#it's not even a high cover. i am just really skittish with what tiny amounts of money i have

[echthr0s]

the wacky intersection of being poor + having a strong desire for novelty + being socially isolated + being unsuited for certain kinds of environments, where "being poor" is the thing that wins: there's a goth event happening literally down the street from me this evening which could be fun even to just wallflower at (or it could be loud and horrible and smelly! and I'll want to leave immediately) but I won't find out because it has a cover and that feels like too high a risk for too variable a reward

[seijuurouxryuu]

wash the sweetness off my title and give me a crown

Title: wash the sweetness off my title and give me a crown Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Tsuna/Fon Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Sugar Baby/Sugar Daddy AU | Idiots to Lovers Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warning

Day 7: Mist Day

Lying in his embrace was what he loved--along with the tender touches, the gentle stroke, the fond smile. Seeing him so relaxed as opposed to how he usually was in the office was so rewarding, that even the money he gave was no longer the main reason why Tsuna stayed. Tsuna stayed because he had fallen for him--his sugar dad.

AO3

Lying in his embrace was what he loved--along with the tender touches, the gentle stroke, the fond smile. Seeing him so relaxed as opposed to how he usually was in the office was so rewarding, that even the money he gave was no longer the main reason why Tsuna stayed. Tsuna stayed because he had fallen for him--his sugar dad.

 Fon chuckled at the adoring gaze Tsuna gave him, thumb caressing his cheeks softly as he held him tight. "What's wrong? Are you not tired?"

 Tsuna nuzzled against the warm palm, humming. "I am, but I want to look at you a bit longer."

 Fon's eyes turned to slit from smiling. "Why so sweet?" He asked without really wanting an answer. He leaned in and kissed Tsuna on the lips. "You did good today, what reward do you want?"

 Tsuna's mood fell a little at that, having to be reminded of their actual relationship. He was reminded of how he was just temporary--never forever. He could not be with him forever even if Tsuna desperately wanted to; that was what they had mentioned in the contract. That someday, they will separate and to never recognise each other ever again. Remembering that burned his heart, like a burning iron poking relentlessly in attempts to pierce through the glass that was his shield.

 It hurt.

 Tsuna shook his head. "No, I'm just doing what I am supposed to do so there's no need for reward." I do not need a reward; I just want you to look at me forever.

 Fon raised an eyebrow. "This is the first time I see anyone rejecting a reward." He stated bluntly. "But no matter, I will reward you still. Because I want to." He added softly to cut off Tsuna's protest. It was true that he wanted to reward Tsuna. The young man had helped him a lot, especially during the party.

 Tsuna was a money launderer who was forced into this business by the environment he lived in. He had a talent for it--all the money he laundered always ended up cleaner than disinfected surfaces.

 Fon found him one fine night where Tsuna fainted beside his car from hunger. He took him in and provided him shelter in a heartbeat, and employed him to be his sole, exclusive money launderer in another. Since then, Tsuna lived very well with stomach full and body warm; he no longer needs to overwork himself with double part-time + money laundering + university and can easily pay off his tuition fees.

 He lived so well, that it felt like a dream to him.

 A year after, their relationship escalated when Fon brought him to a gathering with other underworld leaders. Tsuna did not remember what happen, but he had helped the other fend off a lot of hungry ladies and young men by fiercely making out with the other. The consequence was another contract signed: Being Fon's sugar baby.

 It was wild, now that Tsuna thought of it, embarrassing even, but he did not regret any of his decision in the end.

 Because ever since Fon saved him, he had always loved him.

 Although, Fon was in the dark, of course.

 Fon had brought Tsuna to a party the night before, one that was full with business men of good and bad. One particularly vulgar business man was trying to hit on Fon and had insulted Tsuna throughout. Fon almost jabbed him in the throat and pull out his tongue if not for Tsuna, in a calm manner, talked down the other. It was amazing to see how the skittish young man held his head high as he exposed the ugly man's dirty laundries.

 Fon was enamored.

 Tsuna pouted, pulling at the duvet to cover the lower half of his face. "... Then I want the Salisbury steak you make."

 Fon chuckled as he ruffled the messy brown hair. "Of course." He stood up from the bed as he kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

 Tsuna flushed and buried himself deeper into the duvet. At the click of bedroom door shut, Tsuna knew he was alone in their bedroom. He sighed and slumped.

 “I want… You to love me. Forever.” He whispered to thin air.

 .

 “The Bank of E, you say?” Reborn raised an eyebrow at Tsuna who had his eyes glued to the computer monitors as he typed furiously on the keyboard. “Yep.” The young man was chipping away through the said bank’s security system, planting unrecognizable codes in each of the originals. He was looking for something; one tiny important detail that he had overlooked for so long.

 His presumably dead father’s account.

 “What makes you think Iemitsu had the mind to keep his British account when he’s off the grid?”

 Iemitsu had went into hiding for almost three years after leaving mafia, feigning his death for the freedom he wished for. His Don knew, but kept quiet for old friend’s sake. Tsuna knew, but it was none of his business to keep quiet.

 Tsuna didn’t hate Iemitsu; he had a grudge with him. For what, only he knew the specifics.

 “He had it under another name. Never used it for so many years it got frozen. Just enough for me to launder it over and back.”

 Reborn raised an eyebrow. “Do you not think someone would realize?”

 Tsuna finally looked up and gave him a deadpanned look. Reborn shrugged, hands raised. “Whatever fits your bill, I guess. Your laundry, your wash.”

 Tsuna looked back at the screen.

 He found the account. Looking at the last date of retrieval, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Well, looks like that dead beat father of mine is making a comeback of some sort.”

 He keyed in the amount of money and bitcoins, and entered.

 “Not that it matters to me.”

 .

 “Exactly 19, 098, 232, 000£ has been transferred to the bank. In two days’ time, I will retrieve it and put it under investment for the upcoming projects.” Tsuna reported beside Fon’s table, putting the relevant documents on his desk as he skimmed through his own copy.

 “10million USD has been transferred over to our sister branches about three days ago; they have been transferred back in batches of 5 since then. And the last 5billion has been written off as the company asset just this morning by the Ministries.”

 Fon nodded, putting down the documents and smiled up at Tsuna. “Good job. This season’s work is done.”

 Tsuna sighed in relief, rolling his stiff shoulders. “Thank you, sir.” Just as he was about to leave for the other to continue his work, he was pulled down by the wrist.

 He sat down on Fon’s leg. “W-wha—”

 Fon gave him a deep kiss.

 “Reward.” He whispered into his mouth.

 .

 Because he no longer needed to do any laundering for the month, Tsuna went back to university and was immediately besieged by piles and piles of assignments. All were easy enough for him to do, but he liked none of them. In fact, they were very annoying theories and calculations, all which Reborn had taught him before. Child’s play, Reborn would say. Tsuna would say its just plain unreasonable because none of them would actually appear in real life.

 Like some Math questions; who the fuck would buy 151 bananas just to give them away to 20 people and count how many unique combinations can be made by each unique banana.

 Tsuna huffed, slumping onto the bench table as he poked at his laptop. He missed being by Fon’s side. He was happy that he finally had holiday from work after 3 months of cracking codes and stuffing money into different laundromats, but at least he was by Fon’s side almost every day. With him in university and Fon working, he could only see him every few days. It was just plain sad for him.

 Perhaps he should ditch the afternoon class and give Fon a surprise…

 His sixth sense suddenly noticed danger and started ringing, but he couldn’t even sit straight before he was knocked out into darkness.

 .

 Fon crushed the tea cup he was holding, murderous aura seeping through his being as he glared up the trembling subordinate of his. “Repeat.”

 “S-sawada disappeared.”

 “How did that happen? Did I not tell each and every one of you to watch over him carefully?”

