#my one concession is not replying to it directly and leaving it be

[lunanoc]

i thought i'd seen all the Bad Takes this fandom can generate atp but no 🫠

when i say people only like being in it bc they can play a giant themed dnd game, i mean it. otherwise there wouldn't be people seriously suggesting fan fiction (that's conveniently only written by themselves and their group of friends ofc) as an entry point into a fandom for newcomers who've never interacted with the source material in any way so they can get a solid grasp of the characters rather than idk. the source material ???

with all due respect, why would you ever use fan fiction and fanon perception as the basis of your own perception of characters and stories rather than the source material its derived from, knowing fanon is always going to be skewed and give you biased secondhand information. and why would you ever suggest it in the first place?

[ramp-it-up]

Altered

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Boss! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N:  This comes directly after Queen of Heaven and is in the called This Thing of Ours AU.

Warnings: As usual 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. Not Beta’d, all errors my own. Reader is a switch (dominant and submissive) , graphic depictions of sex acts, teasing, masturbation, hints of pegging, dom/sub play, oral sex (f recieving) slapping, Switch Bucky, restraints, spit play, edging, anal play, p in v, raw sex (wrap before you tap) use of ‘Puppy’ pet name.  This time Bicky turns reader out. More PWP.

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I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky sat in your office dumbfounded. He looked up at you with those blue blue eyes incredulously. The contract you’d drawn up was a joke.

“You can’t be serious?”

“What is the problem, Mr. Barnes?”

You sat back across your desk from him and crossed your legs. Bucky mirrored you on the other side, clearly irritated.

“The terms of this contract. It is not the same one I brought over. It is entirely different, and gives you concessions and earnings not in the original agreement. You’re trying to rob us, Ms. YLN.”

Bucky had called you the next day after his night at Queen of Heaven to set up a meeting only to be greeted by your voicemail. He’d texted and you’d been slow to reply.

Finally, he was sitting across from you, more than a week later. And his patience was wearing thin. You were definitely trying to play him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. He took in your hair, your face, your eyes. Then he recognized the shirt that you were wearing.

It was definitely altered, but it was his, the one he’d left at the club that night. The JBB embroidered on the pocket was a dead give away, but he’d been so excited to see you again that he just now noticed, 15 minutes after he entered the room.

“Nice shirt.”

Bucky couldn’t guess what you were playing at, but he wasn’t in the mood for games.

You were waiting for him to notice. You didn’t set the meeting until the tailor was done with his shirt.

You stood up, looked down at yourself and smoothed your fingers down your torso, stopping at your breasts, giving him a clear view of your braless nipples, then smoothed down the rest of the garment.

Bucky licked his lips and shifted in his seat.

“Found this piece at the club. Now I’ve changed it, and it’s mine.”

You looked right at him as you moved around the desk and sat on the edge near him, giving him a flash up your short skirt to the promised land as you crossed your legs again. There was something clothing your pussy, but it was very skimpy, because what he saw was a flash of white and your fat pussy lips.

Bucky stared at your Jimmy Choos and followed your ankle to your leg all the way up. He wanted to part those legs and lick his way to your cunt, but he was resolute.

“Need something to drink, Mr. Barnes?” You cocked your head at him. “Thirsty?”

You were playing with the collar of his shirt and the look in your eye was playful.

But Bucky wasn’t about to be played.

Bucky stood up, took the embroidered pocket of the shirt you were wearing between his fingers, causing you to almost gasp at the proximity.

He wasn’t the only one excited about your meeting today.

“Huh. You’re right. It’s not the same.”

He leaned close to you and you held on to the edge of the desk for dear life. Those blue eyes pierced you to your soul.

“You can have it.”

The menacing sneer made you wetter than the memories of the other night. You wanted him to fuck you up. Damn him.

He buttoned his jacket as he turned to walk away.

You found yourself calling after him.

“What? No negotiation?”

Bucky stopped, grateful for the excuse. He didn’t want to leave you just yet, but you were playing hardball.

He could be hard too. Bucky turned around slowly and gave you the chance to admire him in his tailored suit, broad shouldered, and (now you knew) big dick glory.

Damn.

“Negotiate? You’re busting my balls here.”

He waved his hand toward the contract. As you held back a smart retort.

“No one gets that kind of deal with Valkyrie. We own this town. It’s our terms or nothing.”

The cocky arrogance of Bucky at business did something to you. This energy was the shit.

You stood up and bent over your desk to get the contract. Bucky started to sweat.

“You said I was trying to rob you. But you are trying to strong arm me. I’m not some innocent little small business owner, Mr. Barnes. Three Rivers is a force.”

Bucky walked back toward you, wanting to fall at your feet. But Sam and Steve would have his head if he let this contract go through as written.

The look on your face was lethal and Bucky felt like he might need to be punished for what he was about to say. The thought made him smile.

“We know what Rumlow has been doing to some of your deliveries. We can protect you, Inanna.”

You reached up and slapped him. Hard.

“Do NOT call me that here. Unless I specifically instruct you too.”

The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Bucky watched them as he relished the pain in his cheek. He was hard as fuck.

Who was he changing into?

“Sit.”

You glared at him. He didn’t move.

“Please.”

The ask was uttered through clenched teeth, and although he tried to play it off, Bucky sat, anticipation running through his veins. He ran his damp palms up and down his pant legs and practiced his impassive stare.

But inside, Bucky felt giddy.

You leaned against the desk, desperate for James Buchanan Barnes. You stared at him, trying to figure it out.

He was certainly handsome, his body hard, his penis… impressive. But you’d had that before.

The fact that he seemed to want the freedom of being topped intrigued you, but that wasn’t new either. What was new was your desire to switch. You wanted him to take you like none other. You’d dabbled before, of course. But you had never felt like this with anyone else.

Bucky was staring at your feet in those heels, imagining them up over his shoulders.

You cleared your throat.

“What would you change, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky dragged his eyes up your form and widened his legs. There was no mistaking his erection. Your mouth began to water.

“Almost everything. We up Valkyrie’s percentage by 50.”

You scoffed and threw your hands up.

“If you think I’m going to give you a controlling interest in my company, you’ve lost your damn mind!”

Bucky smirked, glad to see that he’d gotten you worked up.

If he only knew.

“You stand to multiply your earnings by at least 600%. That’s worth it.”

You leaned forward and stared him in the eye.

“Fuck you and Valkyrie, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky bit back a response. But his eyes gleamed as he stood, buttoned his jacket and turned to walk away again.

This man was driving you insane.

“10 percent.”

Bucky kept waking, but replied.

“40.”

“20 percent.”

“30.”

You groaned. That would give Valkyrie a 40% stake in your company. But he was right, you needed the insurance on deliveries and you would make a lot more money, despite the split.

“Shit. It’s a deal.”

You went to your laptop to amend the paperwork and printed it out.

Bucky strolled back to your desk as you signed, watching your cleavage through the opening in his shirt.

Then, he leaned down and signed, your eyes drawn to the veins in his hands. You almost sighed.

Almost.

Bucky looked up at you as he placed his copy of the contract in his inside jacket pocket.

“Nice doing business with you, Ms. YLN.”

“Call me Inanna.”

Bucky gulped at the sudden change in the air.

“Sit.”

Bucky obeyed and he watched you pull your skirt up to reveal your teeny tiny white thong flanked by your puffy pussy lips and your glistening thighs. You wanted him. He wanted to jump for joy, but he just settled back in the chair, ready for what you had to give him.

“Let me see you stroke it, James.”

He was in shock at what you were asking, but he moved quickly, bringing his cock out and dry stroking it slowly.

You leaned over him and spit on it, giving him lubrication. Bucky stroked faster as you pushed two of your fingers in his mouth and then pulled them out to circle your clit as you perched on the edge of your desk, your thong pulled aside.

He wanted to be that thong so bad.

You watched his hand and the precum glistening at the tip of his swollen penis. You watched his face and heard his sounds and it almost got you there.

