you could give one charity a million dollars, what charity would you donate money to? YIKES!!!! Now that's a question. Probably something for suicide prevention/awareness. What is something you’re surprised hasn’t been invented yet? The cure for cancer. It's incredible, just how many "possible" cures have been identified in nature, yet you like... hear NOTHING about it afterwards??? My conspiratory and "the medical industry just cares more about money" ass wonders about that a lot. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity or The Rite. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? No. And probably not. What one thing has always bothered you, but seems to bother no one else? Hm. I'm sure there's something. Do you still own a VCR and VHS tapes? No, pretty sure they've all been sold. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Yep. What kind of dog is your favorite? Pretty sure I'm biased towards beagles. Are the majority of your friends male or female? Female, I think? Have you ever considered dropping acid? Noooo sir. Would you consider yourself to be mature? Mostly. Describe your music style: I like unique alternative stuff. Catchy, heavy riffs do me in easily, too. I like well thought out, dark, and impactful lyrics. Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? Not very. Have you ever had a seizure? No. When was the last time you were in a hospital? For myself, 2017. I think. Do you go on vacations a lot? I never do. Are you self-conscious around other people? Very. At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? N/A Have you ever witnessed a physical fight in real life? Huh, good question actually. What was your GPA in high school? 4.2/3 or something. Do you use a lot of hair products? I don't use any. I mean, besides shampoo. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent at one time? My own money, I think $300 on a tattoo. What is the best pizza place out there? Domino's. I'm such a basic bitch. Do you know how to play any odd instruments most people can’t play? Nope. When was the last time you used a disposable camera? I think the zoo visit in 5th grade. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Can't say I really have one. It definitely used to be Warriors by Erin Hunter, but I haven't read any in maaaaaany years. Do you have any celebrity autographs? Nah. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Just black. Admit it – you want a Snuggie. What design/color? I got a black one one Christmas, lol. They're honestly not all that great. Do you prefer movies at home or movies at the theater? THE THEATER. I actually enjoy watching movies in the theater. It's just the vibe, I guess, and the size of the screen so you take in everything. How many songs does your iTunes have? Just over 1k. Its memory is maxed out, oof, so if I want a new song, I have to thin the library out. Do you take a shower in the morning or the night before? I've been taking showers more often in the morning, lately. It's a nice, refreshing start to the day. I'm just too tired and unmotivated to at night. Who’s your youngest teacher? N/A When’s the last time you had a rock, paper, scissors match? Wow, no clue. What’s your favorite anime? Fullmetal Alchemist. Did you cry when Ash let his Butterfree go with the other Butterfrees? Oh I probably did, but THEN AGAIN, the female was FUCKIN PINK so I'm sure I was also happy for Butterfree lmao. Even as a kiddo, I knew pink was The Shit. Skinny, flared, ripped, or faded jeans? Skinny, ripped ones. What are you excited for? Just honestly, nothing in the even remotely near future. Nothing in my life is exciting rn. Are you part of the Farmville cult? Never played. Have you ever stood on a frozen solid body of water? YIKES besides like, small puddles, definitely not. I'd be scared to. Which person from way back when would you love to hang out with? Jenna, an old best friend, came to mind first here. It'd be great to catch up with her. She called me in the hospital after my suicide attempt despite not talking in absolutely forever, and I'm never going to forget that. Does your family use a real pine tree or a plastic one for Christmas? Plastic. Literally the only positive of the real ones is the smell. Otherwise, it's a mess that dies too quickly. Do you have any foreign exchange students at your school? N/A What’s your second language? I'm not fluent in it, definitely not anymore, but the language I took for four semesters was German. Is it uncomfortable for you to take showers in glass stalls w/out curtains? OH MY GOD I would positively hate that. Even IF I had a decent body. Did you understand Shakespeare? I was alright. What was the last shot you got? It was a numbing agent into my gums. They had to do it like... seven times. Apparently, I'm just like. Really hard to numb. Ever gotten cavities? Yeah. Do you use hair ties as bracelets? I don't even wear hair ties. What was the last school project you did that you couldn’t wait to turn in? Uhhh... I don't remember. Have you ever graded papers? I actually have; I was helping a teacher on work day. I used to go back to my elementary school a lot to visit my favorite teachers. What was your favorite year of school up to this point? Maybe like, junior year of high school? Or senior. I don't remember which one of those I enjoyed more. I just remember I loved my art class, I had great grades, my relationship was strong, yada yada. What’s the latest you’ve ever woken up? Like 5-6 PM. Had a busy night and that evening was a complete panic attack because my system was so thrown off. One thing I DON'T miss from high school: how bad my anxiety was. Can you recite the alphabet backwards? NOOOO I cannot. Like, at all. Are you a sucker for foreign accents? Some, yes. Do you do yoga? Not anymore.