 The subordinate sweated profusely. “W-we… Got knocked out ourselves.”

 Fon almost wanted to snap his head off. Reborn, who sat opposite of him smoking and drinking rice wine snorted. “Wow, I think it’s time for you to either retrain your subordinates or get new ones. I reckon you do the latter since I want to kill them off myself.” He picked up his phone and started tapping through his contacts. He looked as usual, but he, like Fon, was angered. Tsuna was Fon’s sugar baby, but Tsuna was his student first. The second and last he took in, one of his pride.

 Whoever it was, they better pray that they hide well because once Reborn and Fon find them, they would pay a thousand times more.

 Fon took the napkin from his secretary, I-Pin, and wiped his hands. He wasn’t even smiling anymore as he looked at Reborn. “Find him.” He said to I-Pin. “For every hour he is not found, snap on of these useless trash’s fingers off.”

 The subordinate crumbled and knelt, started pleading desperately as I-Pin waved her hands and two other guys came in to drag the poor dude out.

 “Yes, brother.”

 “Wait.” Reborn interjected before I-Pin took off. They both turned and stare at him as Reborn sneered, almost crushing his phone. “It’s Iemitsu.”

 Fon paused. “I thought he’s off the grid now.”

 “Apparently not.” Reborn tossed him his phone where a picture was on screen.

 A selfie of Iemitsu smiling at a sleeping Tsuna.

 Fon sighed. “I-Pin, prepare some proper gifts.” I-Pin stifled a laugh. “Yes.”

 Reborn smirked at him. “Time to meet the in-laws?”

 Fon rolled his eyes. “Yes, time to meet the in-laws.” He smiled to himself as he touched his pocket where the ring box was.

 .

 Tsuna loved Fon, and Fon knew that all along. Tsuna never realized one thing: Fon loved him all the same and he wanted him to be more than just his sugar baby; he wanted him to be his forever, in Law, in Crime.

--------------------------------

A/N: I ended like that because I've no idea where I want it to go anymore aND I JUST WANT IT TO ENDAs tagged; Tsuna is a money launderer who did it for money to survive university, Fon is a boss of big corporate who needed a money launderer for both the corporate and his triad, and Reborn is Tsuna's tutor who taught him how to launder.

Iemitsu is basically on the run for pissing off a shit ton of Famiglia in Italy and Europe, and because he resigned from Vongola so he no longer has any protection. When Tsuna used his bank account for money laundering, he finally found out what he was doing and decided to 'kidnap' his son to talk and get solace in Fon's triad. That's his baby tuna, dammit. The least his son-in-law could do is to protect his ass!

:3

What grudge Tsuna has against Iemitsu, I'll leave that up to yall.

[I apologize for any grammar, spellings, etc. etc. mistakes]

[sleepy-and-anxious]

Good For Something excerpt:

Seen as people had an interest I’m gonna post an out of context scene from the beginning of Good For Something <3 Keep reading to read the scene. Please be kind bc its still my first draft lol

Tag list: @tawnywrites @seraphicscribbles @danafaithwriting @mademoiselleink @thekingsstudy @hawksnbooks @elliewritesstories @lachiffon @hpsinspo (sorry It wouldn’t let me tag your writing blog) 

Hepton: Where are you?

Me: Work

Hepton: Come home. I need to talk to you.

Me: I’ll be back later

Hepton: It can’t wait. Cato, Please.

Me: I’ll be back when I’m back.

Frustrated, I logged off my port screen and zoned back into what was happening in The Lounge. I’d managed to finally change out of Hepton’s coffee stained t-shirt and into my usual work wear; A large black long-sleeved button up shirt, leather pants and a pair of thick boots. I’d slicked back my short hair with hair gel, calling attention to my sharp features. As usual for these kind of meets, I kept my tattoos covered with either clothing or makeup. I didn’t want to give away too many features that would have me easily identifiable by the Noble Policing Union if the meet was a bust or if the job ended up going south.

I was stood with my back to the office’s closed door, I had a good view of all possible exits, and the many love-seats and chaises around The Lounge would make useful barriers if it came to any form of attack. The room was bustling with patrons happily drinking with girls on their laps or watching one of the many dancers on stage. Other patrons were nicely occupied in a room of their choosing with a partner of their choosing. The amount of nobles in the room, as usual, set me on edge, but I knew some of these northerners were the reason a lot of the girls could afford to live a healthy and comfortable life. I didn’t like it but as long as they didn’t come any where near me, I pretended they weren’t here. The Northern Noble accent makes me skittish.

It was usually a mutual dislike. Northerners didn’t like me either.

But, this was the South and this was my home ground. I had the advantage here. Always.

I had my eyes fixed on the entrance that I’d come through a few hours ago, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong, when a pale palm waved in front of my face. My head snapped to the left to find a tall blonde trying to get my attention. Fabienne Osrund was one of the newer girls, had probably been with Raven since the end of last year. She was a pretty lass, just a bit too quiet for my liking. I always felt like she could stare right into my soul.

“Sup, Fab.” I said, quiet enough for just her to hear. I looked to the clock to see I had three minutes before the anonymous requester arrived, my skin had started to feel as if it was covered in tiny paper cuts and I had to stop myself from searching for my necklace. I was still wearing it, it was just hidden - I never took it off.

“Sup, 1.” She whispers back. She always refused to call me anything other than the number on my left forearm. It was an odd thing to do, but I didn’t mind too much. Occasionally, Hepton and I refer to each other with our numbers and apparently, according to him, the boys still did so too.

“What needs met?” I quietly gave her the Common’s standard greeting, with a tense smile.

“Be calm. You’re pushing.” She said making sure to look me in the eyes - something she didn’t do very often.

Eh?

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking her over with my brows drawn. Though, I did take note of her request to calm down and made sure to let my muscles relax and let the edgy feeling fade. Much to my confusion, she just gave me a small smile.

I was still paying attention to Fabienne when the guest of honour walked in, but I knew when they’d arrived. I heard the small twinkle of someone coming through the beads and the relaxed mood of the room instantly changed. I couldn’t explain it. It was as if the entire room’s hair stood on end at once. As if the entire room, but me, held its collective breath. My gut told me something was wrong instantly. Every single self preservation instinct went haywire.

My eyes quickly found our visitor and I wasn't really surprised by what I found. Still stood in the entrance, proud as a peacock, was a middle aged lady. A middle aged lady whose clothes were typical Noble business lady fashion - a violet midi skirt, blouse and brief case - with her obviously dyed black hair tied back tightly in a ballet style bun and her lips painted a deep plum. She shouldn’t have been causing the anxiety that she was. Her face was plain and non assuming, but as she looked around the room and viewed the now frozen employees and clientele, her eyes held an amused glimmer and her lips turned up in the snobbiest smirk I think I might have ever seen. What a bitch.

The violent paper cut feeling had come back, but this time I welcomed it over unease.

Her hazel eyes quickly found me in the sea of people and, if I hadn’t have been watching her like she was my prey, I would have missed the deep swallow she took as looked me over with wide eyes. The lady’s lips pressed into a tight line. I tipped my chin up in challenge.

Yeah, Bitch, you say shit about my turf and I’ll make you wish you never stepped foot over the fucking border.

I felt a tight pressure on my left wrist. I broke eye contact with the snobby woman and, as nonchalantly as possible, I turned my head to look back at the blonde clutching my wrist like a life-line.

“One…” Her quiet voice trailed off. Her face had blanched and her eyes were wide and watering but her lips were pursed in anger. I’d never seen such a variety of negative emotions on her face. The concerning thing was that she wasn’t the only person in the room to react this way. 