Almost.

“I think I like you moaning like a little bitch, James.”

Bucky’s eyes were glazed over and riveted to your fingers. He opened his mouth and moaned louder for you.

“Ohhhh. Inanna…”

“Fuck, James!”

You came watching this desire flare between you. His hand was moving at the speed of light and you could tell he was getting close. So you did what you had to do.

“Stop stroking, James.”

Bucky’s eyes went frantic, but he grunted and did as he was told. Watching and praying as you moved closer to him, unbuttoning his shirt from around your breasts.

“The next time you’re in Queen of Heaven, I will be inside you.”

You took your panties off and held them in front to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled as you said, “Open.”

You stuffed your panties in his mouth and looked down at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“You want that, don’t you Puppy?”

Bucky nodded vigorously, the tension leaving his body as he inhaled and tasted you.

"Now keep your hands behind you James. I shouldn't need to tie you up. "

You winked and straddled Bucky’s hips, your pussy leaking onto his cock, so close, but yet so far.

Bucky felt the heat radiating from where he wanted to be and he desperately hoped that you would bend your knees.

“Or do you want to have your cock inside me, James? Split me open? Make my sloppy cunt even more so?”

You played with your pussy in his face, as he drooled all over your panties.

Bucky’s eyes watered as he moaned. Being inside you was his only goal in life.

You watched his lust blown eyes watch your hand working between your folds. Then his eyes dragged up your body to your breasts. He wanted to devour you, you could tell. This feeling of power was like none other. And you knew it was because of him.

You took your panties from his mouth, then moved your pelvis to his face as he moistend his lips.

“Lick it, James.”

Bucky looked up at you with those blue blue eyes, as if asking permission. You were pleased immensely and you shoved his head forward, and that was when he eagerly went to work with his mouth.

The sound of him licking you while simultaneously feeling his wide, wet, rough tongue delving into you was pure heaven.

“Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm.”

He had your legs trembling and unstable as you clutched your nails into his hair.

“Suck it.”

Immediately, he went to work, pulling your clit just the way you liked it.

“That hot mouth, James. Those lips. Right…. There…. Yessss. Eat it up, Puppy.”

You didn’t care that you were being too vocal, exposing to many of your emotions, he had you caught up. You considered deviating from the plan and taking his cock as you ground your cunt into his face.

“Such a good boy. Such a good little slut for my cunt.”

You pulled his face out of your pussy and stared down at him, eyes dilated, and mouth slack. He was totally fucked out.

“Let me finish you Inanna. Please.”

The way his broken voice made you clench around air.

“Hmmmmm.”

You bent down, legs straight around his and your ass in the air as you looked into his eyes.

Bucky’s fingers itched to grab that ass. He mused how funny it was that he’d been this sexual with you, but not that intimate. He wanted more. You could read him like a book and you surprised yourself with your matching desire for intimacy.

This was new.

Bucky tried to kiss you and you dodged him. His eyes flashed. He wanted those lips.

“You are so delicious, Inanna. Taste yourself.”

“No James. You don’t get these lips.”

You whispered it, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his.”

And then you stood up, pulling him toward your cunt again.

“But you can have these. Go ahead. Match all of that big talk with action.”

Bucky tried to keep his eyes open and on you as he brought you to the brink, watching your eyes close and your hands move to your breasts, plucking and stretching your pierced nipples as Bucky moaned and lapped you your juices in between sucking the shit out of your clit.

You bit your lip and moaned your way through your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how hard he’d made you cum. You didn’t scream like you wanted to.

When you finished cumming, Bucky looked up at you and you knew he 'd take you apart and put you back together if you let him go at that moment.

And so you didn’t.

You couldn’t let him. Bucky knew it, but that didn’t stop him from trying to ask.

“Inanna…”

“No.”

You cut him off, knowing what he wanted. Your eyes were on his cock as you put your hands on his shoulders and leaned over to whisper in his hear. He turned his head so that his lips were near yours, making you want to chase them. But you held your resolve.

“Stay.”

Bucky stayed. But he noticed the hungry look in your eyes as you watched his long thick cock bob. You licked your lips as he pushed his pelvis up, hoping beyond hope for some kind of relief.

You shook your head, trying to clear your head of these silly notions, and when you looked up at him, he saw the need.

You hated how he smirked and you didn’t punish him for it.

You just pulled your skirt down and buttoned up his shirt, moving behind your desk. You picked up your phone.

“Goodbye Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky groaned low in his throat. You were dismissing him and his dick was hard yet again. But he stood with all the dignity he could muster and painfully put himself into his pants again.

He leaned down to retrieve your panties and as he walked away, he smelled them, remembering the taste of your copious cream when he ate you out. He licked his lips then he heard the signal.

“Hello Ralph. I’ve decided on a new color for the trucks. Green. Very Green.”

Bucky strode back to where you were and was behind you in a flash.

As if overpowering an adversary, Bucky took your arm and bent you over your desk, pulling your skirt up back up around your waist. He looked down at the vision which was your lovely ass.

He pulled himself out of his pants again, lining up and playing in your wetness. It felt so good.

You struggled not to wiggle your ass against him like a simp, but you needed him.

“Did you say green?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Bucky plunged inside you with no prep, just as you were praying he’d do. The stretch was glorious. It had been so long since a real cock had been inside you that you almost didn’t know what to do.

“You’re so gotdamn tight Inanna. Fuck!”

Bucky’s cock pumped inside you of its own accord as if it were drilling for oil. He was deep in your guts, almost, but not quite, painfully stretching you out. It felt so good.

But then he pulled right back out. And you whimpered. You actually whimpered!

“Did you like that Inanna?”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit it, until Bucky slapped your ass, hard. He watched his hand print begin to raise on your behind as you whimpered again.

“I asked you a fucking question. Did you like it.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Bucky grinned at your distress. Then, he knelt on the floor to pull your thighs apart so that he could lick the puckered hole he now had access to. He licked and swirled your ass as you writhed on your desk.

Bucky came up for air to give you some information.

“I should take this ass right here, right now.”

You whimpered and cried at the previews your mind was giving you at that scenario.

“Yes, you should, Sir.”

You whispered it as Bucky stood back up. He grinned at the state he had you in. Then he leaned over you, cock sliding against your leaking core, but not where you needed it.

“I should leave you like this. Mentally begging me to fuck you in whatever hole I choose. Like you left me the other night.”

His menacing whisper caused you to clench. God you loved this feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your tongue to keep from begging out loud. You never begged, but this man was testing your limits.

Bucky felt your pussy moving and he cursed.

“Fuck! You felt so good. I’m going to take this cunt that’s weeping for me.”

Bucky leaned back and lined up.

“Your word Inanna?”

“Green!” You choked it out. Your face heated at the fact that you wanted him so much.

Bucky slid back inside you where he was immediately at the precipice.

“Fucckkkkkk!”

He pulled out yet again.

“Please!”

You turned your head and screamed, finally begging as you desperately searched his eyes. He saw the desperation there.

He shifted so that you could see him taking his cock in hand and start to jack it.

“Do you want this? Tell me why I should give you what you want?”

Bucky looked down to see your core clenching around air and he licked his lips to keep from drooling. You didn't know if you answered him yet, but you were beyond caring how if you looked weak. You had to have him.

“Fuck it, what you want is what I need.”

Bucky grabbed the base of his cock and his balls and slipped inside your wet passage. His thumb caressed the rim of your asshole and you began to pound, milking his cock without him even moving. He groaned and started fucking you on him like a toy, his fingers digging into your hip harshly as he moved you back and forth.

“Such a good pussy. I’m going to use it. I don’t care if you cum.”

That was the biggest lie Bucky ever told.

“Shiiiitttt.”

Bucky’s hips were canting faster as he plowed inside you.

“What if I fill you up with my cum. What then? What color would you be then, Inanna?”

"G-green, Sir!”

“Are you MY cum hungry whore?

“Yes...Yes sir!”