[inkstaineddove]

For Convenience Sake

Ship: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary

Summary: Erzsébet and Gilbert have been relying each other for emotional support, with their intimacy increasing as the Cold War heats up. How does the purely physical interact with their repressed longing for each other?

This was a relationship of convenience. Well, for Erzsébet it was. Gilbert tried to force himself to feel differently, but it was impossible. He'd been in love for so long, yearning for her, how could he try to deny his feelings once he finally had her? But he had to deny. This was no time for romance. They were comrades - although they both loathed the term since coming under their Russian captor - in arms, fighting against an oppressive system that felt all-consuming. This was their act of rebellion in a society that punished love and compassion. Still, Gilbert hoped. He was hoping then, watching Erzsébet sleep, her naked back rising and falling as she breathed. He lightly ran his fingers down her sides, enjoying the tenderness of the action. Like this, when she looked so soft and vulnerable, he could almost forget what a fierce warrior she was. There were women like her in myths. The Valkyries in Norse stories, those women who fiercely chose who lived and died in battle. Or the Amazons of the Greeks, the whole race of fighting women chosen by the Gods. That was more like it. "My Amazonian goddess," Gilbert mumbled.

"Wha-?" Erzsébet yawned and rolled over, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She smiled gently at her Prussian companion. "You're still here." He shrugged, trying to make it seem as if he hadn't thought over the act extensively. "I was tired, it was easier than catching a train." He stood up. "Breakfast? I make a mean omelet."   She nodded and he left. The Hungarian snuggled up under the blankets, annoyed at the cool that now settled in. It was the first time he had stayed the night. They'd never had a spoken rule about leaving, but it had become custom. Easier to ignore the strangeness of everything if you were on your own in the morning. Easier not to think about things. She sighed, choosing to accept his given excuse. Besides, it didn't really matter. It was better, Erzsébet thought. She knew he didn't like being on his own as much. Things haunted him, especially if he drank too much. This way she could keep an eye on him, make sure she prevented hearing from him in a panic the next day. Seeing him like that, it almost made her forget that he had once been one of the finest warriors in Europe. One of the sharpest military minds, able to take on any foe and triumph. Who would recklessly rush into battle against any opponent, even if the odds were against him. She chuckled and found renewed pride in all the times she'd beaten him on the field. "Ah, well I did say he was one of the best, not the best." She rose from the bed and wrapped her robe around herself. She shuffled into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh eggs. "I didn't know you were capable of cooking." Her tone was teasing, but didn't quite hide the amazement of seeing such a formerly feral man doing such a mundane task. "I had to feed Ludwig and myself somehow. Especially when my servants left with Wilhelm." He handed Erzsébet her plate and smiled. "You oughta give me more credit. I'm not a total barbarian." She rolled her eyes and bumped him with her elbow. They sat down and ate in peaceable silence. Erzsébet looked over the letters from yesterday while Gilbert scanned the newspaper. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her shift from Erzsébet to Hungary. "Something happened?" Hungary huffed. "When doesn't something happen. We haven't been receiving adequate bread rations for the last three months so I've been kicking up a fuss to get some. Those shipments are going to be delayed by another month and even then there's no guarantee of it all being there. Not only that, but we're not getting enough oil from Moscow because of some bullshit Ivan's trying to pretend is all sunshine and roses. That son of a bitch, I should really cut out his tongue and break his fingers to make it harder for him to lie." Gilbert watched her, knowing it was better for her to run her mouth off. No point in trying to calm her down, especially when he understood her frustrations. Not like they weren't experiencing similar problems in East Germany. But he didn't want to think about that. Not now, not when the bullshit of bureaucracy already occupied so much of his thoughts. "Try not to let it eat you alive. No point when it's always the same shit, different day." "Like you don't worry about your own people." "I try not to since Germany would be better off if I worried about it less. It doesn't seem to thrive anymore when I get involved." Hungary didn't know how to take that, but he laughed. "I'm not so fragile, geeze. Don't make me feel like fine China." Prussia smiled a toothy grin. "You've been helping me deal with this shit for all this time, you should know I can take a joke." She rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm not the only person you could talk to. You had Roderich as well. Which was weird, by the way. Seeing you two get along is uncomfortable." "Yeah, but he doesn't really count. That was just for convenience sake." Erzsébet scoffed. "And this isn't?" Gilbert couldn't hide his wince. She frowned. "I didn't mean it quite like that. We've always been friends...of some kind. It came out wrong." He had already hardened up though. "No, it's fine. We've always been a convenient thing. This is an alliance with an expiration date. I get it." His hurt was annoying her. What did he want from this, from them? What did he expect? That they were going to bloom into a loving couple, one full of tenderness and soft moments carried out without a second thought? That wasn't in their nature. She had given up on that dream sold to little girls long ago, long when she had first gotten married to Roderich and realized her place in his life wasn't as an equal and beloved partner. As for him, she could never recall a time when Gilbert ever believed in that stuff. He had always been so anti-marriage, against getting too emotionally invested in one person that it became a liability. Why would that change now, in a time when relationships were more costly than ever? "You can't tell me you actually wanted a real relationship. Like, with dates and all that mushy crap. I thought you liked this. I thought this was what was best for us both!" She was getting frantic now, not wanting to hear anything to the contrary from him. She did not want to suddenly see him in this new light. There was so much changing, how could her Gilbert change as well? He exhaled loudly through his nose. "Really? Do you not remember how pissed I was when you married Roddy? Do you think that was all completely selfless? All me not wanting you to be with a total square? Shit, Erzsi, I've been pining for you since we were kids! You know how relieved I was when I found out you were a girl? I thought I was going to hell!" A stupid smile spread across his face. "And now, I'm with you. Yeah, it's not the way I'd always hoped, but it's got it's perks. But I can't give up that childish dream of something more. Something where we both might actually be happy again after so fucking long." Erzsébet shot up. She began pacing. She couldn't deny there was something there between them, that there always had been. But why now? Why now, why couldn't it wait for a better time? When there was balance restored in the world and they could be free? She didn't want there to be a chance for this to be used against them. There always was blackmail potential, always a way of threatening to make you break. This would just be another liability. And their relationship and her friendship with Feliks was already so risky. Why add to it? Why enhance the risk? The reckless part of her, the part of her who grew up believing in those fairy tales of daring romance and dashing knights wanted to give it a chance. The world sucked. Their position was incredibly bleak, but what was the point in them denying such a simple pleasure? Finding some joy out of life, hadn't she missed that? It was so hard to be positive, to find the beauty in the world around her. It had been so long since she'd been able to do that. Maybe this would rekindle something in her. Maybe it would do the same for him, with his eyes looking so heavy and fearful of what he'd seen. Other people couldn't fix your problems, she understood that, but you could heal alongside someone. And that would be the most beautiful thing of all. Erzsébet hugged her robe tighter to her. There was still one nagging fear. "What if we lose each other?" Gilbert got up and gently kissed her cheek. "We've lost each other before, but somehow we always find each other again. We're hotheads, shit'll happen. We just gotta try, make things work and make each other smile." He sighed. "God, have I missed your smile." Slowly she turned around and took his hand. Gilbert brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly. "Promise me that this will be fine." Erzsébet's voice was barely above a whisper. "I promise you, everything will be fine. I won't let it work out any other way." For a second, they both believed it.