Across The Lounge, most of the girls and even a few of the Noble men here to enjoy the entertainment were having similar reactions.  I spotted Raven across the room, perched on a love-seat with Momo, both seemed to have forgotten their wine in favour of desperately clutching each others hands. Though not obvious to most in the room, I’d known them long enough to know that was definitely a fear reaction. Self control has never been one of my strong suits but in that moment I managed to keep my face as neutral and emotionless as possible.

I needed to handle this now and I needed to handle it quickly.  

I tilted by chin up sharply again letting my brows rise high on my forehead before slowly, and as patronising as possible, gestured for her to come towards me making sure the woman understood that this was a command and not a request.

I had no idea who this old lady was, but I’d make this a damn hard pissing contest if she was going to come in here and scare my girls. The room was slowly coming back to life around us, with only a few of the girls remaining panicked and looking to me.

With her head held high, she slowly began walking towards me and I let a manic grin take over my face. Her poker face had fallen back into place and her gaze hadn’t strayed from mine. I knew this was going to be fun. Beside me, Fabienne had begun to hyperventilate, so without breaking eye contact with the visitor, I reached up and gently tugged on her ear until her attention snapped back to me.

“Go and get a drink, Fab.”

Fabienne didn’t need to be asked twice as before the sentence was finished she took off towards the bar, admirably maintaining her composure.

When the lady was a few feet away I reached back and opened the office door, to let her in. She walked in without greeting and sat down on the red velvet armchair I was sat at only a few hours before, evidently she had no issue with having her back to me.

Stupid or arrogant. Jury was still out.

Ravens's office was now free of paper stacks and holo-screens, revealing her large metal desk and rows upon rows of shelves stacked with thousands of tea light candles, that she'd helpfully lit before vacating her office for me. Raven liked the vibe that the candles gave the room and insisted that electric and neon lights and lamps killed her work ethic. I watched as the shadows danced along the walls along to the beat of the flickering flame.

Taking my place in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, I kicked my boots off and crossed my feet on top of the desk, maintaining my own poker face. Her top lip curled and her nose wrinkled in distaste before she raised one perfectly painted eyebrow. The waiting game. I knew this game well; I had learnt this game from Saintly long ago. I raised my brow back. The candle light made her plain face look angular and sharp, it elongated her nose and sharpened her nose. I presumed it was doing equally scary things to my own face.

"Mr. King, My name is-" she started, breaking the silence.

"I don't care" I interrupted quickly, being sure to keep my voice emotionless.

Her mouth tightened into a thin line once more at the sound of my voice. I don't know what she was expecting of me but I knew a South Commoner wasn't it.

"My name is Desdemona Snow." She began once more and this time I didn’t interrupt her, "I am here on behalf of my employer."

I blinked. Employer? It was a rare occurrence that I worked through middle men. Usually, people who felt strongly enough to pay for my services wanted to meet me to talk the details in person. You know, to build trust, or whatever.

"Who's your employer?"

"My employer would like to keep his anonymity, ergo, why he sent me." She replied.

Fair enough. I tilted my chin up for her - an order to continue. I watched as she ground her molars together giving me a tight closed mouth smile. She really didn't like taking orders from me it seemed. It made me smile something wicked.

"My employer heard that you're the person Southerners come to in order to get rid of problems. They say you are the best." She said, shifting to place the brief case she brought with her on top of the desk.

Well, that was one way of putting it.

"Lady-"

"Ms. Snow." She interrupted me, her North Noble accent a hiss in the room.

O-hoho. I really was getting under her skin.

Taking my feet off the table, I turned so that my body now directly faced hers.

"Ms. Snow," I started, finally getting to business, "I'm who people come to, to kill criminals." I shifted to place my elbows on the cold metal of the desk-top and leaned forward before clasping my hands together in front of my lips.

For a snap second, her eyes widened at my admission before she quickly reverted back to her. 

Interesting. It seemed she wasn't exactly comfortable in her employers decision but she was doing it anyway.  

She reached for the briefcase and nimbly undid the clasps to open it. From inside of the case, she produced a small information file that seem to only contain a few pieces of paper. This paper, I knew before looking, would be a profile. Gently, she slid the file across the table towards me.

"Then, this is your criminal." She said.

I'm not sure what I expected to find when I opened the file.

But it certainly wasn't this.

   The file was filled with three sheets of paper. That was probably about the only normal part of the profile. Quickly, I sifted through the short pages and the first thing I came across was a picture of a crime scene. The image depicted the aftermath of an attack in what looked like a barracks. It was a savage scene; blood covered practically every inch of the area photographed. No inch of wall or floor was left clean. Limbs had been roughly torn from torsos and strewn across the scene. This wasn't just a messy kill. This was a massacre like no other I'd ever seen. It looked as if it was the leftovers of a rabid animal attack.

"Blood curdling, is it not?" Desdemona mused, her expression neutral.

I didn't respond, instead I chose to move onto the next item in the profile.

The next piece of paper was an info profile, it contained a variety of basic information about the killer. I skimmed the information quickly, without taking anything in, then looked to the last item in the folder. A photo. 

My mouth felt dry, all of a sudden. The guy in the photo obviously had no clue someone was taking his picture. The image depicted a young man, sat atop the hood of quite an expensive looking car smoking a cigarette. If it had been a posed photo it would have looked incredibly pretentious, but there was an air of dark realism that I couldn’t help but drink in. Cars weren't my strong suit, I'd always preferred bikes, but I appreciated motors enough to know that the car was a modern com-tech muscle car. State of the art, fast and famously hard to handle. The car seemed to be parked in some hidden underground garage that was common up north, due to the northerners rejection of modern tech in favour of more archaic forms of transportation. 

But, even though I registered all those things, it was the boy I couldn't take my eyes off. He was around my age with messy dark hair. Even with the candle lit room and soft focus image, I could make out the strong line of his jaw, the heavy ridge of his brow and his almost feminine nose. His clothes showed a noble twist on the more Common goth-grunge look. He wore a fitted black dress shirt that was left unbuttoned to show a black vest top, dark ripped jeans and a pair of black shiny brogues. The picture was taken from too far away to me to get anymore details so I went back and kept flipping back and forth between the glossy image of the boy and the information sheet. His profile told me that he was in fact my age, he was only five foot six inches tall, weighed 177 pounds, had 9% body fat, 20/20 vision, blood type was AB Negative, wasn't allergic to anything. Apparently, his eyes were blue.

Tearing my eyes from the glossy image, I lifted my head back up to look directly into Desdemona Snow's hazel eyes.

"So, who is Mr. Short, Dark and Handsome?" I asked with an unimpressed smirk. Her face didn't move from her cold poker expression as she answered,

"The boy is known as Fire Demon." She stated simply.

Say what now?

“Okay.” I respond, feeling my eyebrows draw together. I looked back to the photograph. Fire Demon, huh? I got the picture of the crime scene back out and spot something I didn't notice on my first observation due to the mass of blood. Scorch marks.  "He some kinda pyromaniac?" I asked.

Snow blinked.

"Yes." She replied.

Okay then.

I did a Saintly, and silently waited for her to carry on with my brows high.

She evidently wasn't used to someone my age demanding things from her, but she broke again after a few minutes.

"As you can see from the crime scene, he is a dangerous individual who needs to be gotten rid of."

"Okay." I said. "Is there proof that it was him that did this?" I asked.

"He was found at the crime scene, covered in blood. He also readily admits it." She admits, looking me straight in the eyes.

Fair enough.

"Why wasn't he given to the police, then?" I enquire, curiously. She remained quiet for a beat too long.

"My employer believes the police wouldn't be able to handle him." She finally said. Her word choice was careful and calculated in an obvious attempt to not reveal information. Little did she know that I'd find out anyway.

"Is this a vendetta on behalf of your boss? Who're the victims?" I ask, carefully trying to gauge the motivations for this action. Usually the people who come to me openly admit that they believe that the mark would pay off police or that they have no chance of changing their ways. But this didn't seem like that kind of situation to me.