“Mmmmmmm. What if I fill you so full that…. Fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Bucky pounded you exactly right. Your fluids leaked down your legs as his voice commanded you.

“You better not cum.”

“Mmmmm. Ah! Ohhhh!”

Bucky was in another world, feeling you around him, raw and wet and tight and hot.

“Don’t want you to cum. No….Don’t dream about it, and I’m not almost always on hard every second of every minute since the other night.”

Bucky’s hips lost their rhythm and you grabbed your desk and arched, pushing his thumb deeper inside you.

You exploded around him which caused him to pull out and jack the hot drops of cum on your ass, growling like an animal.

Bucky pushed his spend into your tighter hole with his thumb, fucking you there for a minute as you quivered around air, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I want this ass, Inanna. Maybe next time.”

You were a whimpering, quivering mess on your desk as you heard Bucky grab a tissue from your desk and wipe his hands, then put himself back together again.

This time he made it to the door, glancing at the gash made in the wall by his knife days ago. You gazed at it too. You decided to keep it, as it was a change that he made to this place.

It would be permanent.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you. Ms. YLN. Until next time.”

[squidproquoclarice]

“Ser Cullen, are you well?” He realized Josephine had stayed behind also, and blushed, hoping she hadn’t watched him standing there struggling with his own thoughts and doubts and confusion for too long. He couldn’t afford to be seen like that.

“A slight headache,” he replied. Which wasn’t a lie. Though once again it had felt like the inside of his skull was something like a blacksmith’s anvil earlier today.

“You should rest,” she said, gathering her papers and clutching them to her chest.

“If there were more hours in the day, Lady Josephine, I would.”

She fidgeted for a moment, and then the words she obviously wanted to say burst forth, an expression of ashamed agony in her eyes. “I simply can’t understand why the Herald would be so reluctant to tell us something so vital as the fact her parents were killed until I asked directly about messaging them.” Her voice held a tremulous edge for a moment. Nothing like wounded pride or anger, something more like sorrow or fear. He didn’t know her well enough yet to say for certain. “She let me talk about your family and mine, not even knowing my sympathies were due, which must have been making the wound all the worse–”

Some part of him suddenly ached for her. To be that innocent still–he felt as though he could barely remember it. The fact she had come out of the viper pit of Orlais with that sort of capability for kindness and consideration also made him reassess her a bit. “It makes perfect sense, Lady Josephine, when you consider her perspective. We captured her, chained her, imprisoned and interrogated her. Dragged her up a mountain into a battle still planning to try her as an assassin. Then when we knew she wasn’t one, we still obliged her to stay by telling her that her Mark is indispensable, and to leave our protection would be certain death. We forced the mantle of Andraste’s Herald upon her, in part because it suits our purposes. We’re sending her out upon our errands even now to try to recruit people for us.”

She listened, a look of sharp intent and curiosity on her features, and nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

“You’re assuming that because we freed her and that because our intentions are good that she must trust us. But when you’re a prisoner, the one bit of power you possess is in how you make your captors work for whatever you feel you can hope to withhold. Whether that’s your cooperation in their demands, or the vulnerability of your information, your concession of being in pain, or anything else.” He remembered that all too well. Knowing in the end the blood mages, the demons, or both would either break or kill him, as they had everyone else, but swearing grimly that he would give them nothing freely, make them work for every inch of it along the way. “Lady Clerra may be amiable because she sees the purpose in what we ask her to do. But don’t mistake that as her trusting us. Just because we’ve made the chain longer doesn’t mean she forgets its existence.” Nor should she, truthfully. He had made the mistake himself with Meredith of trusting seeming kindness and valuing his potential capabilities.

[homerforsure]

for the Fun Fact Prompts ! why are you in a tree?

Dear Anon! It's more of a first line prompt than a fun fact prompt, but given that I instantly knew the second line of this as soon as I read the first, I'll allow it.

This got very silly and very far away from me, so the bulk of it is under the cut <3

“Why are you in a tree? No, wait, wait don’t tell me. K-I-S-S-I-N-G?”

“Maddie, can you focus please?” Buck whines into the phone. “We’re stuck.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she laughs. “Tell me again. Where are you guys?”

Buck explains their location in the park, the fallen ladder, and Maddie agrees to come and rescue them as soon as she can.

“Of all the times for Albert not to answer his phone,” Buck grouses as he shifts on the tree branch to get his own back into his pocket. “He wouldn’t show up and sing at us.”

“Sing?” Eddie asks.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say how long-?”

“Just whenever she can. She’s gonna have to pack the baby up so we could be here for hours. You didn’t have anywhere to go right?”

“Me? No. Sitting in an oak tree was my only plan for the day.”

“Sorry,” Buck winces.

It's his fault that they’re stuck. It started with a kite. A big blue one lodged high in the branches of a tree that he spotted when he was biking through the park. A couple of kids were standing below it, looking up with sad expressions and making valiant efforts to boost each other up onto the lower branches. The tree was too big for them though, the branch too far from the ground. Buck had slowed to a stop beside them.

The branch was out of reach for him too, even when leaning his bike against the tree and trying to climb up on the seat. Fortunately the park had a concession stand--closed now, open just for little league games--and the stand had a ladder leaning against the side of the building. It was nothing for Buck to jog over and loosen the rusted brackets holding the ladder in place, then to brace it against the tree and start climbing.

The tree was full of sturdy branches, easy enough to climb. He just… needed to find a route. The kite was further up than it had looked from the ground, tangled in leaves and dangerously far out on the limb.

As Buck stood contemplating, another strong breeze had come through (it was perfect kite flying weather after all), making him wobble on the branch and sending his ladder crashing to the ground.

The kids had shrieked and run off without their kite, completely ignoring Buck’s pleas to just put the ladder back and then vanished over the nearest hill. The stiff wind and unseasonably cool weather had left the park more deserted than usual and Buck had had to swallow his pride and call Eddie who only laughed at him a little.

That wind blows hard again, chilling Buck through his training jersey and making the branches sway. He reaches up to grab the branch overhead, trying to feel a little more stable and Eddie reaches out toward him automatically, even though he’s too far away to reach. The other man is sitting against the trunk of the tree, leaning back, serene and stable, as though he’s on the ground and not 10 feet in the air.

“You were wrong, you know,” Buck says, once he has his balance back.

One of Eddie’s eyebrows quirks up as if to say, Wrong? Me?

“You could never have gotten up there from the other way.”

“Well it’s not like your way worked out that much better.”

When his boyfriend (and wow did that term send shivers up and down Buck’s spine every time he thought it, new and fresh as it still is) had turned up at the park, he’d righted the ladder immediately, expecting Buck to climb back down. Instead, knowing he had a stable route down, Buck had turned his attention back up toward the kite and called back that he’d be down in just a minute.

“Which way are you going?” Eddie had asked. So Buck had pointed out the route to him.

“No. No way. You’re gonna get stuck at that skinny branch and you’ll never make it. You’ve got to go up the other way.”

“What other way?”

Eddie pointed it out and Buck scoffed, “Now that’s ridiculous. You’re not even going to be able to reach it from there.”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie had said.

So now they were both stuck on the branch, kiteless.

“You should come over here,” Eddie says, frowning as the wind shakes the tree again and Buck holds on against the sway. “The branch doesn’t move as much.”

“You worried about me?” Buck asks, smirking over at Eddie who just rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a secret anymore, Buck. You breaking your spine is going to seriously fuck with my weekend plans.”

His weekend plans with Buck. The two of them alone. For the first time since Eddie had pinned Buck against his kitchen counter and kissed him senseless. If Buck had ever had any incentive to stay out of the hospital it was for this promise of whatever Eddie wanted to do next.

“Well I’d hate to do that,” he says, looking over at Eddie through his lashes with faux remorse. “I already ruined your afternoon.”

“Will you just get your ass over here?” Eddie replies, trying not to look ridiculously pleased as he holds out his arm to coax Buck over.