[tcohs-messenger]

THAT NADIA ONE HURT MY HEART PLS dont leave me hanging like this sjfkt pls I need them to be found pls i beg you 🙏

A continuation of THIS

I hope you like what you’ve done to yourselves~ ;)

with a GENDERNEUTRAL!Apprentice

Her headaches were back. No herbal tea or oil remedy helped. In fact, it seemed to get worse the more she tried to tame it. She wasn’t sure what else to do anymore and, as the weeks and soon after months dragged on, she felt like more and more of a failure. 

It’s not your fault- it was never your fault. 

Asra described it through the cards and through his personal experience with them- they would have never left for this long on their own accord. This was by force. 

But he could say that several times over and she still wouldn’t believe him. The ‘If only’s would just continue to plague her like an infectious disease. It came to her in the middle of the night and ravaged her with nightmares- it came to her throughout the day, distracting her from her work- she had no peace from the torture…

She was in pain with it now, having barely gotten dressed and out of bed for this veranda meeting. The sound of the Consul’s voice dragged on like the drone of some pained narrator in a play, and Nadia really couldn’t afford to pay attention now as she looked out towards the gardens. Once so lively- the place seemed to slowly be wilting despite the effort the gardeners put into tending to it…

“Countess?” he takes a breath and sets down his glass. “Countess- please…” and with her lack of response, Valerius was quiet for a long moment. They had long ago discontinued their chess matches during meetings like this- but maybe that had been a bad move on his part. It might have been more stimulating for her rather than the staring. “Nadia, please, I need you. The court needs you. Vesuvia needs you. I understand you are going through a lot of pain, and I don’t expect you to just ignore something like that but… we need something.”

Something about the way Valerius says he needs her makes Nadia shiver. She closes her eyes and tries to tame the threatening tears there. What was she now to him, to the court, to Vesuvia? Was she just a failure now?

