#how dare you take a carefully crafted character like this and turn your nose up at him

[purgetrooperfox]

call wyll boring one more time and witness MY blade of the frontiers swinging toward your face

[erodasghosts]

memories & misconceptions | harry styles

prologue: the summer flashback

↳ read Thea’s version (tom holland fic) by @peeterparkr​

song: adore you - harry styles

after months of working on this with nancy (@peeterparkr) i am very excited to be posting the first part of our new conjoined series. this will be two seperate fics, telling two different stories. they are each reader inserts, but the harry reader in the tom fic is named kat, and the tom reader in this fic is called thea (if that makes sense?) so you kind of get to pick which you want to focus in on more :) but to get the full experience read both!

story summary: Not every relationship can last forever, but what decides when it ends? Is it the memories of when things were, or is it the misconceptions of the present. What is stronger in matters of the heart when love and friendship becomes a choice? Does pride dim our devotion enough for it to be forsaken?

And is obstinacy strong enough to erase the memory of a hopeful summer night? When a group of friends are reunited after years of unspoken truths and turbulent grudges,  old arguments and fights might ricochet, and though their history might be dense enough to drown them, it might be the one thing to keep them afloat. 

prologue summary: the beginning of what was thought to be an endless love, and of the distance that would only grow further.

pairing: harry styles x artist!reader

warnings: none?

word count: ~9.3k

a/n: i hope you enjoy, and please give any feedback!

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The wind brushed in through Harry’s bedroom window, pushing on the curtains with a calm and warm air. Summer always seemed so distant or quick to end, never stuck too long in the heat of it.

Summer struck you similarly to a craving that one can’t quite shake. People seem to dream of summer when finding themselves in the cold winter snow, yet wishing they could have just one last summer night when it is coming to an end. But summer was never meant to last for an eternity, and there were definitely things that no one wouldn’t miss when it did finally end.

Summer, though with its pleasant sunny days and warm nights, is about much more than just its weather. It was the time to be surrounded by friends, and an opportunity to feel that you had a supportive family. This was when lonely nights felt less empty, because you at least had the endless opportunities to see everyone together.

It was when new beginnings seemed to take place. There was a sense of security and possibly even courage that was placed within you at this time, allowing you to take some chances you might never risk otherwise. Even if summer wasn’t forever, and even if that courage would fade, you would try to take it in as if it was never ending. It was more beneficial and less damaging to just accept things as they came.

With the opportunity for new beginnings, you wondered what possibilities still would lie ahead. And not just for yourself, but your friends as well. You thought that maybe now, with summer getting closer to its end, you could find some of that temporary courage to use between yourself and Harry, and maybe Thea or Tom would find some for one another. Because if there was ever a time to take a chance in a new relationship it would be now.

“We’re playing this new song at Nana’s tonight,” Harry’s voice softly spoke above the flow of the wind, “I’m a bit nervous about it, we’ve only ever practiced it together...” he took a breath in. “It’s a great song, of course, because I wrote it,” he grinned, “but do you mind if I play it and you can tell me what you think?”

You smiled, looking up at him as you laid back on his bed, he was biting his lip anxiously. “Of course. I’m sure it’ll be great, I’m happy to help you still.”

He was sat beside you, one leg over the edge and holding his old guitar he used when writing songs. “Well, I’ve been working on it for a while,” he began to strum lightly with a quiet laughter, “just think of how much work and dedication I’ve put into this before being too harsh.”

“Oh, of course,” you laughed and placed a finger on your temple, “I’ll keep note of that as I’m judging.”

“Good,” he continued to play, nodding lightly. “But really, if you think it’s just complete garbage, keep that to yourself? My ego can’t take the damage of you not liking it.”

You propped your feet up on the headboard and raised a brow at him, “Are you ever going to start singing?”

“I am,” he chuckled.

Harry and Tom had tested out all of their songs with you and the others before playing to anyone else, using that to work out any changes they might want to make. Thea usually had more input, considering she had helped them write many of the songs they played. You and Andrew were still always happy to listen, and had some helpful feedback from just a listener's perspective.

You looked out the window, settling in as he cleared his throat to prepare. It was unclear as to why he was suddenly so anxious about playing a song for you, but you had decided to just patiently wait to listen.

“Be kind with your feedback,” He looked over.

Hitting his leg you scoffed, “For Christ's sake, Harry, sing.”

“Alright, alright,” he caved, still with a boyish smile.

Resting your hands on your stomach, you waited for him to finally start. He was turned back, looking down at the guitar and strumming with more intent now. Whatever the song, you figured it would be good considering his nerves. It must’ve been something important to him, since he had worked on it for so long and was so hesitant to actually share it. You wouldn’t push.

He took in a last calming breath before beginning. “Walk in your rainbow paradise,” his voice was quiet, “strawberry lipstick state of mind.”

It sounded smooth, tranquil. Mixed with the breeze and the soft echoing of conversations downstairs, the song and his singing felt so natural, as much as the sun felt natural when kissing your skin.

“I get so lost inside your eyes,” he smiled back at you. “Would you believe it?”

Feeling yourself tense up a bit, you suddenly found yourself putting more care into listening well to the lyrics. It must’ve meant something to him, with his nerves and all, so you wanted to give it more attention.

“You don’t have to say you love me, you don’t have to say nothin’, you don’t have to say you’re mine.”

His shoulders were more relaxed now, though there still seemed to be some tension. Every few seconds you noticed him glancing over at you, awaiting your reactions to each lyric. You were unsure of your own reactions, not wanting to give much of one in the case that your assumptions might be false.

But what else was there to assume about it all? Every piece of the song gave the impression that it was carefully crafted to be about one person in particular, and you nearly didn’t dare to imagine it could’ve been about you.

You recalled a conversation with Thea from just days ago, about a fear you had when it came to Harry. He and Thea were so much louder, and much more open than you had ever considered yourself to be. And so you had known about your feelings towards Harry for a good while at this point, but those had yet to be shared with him.

It was this fear of what saying it out loud might mean, how it could make things change. It was summer now, though, and those fears were meant to fizzle out with the cold winter weather and the rainy spring days. Summer was your opportunity to take the chance in saying it now.

“Oh, honey, I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you, like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

Maybe you wouldn’t admit your feelings at this exact moment, but soon. With more effect than summer was having, the words he sang seemed to give you a boost of confidence. What was the worst that could happen in assuming that it was about you?

Though less dramatic to the nod to your struggle with telling him how you felt, even the lyric about lipstick had been fitting for you. And, sure, it still could be considered a generic thing, but you were choosing to be optimistic now.

“You don’t have to say you love me, I just wanna tell you somethin’. Lately you’ve been on my mind.”

Feeling a burning in your cheeks now, you sat up to readjust yourself as casually as you could. Your backs facing one another, and shoulders side by side, Harry continued on. You could’ve sworn there was a pink tint on his cheeks too, causing a faint smile to form on your lips.

How in character of him to be saying these things through a song. It was probably feeding into his need to be theatrical, though he was still mindful of your own need to be more secluded as he sang with just the two of you there.

His anxiousness about playing it for you was making more sense now, because regardless of who it was about it was deeply personal. But his nerves were rarely so affected, it only proves acceptable to assume that he was in such worry because he was sharing something that was meant for you, with you.  

Coming to an end, Harry cleared his throat and sat his guitar down beside him. “So, uh,” he brushed his nose, “what’d you think?”

With a puckish smile you replied, “It was… colourless.”

“What?” He turned himself, crossing his legs and leaning closer nervily. “What-what do you mean colourless?”

“Well,” you pursed your lips, “I guess I just… it’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” He pressed, “C’mon, I’ve been terrified of playing this for you.”

You smiled, looking at your hands and twisting your rings around, “I would say that it was a bit on the nose.”

You could see him visibly relaxing, a small smile on his lips and his usual confidence returning.

“I wanted to be straight to the point with this song, y’know?” He sat taller, “Figured that I should say it as it is, get my message across… but that doesn’t make it colourless,” he emphasized with an amusing grin. “That was just rude.”

“You asked for my opinion,” you shrugged, holding back a laugh.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say that, though!” He laughed.

The sun peeked in through the window above the bed, warming your skin in some sort of a comforting way. Any tension or nerves had been eased, and the both of you were simply melting into that moment now.

Silence was something that tasted so sweet when it was shared with Harry, yet it was so sour when alone. It wasn’t a panic or worry of what might happen next, but instead it was more like a reassurance that whatever might happen, it would be golden.

“I’ll try to be compassionate next time.” You let out a dramatic puff of air, “Though it’ll be rather difficult for me, I’m sure.”

Harry reached over, a doting look in his eyes, and caringly tucked a bit of your hair behind your ear. “I would appreciate any effort you could put in, my heart can’t seem to handle the brutal honesty.”

Knees rested against one another’s, Harry let his hand settle on your leg just below where your own hand had been lying. Maybe it was much more like fiction or fantasy than you had ever really wished for, though Thea would adore hearing about that part of it later, but it came so easily.

Fingers grazing delicately, Harry was leaning closer in. Taking the chance now, right at the end of summer, was a somewhat terrifying option. Yes, it was still your opportunity for a new beginning, but time was running out. If things wouldn’t work out, where would that put you in the fall?

It didn’t really matter to you anymore, that what if possibility. You were far too distracted by what was in front of you right now to be worrying so much about the future. Whatever may happen before the seasons changed, you would deal with it when it came.

Tracing his fingers up along your arm, Harry’s eyes flickered between your eyes and lips. Letting his hand rest now on your cheek, you could feel your face warming back into a blush. You both closed your eyes as you were nearing into a kiss, only inches away.

Your summer courage was coming back through, pushing you to close the space between.

“Guys, I’ve got some shit news!” Andrew’s voice rang from the stairs before he rudely shoved the door open.

You pulled back from Harry quickly, that feeling of security seeming to fade. Harry bit his lip, a small frown on his face from Andrew barging in. Andrew hadn’t known, but he very well could’ve squashed that new opportunity had you and Harry not been so determined already.

“Is no one going to ask what my news is?” Andrew sat dramatically at the end of the bed.

Harry chuckled, “What’s your news?”

“Oh, thank you so much for asking, Harry. Glad to hear you’re interested.” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture and holding a theatrical tone. “Thea’s invited Dickolas to the show tonight.”

Sharing a glance with Harry, you were both a bit annoyed that that was all that was interrupting the two of you. Which, that was bad enough news so you could somewhat understand his urgency. Still, it came as an inconvenience to how things were finally developing with Harry.

Regardless, Andrew was likely there to stay now and he had pretty well ruined the moment you had before, so you’d hopefully pick it up later.

“She invited him?” You turned yourself around, letting your legs dangle from the edge of his bed. “Why the fuck would she invite Nick?”

“Something about… needing a bigger crowd, which is true, but…” Andrew scrunched his nose, “Dickolas? He will just ruin everything.”

“I s’pose he will,” Harry mumbled, he seemed more sulky than you had been. “You’re here a bit early?”

“By like… five minutes,” Andrew chuckled, “what’s crawled up your ass? Did I interrupt something?” He wiggled his brows, “Were you two finally making a move on each other?”

You wondered if Andrew ever got tired of being invasive, though you hadn’t really minded him all that much. He seemed to be the only one in the group that could always call the rest of you out, which was a bit of an annoyance.

His childish comment had actually left you a bit embarrassed, considering how new that occurrence still was. It was typically so easy to get under your skin, but something about Harry made you cave any time that sort of teasing had to do with him.

“Piss off,” you hit Andrew’s shoulder. “We should be leaving to help Nana at the cafe anyway.”

Harry watched sorrowfully as you stood from the bed, “Oh, you guys should go ahead, I still have to get ready.”

It was as if he was remembering something last minute, some reason that he needed to stay.

“You sure?” You picked up your purse, “We could stay with you.”

“Andrew can keep me company,” he smiled widely, clapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “We won’t be far behind.”

“Thank you for volunteering me,” Andrew jested.

It was a bit odd. Harry could take a great deal of time getting ready on occasion, but you didn’t really see the need for tonight. Really, you already thought he would’ve been ready to leave just as he was. It wasn’t something to make a fuss about, though, and you figured you might easily over think it if you sat on the idea for too long, wondering if it might have something to do with the song and kiss.

Ignoring Andrew, Harry stood to follow after you as you left. “Hey, I’m…” his voice was low, “sorry about him interrupting. We should talk more after the show?”

“That’d be great,” you smiled and lazily looked through your purse. “I can give you more feedback about that colourless song of yours.” You joked, testing to see how things left off.

He smiled, leaning against his door frame. “Maybe some kinder feedback this time?”

“Possibly,” you gave a devilish smile. “There were definitely parts of it that stuck, though. It’s an absolutely terrific song…” Pulling a tube of strawberry lipstick from your purse, you placed it carefully in Harry’s hand, “for being so straightforward.”

Glancing down to his hand, he closed his fingers carefully around the tube. “Straightforward seems to be getting me somewhere, so I will take that as a compliment.”

This was the perfect season to convince yourself to go through with any action you might have feared otherwise. Harry had taken advantage of that with his song, and now you were stepping forward too even if it was just with lipstick. But that had seemed to be enough for him.

“Will you be cheering me on?” He had a melodramatic pout, “With such a small crowd watching us play I can use an extra amount of your support, less people to cheer me on and such.”

“Didn’t you hear?” You smiled teasingly, “Dickolas might be showing, he could bring in an entire herd of people, you know. You won’t need my support anymore when you’ve got an entire crowd watching.”

“I’d rather drop the band entirely than have support from Dickolas,” he scrunched his nose. “What would that say about Pandora’s Signs if we attracted people like him?”

Pandora’s Signs. Such a corny name Harry and Tom had chosen for their band.

Andrew peaked over Harry’s shoulder, “Are you two wrapping this up so Harry can actually be ready on time? Would be nice if he wasn’t late to his own show for once.”

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing Andrew back without even turning to face him. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” He pressed another smile towards you, “Not that Andrew is right or anything, but I probably should start getting ready.”

You could hear Andrew mumbling to himself as he went back to entertaining himself, already annoyed by Harry. Why he had put up with Harry, or the rest of you for that matter you would never understand. Andrew had just been a very patient person, you thought.

“Andrew is absolutely right, you’re almost always late.” And he had been, even if just by a few minutes. “I probably should be leaving now.”

Though knowing he should let you go, he wanted to grasp onto every second he could get.

“So that whole… moment has really ended, then?” He reached for the door knob, slowly pulling it further shut for a bit more of privacy from Andrew.

“I suppose it ended when you decided not to lock the door beforehand,” you joked, gently placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you at the cafe.”

It wasn’t exactly the type of kiss either of you were hoping for, but you could settle. Harry had a cheeky smile, gently squeezing the lipstick you had given him as you left. You had been waiting to see how things would play out between the two of you, and reality seemed to be turning out better than you had ever imagined.

You were thanking the burst of summer confidence, an excitement filling your stomach as you made your way downstairs. Thea would be the first person you’d tell, you thought she probably couldn’t wait to hear it all. You had been gushing to her for weeks about Harry, and Thea had always so carefully listened. She had likely been a huge factor to where your confidence with him was coming from too, always the first to support your feelings of him.

And you had tried your best to do the same for her, even as you struggled a bit more to show your enthusiasm. It made you question how things had been going between her and Tom, especially since you had started helping him to catch more of Thea’s attention. You had known about her feelings for him for some time, and his feelings for her were becoming increasingly more obvious.

As hopeful as you were about the two of them, it seemed to be taking them much longer to get together than it had been taking you and Harry, even if the events surrounding the song were new. Tom had struggled to just be more upfront about his feelings, nervous of what she might say. And, for once, Thea was equally as anxious.

But maybe they had gotten further while you were up with Harry, summer could’ve been helping them just as much.

“Because it’s Dickolas Thea, he…” Tom’s voice came from the kitchen, sounding annoyed and a bit disappointed. “He is a dick.”

“And you aren’t?” Thea spat back quickly.

Or maybe summer wouldn’t be helping those two at all. What reason would they have for fighting? And why would they choose Nick, of anyone, to fight about?

“I mean, they both are dicks.” You turned into the room, agreeing with Thea promptly. “Why would we want to put up with two dicks?”

Thea froze up, turning her gaze towards you now. She seemed fairly taken back by seeing you, maybe just not expecting you to so suddenly walk in as they fought. But there was this look in her eyes, one that nearly seemed hurt just when seeing you.

“Oh, haven’t thought about that,” she pondered before saying coldly, “then Tom doesn’t have to come.” A simple solution, then there wouldn’t be two dicks attending the show.

“It's literally my band?” Tom glared at her. They had seemed so hostile with one another.

“Maybe so but Thea makes a point,” you shrugged. Looking over to Thea with a smile you said,  “Seems like an even trade with them.”

You made your way to stand beside her, crossing your arms with a placid grin. Whatever was going on between them, you figured you would have agreed with your best friend over Tom. Though you were close friends with him too, he could be a bit dim. Besides, you still figured that it was only a childish fight between them, not that any of it was being taken seriously.

“See?” Thea smirked, tilting her head mockingly. “Besides, I really do think that more people seeing you guys would be better, I don’t think a bunch of old farts is a great audience for your wanna be farty band.” She was right, honestly. They could use a better audience. “Anyway, I need to… go talk to Harry.”

Thea was making her way out, leaving you in more confusion and Tom was left in anger, it appeared. Though you thought, too, that he seemed a bit hurt by what she had said, specifically about the band. The fight didn’t seem to be as petty as you initially thought anymore. The realization that it might be serious between them made a bit of your joy leave, and you now were anxiously observing them trying to figure out what was going on.

“About what, exactly?” Tom asked, nearly walking to follow before stopping himself.

“The power of friendship.” Thea replied callously without stopping.

“Are you two…” you glanced between them, “okay?”

“No, thanks for asking,” Thea said easily. “See you there, my great friend,” she smiled at you before turning back to a frown, “and Tom.”

Watching as she left, you were utterly lost. Things were not at all similar to how you had hoped they were between them, and it was much different than the vibes between you and Harry just minutes before. What had you just watched? And what had happened beforehand to lead to it? Surely it had to do with much more than just Nicholas.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” You glared towards Tom, feeling stronger about defending Thea than him. Thea was never so petty without reason. You followed after her, “Wait, Thea, what’s going on?”

“What?” She was making her way upstairs. “Nothing, he’s just being an idiot…” it was odd for her to deflect. “Wait what’s… What happened with Harry? Why are you blushing? Did you kiss?”

“Wait, what? I’m…” you brushed your fingers across your cheeks, feeling a smile reappearing as you thought of what had happened. You were still excited to let her know, but that wasn’t what was more important at the moment. “No, we didn’t kiss, but…”

“But?” Thea was grinning widely, just as excited as you had been.

It had nearly been enough to distract you from whatever it was she was so harshly avoiding. What happened with Harry felt so unbelievable, the perfect sort of storybook thing that Thea had always gushed about. And even if it had so abruptly ended, you were excited to imagine where it might go from there, and you knew that Thea would have a few ideas to imagine out with you.