Buck needs very little coaxing. He stands because it’s easier than scooting, walking the tightrope of the tree branch until he’s directly beside Eddie, then dropping down again. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Eddie replies.

It’s dangerous to let himself get distracted when he’s perched so precariously, but Buck can’t help it. With his right hand reached overhead to grab the next branch for balance, he holds out his left for Eddie to take. That Eddie does without hesitation, that he squeezes tight, that he smiles at Buck with that soft, happy smile he doesn’t give to anyone else, still feels like a precious gift. It’s so new, what they have. Buck wants to melt into every moment. Cherish it like it may never come again.

“So,” Eddie says, running his thumb over the back of Buck’s hand. “How do people kiss in trees do you think? It seems pretty dangerous to me.”

Humming as though he’s giving the matter serious thought, Buck says, “A tree house probably makes the most sense.”

“Sure. If you were smart enough to plan ahead. But if you weren’t…”

“If you weren’t,” Buck says, taking his hand back so he can move again, carefully, carefully swinging one leg over so he’s straddling the branch. “I think there’s still a few options. You should, uh, get as close to the trunk as you can. With your back to it, probably.”

Once he’s sure that Buck’s stable, Eddie takes the instruction, using that taller branch to lift himself up just a little, turning, shifting one leg over the branch like Buck has, and settling back against the tree trunk. At the stoutest part of the branch, Eddie almost has a stable seat, though he still crosses his legs tightly below the branch to hold his position. “I can see how this would work,” he says. “If you were careful.”

“Oh careful is the most important thing,” Buck says, inching forward, hand over hand above his head. “It helps to have a strong partner. One who won’t let you fall.”

When he reaches Eddie, he keeps his knees pressed close to the branch so he can try and fit himself between Eddie’s legs, so they can get as close as possible. Buck sees Eddie’s eyes flash with concern when he moves his hands from the branch down onto Eddie’s shoulders and immediately feels one strong arm behind his back.

“One hand on the branch,” Eddie says, his breath close enough to tickle Buck’s ear. “Please.”

“Chicken,” Buck says, lifting his left hand again to clutch the branch.

“Daredevil,” Eddie replies, lifting his own hand and clutching Buck’s fingers over their heads.

“You like it,” Buck teases, unable to stop himself from grinning as he stares into Eddie’s eyes to see exactly how much he does.

“You’re awfully full of yourself.”

“You like that too. You pretend like you’re so mature and by the book, but you like me getting you all riled-”

The rest of his sentence is lost to Eddie’s mouth on his. Buck gives himself over to it immediately, letting Eddie’s firm hand on his back push him forward just a little bit more. He lets his own arm slide behind Eddie’s neck, feeling the bark bite into him on one side and Eddie’s soft hair tickling on the other. Buck loses himself to it, quickly losing his balance as he does and he squeezes tightly to Eddie’s hand anchoring him in place.

“I like all of it,” Eddie whispers, once they pull apart. “I like you.”

Buck has just enough time to enjoy the little shiver that those words send through all his nerves before Eddie’s kissing him again. The chill of the wind, the height from the ground, even the uncomfortable feel of the branch beneath them all fades into the background. Eddie’s kissing him and Buck’s as secure as he’s ever been.

It’s only Maddie’s voice that pulls them out of the moment, sing-songing from the bottom of the tree as she lifts their ladder, “Buck and Ed-die, sittin’ in a tree…”

If you know any fun facts, send them to me and I'll see if I can't make a ficlet out of it!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Edge is heading back into work, but since when do his days ever go smoothly?

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was entirely too soon for him to be returning to work by Edge’s measure. Two days off after a kidnapping was a paltry concession and he would have preferred at least working from home for the rest of the week. The Embassy wasn’t particularly far from New New Home, but depending on traffic and stoplights, it could take nearly half an hour to drive between them, not including the time it took to get to his car.

Time enough for so many things to go wrong and for Stretch to be alone when it did.

But despite his preference, two mornings after he’d brought Stretch home, Edge was pulling into the Embassy parking lot and ignoring the shouts of the protestors on the other side of the street as he walked in, though he didn’t extend his cane until he was inside the front entrance.

The issue at hand was not with his employment. Stretch was the one all but pushing him out their front door and he’d done so with a massive spew of words coupled with wild gestures, all of which boiled down to him not needing a babysitter while he was at home.

Edge didn’t have the soul to argue with him about it, particularly since he was right. There were already enough new violations of his boundaries, and past experience taught that he would start to chafe under them soon enough. Perhaps it was already beginning; exhausted as he was, he’d still slept restlessly the night before and while Stretch often tossed and turned, this time it was enough to disturb Edge’s own sleep, his subconscious crying out that this was not a familiar level of thrashing.

He’d still been in bed when Edge left though not asleep, muttering something about heading down to his lab to check on his experiments. Edge hoped that he did; if he could get absorbed in his own version of mad science, it would be a good distraction for the day, one that was very much needed. Red was supposed to stop by at some point about the bodyguard assignment and while Edge asked his brother to wait for him to get home, there was no telling if he would. If he deemed Edge’s presence unnecessary, Red would do as he liked and to hell with waiting for his brother.

With that in mind, Edge’s plan was to work as swiftly as he could today without sacrificing accuracy so that he could leave on time, perhaps even early, in an effort to thwart anything Red might attempt for his own amusements. But as so often happened, plans had a way of changing and in very unexpected ways.

When he’d arrived at the Embassy that morning, he’d been hyperaware of the stares that followed behind him from the moment he came through the door. From the security guard at his station to the interns to the janitors, eyes and whispers lingered in his wake. Whatever hopes he’d had for discretion about the kidnapping incident were quickly dismissed; it was obviously the talk of the office though no one was bold enough to confront him about it directly. As Red often said, ‘the only way to keep a secret is if ya kill the guy who told ya’ and considering how many witnesses were at the bar that night when Stretch and Jeff were taken, that option was not exactly feasible, if it ever was.

The local news was plastered with stories, some sticking with the one provided by the Embassy and others filled with wild speculations. Monsters were hardly immune to gossip and Stretch often featured on both sides of the rumor equation.

As for his usual partner in crime, Jeff was taking the week off and Antwan with him, and while Edge could appreciate the urge to get back to some form of normalcy, he couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy to think the two of them were probably curled in bed together sleeping while he was fending off the glares of his co-workers.

He deliberately kept his limping pace normal on his way to his office, refusing to give the gossip any further fuel. That worked well enough until he went inside. Janice was already at her desk and she looked up when he entered, her long ears swiveling in his direction and her pink nose twitching as she gave him a narrow look.

He wondered if she was disappointed in him for coming in today. The thought made him want to look away from her direct gaze and he forced himself not to, saying crisply, “Good morning.”

But perhaps he was only projecting his own troubled thoughts because Janice only replied with a certain gentle concern, “Good morning. How is Stretch doing?”

Yes, the gossip traveled quickly, indeed. Edge hesitated, then said with cautious honesty, “He’s doing better.”

She nodded and didn’t press. Absently, she reached out to straighten the picture frame on her desk of her two children. Edge understood the impulse. “If you need anything, either of you, please do let me know.”

“I will,” Edge said. He meant it. Somehow in the past year their relationship had gone from a strictly working one to something akin to friends, a change that came about right around the time he’d married Stretch. Another way his love had changed his life for the better.

Still, it was a relief for her expression to change in a flash from motherly concern to businesslike briskness. “I’ve already emailed your agenda for the day, nothing particularly robust, but you do have a meeting in an hour with Toriel.”

“Toriel.” Edge blinked in surprise. Technically, Toriel didn’t work for the Embassy in a similar way to Stretch. She acted as Frisk’s guardian, and while she certainly handled things she likely shouldn’t at her own discretion, they were the diplomat, not her. What could she want to discuss that she couldn’t have come to their home?

He set his laptop case down and dug out his phone, opening the email app and scrolled to his daily agenda to scan the list. The schedule said only, ‘Meeting with Toriel, 10am’ and gave no clues. “Did she happen to say what it was about?”