She doesn’t respond, and Valerius stares down at his wine. It’s filled with silence then with Nadia watching as birds and bugs whiz by while Valerius merely sips his drink and looks at the paperwork he brought. With the sun on its heavy descent and the air turning chilly, it seems like just another day has gone by without any changes. Valerius stands and extends a hand to Nadia. Rather its a gesture as farewell or a motion to help her up, she isn’t sure, but she takes his hand either way with a tired sigh. 

And in that moment- chaos seems to finally reign. 

“Milady- Milady! They- we-” Portia practically runs into one of the columns as she races down hallways and stairs and actually does collide with a maid as she passes by. Nadia straightens herself and Valerius raises a brow, befuddled at Nadia’s right hand, only for both of them to shudder as she greets, “Asra found them!”

Renewed life had filled and overwhelmed her. Nadia ran like her life damn near depended on it (and well, they were her life). The carriage would take too long, and she didn’t even bother to put on proper shoes. So she ran with Portia on her heels, weaving between the townsfolk and the shops closing up, all the way back to their dinky little shop. With the candle blown out and the door just barely opened, she burst in. 

Nadia hadn’t ever felt a feeling like this- the mixture of relief and intense worry all at the same time. Asra and Julian both remained poised over their limp form with Asra busy over a mortar and pestle and Julian feeling their throat, no doubt checking their vitals. Both of them peered up at Nadia as she entered and nearly collapsed beside them. 

“Where— how-”

Asra’s breath before he speaks is way too soft, and he practically shudders as he explains, “A friend of mine found them- in the middle of the fields. It was as though they were just dropped there. I don’t… know how they got there. I don’t know what’s wrong- I don’t-”

“But they’re breathing,” Julian murmurs in a croak, trying to force out some strength in himself to remain calm. His glance to Nadia is assured, and it helps a little bit. “Their heart is still strong. They just need to wake up.”

But if they didn’t- Nadia wasn’t sure what she would do.

(Wanna see something else? Shoot me a message~)

[tonystarktogo]

An Unwise Murder (An Inconvenient Survival)

Summary: “Someone within SHIELD sold out an Avenger. That was their first mistake.” When Avenger Steve Rogers is declared killed in action, everyone expects his best friend and fellow agent Bucky Barnes to go on a rampage. It’s the quirky mechanic with a sharp tongue and a secret talent for less-than-legal hacking that throws the whole agency for a loop. Featuring: A dead Steve (but when is Steve ever dead), a very pissed off, fucked-up secret agent Bucky (so basically your usual Bucky), and a very civilian Tony (who is exactly as harmless as you’d expect Tony Stark to be).

Read on AO3

Here is, as promised, the first part of the Double-0-Bucky/Hacker-Tony fic! To most of you, this part will probably be familiar already, but we have to start at the beginning *shrugs* and don’t worry, the next part will follow soon. Enjoy!

Part I 

Funerals aren’t meant to be a pleasant event, so Bucky doesn’t bother to put on a show.

His face could be carved in stone for all the emotion it conveys, and his muscles are tense, coiled, trembling faintly with the desire to grab his gun and pull the damn trigger.

Bucky isn’t sure if he’d stop shooting once he starts though. Not with how many tempting targets currently surround him. Not with how it would finally shut Pierce the fuck up. People tend to talk a lot less after you’ve emptied a magazine or two into them  — and Bucky has always been a man who appreciates silence.

Fuck, Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s here for. He doesn’t attend mandatory events. It simply isn’t done. The few weeks of the year that Bucky spends in his own country, he wastes drinking and sleeping around, often both at the same time. What’s to stop him from walking straight out of this impersonally sterile room filled with people he doesn’t trust, and go back to his favourite rundown bar to knock back vodka until he can’t feel the cold on his skin anymore?

Oh right. His best friend just got himself killed in action. The lucky bastard.

On a fucking nightmare of a mission in France of all places. If it had been Russia or Iran or North Korea or even just Sokovia (and really, it takes skill to be wanted by all four sides of the conflict), Bucky could have dealt with it.

But France? Bucky takes that as a personal offence.

Avengers don’t get killed in France. Avengers get killed the way they kill: brutal and messy, with no one left behind who’d bother to avenge them. Because justice is a fairy tale, and every act of peace is built on the actions of someone smart enough to wash the blood off their hands before they step in front of a camera.

At least the acknowledgements are short and free of false sentimentality. A whole lot of bullshit, sure, but it’s not like there is another choice. Not when the truth amounts to Steve Rogers died on a mission we weren’t authorised to give, in a country he wasn’t supposed to be in, over intel that we won’t admit exist.

Bucky doesn’t laugh. Barely huffs a a breath, but the people on both sides of him twitch tellingly.