You shook your head lightly, more concerned about her and Tom. “You’re just avoiding whatever happened with Tom.”

“Nothing happened,” Thea insisted. It didn’t seem true, “But you’re the one avoiding whatever happened with Harry, please!” She shifted the focus again. “You guys were there for about… an eternity, what happened? You’re smiling like an idiot.”

She was right, you still were. You really were trying your best to hide it, but the feeling was too lively for you to just block it off.

“I am not avoiding it, I’m actually happy to share but I’m just concerned for you…” Which was true, but her distractions were slowly working. “Was I really blushing, though?”

“Well, what happened?” She nudged your arm.

Would it be bad of you to just let it go? You didn’t want to push her, but she seemed really upset about something. Letting it go for the moment seemed to be best, you could ask her about it again later, and maybe then she would be more prepared to talk.

“I’m expecting to hear about Tom later, but…” you caved, letting yourself smile excitedly again, “Harry wrote this new song, and he was playing it for me… he seemed pretty nervous to share, and I guess it… I mean, it seemed to… be about me?”

It had sounded so over-the-top as you said it out loud, but even just the memory of it was stirring up the butterflies in your stomach. You were still processing it, honestly, and it was just too enthralling.

Thea must’ve agreed on that, because all she could seem to do was let out an entirely thrilled scream. You laughed a bit at her reaction, almost wanting to shy away from the attention but being far too ecstatic to do so.

“And?” She asked you, a shine in her eyes now. “What did you do?”

“I… I mean, we were close to kissing before Andrew had interrupted…” you admitted, “and then on my way out I gave him my lipstick, like he had mentioned in the song.” You glanced at her, waiting for her reaction.

“Shut up,” Thea smiled, “you should’ve bloody kissed him in the moment you twit!”

“I know, and we had been so close!” Regrettably close, because it hadn’t happened.

“And how do you feel about this?” She asked, stepping closer to you as she went on. “Are you finally admitting it? That you fancy his stupid ass?”

Now that you might never admit, because what a shame it might be. You had admitted it, to yourself and very indirectly to Thea only once before. You didn’t really need to say it for her to know, it had been very plain to see, but she still had to tease.

You had been telling her all about him for weeks, though most of it she knew herself from being his friend too. But there were things you had learned about him no one else knew yet, though some of the things were small. Harry was interesting to you, and it was easy to learn more about him because he had always wanted all eyes on him.

“Well I never said that, did I?” You joked. “And I could’ve chosen much worse, like Tom or something.”

That struck a nerve in her, her eyes going a bit cold again. “Fuck him.”

You raised your brows, shocked by her response since she had rarely used such words. “So you’re cussing now, what happened?”

As excited as you were to be sharing everything that happened with Harry, wanting to go on and on about it, really, you couldn’t help but be brought back to noticing whatever was happening with her. If something happened, you would’ve rather talked about that than go on about your own more positive experience.

Thea never wanted to take away from your happiness, or anyone’s for that matter. “What happened is that you almost kissed Harry and you’re being stupid and avoiding it.” Which neither of you believed. “So, what’s up with that?”

“Hmm, sure, that’s all.” You weren’t convinced, how could you be? If you kept pushing, though, you worried what her reaction might be. “But I don’t mean to avoid it, for once, it’s just that Andrew came in. After the show, though, maybe I can get my lipstick back from him, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure he wanted the lipstick,” she began, a smirk on her lips, “so then, how about when he gives it back, you use it so he can actually taste it.”

Thea had her lips puckered, leaning towards you as she made kissing noises. You were trying your best not to laugh, wanting to avoid her comment entirely.

“Anyway, I’ll tell you how that goes!” You cleared your throat, “You’re sure you don’t want to ride with Tom and I?”  

“I’d rather jump off a cliff,” she rolled her eyes, quick to change moods again. “No… I’m joking, I…” Thea pressed her eyes shut, “I just need to talk to Harry about one of the songs… But I’ll see you guys there.”

“Uhm,” your lips pressed together, “yeah, alright.”

Thea looked over your face, noticing your response and worrying that she sounded too cold.

“Yeah, and if you get the chance, please break his neck.” She smiled lightly again, trying to brighten your mood.

It was false, a faulty wall she was putting up so you’d let it go. You could understand not wanting to talk about whatever it was, but it was a little odd that she was acting so withdrawn. And you had recognized her need to please people, so the fact that she kept changing it back to you and Harry wasn’t much of a surprise, though it still hurt in a way. Like she hadn’t trusted you enough to tell you what it was.

You figured it was a worry more in your mind, and you wouldn’t overreact just yet. “I’d take any excuse to do that,” you smiled back, “but I do expect an explanation once I’ve done it.” A subtle way of trying to make it an easier topic maybe.

“It’s nothing, y/n.” She said quickly. “See you in a bit.”

With another faux smile, Thea turned back and made her way up the stairs. Maybe you had pushed her too much. You had noticed that she didn’t want to talk about it, and you were angry with yourself for not just letting it go. But, you recognized too that you were only trying to help her. You were concerned about not just her, but Tom too really.

It didn’t make sense that they were fighting then, and that it had been bad enough for Thea to just walk away. That hadn’t been the worst of it, you would’ve known if it was. Whatever the worst part was had something to do with so much more than just you, or even Dickolas.

You still wanted to help them, and although Thea hadn’t been so open to accepting your help, maybe Tom could use it. You did still side more with Thea on it, having no background on the situation, but it couldn’t hurt to ask him for his side of the story.

Trying to shake off your last exchange with Thea, you went back to the kitchen to talk with Tom.

“Were you really that bothered by her inviting Nick?” You chuckled, “I mean, I don’t blame you for being pissed about it, seeing as how crusty he is, but it did seem that you were being a bit dramatic.”

Tom was running a hand down his face, leaning against the counter and sitting in his own bit of pity.

“Nicholas is… he’s an urchin and I don’t want him at my show,” he complained. “She just… decided to invite him out of the blue, like it was nothing.

“The show is open to the public,” you pointed out. “And Thea can invite whoever she wants, even Dickolas.”

“Yes, but why did she choose him?” He asked tiredly. “It was like she did it just to be against me, you know?”

“Don’t be so self centered.”

“You weren’t there when she invited him,” he retorted. He was quick to be so defensive, just as Thea had been. “She… she doesn’t even like him, but you know who does? Her bloody father.”

Your brows knitted together, “What does that have to do with it?”

It was true, that Thea hadn’t even liked Nick yet her father had. But her father hadn’t liked Tom or Harry, which didn’t seem to make much sense to you knowing what you had about Nicholas.

“She probably just invited him to please her father,” Tom explained, pushing off the edge of the counter, “And if he shows, at least she’ll be spending time with someone her father actually approves of, and if not she still tried.”

Thea was known to be a people pleaser, you couldn’t deny that. And she had often done things just for her father’s approval, so he was right in that sense too. But it wasn’t of malicious intent, or at least not often.

You had probably known more on the topic than Tom, considering how much longer you knew Thea and just the types of relationships you each had with her, so you knew that deep down her reasoning wasn’t just to get back at Tom. You hadn’t witnessed their fight, or her inviting Nick, but you knew Thea.

“Which do you think it is then?” You asked him, pressing your lips together. “Is it that she did it to go against you, or she did it because her father likes Nick?”

He looked at you, somewhat dumbfounded by your question. “Both,” he replied. “He has always preferred Dickolas over me, and she was just taking the opportunity to… to hit two birds with one stone. Inviting him would make her father happy, and she was being petty and trying to get back at me for before.”

“Before?” You asked, growing more and more curious. “What happened before?”

Tom’s gaze snapped to meet yours, as if he was suddenly remembering that you were actually there talking with him and he wasn’t just ranting about to himself. He had said too much, or at least much more than he was hoping to say at this point.

“No, nothing, it’s…” his mind was scrambled. “Maybe, well, maybe I’ll tell you about it later? We should just enjoy tonight, shouldn’t we? We’ve got a show to get to.”

A sudden change in his tone, Tom was guiding you outside with him to his car. You had actually been getting answers about whatever happened, and now he was just avoiding it as plainly as Thea. Prying did no good, so you thought it would just be better to drop it now before he too might get more defensive on the matter.

The fight that happened between them was something that they wanted you to think was nothing. They wanted you to believe it was petty, and that it could be let go of quickly. But if that were the truth of it, Thea would’ve just told you what had happened, and Tom would’ve too even if just to complain. You knew them, and you knew that it was more than they cared to admit.

You also knew that trying to force either of them to talk about it would only make the situation worse. They would become defensive, and they would possibly shut you out entirely. But, if they were ready to talk about it then they would. What worried you, though, was imagining when they might finally be ready, if ever.

Riding to the cafe with Tom, the sun seemed ever so slightly dimmer than it had been before. The breeze was still blowing the same, but the warmth in the air seemed to be fading.

“I’m sorry about all of that back there, with Thea and all.” Tom said meekly. “It was a stupid fight, and I guess I’m just sorry you caught the end of it.”

Maybe you’d get to figure out more about it sooner than you thought.

“It seemed like your usual joking banter, just…” you thought, “a different tone.”

He scoffed lightly to himself, “We had been arguing before, and then she invited Nick which just seemed to make things worse.”

“So I’ve figured out,” you chuckled. “But what in the world had the two of you so torn up?”

Tom sighed, pausing to think before saying anything more. He still seemed to have an endless rush of thoughts going through, and you could almost see him trying to figure out which to focus on first. It was like he was trying to be careful with what he said, possibly avoiding any more conflict like before.

“We were just talking about…” he took a long breath in, he seemed nervous.

It was a type of anxiousness you had seen before, though having not yet connected it. He was talking so softly, and there was a light touch of pink across his cheeks. Why had he cared so much about whatever Thea’s father thought, and even about her inviting Nick?

You had known about his crush on her, and maybe that had something to do with it. His nervousness would explain that, and so would his total confusion as to the thing with Nick too.

“Wait,” you were grinning ear to ear. “Did you… did you finally tell her about your crush on her?” If he had, why was she so upset? “How did you manage to fuck that up?”

“I didn’t,” he said quickly. “I didn’t tell her that.”

You frowned, “Oh?”

“No, I…” he licked his lips, “I told her that I liked you.”

What?

Tom was glancing at you, trying to take in your reaction, but you didn’t have much of one. You couldn’t really process what he said, because it was completely out of pocket.

“What… What do you mean?” You turned to him.

“I told her that I like you,” he repeated, as if that would help. “I said I liked you, and that I thought we were a good match. And, I mean, we’ve been getting closer so I thought that maybe…”

“You’re joking,” you shook your head.

“No,” he had a nervous laugh, “I’m not.”

What was he trying to get out of this? Was it some stupid joke? Was it just to mess with you after the song and all with Harry? You wondered if maybe it was some stupid test he was putting you up to before things with Harry went any further, since he was his best friend. Even Tom wasn’t that low of a person, though.

“You’ve got to be joking,” you didn’t know what else to say.

“Would it be so bad if I did like you?” Tom asked, and you swore he already knew the answer.

“You don’t like me.” You shook your head again.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” you scoffed, “because I know that you like her.” Meaning Thea.

“Maybe I don’t anymore.”

“Tom, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” he glanced over at you, growing annoyed. Of course he had the nerve. “I don’t think I like her anymore.”

“You don’t think?” What was he even saying? “And that’s enough for you? You aren’t even sure if you don’t like her anymore but you’re so sure that you like me?”

“Yes,” he replied, “and it doesn’t matter about her because I know that I like you.”

“Fine, I’ll amuse this.” You turned in your seat to face him, “If you do like me, why? What has made you change from wanting to be with Thea to thinking you want to be with me?”

That was the real issue here. It made no sense, it was coming from absolutely nowhere. There was nothing pointing to the thought that he might like you, and you weren’t sure what you did that would’ve signaled to him that you might like him too.

“Well, for one,” he began carefully, “we’ve been spending more time together--”

“So I could help you get with her.” You clarified. Was his reasoning really that simplistic?

“But being around you just made me realize that it’s you I like.”

No you fucking don’t, Tom.” Running a hand through your hair, you weren’t sure how to react at the moment. “Stop being so stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” he shook his head. “Why is it so hard to think I could like you?”

“Because I have literally been helping you to get with my best friend!” You scoffed, “What is about me that is making you be so fucking dumb?”

“I’m not being…” he bit his lip. “Why won’t you just listen to what I’m saying?”

“Because it’s a lie, and you’re not making any sense.” You said simply.

“It is not a lie, why would you think that? Is it…” he glanced over, “is it you think you aren’t good enough?” Was that a serious question? “Or--or is it that you’re afraid to admit anything because of what it might mean?”

There was nothing you had feared to admit to him, because you were comfortable with where your friendship with him stood, or you were before this conversation. Things were easy with him because he was the one from the group that was just like you. You knew that he understood why you were so careful when it came to sharing the truths held deep in your heart, because he had always had the same explanations for himself.

But regardless of his usual understanding, he didn’t seem to understand at all right now. The things he was saying seemed so random, having no evidence to back even a single word out of his mouth. And had he really mistaken your friendship for more? Wasn’t it clear of your intentions with Harry?

“Admit what, Tom?” You had had enough at this point. “Admit that you’re being a selfish prick?”

“No, admit that you actually do have some sort of feelings.” Tom probably thought he was being a genius. “But that’s what would be great with me,” he was backing himself up again, “I don’t want you to be pressured into that sort of thing. I understand how hard it is to be so open with someone, you wouldn’t have to force yourself into change with me.”

“What the hell does that mean?” What was he looking for here?

“We know each other so well, and that’s part of what made me realize how I feel about you.” He moved closer to the edge of his seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter, “Think about it, right? That’s why I was even coming to you about Thea, was because you could understand my feelings already. We don’t have to change how we express them for Thea or Harry, because we already understand each other.”

You knew that he could be an idiot, but was he truly so arrogant?

You didn’t mean to completely dismiss however he was feeling, because for all you knew he really could’ve developed feelings for you, but you really didn’t believe that it was true. If anything, you thought it was just some misinterpretation that he had done with his own emotions.

“What you’re saying is that because we both have the unhealthy coping mechanism of just shutting down we’re suddenly meant to be?” You mockingly nodded, “What a bloody genius you are, Thomas.”

“That’s…” he sighed, feeling more defeated, “no, but… We get each other.”

“And they’re doing their best to get us too.” You fought back, “That’s sort of the entire point of having any relationship with someone, is getting to know who they are. And that’s what I like so much about being with Harry, we’re still learning about each other.”

“Well, yes, but we’re already comfortable with one another in that way.” Why was he still insisting? “Don’t you see how simple it could be for us? We wouldn’t have to make all these huge changes to be with one another. We would already be comfortable in knowing who the other is.”

“I don’t want to be like this for my entire life,” you pleaded, “and I know you don’t either. It’s exhausting, and it’s crappy.” This was something you didn’t think you needed to explain to him. “And Thea always helps me with that, and now Harry is too. It’s not like it’s a bad thing that we’re growing as people because we’re around them.”

“Growth isn’t what I’m trying to talk about, I’m just saying that… you don’t have to force yourself into any change, you know that?” Tom really looked to be concerned.

“If you don’t want to be with Thea anymore can you just say that?” You sighed, “You’d be a fucking idiot for saying it, but it would make things less complicated.”

He scoffed, “Even if I did still like her it wouldn’t matter, she clearly doesn’t like me.”

It finally was feeling like you were getting somewhere with him.

“Why are you saying that?” Had something happened that you didn’t know about? Was that what was upsetting Thea earlier? “Is this what this whole thing is about? Did something happen with her?”

The entire feel of the atmosphere had changed, the sun now hidden behind the clouds. It was as if you were finally asking the questions he was hoping to avoid.

Tom was hesitant to reply, now avoiding looking your way completely. He looked like he hadn’t known what to say but almost as if he was thinking of the perfect response. You knew he might try to lie, or to just take the opportunity to end the conversation then.

Shockingly, he ended up cracking. “I told her that I liked you just before we left, when we were having tea downstairs...” he admitted, “and she hadn’t seemed to care, but you’d think if she did that she would’ve been…” he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

You hadn’t been there for that, obviously, but you already were guessing Thea’s reaction to him telling her that. Why would he even say something so stupid to her? Was he testing to see her reaction? Was it just some dumb teenage boy’s idea to see if she might fight for him? He was disappointingly thick.

“That’s what this all is about?” You questioned. “You stupidly lied about having feelings for me and she was taken back, and you took that immediate chance to just assume the worst?”

“Why do you think it’s a lie?” His voice was low again, giving up on defending himself.

“Because it doesn't make sense, Thomas!” You snapped. “I thought things were going so well, with me and Harry and the song, the-the lipstick, even--”

“What?”

“And I have been helping you, so you could get closer to Thea because that’s who you like, not me, and that was going so beautifully too.” You rubbed your temples, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “Why are you now saying differently?”

How had you even ended up here? Fighting with Tom about something so petty.

He was being a fool, which he often was anyway. And this wasn’t just you trying to convince yourself that he didn’t like you, though that was definitely occurring as well, but it was that you genuinely didn’t believe it. And maybe you should’ve heard him out more, but the consequences of him saying that wouldn’t affect only him. It was already affecting Thea, and your relationship with the both of them. It begged the question of what else, and who else, this would affect.

“I just thought that if she cared she would have shown it.” He sounded totally defeated, actually taking it all in now. “Because if she did have any sort of feelings, she really fooled me… when I told her that all she could do was go on and on about Harry, and how opposites attract or whatever the fuck, so it was like the final nail in the coffin to me.”

He took a pause, pressing his lips together and sitting back a bit further. Even if he was an idiot, he did seem upset about her reaction. You knew his feelings for Thea were true, and maybe he really hadn’t realized that she liked him too. Thea hadn’t told a soul about her crush on him, she hadn’t even said it to you and you were best friends, but it was easy for you to see how she felt. Tom was hurt, and it seemed confused too.

“So you just spewed out that you liked me?” You asked quietly.

“No, no, I-” he sighed. “I really thought- or think?” He didn’t seem sure. “That I liked you. I guess I was just being stupid, though, right? I was just misreading all the signs, and I assumed far too much.”

You thought for a minute, trying to piece everything together. “Maybe I was just your fallback, since you thought that Thea wasn’t interested.”

Tom thought about it, though he didn’t seem happy about the idea. Who could blame him? It wasn’t exactly a good situation for anyone involved at this point.

“It’s just,” you began again, “what if you only liked me because I was there, I was familiar and I was someone you were comfortable with… and when you thought that Thea might not like you, you needed that familiarity?” You were trying to figure it out for yourself as much as you were for him.

He parked the car, silently taking the keys out as he considered your theory.

“That makes sense, doesn’t it?” You adjusted in your seat again. “That it was just a misunderstanding, because it seemed like a simple solution?”