She shakes her head, breaking eye contact.

"My employer wishes to take this course of action in order to protect more innocent people from being savagely murdered." She said, her voice void of emotion.

I nod in understanding but before I can ask anymore, she continued.

"My employer is willing to considerably compensate for any trouble you will go through." She states, carefully.

That caught my attention. My average monetary charge was around 2,000 RC; sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less. It really depended on the difficulty of the job, whether I felt killing the person would solve a problem and whether I felt it would benefit the Commons.  

So, I played the waiting game, leaning casually back in Raven's chair.

"My employer is willing to offer you fifty thousand republic counts if you can make the boys death look like an accident."

My jaw dropped.

What the fuck.

[larksinging]

alright im not super happy with this but i think this is as good as its going to get, so. this exist in @rorykillmore‘s deserves better au (for lack of a better name). she also suggested i write this, because i doubt canon is ever gonna examine this parallel, and i would die for black siren at this point. (i also considered adding wally, but that seemed too complicated for the time being. maybe another fic) 

brief references to alcoholism and also trauma i guess? 

“What, like…” Kendra stares at Ray in vague horror. “Like he was human once?”

“Yeah,” Ray replies, and mimes a shiver.  “Seems like a horrible fate.”

“Maybe he deserved it,” Laurels adds, and hopes nobody reads anything into it besides her usual cynicism.

“Doesn’t it ruin the point of a surprise party if you tell me about it?” Kendra asks. She has to look up from the laundry she’s folding when the other two, having taken over her bed to play cards on, only give her a shrug in response.

“Would you rather we didn’t?” Zari shoots back. Kendra hums uncertainty, but Zari ignores her to frown at her cards while Laurel watches her impatiently.

Honestly, Kendra should be thanking them for warning her, as far as Laurel’s concerned. Her “hangouts” with Zari are becoming a regular thing, usually when Nate and Amaya are off being intolerable and Sara’s off pretending she’s not flirting with Ava and they’re the only two cynical enough on the ship to appreciate each other’s complaining.

So the fact they ended up sitting on Kendra’s bed, playing cards, is one half coincidence and one half Kendra not knowing any better. And the newbies have to stick together, even if Kendra’s not technically a newbie. It’s only right that they warn her.

“Besides, it’s less of a surprise party and more a chance for everyone to get drunk and brag about the stuff they’ve done under the guise of catching you up,” Zari continues.  

Kendra pauses and turns to look at them. She seems caught between amusement and vague bafflement. She looks at Laurel. “They do this for everyone now?”

“Don’t ask me,” Laurel responded dryly, “I managed to avoid it.”

“The boys didn’t want to spook you,” Zari adds, though it’s a little hard to tell if it’s teasing or not.

“If you imply I’m skittish again, I’ll break your Xcube.”

“Seriously?” Zari puts down her cards. “It’s called an Xbox on this Earth. Xcube doesn’t even make sense.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway,” Kendra interrupts with an awkward cough, “This party sounds almost restrained by Legends standards. Because I really doubt that any of them had chilled out at all.”

“It’s more… terrible and awkward,” Zari says.

“It’d be more fun if it was up to Legends standard of destruction,” Laurel grumbles.

“Not when it’s on the ship,” Zari grumbles in return. Then she shrugs at Kendra.  “Anyway, most of it is Nate rambling. You’ll probably hate it.” She glances at Laurel. “And you will definitely hate it.”

Frustratingly, Kendra adores the party. Earlier she even caught up a few of them with her stories. And she listens to Ray’s ramblings with a certain lightness in her laugh. The only thing that’s not completely saccharine about it is the way Laurel notices Sara keeping a worried eye on Kendra. There’s history there, Laurel figures. Too much history.

They’re all gathered in the Gallery and listening to Nate ramble on about the team’s reality-bending adventure last... whenever. Personally, she thinks it’d feel more like a history lesson if it was in the library, but Gideon had cryptically said “No more parties in the library. Captain’s orders”.

Zari wasn’t wrong. Laurel hates this. Then again, it’s probably more enjoyable when you’re drunk, and Laurel’s not that eager to drink anymore. It’s a side effect of finding out her doppelganger and the doppelganger of her father both had drinking problems, she figures. Kind of makes you think twice about hitting the bottle.

Speaking of, Nate is clearly too drunk to be telling this story anymore.

“And so there’s Thawne, just standin’ there, and we- we…. Hm.” Nate pauses and thinks very hard. “Hey, Sara. You tell the rest of this story better. C’moon.”

There’s some brief cheering as Sara steps up, and even more when she takes the drink out of Nate’s hand and sets it aside. He half-stumbles into his seat with a disappointed grumble.

“So there I am,” Sara begins, sweeping her gaze over the crowd, “Everyone’s knocked on their ass, so it’s just me, Thawne, and the Holy Lance.”

“Spear of Destiny,” Nate corrects.

“Whatever. So I have it in my hands, and-” There’s a hint of hesitation. None of the others seem to notice it, but Laurel watches Sara a little more closely. Sara catches her eyes, and then quickly looks away.

“-And he snatches it from me. But joke’s on him, I made one tiny change. And that’s when he realizes it’s just a  powerless hunk of wood.” Sara soaks in the approving cheer from the crowd. Even Laurel’s more impressed than she’d like to admit.

“He’s just about to try and kill me, keyword try, when that… thing shows up. That, um…” Sara searches for the words for a moment. “The Black Flash.”

Laurel’s blood runs cold.

“He had one of those silly speedster suits, but all black and red,” Sara adds. She gestures to her face. “But all torn up and…. Grr.”

“It, er, he? He was some kind of time wraith chasing Eobard down,” Ray explains to the newbies. “Like a twisted version of a speedster.”

“What, like…” Kendra stares at Ray in vague horror. “Like he was human once?”

“Yeah,” Ray replies, and mimes a shiver.  “Seems like a horrible fate.”

“Maybe he deserved it,” Laurels adds, and hopes nobody reads anything into it besides her usual cynicism.

Ray and Amaya give her a horrified look, while Kendra looks more confused than anything. Zari seems uncertain, Nate’s too drunk to care, and Mick snorts in amusement. Sara pauses. Laurel shrugs to try and brush it off, but she feels strangely fragile.

“...Anyway,” Sara says, “He just sticks his hand in Thawne’s chest and boom, suddenly him and his stupid yellow suit are disappearing. And-”

“Oh, I remember this!” Nate interrupts. “Then-”

But Laurel doesn’t hear the rest of what he said. Even now, she can still remember the sound of that little execution trick. Just a bit too low to sound like a fly. She’d always wondered what it felt like, not that she ever wanted to find out. It didn’t seem like it should have hurt, but it also seemed like Zoom would have found a way to make it hurt a lot. The metas always screamed before they died, so it must have.

Laurel startles and snaps back to attention when the room bursts into laughter. She quickly covers herself by giving Nate a vaguely unimpressed look, but in the corner of her eye she catches Sara watching her closely.

Nate makes another sweeping gesture and knocks his glass over. As it shattered on the ground, Laurel rolls her eyes with extra amounts of dramatic scorn. If she makes herself seem annoyed at Nate, nobody will question why she needs to leave the room that’s suddenly way too loud. Everyone seems to buy it, because when she rises from her seat they just wave her off. They all think she’s prickly and mean and cultivating suits her well for moments like this.

“Enjoy brooding!” Nate calls as he leaves. Sara doesn’t say anything.

Her room is too quiet, so Laurel runs her finger along the rim of the half-empty glass and listen to the high pitched humming. It’s silly and a little cliche, but it makes her feel a little bit better.

The door slides open and Laurel stops abruptly. She’d told Gideon not to let anyone in, which means it must be Sara. Gideon would ignore her command for Sara. Sure enough, Sara enters carefully and looks her over. She doesn't even do Laurel the honor of not looking openly worried.