Janice shook her head. “I’m afraid not, she only contacted and asked for an appointment. I couldn’t think of a reason not to, so I gave her the first available timeslot.” Her voice uplifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“Of course you should,” Edge said, belatedly, “I’m perfectly willing to talk with her. I’m simply confused as to why.”

Janice offered him a faint smile and raised eyebrows. “I suppose in an hour you’ll find out.”

“I suppose I will,” Edge sighed. He picked up his laptop and headed into his office, already considering whether to brave the gauntlet again for a cup of coffee or to relinquish is pride and ask Janice to retrieve one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any surprises and a meeting with the former Queen would likely offer them, in spades.

~~*~~

If there was one thing to appreciate about meeting with Toriel, it was her promptness. At precisely 9:59 am Janice buzzed him that she’d arrived.

Edge took a moment to drain the last of the lukewarm coffee from his cup, brought to him by Janice without any prompting from him, further proof of what an excellent assistant she was. He saved the document he was working on before he replied, “Send her in.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when his door opened, Toriel’s bulk filling the entryway. She had to duck her head to fit through the entrance, barely missing bumping her horns on the trim.

“Please, come in,” Edge said. He ignored his cane where it leaned against the side of his chair and instead walked cautiously as he came around it. He gestured to the sofa rather than the chairs at his desk; Toriel was not a small Monster, but his office was designed for visits with everyone, up to and including Asgore himself.

“Thank you,” Toriel said. Her voice was soft enough that it seemed one should strain to hear it, and yet it still carried clearly through the room. She seated herself where he’d indicated, folding her lightly furred hands into her lap.

Edge hadn’t spent a great deal of time with Toriel outside of Embassy functions and the few times he’d traveled along with the diplomats. Even then, he’d kept a cautious distance from her. Despite the small glasses perched on her muzzle, her soft purple dress and motherly cardigan she wore, as a Boss Monster, there was a certain aura of power that she carried that no casual outfit could stifle. Her status might be simply as Frisk’s guardian, but even Humans couldn’t fail to notice it. Adding in that Edge had no basis of comparison with her counterpart in Underfell, put simply, she made him faintly uncomfortable, despite the common interest in puns she shared with several members of his family.

“Would you like a drink?” He barely caught himself before asking if she’d care for tea, already knowing the answer to that. She and Stretch should be closer friends, they could bond over their mutual dislike of the King. “Water? Fruit juice?”

“Water would be lovely,” Toriel said. The words were merely polite, he sincerely doubted she’d come here for refreshments.

From the small fridge in the corner, he retrieved a bottle of water. He set it on a coaster rather than hand it to her and took the seat across from her, folding his hands into his lap in an unconscious mirror of hers. “What can I do for you?” Edge asked.

Without preamble, Toriel said, “You saved my child’s life, and mine.”

That was far from any topic he’d expected she wanted to discuss. If anything, he’d supposed she might wish for more personal information regarding the kidnapping and rather than trusting the gossips, she’d gone to a reliable source. That she might want to talk about their last meeting hadn’t even occurred to him.

The incident in California was not so long ago and yet, despite his lingering scars, the event itself had mostly left his mind. Yes, it was traumatic and yes, he’d certainly be feeling the aftereffects for some time. But it wasn’t his way to linger over such things; it happened, it was over, and now there was only to move onto introducing new safeguards to keep such a thing from happening again.

He considered Toriel’s statement with care before offering cautiously, “Anything I could do to keep you and your child safe, I was willing to offer.”

“I’m sure you were, and are.” Toriel’s eyes were a shade of red unlike his own eye lights. In a way, they were more like Red’s and his way of seeing things deeper than should be possible. “And I am willing to offer my own gift for that kindness. I’ve noticed your leg is still troubling you.”

Edge struggled against shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself not to look down at the leg in question. He was wearing the brace today as he always did in the office, not because he thought he particularly needed it, but due to his suspicions that Janice would discreetly tattle to Stretch if he didn’t. It was a tradeoff for leaving their strictly business relationship behind. “It’s healing, it simply takes time.”

“Indeed,” Toriel inclined her head in agreement. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow it. It wouldn’t begin to pay my debt to you but—”

“Your Highness,” Edge interrupted gently, “you don’t owe me anything. I’m well aware that you saved my life after the explosion.”

“I’m no longer the Queen, Toriel is fine,” Her interruption was less gentle and for one who claimed no title, her tone made him want to straighten his spine and come to attention, a habit he’d thought gone along with Underfell. “And your life wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t saved mine.”

“Toriel,” Edge said deliberately, “if you’re offering to heal me, I have a doctor, they’ve done as much with healing magic as they can.”

“I’m sure they have. Which is why I’m offering. My skills are somewhat more…” she hesitated, settling on, “Robust, than other Monsters.”

As a Boss Monster, that was surely true, and Edge couldn’t help considering it.

She’d used her magic on him before, and while that was an emergency, he could hardly protest her doing it again. And what she was offering was gift unlike any other. The opportunity to be healed, to be able to return to his normal activities was tempting to be sure, but what irritated more was his brother keeping him at arm’s-length during the kidnapping. If he’d been more capable, if his leg wasn’t slowing him down, would Red have forced him to stay home instead of allowing him to provide some real assistance? There was no way to tell now, but if he could keep it from happening in the future…?

But Edge also knew that things that seemed too good to be true often were and that there was little in life that came without some sort of price attached. He’d gotten such a gift from the Angel already, if one believed in such things, in the love given to him by Stretch. Asking for more seemed greedy.

Toriel only waited serenely, perhaps understanding his inner turmoil.

“There’s no chance this could have a negative effect,” Edge said slowly. “I’ve made a great deal of progress already, I won't have it set back."

“None at all,” Toriel assured him. “I wouldn’t offer if there was even a chance.” She shifted in her seat, briefly looking away as if his bookcases had suddenly caught her interest. “I would have offered sooner but you must understand, this sort of healing is very draining. If it got out I could do this, Monsters would be lining up at my door, begging for treatment.” She shook her head, her mouth pulling downward unhappily, and suddenly she seemed older and weary. “I can only do as much as I can.”

“I understand.” He did. It was the same reason they’d chosen to keep Monsters’ ability to heal from the Humans. There were limits to the care anyone could provide. Still, his immediate impulse to agree warred with his cautious reluctance. “Then why now?”

“Why not now?” Toriel countered. She spread her empty hands in something like a plea. “I can’t heal every Monster, but what point is it for me to have these gifts if I can’t use them to help someone who was injured by helping me? I owe you a debt, Edge, and I mean to pay it.”

The steel in her voice resonated and the determined need to repay a debt was certainly something he could understand. Edge straightened and inclined his head formally, “I accept your offer.”

A smile lit Toriel’s face and that melancholy fell away as she clapped her hands together like a child rather than the powerful, centuries-old Monster that she was. “Wonderful! Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Edge said, surprised. He’d expected her to need to make some preparations, perhaps arrange for a secret meeting someplace out of the way and not well watched. If there was such a place when one considered his brother.

But Toriel only nodded. “Oh, yes. It won’t take long.”

She rose from the sofa and crouched down next to him. A bit nonplussed, he helped her unbuckle the splint and remove it, and as always, there was a slight, uncomfortable twinge with its support gone. Worse was the awkward intimacy in the way she settled her hands on his leg, even over his trousers, her fingers shifting into precise positions as she closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

Edge had been healed before, too many times to count. Rarely in Underfell, healing there was usually scoffed at and often considered a weakness as it was a difficult skill for those with LV. But in this universe, Stretch, Blue, even Toriel herself had healed him in the past, little wounds mostly, except for California.