Tom wasn’t giving you much of a reaction, and you had hoped that meant he was just realizing it too. That had actually made sense, it was a clear explanation to why he was saying everything that he had. It wasn’t out of spite, thought parts were, but it was just a mixup and confusion of his emotions.

“Yeah,” Tom finally said quietly, ��that makes sense, I guess.”

He didn’t seem fully convinced, but you’d take what you could get because this was the simple solution to your own problems. It made things less complicated, and maybe it would allow you to clear things up with Thea. You wouldn’t have to worry about what those consequences might entail if what you thought of was true.

“Okay, yeah… great, right?” You nodded to yourself, frantically putting your purse over your shoulder and getting out of the car. “That’ll explain it all, and then things between us don’t have to be weird. And you can tell Thea, right, that it was all just a misunderstanding? You can explain, and you can tell her the truth of it now?”

He was much more quiet now, “Right, of course.”

And that was all you needed, for him to agree with you that it was all just a mistake, a misunderstanding. Because that’s what it had to have been, otherwise it was messing with everyone’s relationships and that wasn’t something that you wanted to deal with losing.

Now it was back to the focus of summer, back to focusing on the warmth of the sun and the calming twist of the breeze. You had your answer, and Tom had realized your truth. You convinced yourself that wasn’t an anxiety you would have to deal with for any longer.

“We should be going in now, to help get things ready.” Before he could say anything else, you went in to quickly distract yourself with any little task.

Knowing your way around the cafe well enough, you helped to set up the tables and such after having a brief conversation with Thea’s grandmother about the night. It was mindless enough work, just to keep you busy until the others arrived too. You wondered how much longer they might be.

Tom was inside now too, sluggishly getting his guitar ready. Had you cut off the conversation too soon? Surely not, how could’ve you? The solution was found, and it was clear as day… and hopefully not as mud.

When the others had finally arrived, you could feel the weight lifting off your chest. You weren’t focused on just Tom anymore, so that anxious aching was fading away. Though, part of you worried about telling the others about what had happened with him. That wasn’t something you could just hide away, was it? Especially not from Harry.

As you silently kept on setting up, Harry came up to talk to you, and that was when all worry seemed truly gone. The memory of earlier was still so warming to your heart, it clouded all other fears. Instead, you could feel those butterflies again, and the evening was brightening once more. Because it was warmer with him, you knew just what to expect.

Things weren’t as complicated as what Tom seemed to think they were between you and Harry, in fact things were so easy. You complimented one another very well, at least that’s what the two of you had thought.

“Oh, before we go on,” Harry smiled and took the lipstick out of his pocket. “I really would like to try some of this lipstick after the show.” He gently closed the tube in your hand, “But maybe I could get the taste from your lips?”

He laid a kiss on your knuckles, giving you a quick wink before going up on the stage to perform. Another smile appeared on your lips as you held the lipstick closer to your chest. It was moments like that that you dreamed of in the summer. That alone opened up so many new doors, and it included opportunities that you couldn’t wait to explore. That was the excitement of summer, even if in the simplest of ways.

You took your seat with Thea and Andrew, and the music began not long after. Thea seemed more relaxed now, and less upset about that entire issue with Tom. In fact, you had noticed her giving him a kiss on the cheek just before he went up on stage, and he now had red lipstick left where he had kissed her. You figured that was a good sign, they must’ve shortly talked things through.

Even Andrew, though he was a bit annoyed when his (rather new) stepbrother arrived, hadn’t let the night be spoiled. Everything was going so shockingly well.

As the music was coming to an end, you went behind the counter of the cafe to find some shirts that you had left there earlier that day. You had finally finished your design for a new logo for Tom and Harry, and you got it printed onto some shirts for them. More positive news for that day, helping to cover up your worries some more.

And when the music did end, you all gathered together in your excitement. Complementing their show, going on about how this one was by far the best show they had had, even if you all said that every single time. And the joy continued when you showed your new design for them, it was Pandora delicately holding a hawkshead flower. Things were so bright again.

Nana gathered you all for a picture together, thinking this might be a moment that all of you might want such a keepsake for. And this was just another day closer to the end of summer, yet for once it didn’t seem that this would all fade with the season.

read Thea’s side here

next chapter

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[akkalatechlabs]

The Rise of Amadeus.

So after some talk with @artisticzaati I’ve decided I’ll post the side storyline that blossomed the most Amadeus art and really shows how he is at his peak. It’s written by him and I but I altered it a bit to make it more... readable for tumblr. You’re welcome!

--

TW: Extreme descriptions of violence and major character death.

--

Ravii awaited at the spot they made the deal at; Fort Hateno. The corrupted king sat upon a decaying guardian, looking up at the clouds slowly moving across the moon. Round and bright... Closing his eyes he listened to everything around him, the crickets, the wind blowing into the hollow guardians... it was honestly, peaceful. Not for long however, once that man step foot on the field, the kingdom was going to fall into his hands. If everything fell into place as he planned, like pawns on a chessboard, he would sweep this land and take it by force. It all depended on one man. The one who better hold his end of the bargain. If he did not show however...

Ravii takes out the locket in his pocket, looking at it. Opening it up it has a simple name in it beside the picture of that man and a woman together: 'Purah.'  

"Purah... Hm.." He closes the locket and shoves it back into his pocket, "I will see you soon it seems." He sighs, hopping off the guardian.  

Robbie, far from Ravii looked down at the new sword hybrid in his hands, swallowing nervously. This was all Ravii wanted and it was over.  

  Simple.  

“... Alright. Alright! Get ahold of yourself...” Robbie whispers to himself.

  (HE IS GOING TO TURN ON YOU.)  

Robbie freezes in place. No... not him. Not now!

“... everything will be alright.” Robbie reassured himself and... the other.

Nodding to himself he walks to Fort Hateno, raising his gaze on Ravii walking away. Robbie inhales and runs over to meet him, breathing heavily.  

“Wh-wait-! I am here, as promised! I... I also brought this, as promised!” He holds out the sword bladesaw combination, looking up at him for a moment then bows his head down, holding up the sword over his head.  

“It is light and swift as a normal sword but when you pull the trigger, it activates the bladesaw part...” He swallows nervously, staring at the ground. He can feel the other's gaze on him. Looking down on him. Burning into him... He hated every moment of it. But he needed to protect Purah and their child from this man at all costs.

"Impressive... you made it pretty quickly too." Ravii raised an eyebrow, taking the sword out of Robbie's hands. He takes out his other sword to compare the two blades carefully. Testing out the weight of each blade. He swings the ancient tech sword, humming to himself. Swings his other sword right after.  

Another amused hum leaves the King.  

"You are quite talented. Never met someone who can craft such weaponry like this before..." He glances at Robbie, seeing his head still bowed, "You impress me." He pulled the trigger and gasped as it went off.  

Immediately Ravii dropped his old sword on the ground to grasp the new blade with both his hands. Swinging it side to side, full force. Turning around he looks at the decaying guardian and swings at one of the legs, immediately cutting through it.  

"It is incredible! Such power..." Ravii smiles and looks at Robbie once more, pulling the trigger to make it stop, using the tip of the blade to lift Robbie's chin to make him look up.  

"You have my trust. All of it."  

  That was no easy feat.  

Sweat dripped on Robbie’s forehead as he looked up at Ravii, forcing out a smile.  

“Of course! It is always a pleasure to create new weapons... this was a difficult one but I did it! It is one of my best...” He slowly stood up, carefully pushing the tip of the sword away with his finger and took a deep breath.  

“Are... Are we done here? I brought you the sword. That is all you asked for, right? Is... is there anything else?” The Sheikah regrets opening his mouth already. He HAD to ask if there was anything else... Careless again.

  ... As always.  

Robbie's expression slowly changes to a grin, crossing his arms and shrugs.  

"Not that I would give you anything else. The sword is all yours now, can I leave, your Majesty or whatever you are.”  

Robbie suddenly snaps out of it, his eyes widen and he covers his mouth.  

“NOT NOW... NOT RIGHT NOW... YOU IDIOT” Robbie thought to himself, directing it to the other.

“ ... M-My apologies I... I...” Robbie swallows nervously. The other one was going to get them both killed at this rate.  

Ravii was taken aback by the sudden expression change of the other. His sudden... tone of voice and atmosphere around him sent the King to a genuine shock.  

"... What did you say to me? Repeat yourself." He aims the sword to Robbie's face, the tip of the blade just mere inches away from nose. Ravii leans closer to Robbie, glaring intensely at him. Eyes sharp as the blade itself.

"Say that again to me." Ravii glared at the Sheikah.

Robbie’s eyes widen as he gazes at the tip of his own creation in from of him. Slowly his eyes travel up to Ravii's face.  

“I... erm, I don't remember. I have this uh, c-condition it's uh... very serious. My brain just mutters weird things and I cannot control it!” This was incredibly unbelievable. Lying was not his best suit, that's for sure. But there was half-truth even with how ridiculous it sounded...  

“K-King Ravii, I apologize if I said anything to trouble you. Please forgive me. I beg of you! I'll make it up to you! Another weapon! Or... or... just...” He had to remain calm, this would go very badly if he screwed it up.

“... Th-the guardians. I'll make you a custom one that only listens to you! I can d-do that! Simple!” Robbie held his head down now, looking at his own legs wobbling from the amount of tension and fear he was facing right now. He felt sick, unstable... as if he could faint right here from the high stress.

"... Such disrespect for me will end up being your end. Do not speak to me again like that." Ravii lifts the blade slightly, tilting it to the side, slicing a bit of Robbie's cheek deeply.  

"... Understood? You are mine. You speak ill towards me and you will face the consequences. I do not care if you were to die, I'll get to you and..." Drawing back, Ravii nods his head up, ordering Robbie to stand.  

"... Purah, was it? If you wish to go against my words or even disrespect me even slightly... her blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

All the color in Robbie’s face drained when he spoke her name... He knew her name.

   He... knew her name.

Purah isn't safe anymore.  

More was at stake now. More than he could handle. He couldn't handle this, he wanted to run far away with Purah for safety...  

Swallowing nervously Robbie stood up, wiping the blood that dripped from the fresh cut on his cheek against the sleeve of his jacket. Smudging the mixture of crimson red and a dark glimmer of black color across his cheek, making a larger mess on his face... His eyebrows furrowed as he hissed in pain between his clenched jaw. Being cut by his own created sword, at least he knew it worked... how ironic was that? Robbie forced a chuckle under his breath at the thought alone. How dare this man make a fool out of his work like this?  

Ravii turns around – his back facing Robbie. His cape gracefully following behind him.

  The symbol of the Triforce was on it... Ravii wore it with pride.  

"Now tell me... these guardians." Ravii spoke, glancing at Robbie with a side glance over his own shoulder, "How can they follow only my orders alone? How do you make them listen to your orders? Is it those ugly things you wear?" Motions his hand to his forehead, speaking of the goggles.  

"They do not work for me when I took them. Why do these 'guardians' only listen to you? What makes such a simple person like you so special?" Ravii spat at Robbie, glaring at the Sheikah. He turns around again, about to grab his collar until ... what was that black on his cheek? Ravii clicks his tongue, quickly inspecting the blood and whatever the black stuff mixed with it was.  

"Are you... even a Sheikah?" Ravii spoke as he scoops a little of it on his finger and rubs it between his index finger and thumb, looking closer.

"What is this? And why does it...burn?" Ravii wipes it on Robbie's jacket, frowning. "Ugh...disgusting. Let us go, you strange individual.... Clean yourself up. I don't want to be seen with such a mess of a person."  

Robbie slowly raises his hand to his cheek, wiping the malice mixed blood onto his hand and his vision starts to blur. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head to gain his focus back.  

“Ah... y-yes. The guardians and I are uh, you see... we are linked by a telepathic force. It took a while to master it but with the help of the ma-... ancient texts, I figured it out. It is a technique only the Sheikah can master. Especially me, since I... I have ancient technology built into me.” Robbie smiled a little as he taps his left temple, showing his burnt-out eye as it flickers for a moment.  

“Without me, they will go haywire. Well, the ones under my control. There are still some that I haven't gotten to save yet... but that aside! If you have me, the guardians will also be on your side!”  

 Maybe with that fact he won't get hurt again, Robbie thought to himself.

“Meaning you lied to me just now, didn't you?" The corrupted king looked down at Robbie, his grip on the handle shaking, twitching... aching to cut the man testing his luck in front of him again.

"So, what is the truth? Can they only listen to you or perhaps... they will listen to me if they see who is stronger? Is that it?" A crooked grin slowly arched on Ravii's face, his expression becoming more twisted before the other's eyes.  

"They just need to see who is the true leader here! The true king! I will guide them... I will guide them all... rushing to get what I deserve. I don't think I even need you anymore..."

Robbie’s eyes widened at the King, “No-! No... I am not lying! If I make it from scratch, I can program it to listen to you. The other ones are harder to do that. I swear! If I were to get hurt or..." Robbie swallows nervously, “...worse, they will target whoever hurt me majorly. A simple cut will not trigger them... but anything more severe? They will all go haywire and out of control searching for whoever hurt or killed me. I would never lie about something like this.” Robbie glances at Ravii's hand clenching the handle as he spoke. He could tell this man was clearly unstable. Worse than Astor, even...  

“I will make you many guardians that listen to your orders! I just need more time! More time... I swear it! Please...  

 ... Please...” 

There was a sob slipping in his voice, Robbie was becoming scared and couldn't hold back anymore. Tears were pooling up as he felt he was begging for his life right now.

Ravii shook his head, laughing.  

"Look at you! The real colors come out when I drop you. You beg for a use again... how humbling... but also incredibly pathetic." Ravii leans down, face to face with Robbie and wipes the tears off the other man's cheeks.  

"Fear not... your actions will not be in vain! I know people like you. You only live to be useful for others. Over and over... but there is always someone better, isn't there? A replacement. Just know... that you will always be in my heart. This senseless vicious cycle will end..."  

Ravii smiled, patting Robbie’s chest where his heart was, "And I'll make sure your dear Purah knows how proud you made the kingdom with your sacrifice..."  

Ravii drew his hand back and with a swift movement, he lunged the blade into the Sheikah's chest, leaning closer to Robbie's ear, smiling widely. "A worthy right-hand man you were."  

Robbie's eyes widen at the sharp pain in his chest, slowly glancing down at his own creation... no...  

   Robbie tries to push Ravii away as he drew closer again to him.  

“... ngh!” Robbie mutters out as his gaze started to blur. No... he can't do this. Everything was blurring.  

  The pain was unbearable.

Ravii pulls the blade out and kicks him onto the ground as he takes the locket out of his own chest pocket, tossing it beside Robbie.  

"As promised... Now then... I have a kingdom to take over and guardians to control. Goodbye, Robbie." Ravii turns on his heel, swinging his sword harshly to whip the blood off his blade as he walks away from the other laying on the ground. Ravii picks up his older sword he dropped from before, placing it back by his hip as he carried the new sword in his hand.  

“Pu...rah...!” Robbie whispers as he lays on the ground. Clenching his teeth, he tries to pull himself up - sharp pain would travel throughout his body with every movement.  

 He cannot let him get Purah. No.. No....

Ravii’s ear twitches as he heard Robbie muttering something under his breath.  

"Purah? Oh, that dear one? I'll take very good care of her. She is a pretty one... Maybe I'll make her MY wife!" The King cackles.  

“...Ra...vii!” Robbie speaks a little louder, making sure the other could hear him.

With his final breath he whistles for the guardians, glaring at Ravii, his eyesight clearing on the other man. Focused. Scanning. Making sure the guardians would destroy him from where he stood. Even with his last breath he would make sure Purah would be safe from this man.  

Ravii, still cackling at the Purah comment suddenly pauses as Robbie whistles. Tilting his head curiously.

Robbie slowly pointed at Ravii as guardians flew over him. Ravii, raising his head glances up at all the guardians flying towards him. 

Ah. This was his chance!  

"Hear me, mechanical beasts! I have defeated your... leader. You must listen to me now-" Robbie cuts him off with his last breath, simple two words that made Ravii freeze up.  

“... destroy.... him!" The Sheikah screamed in pure anger and hatred and dropped. He had no more strength to move anymore.

All the red pointers all focused on Ravii - as much as he adored the attention, he knew this would end badly.  

"... You bastard." Ravii clicks his tongue and takes a deep breath, glancing at the lifeless man across from him.  

"You were telling the truth, huh?" Ravii shakes his head. Sighing, Ravii rushes towards Robbie and skids to a stop, sitting beside him.  

"Shoot me. Your leader here is in shots way... want to hurt him more? Go ahead you idiotic beasts." He glares at the closest skywatcher to him dead center to the eye as he pats Robbie's head, cackling.

"Come on! Do it. Or listen to me..." A smirk arched Ravii’s lips.

The skywatcher scanned Ravii and Robbie beside him. Errors popping up on their side of the screen. Not knowing whether to shoot or not.  

“ . . . (bzzzt) . . . Smart.” That was... Robbie's voice from the guardian? No. It was more glitched than his voice.  

  What was that?

“You are pretty smart for a royal pain in the ass, I'll give you that.”

Robbie's hand suddenly slammed on Ravii's shoulder as he used him to sit up, shaking his head and took a deep inhale and exhaled. That same black ink from before was manifesting by the blade wound.  

Ravii flinches at the sudden hand on his shoulder as if all time stopped, he slowly turns his head, seeing the man he watched just die rise as if nothing happened. Like a phoenix from the ashes, he rises again... but this wasn't the same man.  

No. He could feel the overwhelming power from him. There was something dark within him and it chilled even Ravii - nothing ever made him flinch.  

 Not like this.

“That hurt, you know. I told him you would betray us and he fell right into that one, the idiot.” Laughing 'Robbie' pats Ravii's shoulder, leaning his face in front of Ravii's with a big grin on his face.  

“How dare you kill Robbie! We were just getting along too! But fret not, I'll save him eventually...  

 ... but!

   Until then! It's my turn to shine!” The corrupted Sheikah quickly grabs the hybrid sword he made and stands up fully.  

“Time to rock!” He smiles as he swings the sword by Ravii's face

"What?! How are you still alive?!" Ravii screams and goes to grab his old sword just as the other swipes it from him, swinging it by his face - cutting a few hairs hanging from his forehead.  

He was faster than Ravii in the state. What happened for him to change?

"What do you mean? You speak as if Robbie has died yet you - Robbie - are speaking to me right this moment! Have you gone mad?" Ravii swallows nervously as he jumps to his feet. He draws his old sword from his side, holding it up while watching the other closely.  

"...Just who are you?!" Ravii glares at him, standing his ground now.  

‘Robbie’ laughs and points the sword at Ravii while walking slowly around him, gazing.  

“Finally someone asks! But you of all people...” His grin grows wildly as his stare intensifies.  

“... I am Amadeus. I do not know what I am, but I have a body and mind, anger and passion. Am I alive? Who knows what I truly am. Perhaps I am merely apart of Robbie who was caged for so long... begging to be freed, or someone of my own. Malice with mind and soul of my own somehow? Despite it all...