“It’s just water,” Laurel grumbles when she catches Sara eyeing her glass.

As much as she doesn’t really want to do this right now, she’d rather not have to deal with this later either. So she slides over a fraction of an inch from where she’s sitting on her bed. Sara takes the invitation and takes a seat next to her.

“...Look,” Sara begins gently, “I know you well enough to know that you don’t scare easily. But whatever happened in there really spooked you.”

“What, you think I got scared?” Laurel sneers in return. She doesn’t have to look at Sara to know that her (sort-of) sister is skeptical.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Sara’s voice has a kind of careful, even quality to it, like she’s expecting Laurel to startle. Her Captain voice. “I just.... You can talk to us. If you need to.”

The idea of opening up feels gross and vulnerable. Maybe the Legends have warmed her up to being nice, or not mean, or whatever, but that’s a completely different hurtle. And yet, when Sara rises with a little nod and heads for the door, Laurel’s chest constricts.

“Wait-” She says. Sara pauses. “Wait.”

It’s not until Sara sits back down on the bed that Laurel finds her voice. “I… know that thing,” She says after a moment. “It’s… my old boss.”

“...Prometheus?” Sara seems to be struggling with this. Not that Laurel’s told her that many details.

“No.” There’s a nervous part of her that feels like if she says it, he’ll suddenly appear. Even now. “Zoom.”

When she glances at Sara, it’s clear that Sara’s not fully following this. So she goes on. “He wasn’t like that before. It must be… Speed Force bullshit, or something.” She shakes her head. “S.T.A.R. labs never told me what happened to him. I just assumed he was dead, because everyone was still in one piece.”

“Let me get this straight,” Sara says. “The evil speedster from Earth-2 you used to work for became the time wraith that killed Eobard Thawne?”

“I guess,” Laurel says, because thinking too hard is not what she wants to do. There’s a slightly awkward moment of silence between them.

“Time wraiths don’t come after us,” Sara says gently, as if that’s what’s gotten under her skin. It rubs up against her all the wrong ways. “We have a different kind of time travel. It’s not going to come looking for-”

Laurel pushes herself off the bed and begins to pace. She wants to scream that no, that’s not it. Zoom’s probably less of a monster as a time wraith. She has to grit her teeth to stop the nervous energy rising that makes her want to break something.

“Laurel-”

“Forget it,” She snaps, and turns for the door. At this point, she doesn’t care how silly it is to storm out of her own room. But Sara catches up and just stands in her way.

“Okay,” Sara holds up her hands, as if that’ll calm Laurel down. “Okay. I get it, I’m... jumping to conclusions.” Sara puts her hands on Laurel’s shoulders when it’s clear she’s cooled down, and then gently guides her until they’re both sitting on the bed again. Laurel’s feeling a bit too hollowed out to resist.

“You didn’t know Zoom,” is all she manages to say. Sara starts to say something, but Laurel interrupts her.

“You know...” She dips into that sickly sweet mocking tone that she doesn’t use around the Legends much anymore, “When he’d drop metas off on your Earth, some of them would go and track down their doppelgangers to kill them to take their place. As if that would let them get away.” She smiles bitterly and looks at Sara. “I didn’t exactly have that option.”

The silence that hangs between them is more tense. Laurel’s smile fades when she notices how tightly Sara has clenched her fists in her lap. Sara doesn’t say anything, but Laurel suspects she’s trying to hold herself back from lashing out. Maybe she wouldn’t with anyone else. The jab suddenly doesn’t feel as satisfying.

“...That was a low blow,” Laurel admits, because she’s not quite to a point where she can apologize. But Sara deserves something.

There’s a long moment, and Sara sighs a little. Laurel wishes she could hate herself more for the misstep, but it’s hard when Sara somehow finds a way to move past it.

“...Anyway,” Sara begins a little tensely, but then evens out, “I’ve had some experience with  murder-happy megalomaniacs. And if the one you dealt with was also a speedster, then I think that being afraid is a normal response.” She looks at Laurel, and her voice is softer. Less Captain-y, more vulnerable. “These things linger.”

Laurel wants to argue that she’s not afraid. Being afraid of Zoom was the kind of thing the lesser metas did, or ones who’d done something to disappoint him. She’d always found some safety in putting on the impression that she could even openly question him. A little bit.

And, sure, sometimes she has nightmares, but the usual one is of being choked. Sometimes it’s Chase, and sometimes it’s Oliver, sometimes it’s Cayden, and even every once and a while it’s Sara. But never Zoom. Not that she doesn’t have nightmares, but it’s different. Maybe that’s because her subconscious mind knows he wouldn’t need to choke her. That’s not fear, is it?

Is it?

“Laurel?” Sara sounds concerned, and Laurel realizes she hasn’t responded.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” She snaps. “Just like you don’t want to talk about the Spear.” From the way Sara almost winces, Laurel can tell she didn’t expect anyone to notice. A hurt silence hangs over them for a moment, and then she relents. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Sara says quietly, but it sounds like an agreement.

Instead Sara puts her hand on Laurel’s shoulder. Laurel shifts to move a touch closer, and Sara takes the invitation to pull her into a gentle hug. It’s a careful system they’ve worked out, since Laurel can’t quite herself to initiate this kind of affection and Sara doesn’t want to crowd her.

“If you tell anyone I let you hug me, there won’t be a Captain anymore,” Laurel teases.

“So you’re recording this, right, Gideon?”

“I hate you,” Laurel sighs, but hugs her back a little more tightly than she intended. It helps, just a little.

[serenephenix]

Fruit Loops

Shiro never stood a chance

I’m not sure how I feel about posting this. Writing has been hard lately.

Have fun!

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Fruit Loops

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Gen/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Team as Family

[AU]: Shenanigan(g)s series, college AU

[Word count]:  3.600

[Warning]: fluff, paramount amounts of fluff

[Status]: completed

Original AU by taylor-tut

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Shiro had no idea when exactly he had noticed something was amiss. Not amiss in the sense where Keith had broken one of his ribs and done everything in his power to cover up the whole unpleasant ordeal consisting of blue and violet bruises; Nor when he had hidden a written test from their parents after failing it and hoping that holding a burial for it in their local park would make his 2nd grade homeroom teacher forget about it, only to be sorely disappointed.

No. Shiro knew when his younger brother was trying to hide mess-ups: there would be averted eyes, tell-tale red dusting on the tips of ears covered by black hair, and slumped shoulders.

What Shiro was seeing now though - and that had to be the most absurd thing of all - was that not just Keith but every other person in their apartment seemed to be in on the secret that had all of them in an incredibly good mood.

And it was driving him up a wall.

He was not sure when it started. There hadn’t been any signs. No skittishness, no nervousness. Nothing!

It left him puzzled and maybe even a little left out; spurred him all the more to get to the bottom of the mystery.

He kept his eyes open, his ears sharp but to his never-ending frustration his efforts yielded no results. For what the long years of having lived together were worth, Keith knew him inside out and each and every little one of his tricks and well disguised, innocent queries.

Also, Keith was no longer fourteen and as such Shiro felt it would be nothing short of rude and inappropriate to snoop around now that he was an adult. Also, that was generally Hunk’s field of expertise, and the very reason none of them left personal stuff lying around unguarded.

But still… he wanted in on the thing that had all of his friends almost glowing.

But on this morning, instead of brooding over his self-imposed riddle, he sat, coffee in hand, at the table of their rickety kitchen, tapping insistently at the rim of the cup with his finger, glaring at that greasy spot on the wall none of them could get rid of.

It was one of the few mornings where Hunk had to go off early for his biweekly lecture and where Shiro was left to his own devices to make himself breakfast, seeing as Keith and Lance had run off to their joint shift at the animal shelter.