Like all Avengers, Bucky has sought out the back of the room, where he can keep his back to the wall at all times, has a clear view on all available exists and a good excuse to keep an eye on the crowd of mourners.

The thought that one of them — multiple ones, possibly — are faking their sorrow makes Bucky clench his fingers against the urge to start an interrogation right now, Avenger style.

“Don’t kill anyone you might need to sign you off on field work again,” Barton mutters to his left, the words barely audible.

Bucky forces the tense muscles in his shoulders to relax, adopts an at-ease position that won’t fool the other Avengers, but at least won’t traumatise the attending techies and lawyers. The psych department always makes such a fuss when you break their precious, civilian employees.

There’s no point in fooling his colleagues though — if the Avengers can even be called that. It’s not like he meets them for brunch or goes out drinking with them in his downtime. They’re the elite of a internationally operating spy organisation for a reason, and it’s certainly not their ability to play well with others.

Just hours after having one of their own killed in a SHIELD-issued safehouse, all the Avengers are on edge. More so than usual. That the entire op smells like foul play all the way across the Atlantic does about as much to deescalate the situation as throwing a hand grenade into a room filled with weaponized uranium.

Someone inside SHIELD sold out an Avenger.

That was their first mistake. Their second was taking Steve out without killing Bucky as well.

There’s a shift in Bucky’s peripheral vision. Natasha Romanoff, codenamed Black Widow, looks as affected of recent events as she always does: not at all.

Is she the traitor? Bucky wonders as he tilts his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. The rivalry between Black Widow and Steve is no secret. It isn’t a friendly one either, not that any of the Avengers are the sort of person one might associate the word “friendly” with. She betrayed the Red Room at eighteen. What offer would it take for her to turn on a fellow agent? An Avenger at that? Is she tense because she expects me to do this country a favour by killing Pierce or is she afraid to be found out?

The service lasts barely twenty minutes — unsurprising, considering how much isn’t said, can’t be said, because living within the specter of the highest security clearance makes for a shoddy eulogy — but to Bucky it feels like forever.

It doesn’t help that half the people around him are waiting for him to fly off the handle in either grief or blind rage. Blind rage admittedly being the more likely outcome.

It doesn’t help that the other half undoubtedly suspects him to be the traitor — who better to kill Steve Rogers than his best friend, after all? Especially when Avengers so clearly don’t have best friends — though Bucky can’t fault them for the sensible assumption.

He’d suspect himself too. The black hole that is four years of being held as a POW on his résumé hasn’t left him with what one might call a solid standing within the agency. Or a stable life in general.

Bucky has simply been lucky that Avengers don’t have much use for stability as it is. (Also, Steve was planning a revolt, should they stop attempting to recover Bucky. Not that anyone likes to acknowledge that. Pierce’s secretary still pales every time she catches sight of one of them.)

He’s been lucky that he’s too useful to be killed.

That might change now — Steve Rogers’ death changes a lot of things — but if it comes to that, Bucky will make damn sure to take the traitor with him. Another outcome isn’t acceptable.

And Bucky is very, very good at getting what he wants.

But first, he needs to find someone clean — meaning unaffiliated with SHIELD in any way — who can take a look at the USB flash drive he’s found in one of his dead drops two days after Pierce declared Steve KIA.

Fuck, but the first thing Bucky is gonna do when he sees Steve again is punch him in the fucking face.

*

Tony has always had an interesting way of making friends.

For example, Tony meets his best friend Pepper during a hostage situation when he’s sixteen. He’s never before seen a girl throw high heels at a guy’s head with such a deadly accuracy. Suffice to say Tony likes her immediately — and promises to buy her all the shoes she needs to knock stupid people down, naturally.

They keep in touch afterwards, and it’s the start of something great.

He meets his brother in all but blood much the same way, only Tony barely remembers that one because those kidnappers were smart enough to drug him before trying anything funny. Luckily, Tony has Rhodey for the straight thinking part — or at least he does after that episode.

On another, memorable occasion, Tony befriended one of his kidnappers.

In his defence: they were some pretty alright people, for being criminals holding him for ransom. No unnecessary threats or bodily harm, and they actually gave him drug-free food too. Also, you have no idea how mind-numbingly boring being kidnapped is. Well, not the getting kidnapped part but the staying-kidnapped-whilst-your-kidnappers-fail-to-get-their-money part.

Sadly, some people still believe that Stark Industries will pay for the disowned heir Tony Stark’s safe return. And usually they don’t react too well to being proven wrong. That time being one of those rare exceptions. In no small part thanks to a certain member of the crew whose identity Tony will protect until the day he dies. Or something.

Never mind.