He hadn’t been in a position to pay attention the last time she’d used her magic on him, drifting in and out of consciousness, but here there was nothing to distract him. Her magical signature was a deft one, not the brusque force of his brother or familiar honeyed languidness of Stretch or even Blue, who managed to somehow be both forceful and nearly timid at the same time. The greenness of healing came at a delicate trickle at first, seeking and finding the places in his leg that still ached with cunning skill, sinking in. In tiny increments, that trickle became a flood, and then a torrent, and the sensation was indescribable. Not pain, that was far too simple a word, but the deep power that carried healing into his leg and further, seeking out his very essence. Edge shied away instinctively as it sought out his soul, trying to escape that implacable, almost ethereal touch, but it didn’t invade or violate, only swirled briefly through his ribcage in a sort of greeting before returning to the task at hand, or rather, at leg, before it slowly withdrew into empty nothingness.

Edge opened his sockets, hardly aware of closing them, to see Toriel closing her own eyes as she wobbled on her feet, sinking back to sit on the floor with her legs tucked under her and her skirt demurely covering them.

“Your Highness,” Edge said in concern. He reached for her automatically, hesitating before touching her. Even though his gloves he could still feel the aura of roused magic surrounding her.

She opened her eyes. “Toriel,” she corrected with a slight smile, waving his hands away. She retrieved the bottle of water from the table, opening it and taking a long drink, then sighed out, “I’m fine. How are you?”

In answer, Edge stood, striding across the room and back again. The lingering weakness and frustrating ache of the past weeks were entirely gone. The urge to tests his limits was strong and he wondered giddily what anyone would make of it if they caught him racing up and down the stairwell with his coattails flapping behind him.

As if reading his thoughts and perhaps she was to some extent, they wouldn’t be difficult to guess, Toriel cautioned, “I suggest you wear the brace for a little longer. It might keep the curious from asking questions.”

Edge was about to agree, then amended it, “I won’t lie to Stretch. If he asks.”

To his surprise, Toriel let out of a peal of soft laughter and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll know the moment he sees you.”

That he hadn’t expected and Edge could only stare at her, aghast, “What?

Her smile turned incredulous. "You have my magic clinging to you, do you truly think he won't notice? Papyrus of all people?"

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that and he wished he'd known before he agreed. Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn’t it, and that was a meal he’d have to swallow when it came to the table.

Belatedly, he realized Toriel was attempting to climb up from the floor and he hastily leaned down to help. Her weight was easily triple his own but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet.

“Well!” Toriel said with a soft sigh as she dusted off her dress. “I’ll leave you to your duties, then. I need to get back to Frisk, they have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister of Japan, and I wanted to brush up on the agenda.”

“Yes, of course, your—Toriel,” Edge correctly hastily. He couldn’t help flexing his knee again, still giddy with the pain-free movement of the joint. “Thank you, Toriel. This means a great deal to me, past simply healing.” She’d already turned to the door and paused, turning back to him.

There was a certain familiar impishness to her smile as she said, “If you truly wanted to thank me, you could try calling me Tori.”

In answer, Edge only bowed deeply to her and said, sincerely, “I’m afraid the attempt would be too much for me and might undo all the damage you healed. I would hate to be the cause of ruining all your hard work.”

Her soft laughter washed over him in a gentle wave and she shook her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” Her amused expression shifted to seriousness, “And Edge? Anything I could do to help you, I was willing to offer.”

Edge inclined his head in wry acknowledgement and with a last smile, she went out the door, leaving him alone in his office. Alone with his leg in perfect working condition and itching to be used.

A jog up the stairs might be out of the question, but there was no reason he couldn’t walk down to get another cup of coffee. With the brace on for now, and by next week? Perhaps he could risk going without, at least in the morning, if the stares died down by then. Time would tell.

He sat down to strap the blasted thing back on, its lack of necessity making it all the more annoying.

Soon, he told himself, soon.

Despite the events of the past few days, Edge felt lighter than he had in weeks. He only hoped Stretch’s reaction would be as pleased as his own.

Once the brace was properly on, Edge retrieved his cup from his desk and went down the hallway to the breakroom to fill it, giving Janice’s curious glance a sedate nod and careful to keep his steps slow and measured so as to not rouse any suspicions.

On the leg brace he would concede, an annoying necessity to be sure. But the cane? That, he left behind.

tbc

[olivinesea]

Baby Teeth

a/n: All I do is think about college Hotchniss and lie. There is no plot and no point to this, I just like them. Referenced abuse (when is there not?) and around 1k. Thank you @whump-town for indulging me.

Hotch says more than he means to.

The afternoon sun had tempted them outside. Warmer than it had been in awhile, they found themselves back at their favorite spot. It was a grass covered hill off the main path, behind one of the science buildings only frequented by graduate students who never looked past their own thoughts. A lazy Saturday during a rare mid-semester stretch with no looming midterms or papers to worry about. He was neatly dressed, as always, in jeans and a button down. He had undone the top few buttons in his only concession to the warmth of a fast approaching spring. She looked like she had only just made it out of bed (which was not untrue), an oversized t-shirt thrown over cutoff shorts, one shoe still unlaced. At first glance they were mismatched, but anyone who really looked could see how their body language mirrored one another. Their movements mimicked the balanced orbits of a binary star, each with their own gravity pulling but never overpowering the other.

It was the time of day that felt perfect in its untethered nature. If no one moved too much, they might evade time and exist there forever. He laid on his back, squinting up at the blue sky. She was propped up on her elbows, knocking her knees together occasionally. Even while relaxing, she couldn’t quite stay still. She was in the middle of recounting yet another story of childhood transgression. She reveled in this activity, always trying to shock her serious friend. He hummed noncommittally when she reached the punchline, only half listening. She lightly hit his shoulder, annoyed that he was not giving her the reaction she was looking for.

“I bet you’ve never broken a rule in your life,” she teased.

“I stole something once,” he replied quietly.

“You’re kidding me.” It was impossible to imagine. He wouldn’t even cross a street if they didn’t have the walk sign.

He squints his eyes more and shakes his head slowly. “A pack of gum. The red kind. I took it from the gas station on the corner.”

She laughed. “Every kid does that.”

His eyes were completely closed now. “Hotchner’s don’t steal,” he said sternly.

She snorted. “I bet that’s exactly what your dad sounded like when he was telling you off.”

He frowned. “Something like that.”

“So, you’re a little criminal. What happened? You get grounded? Have to apologize? That was always the worst. I hated when my mother made me go back and apologize. So embarrassing. Like, give me a break, I was barely even aware I took anything.”

“I went to the emergency room.”

She stopped picking at the grass and stared at him. He hadn’t moved, his face completely passive. She sat up to get a better look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Fourteen stitches and a broken arm.”

He didn’t elaborate further. She tried to read some clue from his face but there was nothing. He looked almost peaceful.

“Did—uh—did that happen a lot?”

“Oh no, I never stole anything again,” he said, his mouth twisted into a one-sided smile.

“Aaron.”

“What?” His voice was sharp and irritated. The smile gone.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said softly.

Suddenly his eyes were open and he was glaring directly into her eyes. She was unnerved that he could track her movements so closely without looking.

“Would you like a number?”

His words were like ice on the back of her neck. She looked away and stumbled over her words. “No, of course not. I—I just—I’m sorry.” She twisted her fingers together, watching the skin around her knuckles lose color.

He sighed, all the anger leaving as quickly as it appeared. “It’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Em.” He rubbed his face with a hand, covering his eyes momentarily in an effort to regain some composure. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

After a few moments of silence passed between them, she risked another question. She felt as if she was walking through a minefield of which she had only just become aware.

“Does that still happen?”

He made a noise that could be a laugh but could just as easily be choking. She rolled onto her knees in case she needed to move quickly.

“I’m a little too big for that now I think,” he said, wiggling his feet, legs stretched out long on the grass. Privately, he thought it had more to do with his father’s declining health than any changes on his part. He had never learned how to fight back.

Suddenly a weight slammed into his chest and for a moment he froze in fear. He quickly realized Emily had launched herself at him and was clinging tightly, face tucked into his neck. Touch had never been so simple for him and he hesitated before wrapping his arms around her. She smelled clean and a little spicy he thought as he inhaled through his nose, trying to slow down his racing heart. He could hear her breath catching as she put her best effort towards not crying.