The only other soul present was Pidge, and Shiro did not even dare entertain the idea of waking her up before eight – there was a reason she had not taken any of the morning classes.

He let out a yawn, sloshing the dark liquid around and watching a few bubbles gather at the center of the tiny whirlpool. It had been a long night and he realized that one cup would never be enough to wake him up until he would have to drag himself out and into his car.

The cupboard creaked a little as he blindly groped for the filter coffee, only to yelp when the package came toppling down on his head along with some cornflakes, both contents spilling on the floor and counter.

He just stood there, eyes clenched shut, taking deep, measured breaths through his nose. Morning was already proving to be the best part of the day it seemed.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

He sighed, looking at the mess at his feet and turned to retrieve a broom when he noticed something he might have dismissed if he weren’t kneeling down to swipe the cornflakes into the dusting pan.

He frowned, inspecting the pellet that looked nothing like the multicolored and sugary loops that the box advertised.

He shrugged; deciding that it one of his friends had probably just used the box as a sort of stash. The trash’s lid windmilled as he tapped the pan against the rim to dislodge a bit of dirt, letting his eyes sweep over the floor one last time before deeming his duty to keep the kitchen spotless fulfilled.

He considered the bits of cornflakes still strewn across the counter. With a shrug, he reached for the mismatch of bowls in another cupboard, swept up a spoon out of their oversized mug slash open cutlery box, and quickly wiped the cornflakes off the counter, each clinking against the cheap ceramic.

Shaking the milk carton revealed there was barely any left, the content sloshing around in the pretty much empty container, and Shiro made a mental note to stop by the store and get some more after classes.

He didn’t even look as he shoveled the treat inside his mouth… and promptly spat it back out into his bowl.

His only saving grace was that Keith was not here to see or hear him. He had no idea what he looked like but his brother (and any of the others if he were being honest) would not let him live down his squawks and gagging while he tried to rinse this atrocity of a taste out of his mouth.

His hand found one of the rags they used for cleaning dishes, using it to dab off some excess water off his chin, before turning back to the offending bowl with wide eyes.

“What the…”

He felt his eyebrows almost disappear in his hairline as he inspected the unassuming, dark blobs soaking in milk, bringing it to his nose to sniff at the vile concoction.

Now that he’d taken the time to really examine it, he actually noticed the strong salty smell coming from the definitely not-cornflakes.

He frowned, getting the package and searching for clues but there was nothing. It wasn’t even remotely close to what the bright neon image advertised.

Decision made, he deposited the bowl inside the sink and made his way to Pidge’s room, hoping that even if she did not know what these things were, that she might be able to help him figure it out.

He knocked on her door, waiting until there came a muffled reply, gravely and heavy with sleep.

“Hey Pidge,” he began, getting into her room and watching out for potential tripping hazards, “I hoped that you could help me with…”

The words died in his mouth as a loud purr filled the entire room.

His eyes trailed up to its source and found a russet cat, perched on the bed on a swath of blankets which Shiro knew had to be Pidge.

He stared at the cat and the animal stared right back at him, until Shiro noticed the scar tissue running over the bridge of its nose and across both of its eyes that had grown shut.

Still, its other senses seemed to be sharp enough to know where Shiro stood and that all of his attention was on it.

The longer Shiro stared, the louder the purring seemed to get. Shiro, for his part, just stood frozen, his tired brain trying to process everything.

The cat, obviously bored by the lack of action, got up, stretched, its back arching, before sitting almost regally on its unsteady perch, before letting out a loud meow.

Pidge jerked upright, throwing the cat and blankets off, blinking at her surroundings. She smacked her lips, hand groping for her glasses.

Once she found them, she put them on.

Her squinted eyes fell onto Shiro and it seemed to take a few seconds for reality to catch-up with her sleep-fogged mind.

But when the cat came up to her chin and butted its head into hers, sudden realization dawning on her face, her eyes grew the size of literal saucers.

The chuckle she released was filled with paramount discomfort.

“Uhm, surprise?”

Shiro’s scowl, though aloof, did not stop the cat from nuzzling his legs, its purr strong.

“Spill.”

Shiro felt a sort of pride when the door to the apartment was opened and closed with such care and quiet that he almost did not catch it. It went to show that despite everything, despite Keith’s ongoing efforts to pretend he didn’t care about rules, he still did care about whether or not he had lied to his older brother.

“I know you’re there.”

There was a gasp, the jingle of keys being dropped and a curse that sounded too deep to be Keith’s.

Three heads poked into the room, wary expressions and sheepish smiles greeting him.

“Uh, hi, so how was your day?”

Shiro pretended to give Lance’s question some thought, his hand never stopping the motion it had been keeping up for half an hour now. Hunk, Keith and Lance stared at his lap with a muted sort of disbelief and wonderment.

“Pretty interesting if you ask me.”

Hunk gulped and Shiro’s grin became too obvious, so he instead focused his attention on the window, staring at the orange streak of the evening sky he could catch from this angle.

“There was this nice lady at the cafeteria again and I am pretty sure that I now have a monopoly on the entirety of the triple chocolate muffins.”

He did not even need to look at them, he could practically feel their nervous shuffling.

“Then I had to explain to one some kid in communication class that no, urban dictionary is not a viable source for writing a speech.”

“And finally,” he said, making a dramatic pause before scratching the cat’s chin, making his voice extra indulgent, “I learned that we have a new roomie no one bothered telling me about.”

His efforts were rewarded with a gentle mroow, his retreating hand being chased by a chocolate brown nose. Shiro gave in and resumed his petting, the cat settling back into his lap with a contended sigh and kneading paws.

His smirk had to be daunting despite his wholly unthreatening demeanor. It became obvious the moment he turned around and saw the boys exchange concerned glances.

“And how about you?”

Hunk gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh, while Keith and Lance seemed one second away from bailing.

The moment was broken by the sound of the toilet flushing. And sure enough, Pidge peaked through a small slit at them before coming out, heaving a sigh that made her shoulders drop several inches.

Shiro couldn’t get a look at the boys’ expressions once they’d turned to face her, but judging from Pidge’s raised eyebrow they had to be reproachful.

“No need to look at me like that.” She went around the hulking trio, all narrow-eyed and with pursed lips, as she plopped down beside Shiro and happily greeted the cat instantly changing resting place. “It’s not like I told him and honestly? If I get to be chewed out so do you guys. At least I warned you.”

Keith gave a groan so deep and pained it had to hurt his vocal chords.

“Please, just… let’s get this over with.”

He set in motion before the others, almost tripping up Lance and Hunk, and having to hold onto each other to avoid ending up in a graceless heap.

They stood before him like convicts awaiting their sentence. Shame that the cat had favored Pidge over him. What he wouldn’t give to play the evil mastermind stroking its regal feline.

Instead, he opted to put the jokes aside. He put his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, looking them straight in the eye, giving Pidge the barest of glances as well.

“Seriously though, why didn’t you guys just tell me?”

Because, in the short time Shiro had been able to spare before having had to leave for college, all he had gotten out of a flustered and severely sleep deprived Pidge were the absolute basics: that the cat wasn’t an entirely new addition, that it had been living in Pidge’s room ever since it had been brought here almost three weeks ago, that ,yes, it was house-trained, that, no, she had no idea what breed it was, and that Keith was the instigator of this mess.

Anything else, Pidge steadfastly refused to divulge, saying that if anything, the others should have a chance to suffer with her, since they were in on the little scheme. Shiro could admit that the argument had been far too convincing, far too promising to brush off.

And so, he’d let her off the hook, having waited patiently the moment he came back through the door and counting on his friends’ complicity to spread the new development over a group chat Shiro figured he was not privy to for obvious reasons.

All of which had led to this very moment.