  ... All I know is I am alive....and that we are one the same - two sides of the same coin. Unlucky for you, you ran out of luck with this flip. And now that I have full control again thanks to you, well...” Amadeus flips the sword in the air and catches it by the handle, snapping his stare at Ravii again.  

“I'm going to make sure you regret threatening Purah into this mess. Robbie begged for her safety and trust. I am not so nice like that.” His head twitches as he glares at Ravii. Thinking for a moment his expression changes, a mischievous grin on his face quickly flashes.  

“I'll be kind, I'll pretend to be Robbie for a moment though, just for fun! How would you like to go? A beam from one of my babies here or a sword into your empty void where your heart is supposed to be like you did with us?”  

Amadeus taps his arm in a ticking rhythm. Grinning still.  

“Tick. Tick. Tick... hurry before I choose for you!”

   ... For once.  

For once in Ravii's entire life, he was speechless and terrified. What WAS this man? No ordinary Sheikah... why didn't he sense that power around him? Did he somehow keep it locked away within him? No... there was no way he could have done that. Ravii shakes his head and glances at the guardians above and the ones quickly scurrying on the horizon. More were coming and he was going to be surrounded - no escape. He had to think quick... Maybe if he struck them like last time, he can kill this "Amadeus" as well...  

"You say you do not know what you are... perhaps I have... no, I truly did underestimate you. If you join me, imagine what we could do together - you and I! You could then discover who or what you are! Don't you realize what you can do? With this... with these..." He raises his hands up, looking at the guardians above them, "... we could take over this kingdom so easily. Just you and I alone!" Ravii was clearly shaking and avoiding the choices of his own execution.  

"We can take over together, Amadeus. You have so much potential... and you are wasting it on me. Why not of grandeur scale?!" He was pointing his sword at him now; his voice was panicked - he couldn't calm himself.  

"Please! I beg of you! Work alongside me!" Ravii’s voice was laced with desperation and fear. He stood, watching the other tilt his head in thought as he screamed and plead for Amadeus to join him.

“Oh, what was that? You beg of me? Wow... doesn't THAT sound familiar or WHAT?  

 Say it again, 

     say it again!” Amadeus cackles, clapping and walks towards him as two guardian stalkers follow him closely.  

“Yeeeow... muuuusic to my ears!” Amadeus grabs Ravii by the front of his cape and with his other hand he loops his sword around Ravii's sword, knocking out of his hand. Amadeus then slams him against the wall, glaring at him.

“Tick TICK...

  Actually, that is too bad... times up.”

“Wh-?!” Ravii winced as Amadeus slammed him against the wall, staring at the corrupted man in horror.

Amadeus tilts his head and pulls the trigger of the sword, making the smaller blades go on, rapidly spinning like the bladesaw.  

“You said you want to see who I am? Want to work with me? Well...  

  ... I made my decision. 

You hurt me twice with my own weapon, now you'll see it's ‘true potential’.”

Just as Ravii did to Robbie - with a quick motion he drives the sword into the corrupted king, not breaking eye contact as he does so. Watching Ravii as all the color on his face drains. Just like he did with them.  

Pulling the trigger again the blades stop and he let's go of the blade, leaving it there lodged in his chest.  

Ravii coughs violently as his eyes widened at the horror in front of him. Not the guardians or even the sword... that man in front of him. Ravii has never felt so much fear in his life. The sword he requested was now in his own chest by the creator himself.  

“I work for no one. If anything, I want to see this kingdom in ruin by my guardians. No kings nor queens, no monarchy... nothing. I don't care.  

  ... Oh, and you can keep the sword. It was made for you after all.”

Ravii’s vision was shaking, blurred... he felt panic, nausea... all at once and suddenly he felt ...

     ... Cold.  

Dropping to the ground he glanced up at the glowing eye of the monster in front of him. No, not the mechanical beasts... that monster he let out of the cage. Amadeus' eye glowing a dark, deep red looking down on him.

Amadeus watches Ravii fall to the ground and his grin only grows wider. It would be the last thing he sees along with the guardians lasers aiming at him. He waves his hand as he picks up Ravii's old sword and walks away.

The fallen king watches Amadeus pick up his sword and walk out of his sight. Now focusing on the red lasers of the guardians.  

Amadeus hum one last word that would be the last thing Ravii hears.  

As if all time stopped, everything was silent.

  “... Boom.”

The guardians fire their beams all at once and the king's scream were drowned out by the loud boom of the beams.  

King Ravii was no more.  

Nothing, nor even the sword was left.  

   Like the kingdoms he left behind.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Wax and Feathers

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rated: Gen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Gordon, Virgil, John, Tracy family

Sometimes limits need to be broken. But a limit is there for a reason, and breaking them has consequences. Episode tag for 3.20 "Icarus"

It was fact that everything had a limit. No matter who, or what, there came a point when they just couldn't push any further. This was even true for International Rescue.

Scott liked to pretend it wasn't. Acknowledging limits felt like giving up, but when Thunderbird Two went underwater, or into space, and barely survived the experiences, or Five's immensely strong structure cracked under too much gravity, those limits almost took the lives of his brothers. So, as much as he hated them, he couldn't quite ignore the fact that limits existed.

Thunderbird One was the fastest aircraft in existence. The idea that speed could ever be an issue for her was ludicrous. Her full capability was rarely exercised, unnecessary in all but the direst conditions and, as John was fond of saying, everything Brains designed had a huge safety margin. Even her limit wasn't really her limit; Scott had never tried to push her more out of respect for his father's impressive record than anything else. He didn't want to know if he could beat it. Not without his Dad watching, anyway.

Something was wrong. Experienced pilot, more or less one with his Thunderbird from so many flight hours together, Scott knew the moment he engaged the VTOL to leave the air show and head for home that Thunderbird One wasn't going to make it back without considerable skill and a healthy dose of luck. The noise of her engines was just off kilter to usual, a change that he could feel more than hear it was so subtle.

Subtle, but there. The controls weren't one with him. For the first time in a long time, Scott actually had to dedicate conscious thought to them, counting carefully the beats before the next shift to account for the airspeed. Ever his Thunderbird, One worked as closely with him as she could, responding to his touches, but it was impossible to fall into her usual rhythm.

"Scott?"

He ignored the hologram of his brother appearing in his line of vision, focusing on the readouts flickering up instead and not even daring to spare the time to swipe the floating image away.

"Scott!"

Mach 1.3 seemed to be the sweet spot, Thunderbird One purring along almost as though nothing was wrong, but it was tough to keep her at exactly that speed without autopilot – and with something seriously wrong somewhere in her engines, Scott refused to trust autopilot.

"Thunderbird One, respond!"

John barked in that tone that meant answer me or I'll take control of your Thunderbird. Anyone else taking control of One right now would be disaster. Scott responded.

"What?"

Short, curt. Uncharacteristically so, even for him at his most stressed.

"Thunderbird One's flight pattern is erratic. Are you okay?" His brother sounded worried. Scott didn't have the concentration to spare on reassuring him.

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Scott ignored him as Thunderbird One shuddered. Whatever was wrong in her engine wasn't fixing itself, and instead seemed to be worsening steadily. He was still several hundred miles from base.

Gritting his teeth, he slowed to sub-sonic flight. At least now if she crashed, he had a chance of walking away from it.

"Scott what's going on?" Virgil's hologram appeared beside John's. Gordon quickly flickered into life to complete the trio of concerned looks. "Why have you dropped speed? Did something happen?"

"We're ahead of you, slow poke," Gordon chimed in. "Feel like doing the dishes for once?"

"Gordon!" Virgil snapped. "Scott, speed up or I'm turning around."

He opened his mouth to protest, instinct rebelling at the notion of his brothers coming back to help him, before common sense prevailed. Thunderbird One was deteriorating too quickly. Either he landed her now, while he was over land, or he would get an unwelcome swim somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

Thunderbird One had hit her limit. She wouldn't make it back.

"John," he said. "Somewhere remote I can land. Now."

"Scott?" Virgil asked, but John's F.A.B cut across him. Scott gritted his teeth as Thunderbird One juddered again, more fiercely this time. Alarms began to wail, belatedly telling him something was wrong with his 'bird.

"Scott, what's going on?" Virgil demanded.

John was still silent, hopefully calculating somewhere he could land with minimal damage and audience.

"I don't know," he lied. "Some sort of engine trouble."

He knew exactly what had happened. Thunderbird One's operating limit was Mach 19. Her top speed was Mach 20. In pursuing Icarus, he'd pushed her past Mach 21.

His brothers thought he'd stuck to Mach 19, closed in using Kayo's flight path, and not sped up past that until he'd hooked Icarus, at which point he was being effectively towed so the only strain was on the tow cable.

At their comparative speeds, the sudden strain from a craft going Mach 19 latching onto a craft reaching Mach 22 would have torn both ships apart. A difference of Mach 3 was no small feat. In order to keep both intact – and consequently both pilots alive – Thunderbird One had had to attempt to match speed. It hadn't gone perfectly, still enough of a difference that the ships had threatened to tear apart, but he'd caught her and slowed Icarus down at least for a while.

"Sending co-ordinates now," John told him, and Scott glanced up at the new destination as they flashed up, making the adjustments to his course. Dimly, he could hear the lower roar of Two's engines over the sound of One's struggling and despite himself relaxed slightly. The sound of a Thunderbird really was the sweetest thing to hear when in trouble.

It was not his best landing, not by a long shot. He tried to set her down gently, feather-light as usual, but the various small shifts in the engine power required to land a supersonic jet proved to be the final straw for his poor, damaged 'bird. With a concerning snap from somewhere behind him, the engines cut out entirely just before the landing struts engaged and she ploughed, nose-first, into the dirt.

"Scott!" a chorus of brothers' voices sounded, and he groaned, straightening up and bringing a hand to his head. No whiplash, hopefully no concussion either he self-diagnosed as he pushed the restraints up and rolled his shoulders. There was sure to be some bruising from that, but nothing worse.

"Thunderbird One, respond!" John snapped as One shuddered in the familiar way that meant her sister was landing right next to her.

"Scott!" Gordon's voice sounded through the comms in stereo with a faint noise from outside One.

"I'm okay," he told them both, fumbling for the emergency override and opening the cockpit. Gordon leapt in before he could get out, pushing him back into his seat.

"We're gonna be the judges of that," his younger brother told him. "Seriously, what the hell happened?" Scott suffered through the brief medical exam, lengthened by the arrival of Virgil who promptly took over from Gordon and did it all again. It spoke volumes of how worried they were that Gordon didn't protest that he'd done it already.

"She couldn't quite hold long enough," Scott admitted. "Something in her engine's broken." He tried to stand, itching to go and see the damage for himself, but his brothers stopped him.

"I'll check the damage," Virgil said, stepping back. "You and that concussion of yours are staying right there until I get back."

"What concussion?" Scott demanded, then flinched as Gordon's gloved hand brushed against the back of his head.

"That one," his blond brother told him. "Why didn't you put your helmet on?"

"Wasn't time," he defended himself. Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"If I could get mine on with a volcano landing on top of me, you could have got yours on when you knew there was a problem." Scott flinched, mind flickering back to the nightmarish sight of the crumpled Thunderbird Four and her limp aquanaut as Penelope pulled him out of the wreckage.

There went any chance of sleep tonight.

He was saved from having to reply by Virgil's reappearance. The dark-haired Tracy looked grim.

"She's not flying anywhere," he declared bluntly. "Her main engine core's completely burnt out. Two'll have to carry her back." Scott had feared as such.

"But Two's already got a full load," Gordon pointed out. "She can't carry One and Four at the same time."

"I'll just have to drop Four off then come back," Virgil sighed. "Gordon, wait here with Scott. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I won't be long."

"F.A.B."

Scott bristled at the implication he might try and get her airborne again. He wanted her home in one piece, and he knew the only way that would happen was by the grace of Virgil and Two now.

The behemoth in question lifted away from the ground slowly, only to engage her thrusters to full as soon as she was fully in the air and disappear off in the blink of an eye. It was easy to forget that although she was sluggish compared to One, Two was still an incredibly fast craft. And Virgil wasn't hanging around.

He went to stand up again, and growled at Gordon as his younger brother put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"You've got a concussion, Scott," the aquanaut reminded him.

"So you've said," he retorted. "But concussion or not, I'm getting out of this chair and seeing the damage for myself so get out of the way."

Gordon did not get out of the way. But he did, after a moment, remove the hand from his shoulder and offer it instead. Scott tried to deny that he appreciated the help as the interior of his beloved ship swam slightly before his eyes.

"You'll be riding back in Two anyway," the blond menace shrugged. Scott ignored him as he stumbled his way down through the fuselage to the main engine. The internal access panel was still open from Virgil's investigation, and immediately he could see why Virgil hadn't been gone long.

Burnt out was a rather understated way to describe the charred lump of metal that had once housed the engine core, and his engineer brother hadn't even bothered to mention the relay. It was sheered clean in half – clearly the snap he'd heard as his 'bird had fallen the last few metres from the sky. No doubt her other engines were in a similar condition.

Virgil was right. There was no way Thunderbird One would be able to get back in the air under her own power.

"Brains is going to kill me," he groaned, pressing a hand to his face.

"Join the club, bro," Gordon chimed in, before giving off a low whistle. "Woah, how the hell did that even happen?" Scott shrugged, unwilling to admit that Thunderbird One had gone too fast.

"Scott," John buzzed in from his comms channel. "I just reviewed Thunderbird One's flight telemetry. What were you doing at Mach 21.7?"

"Catching a plane," he said, overriding Gordon's yelp of "Mach what?

"No wonder her engines are fried!" the aquanaut continued. "Thunderbird One's top speed is Mach 19. Nine. Teen."

"Technically that's her operating limit," Scott corrected. "Her top speed is Mach 20."

"Mach twenty one, Scott. Twenty one is higher than twenty. My point still stands."

"Point seven," John corrected Gordon. "He reached Mach twenty one point seven."

"That's even worse!" Gordon cried dramatically, hands in his hair. "What even possessed you to do that?"

"We had to catch the Icarus," Scott reminded him, even though his gut churned as he remembered that despite pushing Thunderbird One into this state, he'd still failed. The success story had been the combination of Two and Three. Wrecking his Thunderbird with nothing to even show for it gnawed at his mind unpleasantly.

He heard Gordon sigh and a hand returned to his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go outside."

He didn't move, staring into the depths of his 'bird and the carnage of her engines. She was going to be grounded for weeks with that much damage while Brains repaired her.

But Brains was working on the T-Drive engine.

He sank down to the floor, one hand blindly reaching out to trace the cool metal of her hull as he did so.

Brains would have to stop working on the T-Drive to repair her. They didn't have time for petty delays yet he'd gone and wrecked his Thunderbird without even a success story to excuse the damage and subsequently put a huge dent in their too tight time frame.

Unless he told Brains to leave her, keep Thunderbird One crippled until the Zero-X was complete and Dad was home. But International Rescue needed her.

The Zero-X or Thunderbird One.

Unbidden, bile built up in his throat, catching him off guard as he retched.

"Geez, Scott." Gordon's voice was softer now, and his hands were gentle even as they hauled him to his feet. "That concussion's not happy with you, is it? Let's get you outside." Drained, too burdened by the realisation that he would have to choose between two equally important craft to have any fight left, Scott let himself be led out of his 'bird's cargo bay door.

Gordon guided him to her nose cone, splattered with dirt and streaks of silver cutting through the red where the impact had damaged it, and coaxed him into sitting on the ground with his back leaning against his downed Thunderbird.

"Stay there," he said before disappearing back inside One. Scott watched him go, looking down the long silver fuselage of the plane to the blue stripe around her engines. From the outside, there was no sign of the wreckage. A slightly scratched nose cone and the lack of her landing gear out were the only signs that she hadn't simply landed there.

"Here." Gordon reappeared seconds after vanishing, holding something that glinted in the sun in his hands. "You're trembling," his younger brother explained as the foil blanket wrapped around him. "Nothing to be done about the concussion, though." He sat down next to him, slinging an arm around Scott's shoulders lightly. "She'll be okay. Brains'll fix her up, better than new."

"Brains is working on the T-Drive engine," Scott reminded him. "He doesn't have time to fix her."

"Then we'll fix her," Gordon said matter-of-factly. "You, me, Virgil, Alan. Well, mainly Virgil. Just like we fixed Two up after her little swimming adventures."

Thunderbird Two's damage had been nowhere near as severe as this.

"It'll be okay, Scott," his brother continued. The arm around his shoulders tightened slightly. "We'll save him."

That was his line, to be recited to younger brothers whenever they needed it. Not for them to recite back to him.

It was comforting to hear.

"Yeah," he said as the roar of Two's engines came into earshot, the green behemoth appearing as quickly as she'd vanished. "We will."

"Budge over," Virgil ordered, their comms crackling back to life in unison and with no ceremony. "I'm going to land on top of her and I don't feel like explaining to Grandma why two of my brothers are fried worse than her cooking."

"I'd pay to see you tell her her cooking is bad to her face," Gordon retorted, but he was already on his feet and pulling Scott up with him. Together they backed up, Scott knowing exactly how far was safe and reluctant to get any further from Thunderbird One than required. Gordon pulled him back a little more.

"You couldn't afford it," Virgil scoffed as he positioned his 'bird over her sister. Without a module, she looked flimsier than usual, even though Scott knew she could lift greater weight without one. "Why is Scott in a foil blanket?"

"You said to make sure he didn't do anything stupid," Gordon chirped, a huge grin on his face. "So I make sure he couldn't."

"Resourceful," Virgil commented approvingly. Scott scowled, even though he knew Gordon was lying – or at least, partially lying. He wouldn't put it past his prankster brother to have had multiple reasons for bringing out the blanket. Two's landing struts deployed to their full extent and Scott watched with rigid shoulders as they came down either side of his 'bird, the rear pair barely missing her extended wings.

Thunderbird Two wasn't strictly designed to land on her fully-extended struts, but Virgil made it look easy as she settled daintily over her sister. The grapples fired down and Gordon ran over to secure them. Contained in foil, Scott could do nothing but watch as his younger brothers secured the two craft together. It looked terrifyingly flimsy, four relatively thin cables trailing down from the walls of Thunderbird Two's module bay the only links, but Scott knew that it would hold. Brains put safety first, and in a gift of forethought and paranoia had installed specific places on Thunderbird One's hull for just such an eventuality. She was far better secured to her sister than any other craft could ever be.

Once all three brothers were satisfied, Scott unable to resist joining Gordon if only to instruct ("I know, Scott!"), Thunderbird Two's platform lowered. Mild concussion or not, Scott refused to be treated as a rescuee and won the argument over whether or not he could grapple up to the platform by himself. That didn't stop Virgil from manhandling him into the nearest seat – usually Alan's, directly behind the pilot – while Gordon slid triumphantly into the co-pilot's seat, which was technically Scott's right as commander, but his brothers were clearly having none of it.