This new information was overwhelming and she didn’t know where to begin untangling her feelings. Her big, goofy, infuriatingly responsible friend was not someone who could be pushed around. It didn’t seem possible he could hold a history like that. Instinctively she took action, trying to translate all her affection and worry into touch. He gently rubbed her back as both of them calmed down. Eventually she sat up, eyes red-rimmed but dry.

“I’ll kill him,” she said tightly, her fists balled up at her sides. Looking at her, he didn’t doubt she’d try.

“He’s doing a pretty good job of that himself. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. She looked like she wasn’t finished, her eyes questioning.

“Can we talk about something else, Em?” Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Please,” he added quietly. After a moment she relented, the remaining tension draining away. She couldn’t think of anything to say so she went back to picking the grass.

“You hungry?” he asked after several strained minutes went by. She shrugged. “I hear they fixed the soft serve machine at Powell.” At that she looked up at him, eyes bright. He smiled, a real smile, relieved. She could always be counted on to want ice cream. He stood up and offered a hand to pull her off the ground. When they were both standing, she reached up to hold his face with both hands. He bit his tongue to stop himself from flinching. She looked closely into his eyes, willing him to believe her.

“I love you, Aaron.”

He blushed and ducked his head, covering her hands with his own. “I love you too, Emily.” They stayed still for a moment.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” her voice serious.

He smiled and squeezed her hands. “I know. Now come on before everyone else figures out the thing’s fixed and floods the place.”

They walked down the path towards the dining hall, close but not quite touching, the presence of each keeping the other steady.

[yellowocaballero]

Prequel to ‘The Crow’s Funeral’: How Agnes + Gerry met, then proceeded to set Jon on fire.

Exactly what it says on the tin. This exists because I was rereading TCF and went “hey did I ever figure out how Agnes and Gerry met”. I didn’t, so this is it. Rest under the cut. No specific warnings except for the fact that, shockingly enough, Jon had gone through a lot of character development prior to the start of TCF and was actually a complete asshole for a year or two. 

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

Agnes was back. 

Gerry didn’t know how she had found him. His hiding place was pretty well hidden, thank-you-very-much. Adults were always trying to barricade themselves in houses - stupid, when the nightshades could drift through shit - and kids were always trying to hide in closets or attics. But Gerry was the perfect mix of adult and child - or, as they’re known, teenagers - and he had way too much experience stripping houses down for the possessions of the recently deceased. 

So Gerry knew about crawl spaces. Like in the Magician’s Nephew, some older row houses had little secret tunnels between each house. You couldn’t quite get into each house normally, but there were always gaps and weak points and hatches. Even better, at the very top there was a hidden attic where the generator and power box lived. It was small, and there were definitely some gross animal corpses that Gerry could have sworn moved, but it was mostly safe. So much as anything was safe. 

But, somehow, Agnes had found him. Gerry didn’t know what she was doing exploring row houses for fun, but judging from the scent of smoke that’s been in the air lately he didn’t want to know. 

The sharp rapping echoed through the small attic, directly under the hatch with a huge heavy space heater dumped on it. Gerry had other means of entry, and Agnes thought that was the only door. Please! As if Gerry would live somewhere with only one escape exit. That was just asking to get stuck in a nightmare for a month. 

But, then again, maybe Agnes had never had to worry about that. 

“I brought food!” The high, clear voice called out - slightly muffled from the ceiling/floor, but unmistakable. “It’s Twinkies! Come down to eat it!”

“No way!” Gerry called down back. “I bet you put offal in it!”

“What does offal mean!”

“It’s, like, organs! Go away, lady!”

“I told you!” Agnes called back, weirdly delighted. “My name’s Agnes! I’m a Princess!”

“Princess of what, being lame!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, Princess Agnes!”

“Fuck me yourself!”

Ugh! She was so annoying! This was her fourth fucking time coming by here, and ever since she had realized that he was just a teenage boy she had been leaving food in front of the attic door. It was always weird food, too. Didn’t she know what humans ate?

Stupidly on cue, Gerry’s stomach rumbled. Ugh. 

“Go away,” Gerry called back, eager for her to just leave already so he could eat the shitty food she had undoubtedly left. “I don’t feel like getting turned into a candle today!”

For some reason, she didn’t reply to that. Gerry wondered if she was trying to fool him into thinking she was leaving, but joke’s on her - Gerry could hear footsteps all the way through the house. He waited with bated breath for a minute, two minutes, slowly growing confused why she wasn’t either yelling at him or leaving. 

He’d never tell her, but he kind of enjoyed fighting with her. 

Finally, she called out, with an emotion in her voice that he had never heard from her before, “Is that why you won’t come out? You think I’d turn you into a candle?”

Gerry was flabbergasted. “Yes?” he called back. “You turn everyone into candles.”

“...it’s not just because you don’t like me?”

Aw, man. Gerry abruptly felt a little bad for the flame monster cult leader lady. She couldn’t be any older than him. “You’re really nice,” Gerry called back, feeling like an idiot. “I just didn’t make it this far by not being careful! Thanks for the food, though!”

A longer silence this time. For some reason, Gerry felt a weird kind of anxious. Not the normal level of ‘aaah im gonna get eaten’ anxious. But something different. He couldn’t describe it. 

Finally, Agnes called back, “Do you want me to stop bothering you? I’m sorry if I’ve been harassing you. I’m not good at - at all of this.”

Gerry sat in his own silence, sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater on top of the hatch. His baggy jeans clung to his legs, slightly sweaty and definitely unwashed, and his raggedy thin black jacket was also a little sweaty. His hair was plastered to his head, limp and dirty. Wherever Agnes went, heat followed. 

People who made dumb decisions didn’t live very long. Gerry had lived for quite a while - well, he was fifteen, but he had made it all year without getting eaten, which was really quite impressive. 

And he had made it alone. When he woke up in this green and terrifying world, Mum hadn’t been there. He had looked for her for months. He had almost been ripped to shreds in Pinhole Books. She wasn’t in any of their usual London hideaways, either. Maybe she was outside of London, somewhere far away…

In all of Gerry’s books, he’d pack up his backpack and set out to look for Mum. He wouldn’t stop until he found her. Then he’d find out that she’d been embroiled in some plot to stop all of this, and he’d help her, and she’d hug him…

But it wasn’t a book. No matter how strange this new world was, fiction couldn’t begin to match. And Gerry didn’t really miss his Mum. Not really. He missed the fact that he was alone. He missed the fact that she was powerful and smart and talented, and definitely would have been able to protect the both of them. Gerry had to protect himself now, and he missed that safety more than he ever missed Mum. 

Gerry wondered if Agnes was lonely. How could she, with a whole cult?

It was a stupid decision. But Gerry had always trusted too easy, anyway. 

He stood up and pushed the space heater with a thick, screeching grinding sound that scraped uncomfortably along the wood. With a final heave, he pushed it off the hatch, and reluctantly bent down to lift the hatch and unfold the ladder. 

“If you turn me into a candle I’m giving you an allergy attack,” Gerry called down, and the girl known as Agnes Montague smiled up at him brilliantly. 

***

That wasn’t how Agnes and Gerry started. But it had been, maybe, how they got going. 

Agnes, Gerry found out very quickly, was a hot-tempered girl. Save the jokes. She was always dressed like a sixties hippie, and her long red hair was always somehow glistening and clean. She let Gerry touch it, very carefully, and - yep, even the hair was wax. What a weird person. 

After a bit of frantic introductions and suspicious squinting from both sides, Gerry and Agnes had eventually sat down cross-legged from each other as Gerry stuffed Twinkies in his mouth and she eyed them warily. She had eyed them with a bit of trepidation, but Gerry’s obvious joy at eating them must have made her curious. That was one thing Agnes was: curious. Almost to death. 

“You really live up here? And you’ve never gotten trapped by a nightmare?”