Lance’s lips almost disappeared as he sucked them in, while Hunk twiddled his thumbs. Keith for his part, stared at the tip of his socked feet. Never let it be said though, that Keith did not acknowledge when he messed up.

“Listen,” he began, sounding small and almost resigned, “I know how you feel about animals but they were going to put her down and I just couldn’t let that happen.”

His dark-violet eyes came up to meet Shiro’s grey ones, a silent plea for him to understand.

“Wowowoh, wait,” Shiro said, briefly shaking his head before giving Keith a questioning look, “I’m not judging and I do understand your need to protect every animal that you come across, “ all except Keith let out knowing sniggers, “but what do you mean by how I feel about animals?”

Keith’s lost expression and rapid blinking was rather amusing.

“I mean… you don’t like keeping animals?”

Keith sounded unsure, just as unsure as Shiro felt as to where he had gotten that idea from.

When he failed to add anything to his brother’s remark, the latter went on.

“It’s just, I kind of thought you didn’t like animals since you always said no when I brought it up.”

And suddenly it made sense; because Shiro remembered every single time his baby brother had come up to him, big eyes full of hope and longing. It had hurt to deny him but Shiro had had to do everything in his power to make ends meet. And in none of his juggling with numbers to pay the rent, to have enough money for food and financing his and Keith’s education, was there ever enough to sustain another mouth to feed.

“Keith,” he said, getting up and putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Keith peeking at him through his bangs, “I did not mean that I’d never want to have a pet because I actually do,” he added quickly at the raised eyebrow, “but we couldn’t afford it at the time.”

Shiro had tried his hardest to give Keith as much of a carefree childhood as possible but they were both aware that it had never stopped Keith from catching Shiro brooding over coupons and carefully cut-out adverts with products on offer at their local store, or when they stood in a clothes store and inevitably got Keith the winter jacket when Shiro’s easy jacket was almost falling apart at the seams.

It was all Shiro could do to keep up appearances, to ensure that the system could not sink its greedy fangs into what remained of their small family to tear them further apart.

And then Shiro entered college and he befriended Matt and things had suddenly looked so much brighter.

“But things have changed and I’m actually all for keeping our new friend. I just would have wished you’d told me sooner, since I’ll have to inform our landlord*. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression or that you felt the need to keep this from me.”

Keith’s smile was nothing like the big-toothed smiles shared between Hunk and Lance, or Pidge’s downright impish grin, but it was there and full of the quiet happiness Shiro had come to love and appreciate over the years.

He turned back to the couch, crouching down so he could once again pet their red furred engine that was now to stay with them.

“Anyway, how did you get such a beauty?”

Keith opened his mouth but Lance was quick to jump in, almost falling over in his excitement.

“Well actually, Keith knew her since what? October?”

Wait…

“That long, huh?”

Keith caught onto the lilt in his voice, on the slight shift in his expression. The mortification dawning on his face was a masterpiece in the making.

Lance for his part, was oblivious to the kind of blackmail goldmine he had unwittingly provided Shiro with.

“Yeah, he also wouldn’t shut up about how much she liked him over everyone else.”

He glared at Keith with no heat, lips drawn into a pout. Keith though had all of his attention directed at Shiro.

Shiro felt his lips quiver. It started with a slight tremor before turning into an uncontrollable quake that had him biting his lips.

Everybody was looking at him in confusion but it was Keith mounting horrified embarrassment that sent him over the edge.

He burst into laughter. His whole frame shook and rocked, so much so that he toppled over and leaned onto the edge of their couch, howling still and clutching at his side with his free hand. The cat jumped off Pidge’s legs and zoomed out of the room like red lightning.

But none tried to chase after her, much too preoccupied with Shiro riding out his sudden fit

“You’re telling me that the cat you never shut up about, the cat you repeatedly told me was the greatest menace on Earth, is the one you bring back home with you? Oh my god that’s rich!”

He fell onto the cushions, laughing and laughing because honestly, this was how it had always been with Keith: the louder he complained, the more he’d actually come to care.

“So Red’s actually horrible?”

Shiro stilled, staring at Hunk who was throwing the opening through which said cat had disappeared a contemplative look.

Shiro’s grin grew and he was aware that he probably looked like the cat that got the canary if his friends’ wary glances were anything to go by.

He turned his attention to Keith and was more than elated to see him hide his face with a gloved hand, head dipped low as if the gesture might soften the blow to come.

“Isn’t it supposed to be Mario Mario?”

Keith seemed to literally deflate but remained utterly silent as Shiro dragged him.

“What?”

Shiro smiled wide at Lance, whose eyebrow had inched even further up his forehead.

He turned back to Keith and man did his cheeks hurt but this was far, far too good of an opportunity.

“I thought her name was Mario. You know, because you had to get her out from behind pipes?”

Keith’s skin, or whatever of it Shiro could glimpse, was flushing a deep crimson. It might even rival the glow of the cat’s chestnut fur quite nicely.

Pidge was trying hard to stifle herself but Shiro could see her eyes watering, shoulders shaking and quaking with the effort of sparing her friend the humiliation. Hunk and Lance knew no such restraint.

Hunk’s deep booming laughter chimed in with Lance’s high-pitched whinnying and Pidge all but snorted out a lung before she managed to bury he face in the ugly heart-shaped cushion.

Shiro felt rather than saw the weak kick to his shin, but it did nothing about calming him down.

“Mario Red! What a name,” Hunk wheezed out, while Lance hung off of him, still shaking and Shiro was a little worried if he’d just collapse if it weren’t for their friend supporting him.

Keith’s growl was exasperation in its purest form. Still, with no heat behind it, Keith clearly could not be that annoyed by their antics.

Slowly, they calmed down, somehow ending up on or at the foot of the couch, leaning onto each other, and Shiro had taken the opportunity to sling an arm around his baby brother so that he had him in a loose hug, Keith’s head resting on his shoulder.

Shiro listened to the chatter that had started up to his left, Hunk, Pidge and Lance discussing some thing or other, while he held onto Keith.

“Thanks.”

Shiro glanced down, expression inquisitive.

“For what exactly?”

The shrug jostled both of them a little and he had to keep a tight grip so that Keith would not end up on the floor with the way he was sprawled over the armrest.

“For not getting mad? For letting us keep Red? I’m not even sure,” he answered honestly before really looking at Shiro with an earnest expression, “but thank you.

He was tempted to ruffle Keith’s hair but let it be and instead just opted resting his cheek on top of his brother’s head, more to hide his smile more than anything else.

“Of course.”

“Oh yeah, Shiro,” the mischievous voice broke through their companionable silence, sending spikes of alarm through every muscle of his being “so how does kibble with milk taste?”

“Pidge!”

Too late. Keith already lay sprawled on the floor, laughing like there was no tomorrow, the others following soon after, and from the corner of his eye Shiro saw a red shadow slink into the kitchen.

Well, he thought, things were going to become even more interesting around here.

[blueyedcas]

Wings Like Midnight (Ch.12)

Can also be read here in AO3

Chapter 1     ->     Previous Chapter     ->     Next Chapter

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Gabriel & Other archangels and angels

Warnings: None

Summary:

An angel’s wings are a beautiful and unique thing, their colour supposedly signifying their owners personality and temperament. But when an fledgling is branded an ‘abomination’ the moment he’s created, will Gabriel find it in himself to help the little one? And is it possible that Heaven’s new angel could help him back?

(I promise the story’s better and more complex than the summary)

Hiya guys! Here's the next instalment! I feel like a do this every time, but sorry its taken so long to upload! I am trying to get things out quicker but it doesn't really seem to be working :'D Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading and thanks again to Dayna, my wonderful beta! Sophie xx

Gabriel frowned with confusion as he began to make sense of Naomi’s words.

Control? Well, that doesn't sound good.