The point is, Tony is used to meeting cool people under very hazardous, extraordinary circumstances.

Which is why — as he will later explain to a very exasperated Rhodey and an even more distrustful Pepper — when Tony locks up his garage at 7.40 pm after a long day of changing oils and busted tires, only to suddenly find himself face to face with a hooded stranger — after he’s already locked the doors, though he won’t share that part with his friends — he doesn’t panic.

He greets the guy — there’s a twenty percent chance Tony knows him, okay, hiding their faces as they track him down isn’t exactly a rarity — like a civilised person instead.

“Hi there,” Tony says with his best customer smile. “How may I help you?”

The guy — who definitely has more upper body strength than Tony, not that he notices or anything — doesn’t so much as twitch. He just stands there, body turned towards Tony, face shadowed by his hood. Tony really should have switched out the broken light bulb ages ago, maybe then he wouldn’t have to squint at his visitor like a sceptical squirrel, trying to make out the guy’s features.

“Anthony Stark?” the guy asks after a moment, voice low and rumbling, like gathering clouds on the far end of the horizon, as a violent storm approaches.

It’s that specific, unfairly nice sound that decides it: Tony definitely doesn’t know this guy. There’s no way he would have forgotten a voice like that.

Tony lets his smile brighten a little because if he’s about to be kidnapped — is it that time of the month already? Tony wouldn’t know, his last calendar sorta had a small accident involving a fire and DUM-E using up all the fire extinguisher on Tony rather than the actual fire. It was a pretty sweet, protective gesture, actually. Tony may or may not have teared up, just a little, but that didn’t change that half his equipment had to be replaced — then he’d like to start their working relationship on a good note. The kidnapping attempts tend to have less violent endings that way.

Additionally, Tony really doesn’t want to start a fight in his garage. This is his work place — which is basically holy, ask anyone. His cars are in here. They are not acceptable collateral damage, no matter what Pepper says.

“Do you know a Steve Rogers?” is mystery guy’s next question.

Which is a damn shame because it takes all of Tony’s not inconsiderable self-control to not tense at that particular inquiry. Steve Rogers.

God fucking damn it.

Tony forces the memories, the reflexive questions — a bloodied, broken body, screams of pain, narrowed, blue eyes glaring at him even as strong hands push him out of the line of fire — down immediately, takes care to keep his expression calm and clueless instead. He’s got lots of practice doing that. It’s just like being confronted with an obnoxious reporter who won’t stop bothering him with stupid questions about why he denies his father’s legacy. Bloodthirsty reporters, bloodthirsty assassins, it’s really just more of the same.

Tony has been handling shit like this since he was nine. If mystery guy expects him to trip up and give up even a single piece of information the easy way, he’s got another thing coming. Tony Stark doesn’t do easy.

Especially not when it concerns people he almost considers tolerable. Those gems are hard enough to find as it is — well, among the boring, totally legal working crowd at least — Tony will protect them with all he has. Not that he wouldn’t do the same for people he doesn’t like, he just wouldn’t be as happy about it.

Mystery guy is in for a surprise.

“Rogers?” Tony furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “That doesn’t ring a bell.” Close enough to the truth to count.

Then, the grin slides completely off Tony’s face and his eyes narrow in open suspicion. “Not that it matters. I don’t make a habit of handing out contact information to strangers who can’t be bothered to introduce themselves. Client privileges, I’m sure you understand.”

And yeah, some sarcasm may slip into those words, but can you blame Tony? He’s been working for almost ten hours in that special place reserved in hell for customer service, and, frankly, Tony is done with the world for the day. That he’s most likely dealing with what’s either a very diligent mercenary or a very strange kidnapper does little to lighten his mood.

Both options are far less appealing than mystery guy’s sexy voice initially indicated. Tony feels a little cheated.

“Oh, I understand,” mystery guy murmurs ominously.

When Tony squints, he can literally see the shadows behind the guy blacken. On an unrelated note, he really needs to stop binge-watching those horror flicks. Clearly it’s messing with his mind.

Not that this keeps Tony from bristling at Mystery Guy’s threatening tone — if anything, it has Tony reflexively square his shoulders because he does not fold.

Mystery guy snorts, and Tony has the fleeting impression that the stranger has the gall to be amused by him. He kind of wants to deck the guy just for that.

“I can see why he liked you.”

Something in those words freezes Tony into place long before his brain has puzzled through their meaning. By the time his mind catches up to the past tense that refers to a person it should absolutely not refer to, mystery guy has already taken a few steps towards the only functioning light bulb in Tony’s garage and slips his hoodie back.