"You sit back and call Tracy Island," Virgil told him when he tried to resist. "Kayo's having kittens about what could have brought One down under her watch and Alan's not much better. Now shut up and let me get your 'bird home in one piece."

Scott scowled, fighting his way out of the foil blanket before tapping his comm unit. Beneath him, Two's powerful VTOLs roared into life, straining for a moment before they began to gain altitude.

"Scott!" Alan's voice burst out of his communicator, the small hologram appearing above his wrist. "Are you okay? What happened? Did you crash? Virgil didn't say much."

"I'm fine, Alan," he cut in, silencing his youngest brother's babble. "One's engines gave out, that's all."

"What happened, Scott Tracy." Kayo flickered into view, pushing Alan aside as she scowled at him, eyes sparking dangerously. "Thunderbird One performed just fine during the air show, and no-one unauthorised got near her at any point."

Scott gritted his teeth for a moment before letting out a sigh. His head throbbed and his shoulders ached – reminders that no matter how lucky he'd been, it had still been a crash landing.

"It's nothing to worry about," he told her, conscious that Virgil was listening in from the seat in front of him. Gordon was tapping his own flight controls, already aware of the cause thanks to John earlier and hopefully on standby to prevent any erratic flying from Virgil. Kayo opened her mouth, clearly about to protest that it was clearly something to worry about if it could take a Thunderbird out of the sky straight after a public event. "Catching the Icarus just put too much strain on the engines."

"Mach 19 should not have strained Thunderbird One's engines like that," Kayo disagreed. Scott winced, and her hologram's eyes narrowed. "Scott?"

"Mach 21.7," Gordon interrupted, and Scott shot him a glare as Thunderbird Two dipped slightly. His brother had firm hold of Two's flight controls, which was fortunate as Virgil whipped around to stare at Scott incredulously.

"Excuse me?" Kayo asked, taken aback. "Thunderbird One's operational limit is Mach 19. Even taking into consideration Brains' safety limits, she can't exceed Mach 20."

Control of the conversation was slipping away – if he'd ever had it – and Scott wanted it back.

"Well she did," he snapped.

"And murdered her own engines in the process," Virgil retorted, regaining flight control from Gordon. "Good job."

"But you're okay, right?" Alan piped up again, shoving Kayo back out of view. Blue eyes, washed out slightly in hologram form, looked up at him in concern, and Scott softened.

"I'm okay, little brother."

Alan's worried look gave way to one of relief, and Scott was content to sit back and let him talk, revisiting his part of the rescue – the successful bit, his brain muttered mutinously – and all the fun he had at the show when they weren't saving Professor Kwark. Virgil kept sending him disapproving looks over his shoulder, which he studiously ignored.

"Tracy Island, this is Thunderbird Two." Virgil cut through Alan's retelling of how he swept up Professor Kwark from the remains of the Icarus for the fifth time. "On final approach now. Alan, Kayo, get ready."

"F.A.B."

Scott's communicator blinked out.

He looked out of the window to see their home looming in the distance, growing by the moment. Two's palm trees were folded back already, a blob of green sitting on the runway. Gordon made a strangled noise of protest.

"Did you just dump Four?" he demanded of Virgil, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Two can't enter or leave her hanger without a module," he reminded him. "That's where her wheels are."

"Point," Gordon conceded with a shrug.

"Now go get ready to unhook One," Virgil ordered, and with a cheeky salute Gordon headed to the rear of the cockpit. "Scott, you are not leaving that seat until Two is back in her hanger."

"She's my 'bird," Scott retorted, standing up. Gordon pushed him back down and before he knew it the foil blanket had been wrapped back around him and the safety belt fastened over the top of it. "Gordon!"

"Concussions don't go away that fast, bro. Don't worry, I'll take care of your 'bird." Scott groaned and let his head fall back, wincing as the headrest made contact with the source of his headache.

"Good thinking with that blanket," Virgil told Gordon. "We should use it more often."

"You should not," Scott snapped, but went ignored as Virgil turned his attention back to their approach and Gordon got ready to rappel out of the hatch.

Two pods trailed out of Two's hangar, set up as landing gear cradles. Scott watched them vanish underneath Two's bulk and a moment later Virgil opened the hatch for Gordon to disappear out of.

The operation began. Scott listened as his three brothers and Kayo co-ordinated the two pods and Thunderbird Two to get One nestled safely on the landing gear and had to bite his lip to prevent himself cutting in. Unable to even see the holographic display Virgil was referencing clearly, he was stuck waiting, and dwelling.

Scott did not do waiting or dwelling well. Never had done, and now so much was weighing down on him at once, it was even worse. Gordon's words had helped, but they couldn't clear all of the worries away. He'd been useless – worse than useless, now an actual detriment to International Rescue – in trying to save Professor Kwark, and now he was useless in even getting his crippled Thunderbird home.

What was he even doing?

Two's engines increased their thrust, pushing the behemoth back into the sky. Below, the two pods carefully manoeuvred back into the hanger, carrying Thunderbird One.

"Still with us, Scott?" Virgil asked as he brought his 'bird down over module four, finally bringing Gordon's beloved sub into the hangar.

"Yeah," Scott grunted, watching as Thunderbird Two finally came to a halt. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Virgil corrected him, flicking through post-flight checks rapidly. "Your Thunderbird fell out of the sky and you have a concussion. You're not fine, Scott, and none of us expect you to be."

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Virgil sighed heavily and stood up, smoothly stepping around his chair to stand in front of him.

"Come on, big brother," he huffed, releasing the safety belt. "Let's get you in the house."

They were all waiting for him when the platform lowered, Virgil's arm firmly around his shoulders and keeping the foil blanket in place despite his efforts to dislodge it. Alan barely waited for him to step off of it before tackling him into a hug, while Gordon sauntered over at a more leisurely pace to slip his arm around his shoulders from the opposite side to Virgil. Kayo's arms remained firmly crossed but her eyes were soft, and even John was there, standing next to Brains and looking as though he'd come Earthside in a hurry. Grandma wrapped her arms around as many of them as she could reach.

"What-" he started, wondering what had prompted the sudden family gathering in Two's hangar.

"Don't you scare us like that, young man," Grandma overrode him briskly, squeezing tighter before letting them go. "Now, let's get you upstairs."

"I-I'll get started o-on the repairs," Brains excused himself, and Scott's mouth fell open.

"What?" he demanded. "But the T-Drive-"

"Dad wouldn't want us to prioritise him over International Rescue," John overrode him quietly. "Thunderbird One takes priority. You know this, Scott."

He grit his teeth, wishing he could refute what his brother was saying, but John had the annoying habit of always being right.

"EOS and I will continue calculations for the T-Drive," John continued. "This isn't a setback, Scott."

"It shouldn't have happened at all," Scott spat. "It didn't even help."

"Stop talking nonsense," Grandma scolded, hands on her hips as steely eyes glared up at him. "You might not have saved her by yourself, but that isn't Thunderbird One's role. Thunderbird One brings hope, and you, young man, brought the Professor hope that she would be saved. Don't you forget it."

She reached out and rested a hand on his cheek, breaking into a smile.

"Besides, your father would be delighted that you broke his record."

[littlebitoffanfic]

The Bear Or The Deer

Fandom: Frankenstein Character: Adam/Frankenstein’s monster Relationship: Adam/reader Request: you do a lot of horror and I was just wondering on the off chance: would you do Frankenstein’s monster x reader? AN: Frankenstein is my favourite book! Since, in the book the creature calls himself Adam, I decided to stick with that as his name. also, this’ll probably be a multi-chapter thing as I cant wait to explore more plot with him

 Sitting in your home on a stormy night, in the pitch black, waiting by a window was never something you thought you would ever have to do. But after the last few months, you needed to know. You had to. Something was happening and you didn’t know or understand it. People had reported a monster in the woods that surrounded your home, yet you had had little cause to be frightened. In fact, the only thing that truly scared you about it was not knowing what it was. You had never felt exposed or unsafe in your home. It was about a mile out from the nearest town, and just off a trail that only had one or two horse and carts pass by ever week. You were mostly self sufficient, growing your own vegetables and fruit in your large garden and a few animals such as cow and a few chickens along with your trusted horse. You traded in town with your craft work, using your love for paints, crafting and even mending things. Often, the butcher, who has a young family, will ask you for new clothes and such in exchange for meat. You would sell your art to passing traders and do the occasional jobs for everyone else in the town in exchange for whatever you needed. But it was still hard work. Your home and its surroundings needed a lot of tending to. Only, you had noticed something strange over the last little while. Your log pile, which you kept outside next to the small bard, was kept topped up. Then apples started being left on your back porch every morning, along with oranges and any other fuits. As time grew on, you grew uneasy. You tried leaving out food and some blankets and such, in hope that whoever it is was just looking to trade. But they never took anything. And then the rumours started in town. A beast, like a bear, stalking the forest. A few had seen it moving about, but none dared approach it. It had to be human-like, judging but its knowledge of cutting wood and such, but where did it live? Was it close to you? Tonight, you planned on seeing it for yourself. You had left out a large basket of food for it. Cheeses, hams, a bottle of milk and some eggs, in hopes that it would take it. You sat to the side of one of your kitchen windows, which was close to the back door where the thing sometimes left fruit. You hoped it would see the basket when placing the logs on the pile and come to investigate. You had nearly drifted off when a crash of thunder woke you, making you jump as you sat straight up. Looking out the window, you noticed how the moon was nearly fully covered by clouds, the only light now came from the soft glow of your living room, where you always kept the fire going to heat the house and the small light of the full moon that peaked through the clouds. Another few lightening strikes and crashes of thunder kept you alert. Until you saw the creature. It emerged from the forest like a it might have been a tree itself, judging but the stature. In the rain, it was bend over, walking on two legs with a long cloak drawn over its body. It was human, and judging by the stature, probably male. It, he, carried logs against his chest, only pulling back his cloak to place them onto the pile carefully. He was soaked to the bone, you could see that, and yet he was more concerned with make sure the balance of the pile was right. His face was hidden by the hood, but you saw he had noticed the basket, which was still dry thanks to the porches roof and the wind that blew the rain in the opposite direction. He walked to the porch, placing his foot on the bottom of the three steps, his whole body seeming to tilt to the side in curiosity. He looked up towards the top floor of the house, where he probably thought you were fast asleep. You saw him place his hand up to his chest and he gave a small bow to your house, before retreating without the basket. You were stunned, shocked and so confused. What was he? Why did he do these things for you? Why would he be out in such weather? Where was his family? It was curiosity that lead you to spring up from your seat and run to the back door as a crash of thunder masked you opening the door. “Wait!” You called out, scooping the basket up by the handle. The figure froze, his entire body seeming to turn to rock at the sound of your voice. You took a few more steps out, not daring to descend the steps into the rain just yet. You wanted to keep the food dry. “Please, will you take this?” You asked, hoping your question would draw some kind of response out of him. Which it did. He turned, but in a strange kind of way. His lower half turned a quarter of the way towards you while the top half twisted fully, keeping his head low and covered by the hood. It was very unnerving to watch, and reminded you that something just wasn’t quite right about him. “For helping me. I want you to have it.” You manage to speak, keeping the fear from affecting your voice.   A crash of lightening followed by a roll of thunder as if showing some kind of inner battle the man was obviously having with himself. You were just a woman, alone in your home. He had no reason to fear you. You had no weapons, nor was there anyone close by who would be able to help you. If anything, you should be scared of him. But something was different about him. “Please.” You repeated, keeping your voice soft. This seemed to be enough to persuade him back to you, approaching you in such a manner that reminded you of a stray dog approaching a human who had offered it food. It wanted the food, yes, but it was scared of the hand that gave it. As he reached the bottom of the small set of stairs, you couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by him. Even with you at the top stair, he was taller. The light from the house didn’t give you enough light to see his face. Holding out the basket, you smiled. He hesitated, but raised his right hand to take the basket. As he did so, the sleeve fell back, revealing a wrist with a deep scar running around the wrist and down beneath his sleeve. The flesh itself was a little… off in colour. But the scar looked painful. You couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips as you looked up at him. At the wrong time. A bolt of lightening lit up the sky and, for the first time, you saw his face. A gaunt face looked back at you. Thin lips with barely any colour behind them were opened slightly in surprise. His cheeks bones were prominent, and his skin the same as his hand, looking slightly off and discoloured. His nose was missing, and chunk and several scars ran across this face, almost like a doll that had been ripped apart and sow back together again. But his eyes. They were a yellowish colour, with the left one having another scar running from the bottom of his eye right down his cheek to his jaw. They were wide, surprised, like a deep that had been scared by the sudden attack of a bear. How quickly your metaphor for him had changed, from a bear to a deer. He seemed terrified of you. Yet he could easily turn on you and you were very aware of that fact.   But as quickly as the lightening had struck, it was gone, replaced with a thundering bang. The man ducked his head, retreating into himself as he turned on his heels and fled. Caring little for the rain or your own safety, you ran after him, calling out for him to wait. It would seem that his great height left him at a disadvantage to you, as you were able to catch up wit him before he reached the edge of the woods. “Wait, please!” You cry out, reaching out and grabbing his cloak and digging your heels into the ground. The man let out a grunt, twisting towards you as if expecting you to attack him, causing his hood to fall back and reveal black hair. He winced and it hit you. He didn’t want you to see him not because he didn’t want you to know who he was, but because of the way he looked. “Im sorry. The thunder and lightening just frightened me, that’s all.” You lied through your teeth. You were already soaked to the bone from the rain, which pelted down with little chance of stopping soon. The wind whipped your hair out of place, almost blowing you off of balance. Yet he stood strong a tree. As if to prove that you weren’t scared of him, you reached out and took his right hand, raising it with is palm upwards. He jumped at the touch, his skin freezing and his hand now tense. Raising it, you hooked the basket in his hand. Once he had the weight, you used both your hands to close his fingers over the handle. “As a thank you for everything you’ve done.” You smile up at him, his eyes so bright without the hood. He was handsome, at least to you. So unique and unknown. You would be lying if you said he didn’t intrigued ou unlike any man you had ever met. “do you have a name?” You asked, suddenly doubting if he even understood you. Perhaps he was mute, or didn’t understand your language. He nodded, his tongue darting out as if to wet his bottom lip despite the fact his face was soaked. “Adam.” A deep voice replied. “Im [y/n].” You told him, as if the two of you were meeting for the first time at some ball or in a local shop. He repeated it back to you, like it was the most beautiful word he had ever heard and just had to make sure he could say it right. A gust of wind ripped through the garden and hit you like a ton of bricks. You fell forward, loosing your footing as you let out a yelp. But a strong arm caught you and, before you could even realise what had happened, you were swept up like a bride. He had dropped the basket to catch you and now proceeded to carry you back through your garden. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you stared up at him while his gaze remained solely on the path. You could see how tense his jaw was, like he was grinding his teeth together. As he climbed the bottom two steps and was about to put you back on your porch, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze. His mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, as if he were unable to believe it. You took the opportunity to swing out of his grasp, now standing on your own feet. “You’d better get home and dry off. The storm looks like it will only worsen tonight. You’ll catch your death.” You look up at the sky. You were pulled from your thought by a soft chuckle, one which made your cheeks burn and your heart stop. It was low, almost too low to hear. You looked to him and saw amusement in his eyes. He doesn’t hold your eyes for more than a second before dropping them, bowing to you. “Thank you for your concern, but I shall be fine.” He speaks with such an elegance that doesn’t quite fit his features. “well, Adam, perhaps you should come back tomorrow, just to let me know you are safe?” You ask, biting your lower lip. his head snaps up, his eyes wide with disbelieve and… hope. a single nod confirms his return as he retreats away from you for the final time that night. He pulls his hood back up and turns away, walking back to the basket, which had landed on the path, but nothing had spilled out. You hoped the blanket that covered it would be enough to protect the content from the rain. he scooped it out, glancing back at you. You smiled and waved, backing into your doorway and closing it. It was all suddenly so quiet without the wind and rain in your ear. You locked the door, unable to stop from smiling as you went to the window, seeing him take one last look at where you had been before disappearing into the woods. You couldn’t help but bursting feeling in your chest that wanted to dance until he returned, nor how his face was burned into your mind in a good way. There was still so many question in your mind. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why did he have those scars? And you couldn’t quite work out if he was the bear or the deer.

[avengerscompound]

Just Like That

Just Like That: A Falcon Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count:  1811

Square:  @star-spangled-bingo - Praise Kink

Warnings: PWP, Smut (M|F, oral sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, praise kink)

Synopsis:  Sam shows up after a long, hard day and you want to take care of him.  Turns out, he likes taking care of you too.

Just Like That

Sam let himself in through the side door.  He knew you wouldn’t mind.  You’d given him the keys saying he could come anytime, even if you weren’t here.  He had been tempted to take you up on that a few times.  Sometimes the avenging just wore him down and the call to a regular house in the suburbs where he could forget he wasn’t part of that world for a little while.

Tonight, however, he knew you were home.  Which was better really.  There was nothing like being around someone you loved just being to bring you back down to earth.  It was late though, so he just hoped you were up.

“Honey?”  He called as he dropped his bag on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and then emptying his pockets of his keys and wallet and tossing them on the table.

Your footfalls alerted him you were there before he even saw you.  He’d just reached the kitchen door when it flew inward, nearly smacking him in the face and you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Sammy!” You squealed and began peppering his face with kisses.

“Woah, calm down, babe.”  He chuckled holding you close.  “I’m a bit bruised.”

“Oh no,”  You said, slipping down off him.  You lifted his shirt and ran your fingers over one of the large marks on his side.  He winced a little and you took your hand away.  “What happened?”

“Just Avengers stuff.”  He said.  “I’ll be fine.  Besides, that’s not why I’m here anyway.”

“Mmm…”  You hummed taking his hands and leading him into the living room.  “And why are you here?  Late-night booty call, is it?”

He chuckled.  “How dare you?  I’m a human being, not just this fine body.”

You giggled and leaned up and kissed him.  “Alright, then,”  You asked.  “What can I do for you, Sammy?  You want something to eat?  Some hot cocoa?  A shower?  To just crash?”

Sam flopped down onto your couch pulling you down into his lap as he thought.  “A beer and a sandwich would be amazing.  Then a shower.  Then we can crash.”  He said.  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

You rubbed your nose against his and ran your fingers over his scalp.  “Of course not.  I like taking care of you.”

He tilted his head and kissed you deeply, running his hand up your back and cradling the back of your head.  You hummed softly, a sound he loved.  He loved to hear when you enjoyed something.

You pulled back slowly, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

Sam sank back into the couch and let his head roll back.  It had been a long ass day.  He was glad to be here with you at the end of it.

It didn’t take long for you to return.  You had a plate clutched in one hand, laden down with things and an opened bottle of craft beer in the other hand.