“I-it is very simple, really,” she continued, filling the silence left after her first declaration. Her eyes darted around the room and she chewed her bottom lip, obviously still skittish about addressing the archangels after Gabriel’s outburst.

Michael paused before opening his mouth. “What would this… ‘new form of control’ look like?”

“Well, it would be a simple procedure,” Naomi seemed to relax as she began to explain, comfortable in the science of her suggestion. “I would mold a needle from a blade, just fine enough to enter the eye without to much damage.”

Gabriel almost missed what she’d said, the horror of her suggestion lost in the casualness of her tone.

“And of course, we could heal the patient afterwards,” she said offhandedly before continuing with her explanation, “The needle would be enchanted with a spell, designed to encourage the... ‘patient’s’ grace to bend to our will. Then, we would be able to control the patient’s memories, thoughts and will - re programming, if you will.”

The youngest archangel grimaced at the back of the room, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He peered around the room, hoping to see his emotions mirrored on the faces of his siblings. Instead, there was no change. All looked the same as they had before Naomi’s repulsive suggestion as if this were just another normal day.

With a closer look, however, he saw something even more revolting; a twinkle, a little flame of an idea, burning in Michael’s eyes, which were fixated on Naomi as he listened. Lucifer’s blue eyes held a similar spark, a subtle smile curving his lips, barely noticeable among his blank features. Only Raphael, whose eyes darted between her elder brothers, seemed uncomfortable in the light of Naomi’s proposition.

Gabriel shook his head, horror and disbelief bubbling through his blood. Looking upwards, he smiled his frustration, fists clenched as he started to pace. He was trying to contain his rage, his revulsion, at how his older brothers seemed so keen to abuse their power, so eager to mistreat their own family.

“So, how do you know this?” Michael asked while leaning forward, head tilted in curiosity.

“Well, it… er,” Naomi began to falter, stuttering for a while before finally mumbling out, “In theory,”

“So you only know in theory?” Lucifer said. Both the elder archangels seemed to slump with disappointment which only enraged Gabriel further.

“That is your only issue with this?”

Everyone in the room looked towards Gabriel, startled, apart from Naomi, who shrunk into herself further, reverting to the quivering shell she was just minutes ago.

“She wants to impale people with some weird blade, bend their grace to her will and control members of our family: and your only problem is that she hasn't tested it out? I’m sorry, I must have missed the bit where dad made you all into twisted psychopaths,” he spat with a bitter smile

To Gabriel’s relief, his brothers seemed to consider his words. With one quick look at Lucifer, Michael sighed heavily and rose from his seat to address Naomi.

“I’m afraid we cannot accept your idea, but we thank you for your time.”

He offered his hand to Naomi which she shook, a grateful expression on her face despite her rejection. As their eyes met, something seemed to pass between them, though Gabriel couldn’t tell what it was. After a few moments, it ended and Lucifer gestured to the door.

Naomi hurried over to it, obviously desperate to be free. It was strange, Gabriel thought, to see her so… Submissive. As she gave a quick, courteous bow before leaving, the archangel remembered Anna’s fear of her Guardian and Naomi’s intolerant treatment of her.

Obviously, she has no problem mistreating those she saw as beneath her.

“I was very disappointed in you today, Gabriel,” Michael said, giving him a pointed glare.

Reminds me of someone.

“I don't know how I will bare the pain,” he replied through gritted teeth, already making his way towards the door.

“Your disrespect will not be forgotten,”

Gabriel paused under the door way, fists clenching by his side. Deciding he would not give Michael the satisfaction of his fury, he continued, ignoring the muttering that could be heard the moment he left.

|/#~#\|

Anna’s smile faded as she saw Gabriel’s expression. He stood in her doorway, biting his lip, arms crossed tightly across his heaving chest. He was restraining himself, binding down every part that may hurt someone if his outrage got the better of him. The only thing left unrestrained were his eyes, their gold darkened with rage.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked hesitantly. The only reply she got was a curt nod.

She sighed, moving to the left of her door to allow him space to come through. He marched in with a brief “thanks”, beelining straight for the main living quarters. After watching him storm past, she shut the door, composing herself before facing the furious archangel in her nest. Gabriel’s sullen silence didn’t last long.

“Michael is the biggest dick of all the dicks,” he declared the moment she walked through, “He has won first place as the largest, most annoying, self centered, arrogant dick in all of father’s creation,”

Anna raised her eyebrows and her lips began to curve into a small smile as she watched Gabriel rant, staring at the wall in front of him. She bit back a laugh as he turned to her, finger raised in the air and eyes widened with aggravation.

“-and that’s saying something considering Lucifer and Raphael are in the running too. They’ll have to settle for the lesser prizes of smug shit and Michael’s personal arse licker. With the amount of shit they both pour out, I’m surprised they’re wings aren't permanently turned brown. You would have thought it would stain. Especially Michael’s wings.”

His voice turned high pitched and breathy.

“Oh, how white, how pure he is,” he cooed mockingly, hands waving around wildly, “Father’s chosen one, the saviour.”

His voice quickly returned back to normal. “I’m surprised he doesn't leave a trail of brown wherever he goes with the amount of verbal diarrhea he spews.”

Anne tried to hold back her laughter but was only half successful, her chuckle coming out as a snort. Gabriel caught her, pausing for a few seconds before realising how funny he must sound. Soon, he was chuckling with her, leaning back against the wall.

“What’s verbal diarrhea?” chimed Balthazar as he walked in, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Anna sighed, aiming a small glare at Gabriel who bit his lip guiltily.

“Never you mind. Did you have a good nap?”

Balthazar’s bottom lip jutted out sulkily. “No.”

Anna smiled sympathetically, reaching a hand out to gently stroke his head. The little fledgling leaned into her touch as she explained.

“Balthazar’s a little bored of sleeping now, he just wants to be fully grown and have it over and done with.”

Gabriel nodded his understanding.

“When will we find my grace?” Balthazar whined, looking up at his guardian.

“When the time is right, and no sooner,”

The little one sighed, disappointed with her answer.

“Where’s Castiel?” Gabriel asked Balthazar, attempting to distract him.

“He’s upstairs in my room,” he answered, a proud smile growing on his face, “I made him a bed all by myself!”

The archangel smiled softly, glad he was not the only one looking out for the young fledgling.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, ruffling Balthazar’s mop of hair. He aimed a quizzical look at Anne and she understood immediately.

“First door on the left,”

He smiled his gratitude and walked out the main living quarters, into the hallway. It was funny, he thought, how emotion can change perception. When he first arrived in Anne’s nest, it had felt cold and unforgiving, the opposite of a home. Now, having spent so much time with it’s owners, the nest was beginning to feel warmer and homely, as if the love they had so kindly given was spreading throughout the house, unfurling through every gap and crevice.

He made his way upstairs, previous anger forgotten as only thoughts of Castiel filled his mind. It was extraordinary, he thought, how such a tiny being who he’d only just met, and had no idea how he was to turn out, had made such an impact on him.

He reached the top of the stairs, turning left as Anna had instructed, smiling as he found Balthazar’s bedroom door. It was covered in little drawings and bright colours. Some were of Heaven, others of angels. At the top, Balthazar and Anna stood, holding hands, grinning widely. Above them was a sentence written in scribbly writing; “Only Balthazar and Anna allowed to enter. If you are not us GO AWAY”.

Gabriel thought about abiding the sign and going downstairs to ask Balthazar’s permission to enter. However, in the end, he decided against it as the young fledgling had not said anything downstairs. After taking a few moments to look at the drawings, Gabriel gently pushed the door open.

Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! Hopefully the next instalment will be out soon as I just finished reading the 'How To Train Your Dragon' series and I'm feeling inspired :) man, it is such a good series. Until next time! Sophie xx