The bleak light reveals a pale, handsome face with a strong jaw and icy, blue eyes. Absently, Tony approves of the way the hoodie has messed up Mystery Guy’s wild hair into something untameable and unfairly attractive, but it’s kind of hard to melt into a puddle of appreciative goo when you’ve just learned of the death of a friend.

Or well, acquaintance maybe. Rhodey always reminds Tony that he can’t just go around, adopting friends left and right just because he wants to. And with Steve it’s hard to say. The guy is almost impossible to read.

Still, it’s Steve they’re talking about. And whatever mess he’s gotten himself involved in, Tony doesn’t doubt for a moment that Steve thought he was doing it for the right reasons. He’s annoyingly self-righteous like that. It sucks even more when you listen to him rant and realize he’s got a point, not that Tony will ever admit such a thing to his face.

Which will be hard to do if Steve is actually—

Tony presses his lips together and defiantly stares up at Mystery Guy. Who is, in fact, taller than him. There really is no justice in the world.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” is what Tony settles on to summarize the maelstrom of confusing emotions wrecking chaos inside him.

The man takes a threatening step closer. Of course, it’s not that hard to come across as threatening when you’re half a head taller and made of muscles and steel. Still. The guy could at least try to keep his looming on the downlow.

Not that Tony does him the courtesy of giving up an inch. This is his garage, damn it. No one makes Tony feel afraid in his own home.

Mystery Guy growls and there is a lethal coldness in his eyes that Tony doesn’t think a human should be able to portray.

“I was Steve’s best friend. And you’re going to find the people who killed him so that I can return the favor.”

Thoughts? 

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Rant (Nov 27 + Other Side Tales)

My siblings are currently mad at me. Here’s what went down. Tagging: @akaskira​ @ce-la​ @caratheillustrious​ Who are all practically my spiritual online older sister/sage advice givers and @lizard-in-the-rain​ who can be an idiot along with me.

For context:  Ate = Sister Kuya = Brother * My dad and I have a rocky past because he’s very old-fashioned, hasn’t been always supportive about my mental health, and is really old and out of date (especially about LGBTQ, feminism, HK protests, etc.) * My sister also has a rocky past with me but has since calmed down a little thanks to old age (she’s 23) * My brother is constantly busy with school (and stressed), is still mourning his breakup after a few months which continues to salt his wounds (not because his ex is crappy but she’s really nice. He’s having a bit of trouble still.), and is a very sensitive person (more sensitive than my sister)

Further in, you can see what happened at the orchestra concert on Saturday. For context, you can check out a previous rant.

Me: Dad got some bad oil burns. I was in the family room as he was yelling “[MOM NAME x 3] WHAT DO I DO WITH OIL BURNS?” Mom was upstairs and didn’t hear They are kinda big He’s upset

Ate: What the why didn't you help him call mom???? did you??? yike oil burns are no joke bc they hurt for longer bc water just steams away but oil sticks and keeps burning and the scars are worse

Me: Uh... I was scrolling on tumblr? I don’t know. I thought he already put ice.

Ate: smh

Me: But looking back, I heard the water running for less than a minute.

Ate: LOL

Me: And never heard the freezer open

Ate: water won't help unless you use soap anyways

Me: So I thought he did that but he was really just yelling for mom He didn’t even ice it. He said he ran some water over it.

Ate: make sure you help if someone yells for help next time even if you think it's handled bc if a person is panicking/in pain they're likely not thinking straight to help themselves speaking from experience

Me: Mom tried to give him advice now and he just walked away going “uh huh”

Ate: even I know to put my hand under cold running water and ice it but I've definitely not done that when I've burnt myself before I would be pretty choked too if there were 2 other people in the house and neither of them came to help me when I got oil burns

Me: Mom was upstairs and couldn’t hear. I thought he was crying wolf as usual.He yells for mom around three times on a daily basis

Ate: fair but fr next time take the 5 seconds to check bc sometimes bad things happenesp if all you hear is a thud

Me: “[Mom Name x 3 again] I CANT FIND THE [blank]!!!” Mom: it’s been in the same spot for over a decade. Look with your eyes.

Me: Mom does that once every other day (has a big thud) usually because something broke. When I heard the yell this time, I thought it was because he knocked something over. Dad is always yelling He even asked mom how to make the rice And didn’t make it because she didn’t answer fast enough Dad is a drama queen. That’s where we all get it from.

Ate: I mean

Kuya: Tf is this situation How can you ignore someone in need of help Regardless of who it is Doesn't it hurt to see someone suffering

Me: I didn’t see anything

Kuya: Unless you hold extreme animosity Like they killed your mom or something I have to hand something in by 10 But I find this quite upsetting

Me: I didn’t see anything, and the last thing he yelled was an oil burn, and the only advice I had was water and ice which I thought he already did.