“It’s your lucky day, Wilson,”  You said, handing him the beer first.  “I made meatballs for dinner and there were leftovers.”

“Are you serious?”  He said sitting up and taking the plate off you.  On it was baguette filled with meatballs cooked in marinara sauce.  You’d toasted it with mozzarella on top and it was browned off and bubbling perfectly.  You’d added a pickle and potato chips to the plate to round it off.  “Oh my god, you know exactly how to get to my heart.”

“I know what my guy likes.”  You said, sitting down and tucking your legs up under you.  You curled into him and put your head on his shoulder.

“Mm… you sure do.”  He hummed taking a large bite.  He moaned as he chewed it slowly and swallowed and you stole a chip from his plate.

“You do anything this Friday?”  You asked.

“Taking my best girl out?”  He said.

You looked up at him and smiled.  “Oh yeah?  Where are you taking her?”

“I don’t know.   I hadn’t got that far.”  He teased.

“Well, I have tickets to a play off-broadway.  It’s in preview.”  You said.  “You want to go?”

“Sure, honey.  That sounds good.  We can get dinner beforehand.”  He said and kissed the top of your head.

“Perfect.”  You said.

This was what Sam liked best.  How completely and utterly normal it was.  He didn’t think he’d ever just be able to live with normal.  That wasn’t him either.  But he needed some.  He needed a place to go where he didn’t have to worry about gods, or HYDRA, or aliens trying to take over the Earth.

Here with you, he was a normal guy who ate meatball sandwiches with beer and planned dates in the city.

He finished his sandwich and sat back, rubbing his stomach and draining the last of the beer.  “That was exactly what I needed.”  He said.  “Thank you.”

“You’re easy to please.”  You said and got up taking the dishes to the kitchen.  When you returned you came over and offered him your hand.  “Come on.  Let’s clean you up.”

He took you hand and let you pull him to his feet.  He followed you upstairs willingly and let your strip him off as you waited for the water in the shower to heat up.

“Oh god, look what they did to you.”  You said as you traced your fingers over his bare skin.

He took your hand and kissed the back of it.  “I’m fine.  I’ve had worse.  Let’s just get cleaned up.”

You nodded and stepped under the water with him.  You took the body sponge and added some shower gel to it.  He inhaled deeply as you began to wash him down.  That clean, slightly floral scene always reminded him of you. As you carefully moved the sponge over him his muscles relaxed and his cock twitched.  Not that he expected more from you now, but the way you tenderly took care of him, running your hands over the lines of his body, he couldn’t help the way it turned him on.

You smirked and ran the puff down the lines of his Adonis’ belt.  “You like that, Sammy?”

“Mm… yeah, baby.  Feels really good.”  He hummed.

You ran the puff over his cock and it jumped and hardened more and he groaned and leaned up against the wall.

“You’re not going to be a tease now, are you?”  He said, running his hand down your side.

“Me?”  You teased, dancing your fingertips up his shaft.  “Never.”

“That’s a girl.”  He hummed and pulled you into a kiss.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft and began to pump it slowly.  The blood rushed to his cock, and it hardened fully in your hand.  He groaned into your lips as you moved yours with his and your tongue flicked out to meet his.

His slid his hands down your back and gripped your ass, pulling you a little closer to him.  “Fuck, that’s it.”  He groaned.  “Just like that.”

“Mmm… you like that, Sammy?”  You moaned gently as your lips ghosted down his neck and you sucked on the dip where his neck met his collarbone.

“Yeah, baby.  Feels real good.  You know just how to get me off, don’t you?”  He said in a husky growl.

You made a little choked sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper and you began to kiss lower down his body.  You paused at his nipples flicking your tongue over them and nipping at them gently.  The whole time you jerked him off, your fist moving up and down his shaft, twisting and squeezing slightly.  It sent tendrils of pleasure snaking through his veins and made his balls tighten and his cock start to leak precome down over your knuckles.

“What else do you like?”  You asked as you kissed down his abdominals.

He groaned and massaged his fingers over your scalp. “I like when you suck my dick.”

“Mm…”   You hummed as you swirled your tongue up his shaft and over the head of his cock.  “Like this?”  You dropped your head down, taking him into your mouth and sucking hard.

“Oh yeah.  Just like that.  You’re doing really well.”  He praised as a shiver ran up his spine.

You moaned and squeezed your legs together as you dropped your head down lower on his shaft.

“That’s my girl, take the whole thing.  I know you can do it.”  He moaned, his eyes locked on you as your dropped your head lower and lower.  When your lips were flush with his base he held you in place, even as you gagged a little.  “That’s it, baby, you can do it.  It feels so good.”

You moaned loudly and when he let you go you pulled back coughing a little.  “There you go.”  He praised.

He guided you back up and kissed you hungrily, pushing you back against the shower wall. You wrapped a leg around him and rolled your hips, grinding your pussy against him.

“You gonna take my dick, baby girl?”  Sam purred as he ground into you.

“Yes, Sammy.”  You moaned.  “I want it.”

“That’s it, baby.  I’m going to make you feel so good.”  He said and lifted you up, lowering you down on his cock.

He started to thrust deep into you as you clung to him and squeezed your walls around his cock like you were milking it.  “Yes, Sam.  Just like that.  Fuck me so good.”

“You take it so well.  Good girl.”  Sam hummed as he fucked you.

He kept going, deep and hard, pulling your hips up so he could angle into your g-spot.  Your cunt clenched and spasmed around his girth and you dug your nails into his back.  The bathroom echoed with the sounds of your moans, grunts, whimpers, and mutual words of praise.

As he got closer and closer to his release he started to rub your clit hard, wanting you to come first.  “Yes!  Yes!  Just!  Like!  That!”  You screamed out and with a cry you came, arching back and shuddering around his cock.  The way your pussy clenched and squeezed his shaft pulled him over and he thrust hard and deep into you, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you.

“Fuck.”  He sighed as he slipped from you and let you down.  His come dripped from you and he groaned at the sight of it.

“That was good.”  You hummed as you stepped back under the water.

He grabbed the shower puff and began to wash you.  “Yeah, it was.  Didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

You turned and smiled wrapping your arms around his neck.  “Well, I do like to be needed.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male fairy x male reader (sfw) [extract!]

So this month’s Patreon story is now just shy of 8000 words which, if it were a commission, would be £80! And for just $5, you can have access to all 8000 words of it over on Patreon (including the nsfw bits of course!), as well as my previous Patreon-only monthly stories, early-access to all non-commissioned Tumblr posts, and work in progress snippets, character bios and ideas. 

But if you’re not able to do that, here’s an extract for you, and his aesthetic. I love Jinx so much, he’s just totally wormed his way into my heart. I hope you like him too! He’s a fairy boy who had his wings plucked off just before the start of the story... The extract starts just after he’s been with the human a while and has begun healing a little. 

... extract... 

“Why are you still bothering?” he snapped.

“Because I want to,” you retorted. “What do you want?”

“I don’t care.”

You just sighed at your obstinate guest, and once you’d changed his bandages and commented on how well his wounds were healing, you ended up cooking pasta. You gave him a pasta shell with some tomato sauce, with a cube of pancetta and a little chunk of mushroom, and tried not to smile as he hungrily cut into it with the new little plastic knife you’d made him.

Over the next weeks, Jinx seemed to soften almost imperceptibly to you. He let you bathe him in the ceramic butter dish you had literally never used – fully naked, but you promised him you wouldn’t look too closely – and change his bandages, and feed him, and eventually he started to open up to you.

He never touched you, and he rarely left the little shoebox bed you’d made him, not until one Friday evening when you were exhausted and falling asleep on the sofa with your dinner still in your lap. The nearly empty bowl of egg-fried rice – some of which you’d syphoned off for him before hand, with a garden pea on top for decoration– was slipping dangerously out of your slack fingers when you felt something sharp zap you on the tip of the nose.

You jolted awake, almost dropping the bowl altogether. “What the –?”

And then you caught the sound of it: the cheekiest, most mischievous laugh you’d ever heard. You blinked, looking up to see Jinx standing on the arm of the sofa, a ball of what looked like lightning crackling between his hands.

“Well, it’s good to hear you laugh,” you said, adjusting your posture and yawning.

“You nearly dumped your food on the floor like a baby,” he said, splitting the ball of energy into three and juggling them absentmindedly.

“Thank you,” you said, not pointing out that him zapping you had nearly achieved the same end. “That’s impressive,” you said, watching him juggle, and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s nothing,” he said, sending the balls of light whizzing around his middle. “We can do so much more than little party tricks like this.”

“I’d love to see it some day perhaps,” you said, stretching your back out and setting your bowl down on another little coffee table. You didn’t use ‘his’ table for anything now, wanting him to have at least some space of his own.

“I’m cold,” he said suddenly. “I need some better clothes. Or, like, just clothes,” he added, looking down at his bare torso. He still had the bandages on around his upper chest, and he was still wearing those green leggings.

“I guess we could cut up a shirt of mine?” you said, which made him laugh again. “What?”

“I’m not wearing matching top and bottoms,” he giggled, his hands going to his hips. “That would look ridiculous!” and just like that, he broke into a fit of hysterics that had you both laughing at the image. Jinx was actually bent over at the waist, and little tiny tears of laughter splashed onto the mat of the coffee table.

“Come on,” you chuckled, making to stand up. “Let’s find you a couple of shirts we can cut up at least.”

“It’s alight,” he said, “You don’t have to ruin your shirts for me.” He stopped laughing and seemed to go serious again, the light dimming in his green eyes. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“Hey now,” you said, sitting back down on the very edge of the sofa cushion so you could look him in the eye a little easier. He seemed to appreciate not having to crane his neck up. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, ok? I’m really glad I met you.”

“Found me in a flowerbed, more like,” he said.

“Meh,” you shrugged. “Met, found: semantics.”

He flashed a lopsided grin at you and eyed your shirt. “You have terrible taste in clothes, by the way,” he added. “I’m not sure I want to wear anything of yours…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to come shopping with me then? Be my personal stylist?”

He snorted at that, and then went still. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

You shrugged and nodded. If it would get him out of his shell, why not?

“No,” he said. “I… I don’t think so. I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll bring some shirts downstairs tomorrow morning and we can decide. I should warn you though, I don’t know the first thing about sewing. I think I have a sewing kit in the cupboard from when I needed to put a button back on…”

He snorted another little laugh out of his nose. “Who do you think made these?” he said, slapping the back of his palms against his thighs.

“Fair enough,” you said.

You took your plate out into the kitchen and refreshed the water in the bottle cap for him. As you brought it back in, you saw that he was sitting cross-legged on the top of his bed, not looking like he was about to go to sleep at all.

“Everything ok?” you asked.

He looked up at you with his big green eyes all wide and suddenly very vulnerable. “Can… Can I come upstairs with you tonight?”

You smiled, shoulders releasing tension you hadn’t realised you’d been carrying. “Of course you can,” you smiled. “C’mon.”

Holding the bed in one hand, you carried him carefully up the creaky wooden staircase.

Jinx looked around him curiously now, taking in the photographs on the walls and the layout of the upstairs of the small house, until you pushed the door of your bedroom open with your toe, your other hand carrying his water ‘bucket’.

“Where do you want me to put your bed down?” you asked. The room was small and modestly furnished, with a small double bed in one corner, the eaves of the roof coming down sharply on the opposite side, and a little window cutting through the slope of the roof. He pointed at the little desk below the window and you pushed your books out of the way.

You turned around and began to get into your pyjamas, and when you glanced back at him over your shoulder, you found, to your surprise, that he was staring at your bare back. He flushed deeply and looked away immediately, but you couldn’t help smiling. Yes, Jinx had already come a long way from when you’d first found him.

Drifting off to sleep, careful to lie on your side to reduce the risk of snoring ‘like a hedgehog with a cold’, you smiled. In the dark of the room, with the curtains drawn, there seemed to be a faint, blue light emanating from the other side of the room, and, cracking your eyes open just one more time, you realised it was Jinx, glowing softly. You had barely had the thought of asking him what was happening before you found yourself tipping back into sleep, exhausted.

A slight movement on the pillow next to you jolted you softly awake, and you inhaled deeply, eyelids flickering open again. It was still dark, and it felt like you’d only been asleep an hour or so at most. When you saw the soft, faintly blue light glowing on the pillow, you pushed yourself upright a little way and stared. “Jinx?” you asked in a whisper.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” he said as he settled himself down beside you on the soft, cotton pillowcase. “Go back to sleep, and don’t you dare crush me, you big clumsy human.”

You raised your hand to the pillow and reached carefully for him with a finger. “May I?”

“May you what?” he asked warily.

“Touch you?”

“You’ve already touched me,” he said testily, touching his hand to the bandages around his chest.

You fixed him with a flat stare. “This is different. I’m not bathing you now; I’m not taking care of your bandages…” You paused. “It’s alright if you don’t want me to.”

He shook his head, which you took for a ‘no’, but when you lowered your hand again he quickly said, “No, it’s fine. You can. I trust you.”

With as much tenderness as you could manage, you trailed your fingertip down over his incredibly soft hair and down his arm to his waist. “You’re very beautiful, Jinx,” you smiled.

Tears brimmed in his eyes at that, and he looked away, unable to meet your gaze. “I’m so broken,” he choked, his blue light sputtering out. “I miss flying. Sometimes I can’t breathe because I miss it so much.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just kept stroking his hair until his breathing evened out again, and eventually he began to snore softly. You had to smile at that. As he lay there, the glow started to come back, steadily at first and then to the brightness almost of a nightlight. Realising he was lying top-naked on your pillow with nothing to cover him for warmth, you rose as carefully as you could, and fetched the silk handkerchief to keep him warm.

Jinx continued to get better, and you ended up ordering him doll’s clothing off the internet for the winter which he actually seemed to enjoy a lot.  Some of it he modified, but most of it he wore straight out of the packet. His favourite was a snuggly jacket that he wore outside with some boots which he’d made for himself out of some fake fur you’d picked up at a craft shop. He was really good at making things, and he even patched up a couple of your work trousers for you so well that you couldn’t even see where the rips in the pockets had been.

Within a month of him coming to live with you, he had started to venture outside into the back garden, exploring a little while you sat on the back step, watching him. Not being able to fly was clearly agony for him, and after his first patrol of the garden, which he declared the biggest dump he’d ever seen, he asked to go back inside.

However, as the autumn progressed, he would stay out for longer, rummaging around in the undergrowth and checking out every inch of the garden, sometimes for hours. He made you lift him up to inspect the boughs of trees, checking their health, and often directing you on what to cut back what to pull up, and what to leave alone.

The first snows fell, and Jinx stayed inside when they got too deep for him to venture outside practically. He hated that, but he asked you for some paper, and stitched himself some miniature books. During the day he would draw, and he would never show you anything, so you stopped asking. From glimpses you got, it looked like architectural plans.

You had no family to speak of, so Christmas was a quiet affair, and by the time the spring came round, you and Jinx had reached a near-perfect symbiosis. He occupied himself during the day and spent the evenings with you, listening to you talk about work or colleagues or friends in the city. You even took him in your pocket into the city once. His emerald eyes had gone wide at the sights and sounds, but he’d found it exhausting, and had fallen asleep in your breast pocket after a couple of hours, so you returned on the train, not even waking him as you laid him down on top of his bed, fully clothed.

Once it warmed up enough, you installed a cat-flap in the back door so that Jinx could come and go as he pleased, and you tried not to worry about him getting attacked by a cat or something while you weren’t there, especially since he couldn’t fly any more. He never spoke of what had happened to him, and you never asked.

One day you came home earlier from work than usual to find him in the back garden, using the set of miniature tools you’d found on eBay. They were perfect for him, and fully functional, made of sharp tool steel, and he had cried when you’d given them to him for his project.

“How’s it coming?” you asked, and he jumped, so absorbed in his task that he hadn’t noticed you open the back door.

It was chilly, but he’d clearly been sawing for ages, and was wearing only the little leather apron and a pair of his favourite leggings, his torso bare. His green hair was longer now, and he tied it up in a dinky ponytail that bounced whenever he moved. A sheen of sweat sparkled on his brow and he grinned at you. He looked radiant.

Jinx turned around and eyed the tree stump behind him at the side of the garden. He’d discovered it at the end of autumn, and he’d been slowly hollowing it out ever since. Now the interior was almost complete, and he was making a front door to fit the opening he’d carved in it. “Alright,” he chirped. “Starting to look like home.”

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[taocastleprincess]

inktober for writers // day 6 // ‘tentacles’ & ‘I’m grateful for you’

A/N: this short story features my babies!! Nurina Naderi and Prince Xander. (if you follow me you’ve probably seen me tag hella quotes and pictures with either of their names, lol) i created them my sophomore year of college in my creating writing class taught by Daniel José Older!! it’s been like three years since then and Nurina and Xander still aren’t totally fleshed out but they’re realer and their story is so much grander than what I first envisioned back then! i love fantasy, urban especially, and the integration of lesser known African myths into stories. Both of my characters are Black, bisexual/pan, and unapologetic. can’t wait to be finished fleshing out and writing the entirety of their story so we can get my babies published and OUT THERE! i love them! and i hope this v short story that i wrote for day 6 makes you love them a little bit too.

also!! the Man-Eating Tree featured in this short is adapted from the Man-Eating Tree myth from several tribes/ethnic groups in Madagascar. According to myth, the tree ate people by capturing them with their tentacle-like leaves, crushing them to near-death and then throwing the victim into the base of the tree to, finally, eat them whole. Spooky, right?!

For once, the mayhem and chaos that they’ve found themselves in doesn’t leave a grin on Xander’s face. And, even though that on a pain scale of 1 - 10 she’s clearing a 14.5, Nurina can’t help but feel an absurd amount of impish glee. Maybe the fae are rubbing off on her. “What’s wrong, Princey? Finally bit off more than you can ch— Oh my God. My arm feels like it’s going to fall off. That tree is a goddamn monster.” Her right arm is swollen and bleeding with circular bruises marking the places where she has ripped away tentacles. Yes, tentacles. The things that belong on squids and octopi. Not trees. Especially not man-eating trees. Xander looks pale, a rare occurrence for a faerie from the Summer Court. His brown eyes blankly look Nurina up and down stopping on her arm for a long period each time. Nuri’s excitement at his current state quickly dissipates. His sleek brown body isn’t made for sagging, his ethereal eyes aren’t crafted for emotionless stares. Even the sunlit glow that usually accompanies his glamourless body is nearly missing, only barely outlining the edges of his shape. He looks like a different creature. Exhausted, reluctant. Defeated. “Xander, you big idiot, I know what you’re thinking.” She pushes herself off the ground with her good arm, careful not to jostle her other arm any more than she has to. She walks to the faerie’s side trying to mask her labored breathing. “This isn’t anyone’s fault. I messed up. We messed up. We do this all the time. Remember the talent show? That was way worse than this so I don’t know why you’re being such a big ba—“ “Because we know that the stakes are higher now, Nurina!” His deep voice reverberates through the night air sending a shock throughout the woods that shakes the branches of the trees surrounding them. Nurina recoils, unused to the fae using such harsh tones with her. He doesn’t talk to her like that. Not ever. Nurina immediately feels a wave of calm trying to force its way in. A cloud of foreign emotion trying to mask her unease. Anger flares within her at the realization of what’s happening and the surge of fresh, genuine emotion rips through the incoming haze, piercing the glamour. “Do not do that, Xander. Do not mess with my emotions, do not try to shut me up! What the hell is wrong with you lately?” Against her will her voice cracks and shakes and she can feel her eyes start to water. Weren’t they past this? The crossing of boundaries, the complete disregard of each other’s feelings? Weren’t they friends now? Why is everything such a mess? She thought that freeing him from The Realm had solidified their partnership, their growth, their respect for one another. But the only thing it has done is bring her an almost impossible mission and an almost unrecognizable companion, a shadow of the mischievous prince she used to know. “I was not trying to shut you up or deceive you. You were about to shut down. Like you always do.” His words are direct and cool but his warm brown eyes shine with worry. “I can’t have you shutting down on me tonight. Or any time. Not anymore.” His handsome features are marred by distress making him look older and more severe. His face is more suited for smiles, sly winks, flirty gazes, Nurina thinks subconsciously. “Well then talk to me! I don’t ‘shut down,’ I just leave because no one thinks I’m important enough to talk to! Not yell at. Not condescend to. Just talk.” Xander opens his mouth to speak and Nuri lifts her good arm to push an open palm into his face. “No. Just shut up first. You’d think that after I singlehandedly broke you out of Fancy-Faerie-Prison and cleared your name of murder, you’d stop saying stupid, sexist shit like ‘you’re too emotional! You’ll shut down! You won’t be able to handle it!’ And start actually treating me like an equal! But I guess that’s too much to ask for, huh, asshole?” “I’m not sexist,” Xander says after a long pause causing Nuri to raise her eyebrows disbelievingly. “I think humans, in general, are overemotional.” “Shut the hell up. It’s done. Just let me know what’s up. This ‘tortured and aloof magical prince’ act is old.” Xander sighs. His eyes wander to Nurina’s mangled arm again. He takes it, gently, and examines it thoroughly before carefully placing it back by her side. Even with the arm being numb with excruciating pain, his touch still brings pleasant tingles. She wonders if he can sense what she feels right now. Her cheeks flush thinking of such an embarrassing scenario. “Are you really okay?” He asks softly, almost whispering. Nuri suddenly becomes distinctly aware of how quiet it is. Everything is still. Nothing dares to move. Even the wind is steady. “Not your arm but you. Are you okay?” “What?” “This isn’t normal, Nurina. What we’re getting into. It’s not... It isn’t like before.” “It’s never been normal, genius. You’re a faerie. A Faerie prince. Half a year ago I didn’t even believe in you and I thought that the only nation who still thought monarchies were cool was the UK.” Xander squints at her and Nuri swallows a laugh. Faeries. They’re so sensitive about their outdated systems of governance. “And anyway,” she continues, “this is exactly like before! We run into some weird thing from your Realm, we get beat up, the tables turn and then the baddie gets beat up, somebody heals us, and then we go home! This is normal. This is our normal. What is your deal? You didn’t have anything to say about it before.” “Right. That was before I got accused of murder, we both were nearly killed, found out the deaths of both our mothers are linked, and learned we have, maybe, less than a year to save The Realm and your city.” He talks slowly and enunciates each word as if talking to a young child. Exasperation ages his features and makes him look much older than his 17 years. “Excuse me for not thinking that ‘this is our normal.’ This kind of disaster isn’t even typical for the darkest part of The Realm. We are dealing with things much more sensitive than you’d like to admit, Nurina, like it or not. “Maybe it was always going to end up like this. Especially since we’re carrying the responsibility for choices that were made long before we were even able to walk. But...” Nurina watches pain and regret flash across Xander’s face and her stomach twists in agony. “Maybe... if that day by the Basin...” “Xander, you know that’s not true. We always had to find each other. And I’m not talking about fate or any of that dumb stuff. I’m talking common sense. You had to find me, regardless. I’m the only one who can hone whatever-the-hell is inside the gems. Me. My mom left that task to me. So the day we first met at the Tidal Basin? That day has nothing to do with where we are now.” She reaches out to grab his hand. It’s warm. Unnaturally so. Most faeries’ internal temperatures run extremely high. Xander, being a Summer Fae, is no different. “Look at my arm, Xander. Look at it,” Nuri raises her arm as far as she can, wincing at the sudden movement. “It’s messed up. Effed up! All because of this!” She lifts her neck to put the dull but entrancing necklace draping her chest on display. “This,” she juts her neck even higher, “is why my life is crap. This is why my mom is dead. This is why I have to add ‘save the entirety of effing D.C. and all of Faerie World’ on my Senior Checklist. Not you.” Nuri squeezes Xander’s hand and she’s filled with warmth when he squeezes back and gives her a faint smile. “‘Faerie World?’ You make it sound like a cartoon,” Xander says, voice slightly lilting in that playful way of his. “Funny because I did get that from a cartoon. You ever seen The Fairly-Odd Parents?” “No, but I’m sure it’s quite offensive and full of baseless stereotypes.” “You’re not wrong,” Nuri winks. Xander laughs lightly and squeezes her hand again. “Come on. We need to hurry up and burn this thing before it starts to germinate the area. And then we need to head to Ryhaewa’s before your arm sits for too long. You know his balms work better the fresher the injury is.” “You didn’t kill it already? Didn’t you burn it?” “I did burn it,” Xander starts while pulling Nuri along with him back towards the husk that’s left of the carnivorous tree, but to actually kill it you have to burn it from the inside out. Otherwise it’ll respawn and come back stronger and more intelligent than before. You have to burn the heart.” “It has a heart?” “Most things do.” Xander lets Nurina’s hand go and walks even closer to the tree. She uses the opportunity to raise her hand over her nose and mouth to try and block out some of the stench. What is left of the tree smells of dying, festering flesh. Most of it is burnt and black but some of its tentacle branches still live, whipping themselves into dizzying patterns, soundlessly threatening him. Nurina gets sick thinking about the damage those huge tentacles could impart on him. He’s strong, supernaturally so, but he’s not invincible by any means. He’s not immortal. “Xand—“ “See? You humans. So overwrought. I’ll be fine, little light.” Nurina’s cheeks heat up at the endearment. “I was actually going to tell you to hurry the hell up. Some of us need immediate medical attention, you ass.” Xander laughs again and this time it’s his usual one. Loud and lovely. Joyous. It feels like the perfect summer day has taken residence inside of her. When he reaches the base of the tree, Xander’s hands start glowing intensely. Summerish light pours out of his hands and even though Nurina is several feet away she can start to feel the heat emanating from his palms. She starts to sweat as she watches the tentacle branches squirm in discomfort and fury and latch themselves onto Xander’s body. Nurina can see their bodies constricting, trying to weaken the faerie. Trying to squeeze the life out of him. Her own mangled arm throbs with sharper pain just watching. “Xander!” He has started a small flame at the base of the tree but the tentacles still squeeze, still trying to suck at his energy. One of the tentacles hanging onto his arm catches her attention. It seems to be the strongest one and it rewraps itself around his forearm. She can hear its suction cups digging into Xander’s skin and this time she can tell it hurts him because the fae’s body jerks and the light shooting from his hands dims. Almost indiscernibly. “It’s eating you!” “Yes. It is. It is a flesh-eating tree.” She tries to laugh but Nuri can hear the strain in his voice. She wants to go to him, to run in and save the day but she doesn’t. She can’t. She’s fragile, human. She couldn’t even withstand five seconds of one of those tentacles wrapped around her arm. So if she were in Xander’s position... The fire grows and the tentacles start to weaken but he’s still not out of danger. Nurina caresses her bad arm and tries to relax. She’s out of commission but she’s with the strongest, smartest fae she knows. And doesn’t he always get everything under control eventually? Trust. She has to let go and trust in him. It’s hard to take the back seat when all you’ve ever been trained to do is take charge. To save everyone else. To make sure that all the collateral damage only falls on you. She watches Xander continue to battle the weakening tentacles. Some things can’t be helped. She can’t be the hero all the time. Sometimes it’s not her job. The tentacles start to sag as the fire grows bigger and burns brighter. The area is hit with another stench-wave of burning flesh. Xander looks over his shoulder, his smile stretches across his entire face as he winks. Sometimes someone else has to step in. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be saved. “I’m so grateful for you,” Nurina whispers. If he were a human, he wouldn’t have heard her, but he wasn’t and he did. His face slacks in genuine surprise at the vulnerability of her words. “To you. You think you ruined my life. But you didn’t. Trust me. We’re a team. We have to cover each other’s asses every once in a while. And that’s cool. I don’t mind battling entire fancy, magical monarchies for you.” She giggles a bit. She would mind, a tiny bit, if she had to do that again. “Especially since you’re my best friend and you’ve saved my broken ass everyday since that afternoon downtown.” There is a long pause. The tree is dead now and its tentacles shrivel. Xander kicks them into the fire, making sure to destroy every part of the monsterish tree. After he circles the entire fire and concedes that there’s nothing left to be burned he walks slowly over to Nurina. When he reaches her he only gazes into her eyes. Summery brown pools of honey meet incredible depths of dark, almost black, brown. “You’re not broken. That’s first. Second, you’ve saved me from execution and a traitorous plot on my life. I owe you my life twice over.” “You don’t owe me anything.” “No, little light,” Xander says and taps the apple of her cheek twice with his pointer finger, “I owe you quite a lot. You’re too generous. I don’t do much saving. It’s against my nature,” he winks mischievously. Nurina smiles. “I think your nature is changing.” Xander laughs. “No, I just have exceptions.” He sobers then and stares intently at her, completely shifting the tone from one of light jest to something heavier. “Nurina.” He doesn’t just say her name, he commands it. Brings it to attention. The hair on her neck stands on end. “Yes?” “You’re right,” he says. “We are a team. Equals. We have to be.” Nuri nods her head silently while Xander absentmindedly continues to tap her cheek. “But you need to tell me when you feel that everything is too much. You’re not being honest with me.” “Wha—“ “Listen. You’re brilliant. Strong. Capable. You’ve proven me wrong, the Courts, the entire Realm. But you don’t have to prove anything else. You’ve barely given yourself time to rest. You’re dead set on placing yourself into an early grave, Nurina. And I will stop you before that happens.” Xander’s finger stops its tapping and instead gently winds down her cheek and curves to rest lightly under her chin. “We’re equals, Nurina. But I won’t ever hesitate to snatch you back from the edge. We’re a team; you don’t get to jump into suicide missions.” Nurina laughs and swipes his hand away from her face. She’s warm all over, buzzing with giddiness, but the last thing she needs is to give her local cocky faerie prince another reason to think he’s hot shit. “That sounds a whole lot like saving to me.” Xander smiles. “Only for you, little light.”

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Hell in Heels

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Ubbe/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Valentine’s Day Ubbe, here we have it! 

This was not happening, no way in hell was this happening right now. This was the stuff of cheesy romantic comedies, the exact kind of movies that you hated but Ubbe loved to torture you with. Sitting on a chair, by yourself, in the kitchen you groaned and rolled your eyes at the noise across the apartment.

Today was Valentine's Day. A day that you had been working on for weeks! Today was supposed to be perfect, so much for that. Reaching for the bottle of wine that sat on the table, you tipped it to your lips and took a long drink. No doubt you'd regret this later.

Tugging your robe further down on your legs, out of comfort, you grimaced. In most cases, sitting here in your thin little robe would be enough to mortify you, but not today. It wasn't as if anybody noticed, anyway.

Except maybe Ivar, but that was because he noticed everything around him. Ubbe hadn't even noticed the bright pink silk robe that you wore, when he came bursting through the door with his brothers, all four, in tow.

"Cables out at Bjorn's." Hvitserk announced striding through your door and directly to the bedroom, where the only television in the apartment was kept.

"Hey, Love." Ubbe gave you a sorry excuse for a peck on the cheek, as he followed Hvitserk through the apartment. "We're going to watch the match."

"Um, but..." You were ignored when he marched on, leading the remaining three Ragnarssons through your living space. When Ubbe had replied to your text, to say he'd be home in five, this was not what you imagined.

Oh no!

In your mind this was much different. Ubbe would come in, after a long day at work, to find you donning your new robe and matching heels. Your hair and makeup were neatly crafted into something straight out of Vogue and you'd even suffered a full wax.

Bjorn muttered a rushed greeting, Sigurd waved, and Ivar smirked as he gently thumped past. Taking a second to pause, before following his older brothers.

"Hey, this is for you." He tossed you a festively wrapped chocolate piece. "Don't say I never give you anything nice," He winked.

"Thank you, Ivar." You mutter, watching him slowly make his way into your bedroom as well.

Slumped into your chair, you unwrap the small chocolate piece from Ivar. At least he had given you something, which was more than Ubbe had done.

Enough was enough! Draining the remainder of the wine, yep you would certainly be feeling that in the morning, you stood on shaky heels and squared your shoulders.

You adored and loved Ubbe to no end, he was practically perfect in your eyes, but today was one of those rare moments when you wanted to strangle him. Wrap your fingers around that neck of his and...you huff marching to the bedroom.

"Alright, boys." You call their attention, leaning against the door jam.

Heads jerked in your direction, Hvitserk still watching the game, although he was trying his best to pretend he was listening to you. This was a holiday, didn't he have a party to throw or something?

"Why are you dressed like a hooker?" Sigurd  was the first to speak, wide eyed. Turning to Ubbe, he motioned to you. "Why is she dressed like a hooker?"

You were, in no way, dressed like a hooker! An escort, maybe.

"Uh." Ubbe paused, taking in the sight of you for the first time since he burst through the door.  Rubbing the back of his neck, he licked his lips trying to get rid of the sudden dry feeling.

Shit! Obviously he had forgot something.

"Wow." Bjorn softly muttered and whistled. "You look..." Ubbe shot him a glare, daring him to finish whatever he was going to say.

"If you gentlemen wouldn't mind, you ain't got to go home." You smiled sweetly, "But you need to get the fuck out of here."

Clearing out the sons of Ragnar had been easier than you'd imagined, once Ubbe got behind your cause. The only complaint came from Hvitserk, as you escorted him from the television during a goal.

Carefully trying to remember what he'd missed, Ubbe shut the door behind his brothers, wondering how he had failed to notice your barely there attire upon arrival.

"Hello, Love." He tried to be cute, reaching out for you only to be faced with a rejection.

Curling your lips into the smirk, the lipstick now left behind on the wine bottle, you bat your eye lashes at Ubbe. "Are you forgetting something, babe?"

"It's not my birthday." Ubbe deducted.

"No." You shake your head.

"It's not your birthday." Ubbe mentally crossed his fingers, because he hadn't even bothered to buy you a gift. Sex was not going to get him out of that.

"You forgot Valentine's Day." You snapped flopping onto the couch and folding your arms like a child.

Head cocked to the side, Ubbe scratched his beard and shrugged. Technically, he hadn't forgot. He had just made other plans, one which would take place tomorrow evening after work. Valentine's Day was such a cluster fuck, Ubbe had decided it would be impossible for you to get a reservation anywhere so why not push it back a day?

He didn't need a cheesy Hallmark holiday to tell you how much he loved you. His brothers coming over, still a bit much, but wait until he revealed the plans.

"Love, I...Valentine's day is nice and all, but do we really need cheesy cards and heart shaped chocolates to express our love?"

"No, but it would be nice." You mutter, refusing to meet his gaze. "I got dressed up, I bought our favourite wine, and I even got chocolate covered strawberries." You continue to pout. "And why? So you can completely ignore me."

Ubbe flops down, his weight shifting the couch beside you. "I wanted it to be a surprise, but now I have no choice. Tomorrow, after work is when I was going to celebrate. I have reservations, there are roses being delivered to you at work, and I even bought you a corny card and a heart shaped box of candy."

Giving Ubbe a look from the corner of your eye, you wrinkle your nose, and crease your brow. “Really?”

“Honest and truly, my Love.” He makes a crisscross motion over his heart. “Since I've had to let the cat out of the bag, can you still act surprised tomorrow? I don't want to see like a total loser.” a grin creeps onto his face.

“I suppose.” You want to sulk a little longer, but how? Damn Ubbe, he truly is perfect.

“Good,” Ubbe leans in kissing your cheek. His hand on your thigh, a deep laugh rumbles in his chest. “And since you've gone to all this work, go crack open that wine and I'll begin dinner. We can eat and later on, dessert is on me.” He adds with a casual wink.

Holding up one finger, you smile sheepishly. “One problem. I sort of drank the wine.”

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[yawaribleubear]

RvB Secret Santa Gift

Hello, this was a secret santa gift for @sroloc--elbisivni for the @redvsbluesecretsanta event this year! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Tucker and Wash meet in a cafe one Christmas evening. A writer meeting a barista is bound to go well.

Pairing: Tuckington

“One Caffe Americano with two extra shots of espresso ready for action!”

It was an extremely busy day at the coffee shop. Tucker was busting out drinks like crazy while York was helping guests at the register and Carolina was serving guests at their tables. The holidays seemed to get a little crazy, but hey, it made the small shop money. They’re not really going to complain.

“Two Caramel Macchiatos and one Eggnog Latte with no whipped cream coming up!” Tucker slid the drinks on the counter as Carolina placed them on her tray.

“How much longer until the rush is over?” She put the tray down and adjusted her ponytail before picking it back up.

“Probably another hour.” Tucker groaned. “My hands are getting tired from making all of these drinks.”

“No kidding. My feet are starting to kill me.”

“Enough chit chat, guys! And lady. We got some guests to finish serving,” York called out from his register.

“Then how about you do it, Mr. I’m-Suave-And-Better-At-Making-Coffee?” Tucker raised an eyebrow and dared him to take the challenge.

“I think I will.” York finished up and switched spots with Tucker, throwing on his apron and settling in for work.

Carolina just rolled her eyes and walked away. She’ll never really understand why they tend to compete the way they do, but it works. With one foot after the other, she set about the cafe and got to work.

Meanwhile Tucker was settling behind the register, apron off and smooth smile ready. “And what can I get for you lovely women this afternoon?”