Me (in response to animosity): Not extreme, but living with him with only me as the child has screwed a lot of things up.It has taken a toll on my sympathy for people (or whatever is left)

Ate: Same but he's still our dad?

Me: Eh, I honestly thought it was a small thing until I saw it.

Ate: I have only shreds of respect for him left but idk if I would go as far as to just overlook "oil burn" and figure "oh, I can't help so I'll ignore him" like that's a lil funny

Me: Again, when someone is constantly yelling, there’s a point where you don’t listen fully to what they’re saying. It only registered later that his burns might actually be serious and more than putting your fingertip on a hot pan. I also have little sympathy due to how he’s treated me during my past situations so honestly, I’ve little tolerance.

Afterwards, my mom called my sister who was absolutely hysterical and screaming on the other line to the point where my mom had to pull the phone away from her ear.

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Some Stupid Orchestra Stories:

Things I have said to my orchestra cohorts that might’ve scared them:

*sees me bump my instrument* Trumpet: Ouch Me (walking away): Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, and dead men tell no tales. Doug: What?

*sees me bump my bow* Doug: Ouch Me (tired because I was just excluded from the conversation today because no one would listen to what I had to say): I’m going to stab you Doug: Pat, protect me!

Me: *tells anything about school* Everyone: MAJOR CONCERN (Examples: Kid said that this guy could have sex with his friend before she turned 21 by slipping a drug into her drink, kid saying he was going to hit a girl with a metal bar from the desk, kids smoking out back, kids make noise downstairs which causes the room I work in to shake, kids throwing stuff out car windows, kids brawling, my science teacher from regular school failing me for practically no reason)

More of an annoying incident from me: Hannah: Who’re you messaging? Your girlfriend? Sean: Yeah Me: YOU’RE STILL TOGETHER?! Sean: (sheepishly) yeah

To be fair, I get weirded out whenever they flash their privilege as semi-well off rich kids.  “Remember those special trips you get to take with your school to learn more about science? // Remember those international trips you take with your school club?” Me: ...no?! I’m not poor, I just dropped out of school before I could even go to my nearest McDonalds for a field trip.

But Doug is a little dumb sometimes. He doesn’t get my sense of humour (understandable), but he’s a little ignorant towards not-privileged people. 

He literally said he goes to sleep at 9:30pm, got into university (this is a semi-prestigious one) first try with 90s in all of his classes (at least), has a girlfriend, has friends, and doesn’t understand why anyone would stay later than that unless they had poor time management. His words, not mine. My brother stays there until around 12am studying. He was not happy to hear that. Doug is first year so my siblings are making fun of him saying he will perish in a year’s time. My parents saw him stealing kisses from his girlfriend in a parking lot during the day of our last concert. I seriously though the girl in his profile picture was his sister and not his girlfriend because they were both seriously white. Whiter than a bowl of milk I tell you.

He also doesn’t know what a period app would be for. I was a little annoyed. My brother knows about this well enough because we all know my sister and mom would not let anyone in this family live if they did not know the ins-and-outs of a period. Doug was like, “Why would you need to track that?” I responded, “Because they’re irregular.” He looked a little puzzled and I said, “Douglas, you’re a science major. There’s sex ed in school.” He responded that he is going into research (not sure what that has to do with menstrual ignorance) and never paid attention during sex ed (since it’s never for marks). I then got a little more pushy and said, “Well, if you ever want a girlfriend, maybe you should learn.” To which he said, “I have a girlfriend”. To which I gave him a look of:

Stories from the orchestra concert:

I did tell the bass instructor about this so maybe it’ll get sorted out but I did this “tell the teacher” thing twice where it backfired terribly. Let’s hope university kids are a little more grown up.

My messages from that night: Pat told me it was cute when I played in the wrong spots. It was genuine like she said it was cute. But it was like ??? I was having a panic attack. My brain left my body. I don’t want to play anymore. Then she put up her bow to make sure I wouldn’t flip the page Then she hit her bow on her bass. I really don’t want to play anymore. (She also repeated the same thing twice knowing from a previous talk that I have bad anxiety. She has anxiety as well.)

Me: Then Hannah and Patricia were commenting on my shoes. I like wearing my orthotics. They make my feet feel not in pain. Ate: tell them that Me: I did They told me to take off my shoes “They can’t even see my feet” I’m all the way in the back behind people “Then take off your shoes” “But then I’ll be in pain” “But you sit” (I have one foot on the ground) “So take them off. It’s for dress code. People can see you” Ate:  but it's literally a medical thing Tell them to actually fuck off hoh my god it's like asking a blind person to put their stick away bc people will trip on it or that you can't have your service dog with you like????