The two girls swooned at his voice, his eyes inviting them to spend their money and buy a very expensive coffee. Tucker knew exactly how to go about customer service, especially with the ladies. They promptly ordered their drinks and he rang them up. Another sale for the shop.

~~~~~~

“Finally, the rush is done.” Tucker took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair carefully. It wasn’t that the rush was bad- they know how to deal with rush hour. It was the fact that it was Christmas Eve and they were all ready to go home to their families. York and Carolina had planned to head home and spend Christmas with their families, while Tucker was going to hang out with Church for a little bit before heading home for the evening. Christmas was nice and all, but visiting his family in Texas was difficult as it is. He opted out of this year, but promised to visit for New Year’s instead. His little nieces and nephews were going to be excited about the gifts he sent them this year.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Tucker turned around to see a man whose aura screamed at him. Blonde hair with gray streaks, a scar going down his right eye and several scattered on his nose, and a blue sweater and muscly arms decorated his upper body.. His eyes were a lovely shade of grey with specks of gold here and there. He looked to be Tucker’s age, maybe a little older. Whatever the case may be, he appeared to be tired.

“Hi there.” Tucker felt speechless. For the first time, he was speechless. This man, he was beautiful. More beautiful than all of the women he had ever saw in his life, more beautiful than the men he usually hung out with.

“Hey. Can I get an iced latte with two shots of espresso, extra whipped cream, and a shot of caramel and chocolate?”

He had a sweet tooth. Tucker wrote down his order on the cup. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Hmm… I’ll take that breakfast sandwich you guys have.”

He loved savory items to balance out the sweetness. “Which one? We have the…” Tucker droned on about the kinds of breakfast sandwiches they had, hoping to keep him in his life for just a little longer.

“That sounds amazing. I’ll take two of the bacon, gouda, and egg sandwich.” The man smiled sweetly at him. “And I’ll also take some of that classic coffee cake.”

“Warmed up?”

“Yes, please.”

Tucker rang him up at the register. “Coffee cake’s on the house, okay?”

The man was pulling out his card when he looked back up at Tucker. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Okay Tucker, you can do this.

“Anything for a gorgeous man like you.”

The man couldn’t help but blush, coughing a little as he placed his card into the reader. “U-Uh, thank you very much.”

“No no, thank you! Can I get your name, please?”

“Washington.” He pulled his card out a few seconds later and placed it back into his wallet.

“Washington. I really like that name.” He wrote it down and slid the cup towards York. “We’ll deliver your drink and food to your table shortly.”

“Thanks.” Washington smiled and walked away, heading to his table to sit and check his laptop. Did the barista really just flirt with him?

“Carol, mind switching with me?” Tucker had finished warming up Wash’s food as York called out the drink.

“About time my feet get to rest.” She happily switched with him and rested behind the counter. At least there was a stool, so she could sit for a while.

“You can thank me later.” He grinned and placed his order on the tray. Tucker swiftly made his way to Wash’s table and placed everything down in front of him.

“Alright, here’s your latte, your two sandwiches, and that coffee cake. Anything else you’d like?”

For Tucker to sit with him. “I think I’m good. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Tucker. Most people call me-”

“No we don’t!” Carolina called from the register with a smug grin on her face. Tucker was going to get her back for that someday.

“Anyway, nice meeting you Wash. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Actually- I have one request.”

Tucker placed the tray under his arm and nodded. “Alright, shoot.”

“Do you mind sitting with me for a while?” He had a look of pure innocence in his eyes. It tugged at Tucker’s heart.

“Sure thing. Lemme put this tray back.” Tucker quickly walked over to York and slid the tray to him. “I’m on break for eternity.”

“I had a feeling.” York chuckled and handed him a drink. “That’s for you. Carol suggested I make it as a surprise.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll see you two in a bit.” Tucker walked back over to Washington’s table and sat down in front of him.

“Welcome back.” Wash moved his laptop aside and placed his dinner in front of him.

“Thank you. Just curious- what are you working on right now?”

“On my laptop?” Wash took a sip of his latte.

“Yeah.” Tucker took a sip of his mystery drink as well. It was hot chocolate with peppermint in it. Not bad, York.

“Oh. I’m a writer, so I work on my books when I swing by here.” He flipped his laptop around for Tucker to see. “Wanna read something I’m working on?”

Tucker put his drink down and paid 100% attention to Wash and his work. “I’d be more than happy to.”

His eyes set to work on reading, the words on the screen slowly being processed by his mind. Wash had a way with words, more than he ever will. Unlike Tucker, Washington made the words into art. They danced along his screen with ease, his sentences were hand-crafted with love and passion behind it all, and the way his characters were coming to life was nothing like he had seen before. Tucker was amazed when he finished reading a few minutes later. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and turned back to Washington, who was anxiously waiting for a response.

“Wash… that was fucking good.” Listen, he had a comprehensible sentence in mind before he put it into practice.

“Thank you. I’ve spent weeks working on this chapter. I think it’s just about done, actually.”

“How much more do you plan on writing?”

“About two more should do it.” Wash took a bite of his sandwich and moaned in delight. “This is mouth-watering. Do you guys make this every morning?”

“Pretty much. Our chef in the back makes them before we come in for work, so we package it and have it ready for customers by the time we open up.” Tucker will have to thank Donut for his cooking skills later before he leaves.

“You guys are really good at your job, that’s for sure. No wonder you’re very popular in town.”

Tucker smiled at him. “Why thank you very much. We’re always trying to make sure the place gives off a good vibe, ya know?”

“Indeed it does.” The two men sat in silence for a minute before Tucker spoke once more.

“Hey Wash, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Not really. I was planning on heading home and writing the rest of the evening. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering…” Tucker, don’t fuck this up. “Do you wanna spend Christmas with me? I was just going to head back home too, but I figured we can get to know each other a lot more that way. Consider it a gift from me to you.”

Washington was ecstatic. He couldn’t see his family this year due to his schedule, but at least he can spend it with someone he thoroughly enjoyed being around. “I’m in.”

“Great! I’m off my shift in about 20 minutes, sound good to you?”

“Perfect. I can get this done in that same amount of time.” His eyes lit up with a fire Tucker hadn’t seen when he first walked into the cafe. He now had a personal mission to show Washington a good time this Christmas Eve.

“Great. I’ll get back to work now. See you in 20 minutes.”

~~~~~~

Truth be told, Tucker grabbed his stuff and wished York and Carolina a “Happy Holidays” before leaving for the evening. He walked over to Wash, who was typing away at his laptop, and gently tapped on his shoulder. “Hey man, ready to head out?”

Wash looked up slightly startled and nodded. “Yeah, lemme just pack up and we can get going.”

“No need to rush. I got all the time in the world.” Tucker watched as he packed his laptop and leftover food into his bag, throwing his cup away as they walked out of the cafe and into the cold night air. He wrapped his scarf around his neck as they caught a bus back to his house.

Washington was tired and leaned his head against Tucker’s shoulder, his eyes closing as he rested for a little bit. Tucker allowed him to do so, a feeling in his gut telling him that he’s had long nights working on his masterpiece. Overall, it was a nice time. He eventually woke him up once they reached his stop, helping him off the bus as they walked inside his small home and turned on the heater.

“How do you feel about chicken alfredo for dinner?” Tucker hung his coat and placed his bag on the couch.

“Sounds great. Need any help with cooking?” Wash placed his bag on the floor next to the couch.

“If you want.” Tucker shrugged and made his way into the kitchen.

“I’d love to help you out.”

Wash and Tucker listen to some music while making dinner for the night, Wash poking fun at his playlist while Tucker made fun of how he cut chicken (“What do you mean I’m not cutting it right?!”). They cooked up the pasta and sat in the dining room for their dinner tonight.

“So, Wash, tell me more about yourself.”

Wash was in the middle of chewing on a piece of chicken when he quickly swallowed. “Well, I’m a writer, that much you know. I’m going to be a proud owner of a cat soon, I was in the military for a few years, got my degree in Creative Writing, and now I live in this city pursuing my dream. And I can cook some mean pasta.”

Tucker chuckled at the last part. “It definitely proves well. Tastes much better than what I usually make.”

“Why thank you.” He smiled softly. “What about you, Tucker?”

“Oh, me? I just run the cafe with my friends, dabble in dancing, and take care of my dog who’s sleeping in his bed right now.”

“So I didn’t imagine that dog when I walked in here?” Wash took a sip of his water.

“Nope. Freckles is pretty old, but he can fend for himself when I’m down at the shop.” He took another bite of his pasta. “Seriously, this is some good shit, how do you do it?”

“Lots of practice.” The two continued their small banter throughout dinner, the night seeming to fly away as they spent the rest of Christmas Eve watching old movies on the couch and eventually sleeping together on said couch around two in the morning. Luckily, the cafe was closed for the entire day, so Tucker didn’t have to leave his side. Now all he has to do is ask for his number before he leaves his house after Christmas, but Tucker can figure that out later.

[newtothewaywardparty]

The Ghost of an Idea 5

Read Stave One: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 1

Read Stave Two: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 2

Read Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 1

Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 2

Stave Three: The Second of the Three Spirits

The clack of hooves were the first sound to penetrate Dean’s dreamless sleep. “Huh?” he snuffled into his pillow as he canted his ear towards the motel window. The unmistakable sound of a horse blowing air through its mouth? Nose? Whatever, Dean wasn’t really a rural kind of guy, cowboy fantasies notwithstanding. Anyway, that was definitely a horse within earshot of his room. He groggily pushed himself up off his stomach and stumbled towards the window. It was still open, cigarette-scented curtains waving in the sharp December Kansas wind. Dean peered out, wiping sleep from his eyes. Yep, that was a horse all right.

A big fucking white horse stood outside his window. Atop it, resplendent in velvet green Renaissance-style gowns, sat Charlie Bradbury, her auburn hair long again and styled with a circlet crown of twisted gold. She haughtily peered down at Dean. “Hop on, Handmaiden,” she ordered, tacking a crooked smile on at the end.

Dean eyed the horse warily. Again, he was more comfortable around engines than livestock. “Uh, I don’t really…” he began weakly.

“Shut up, bitch. Atreyu can smell fear.” Charlie said, suppressing laughter. She pat the horse’s flank behind her, indicating where he should sit. She extended the hand to assist him up.

Dean was expecting an embarrassing interlude that would rack up a lot of hits on YouTube (He could picture the headline now: Dad vs. Horse, Who Would Win?) Instead, the instant Charlie’s hand touched his, he felt the same weightlessness Jo’s touch had bestowed upon him. In a blink, he was seated, comfortably if not confidently, astride the brilliant white horse. Bow-leggedness had its advantages at times.

Charlie leaned forward in the saddle. “Engage.” she whispered with a smile in Atreyu’s ear, and they were off, flying through the air back to the bunker.

Dean tried not to enjoy it but it was hard, grasping Charlie’s warm green robes, watching the countryside float past in the darkness below. He had always hated airplanes but this felt almost nice. Secure. Maybe it was just Charlie. He adjusted his grip on her waist.

“Don’t get fresh, cowboy” Charlie teased, glancing back at him enough to wink. Dean grinned. Damn. He had really missed her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” he solemnly replied. He swallowed. Stingy. The word ricocheted around inside his head, fresh from his encounter with Jo and his trip down memory lane. “I, uh, really” Dean took a breath. “Missed you, Charlie,” he finished haltingly. See? He could use his words like a grown-up.

Charlie threw a knowing look over his shoulder. “Enjoy the clip show, did ya?” Dean avoided her gaze. “Yeah, Jo can come on a little strong. You should know, though; Bobby told her to not take it too easy on you. That’s how she got chosen for that part of the mission. I wanted to do the flashback sequence but he thought I’d be too nice.” Charlie scoffed. “As if.”

She whispered a command for Atreyu to come out of Warp and they descended. “You know the drill here, right?” Dean loved that about Charlie. She never acted like he was dumb. And she was almost as allergic to chick flick moments as he was.

Dean swallowed. “Yeah. Ghost of Christmas present, right?” She nodded and they hit solid ground, Atreyu smoothly trotting to a stop in front of the bunker door.

“Ladies first,” Charlie said, indicating the door. Dean rolled his eyes and opened it. They descended the stairs together, unnoticed. The scene was exactly as Dean had left it earlier in the night. An assortment of found and recycled ornaments adorned the Christmas tree’s branches. Lights were evenly distributed throughout the branches, except for where Sam had obviously tired of detangling them. A large knot of lights clumped in the back, where Sam probably figured no one would see them. Dean bit back an affectionate smile.

Dean’s eyes were immediately drawn to Cas. He was the brightest thing in any room. His posture was unusually relaxed back in his chair, which was pushed back from the table so he could watch Jack by the tree. He had loosened his tie, and gripped a beer bottle’s neck loosely in a hand. His eyes were wide and warm, focused on Jack.

Jack was stringing popcorn with an intensity and focus Dean associated with Cas. Dean noticed the needle in use had been liberated from their medical stash, probably last used to give someone stitches. Jack’s tongue was sticking out slightly as he aimed the needle toward the center of a kernel. Dean’s chest tightened in that predictable way when he thought about the nephilim and his relationship with his chosen father.

Sam sat at the war table. He leaned back, jamming his chopsticks with finality into a take-out container, and pushed his chair back, humming in satisfaction. Dean peered into the white box with Chinese characters on it, frowning at the veggie tofu dish inside. “Typical” Dean muttered, under his breath. Charlie elbowed him.

Cas took this as his cue, and pushed his chair back. He cleared his throat, looking at Jack, who dropped his craft project. “I’d like to propose a toast,” began Cas formally. Dean couldn’t help smiling. What a dork, he thought. He could practically hear the air quotes.

Sam looked surprised, then amused. He picked up his own beer bottle and waited for Cas to continue. Cas looked at Jack and raised an eyebrow, waiting. A few seconds ticked by before Jack picked up his own beer bottle, looking sideways at Sam to copy him. Dean was grinning now. That was just fucking adorable. Not like when Jack was trying to learn by imitating Dean. His grin slipped a little at the memory of how hard he had pushed Jack away at first.

Cas nodded, satisfied now that all members of their little party were participating in this social ritual. “To Dean,” Cas began. Dean’s mouth fell open in shock. Cas was still talking. “Even though he wasn’t able to be here tonight, he’s in our hearts. Always.” Cas raised his bottle a bit at this and made to drink when Sam interjected loudly:

“In our hearts?!” Sam’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. “I wish he was here right now. I’d serve him a piece of my mind.” Sam scoffed. “Shit, I’d shove it down his throat.”

“Sam!” Cas said in a warning tone, cutting his eyes at Jack who was watching, nervous and confused. “It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah.” said Sam, running his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “Just another Winchester holiday to remember; drinking a toast to a cowardly, weak man who ran out on his family.” He was as angry as Dean had ever seen him, lips pursed, pacing up and down in front of the tree, clenching his beer bottle tightly.

Cas put out a placating hand and repeated: “Sam. Christmas.” in a gentle voice.

Sam raked his hair back from his face, stopping his route in front of Jack. “I’ll drink to Dean for your sake and for Jack’s” said Sam, indicating them both with his beer bottle, “but not for his. A very Merry Christmas, big bro, wherever you slunk off to.”

Sam tipped his bottle up and Jack and Cas followed his lead, subdued. Dean’s face burned. How could Cas defend him like that? Why would Cas bother toasting Dean at all, like he was a worthy man, in the face of all evidence pointing to the contrary? He felt a flood of affection for his friend.

Dean felt Charlie’s elbow jostle his side again. “Aw. That was cute.” Charlie’s words held real affection. Dean gazed at Cas, who in turn was beaming at Jack, hanging up grody old socks for Santa. “You’re in his heart!” she practically squee-d, smacking his arm. Dean blushed furiously and looked away.

The truth was, Cas deserved better. He always had, and recent events did nothing to convince Dean otherwise. Why wouldn’t Cas get the hint and move on? Maybe he just needed time. Time away from Dean. Time to listen to Sam’s fairly accurate assessment of Dean’s strength and courage when it came to emotional intimacy.

But what if he didn’t move on? “What will happen to Cas?” Dean asked Charlie suddenly. Now that the worry had entered his head, he found it impossible to forget. Dean could always run; he had the Impala, he had hunting, he had alcohol and one-night stands and long- and short-cons and violence. He had Sam. In short, Dean had a lifetime of experience with unhealthy coping mechanisms for heartbreak and loss. Cas had no such practice.

Charlie just gave him a look of pity and understanding. “C’mon” she urged, dragging him up the stairs. Dean gave one last look at the trio around the tree, now exchanging presents wrapped in old magazine paper. He caught a flash of Cas’ teeth as he smiled broadly at the assorted-flavored Osage honey sticks Jack had bought him at a convenience store in the Ozarks. The metal door of the bunker clanged, cutting off the beautiful sight of that smile.

With a snort and a whoosh, Atreyu bore them aloft and they landed in a field outside the bunker. Charlie dismounted with an imperious air. She strode away from Dean a few paces. “I want to show you something” she said, grimly.

She whisked her green velvet skirts out of the way to reveal two tiny figures huddled by her legs. One was a person of extremely advanced age: emaciated skin dotted with skin sores, balding head peppered with white stringy hair, mouth puckered with toothless gums, hands tipped with claw-like yellowed nails, eyes cloudy with cataracts. “This is loneliness” Charlie intoned.

The other was an emaciated young teen, bright red scars lining their arms and legs. Their eyes were red with tears and their hair was greasy and unwashed. They were curled in on themselves, clutching their stomach and rocking themselves. “And this is self-loathing” Charlie said carefully, piercing Dean with a knowing gaze.

Dean moved on instinct. He rushed forward to help, but Charlie halted him with a ghostly strong hand. “Can’t you save them?” he shouted at her angrily.

“Dean,” Charlie began in a mockingly cheerful tone sharper than any Dean had ever heard her use in life, “Better for them to be alone, to be the ones pushing others away, right?” Dean grit his teeth. He had never said those words aloud, had only thought them to himself every time he wanted to gather Cas in his arms.

Her face softened and she said “I know you like to pretend to be functionally illiterate but even you’ve heard the Tennyson quote. ‘Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’”

Dean snorted in derision. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the opposite of my life motto.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Again, Charlie threw his words back at him. “Why do you think I’m doing this for Bobby? We’re trying to get through to you, bitch.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, re-covering the shrunken nightmare figures below her skirts.

Dean retorted ‘I’m as free as a bird, now, and this bird you cannot change.” He crossed his arms across his chest with a defiance he did not feel.

Charlie’s look was pure pity. “Did you really just quote ‘Free Bird?’ What’s next? You going to tell me how when it’s time for leaving you hope I’ll understand that you were born a ramblin’ man?” She stage-whispered, “Do you ever think learning about love and relationships exclusively from your grief-addled father and classic rock lyrics might not have given you the healthiest outlook?”

Dean meant to sigh dramatically, to cast his eyes skyward, to give a witty retort, preferably with a nerdy pop-culture reference. Instead, he found himself reaching forward to pull Charlie into a hug. To press his lips into her red hair, to tell her just how much she meant to him. Just as his arms extended, she abruptly disappeared. A glance behind him showed Atreyu was toast, too. And now he was choked up with the loss of her.

He saw the glint of light off metal across the field had Dean prepared to flee. As the figure drew closer, Dean relaxed, if only minutely. It was a woman with a glorious crown of black curls, perfectly painted red lips lips, and a leather jacket Dean could find himself coveting. It was Billie. Death.

Read Stave Four: The Last of the Three Spirits