Gerry shrugged uncomfortably, sucking at his fingers. “Yep. I run around town a lot too, cuz I get bored otherwise. It’s easy to evade all of that shit if you know how.”

“Wow.” It was probably her being a fire person or whatever, but Agnes’ eyes seemed to sparkle a little bit. “My cult members barely even let me outside by myself, and I can set shit on fire. You’re really weird for a human.”

Gerry couldn’t help but puff out his chest a little, even if he would have preferred her to use any other word than ‘weird’. “That’s what happens when your Mum trains you since birth to be a demon hunter.” He faltered a little. “I’m not sure if she knew this would happen, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Your mum knew?” Agnes gasped. “I thought nobody knew about the Entities before the apocalypse!”

“Your cult members must have known, right?” Gerry pointed out, and Agnes nodded in concession of the point. “Yeah, there were always a few of us. Not a lot, though. Tight-knit community, everyone knew each other. Hobbyists, you know. It sucked. Most of the people who got involved in the supernatural were jerks.” Actually, now that Gerry thought about it… “That crazy apocalypse prepper Salasea must be coming out like a bandit right now.”

Agnes nodded sagely, as if she knew who Salasea was. Maybe she did? Gerry had always gotten the impression that if all of the demon hunters knew each other, then maybe all of the demons did too. Eventually word about Mum had really started to get around. 

“You’re the first interesting human I’ve met,” Agnes said thoughtfully. “Most of them just - like, scream, you know? Or pretend I’m not there. Like if they don’t acknowledge me then I can’t hurt them. And, like, that’s the way it works for a lot of these things! But I’m a person too, you know?”

“You really aren’t.”

“I have feelings,” Agnes said firmly. “But maybe the reason why you’re still safe isn’t because you’re a super cool human hunter, Gerry.”

“It has to be a part of it,” Gerry said aggressively, eager to assert his masculinity and how cool he was.

“Of course,” Agnes allowed, making Gerry huff. “But I think it’s because you aren’t scared. You were wondering how I found you, right?” Gerry nodded slowly. He had been wondering how Agnes had caught on that he was living here. “It was because I felt a person - I can always feel body heat - but I didn’t taste any fear. I was setting some row houses on fire just to feel something, and you weren’t feeling anything either!” She set her expression firmly, almost bravely. “I think we’re the same.”

“A goth human teenager living in an attic and a flame princess of the fire cult?” Gerry asked skeptically. They couldn’t be less similar. Gerry lived each day in - well, as Agnes pointed out, not fear, but he was constantly just trying to survive. It was all he had ever known, but he knew that others didn’t live like that. He had known when he was a kid - that other kids were normal, were happy - and he knew it now. That a small handful of people in this world were having a blast, and that everyone else suffered. “We’re nothing alike.”

But Agnes faltered, just a bit, and Gerry just a little bit of that loneliness in her expression again. “You’re the only other kid who’s had a conversation with me.” She paused a beat. “Besides, like, Callum, but he’s a baby.”

Maybe, in a schoolyard or a town or a world, Gerry and Agnes weren’t so similar. Maybe they’d have nothing in common. But maybe, in this world that was both so isolated and so unified, they could be a little similar after all. 

“I’ll allow it,” Gerry said graciously. He wanted to shake her hand, but he deeply knew that it was a bad idea. Instead, he broke his Twinkie in half, and held out the other one to her. “Friends?”

Agnes eyed the Twinkie warily. “Do you become friends by asking to be friends with someone?”

“I dunno, I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

But she took the Twinkie. It was a start. 

****

Of course, Gerry and Agnes were far more alike than they had first thought. Mostly in the fact that their evil mothers had killed their fathers (which Gerry had the sneaking suspicion wasn’t a universal experience) and that the both of them were actually kind of literally protagonists of a YA book.

Well, Gerry had always been the protagonist of his own life. But he would write a story about Agnes too: about the spoiled princess who rejected her destiny. Who had a really cool previous life where she was all dramatic and sad and stuff, who died tragically only to be reborn as a magical teenage girl. Seriously, it was right out of a Sarah J Maas novel. 

  Maybe they latched onto each other too quickly, but it was the kind of latching on when you made friends with another kid at the orientation to summer camp and then religiously stuck to the kid once the actual camp started until you got another friend. Maybe. Gerry's never been to summer camp, how was he supposed to know. 

But Agnes was sharply quick, surprisingly kind, and fiercely protective. Gerry had never met somebody who cared as much as her. It was really weird. He supposed that people like her, the powerful and destructive, had the privilege to care. 

Agnes snuck over more and more often, and sometimes Gerry went to go visit her. Eventually they started roaming the streets together, loitering in businesses and committing general acts of tomfoolery. Gerry was an old hat at tomfoolery - he had only been vaguely supervised most of his life - but Agnes encroached every second of minor rule breaking with cautious glee. 

Not that there really were rules anymore. Even if you were the kind of juvenile delinquent that got adults yelling at you and caused minor or major property damage, it wasn’t as if the cops were going to come and take you away. Either you got away with it, or you were eaten for a while. This was very natural to Gerry, and after a little bit of convincing it came easily to Agnes too. Maybe they really were well-suited for each other after all. 

If Gerry’s Mum could see him now, she would call him ‘dreadful’ and ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘badly behaved’. But...she wasn’t there, so she could hardly complain. Served her right.

Months - maybe - later, Gerry and Agnes were hanging out in Gerry’s crawlspace again after a long day terrorizing demons and old men alike. They were splitting a blood orange - literally - and letting the sticky juice (juice?) run down their hands, laughing as Agnes imitated the look of shock on the old man’s face. Sitting down on the floor, flavor bursting sweet on his tongue, as Agnes teased him for dropping peels everywhere...Gerry was almost happy. 

Rookie mistake. 

Agnes sensed it first, stiffening slightly as her body pulsed slightly warmer. Gerry scooted a little further away from her carefully as she turned to look at the thin plaster wall, brow furrowing. 

“Is it a nightmare?” Gerry whispered. “Or a person?”

“Neither,” Agnes whispered back. “It’s…”

Then Gerry heard it too: the clack of nails on hardwood, and a sound so terrifying it made his gut tie itself into knots. It was a growl, bestial and wet. Something was snarling outside.

Gerry stopped breathing, sitting absolutely still. The sounds of sniffing and snarling were loud and distinct, and he couldn’t help but stare at the sticky, juicy, smelly orange in his hands. Agnes was also still, far more completely than Gerry ever could be, carefully listening. 

He wanted to whisper to Agnes, make a game plan, but the monster would hear them. Part of Gerry wanted to tremble in fear, but that wasn’t useful. He forced himself to calm down as best as he could while keeping his breaths minimal. Remember Dune. Fear was the mind killer. Fear is the little death. 

But then Agnes smiled at him faintly, making a gentle gesture with her hand. Agnes was a literal fire messiah. She could take almost any monster. Gerry had never seen her afraid of anything, just contemptuous or annoyed. Having her there with him was more reassuring than any book quote, and Gerry exhaled softly as he smiled back at her. Agnes was going to torch that monster, and it would be super cool, and they’d high five, and -

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot. 

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid. 

A faint yipping echoed through the space, almost like a dog. It could never be mistaken for a dog. 

“Well, yes, there’s people everywhere. Other places have more people, even. Why can’t we just go there?” Another bark, a low bass cut. “Oh, if it’s a Hunt, then it’s alright.”

The heat was growing oppressive, and Gerry frantically motioned for Agnes to cut it out. He was withholding his own ragged breathing, and abruptly Gerry felt as if he couldn’t breathe. It was just making him more scared, the sweat trickling down his neck -

There was another yip, so close it might as well be made in his ear. It clearly came from directly in front of him. 

Gerry couldn’t help it - he screamed, overwhelmed with fire and heat and fear and the wolf at their door. 

The wall exploded.

Dust and insulation burst outwards in a fine white cloud, and Gerry and Agnes were abruptly coughing intensely and the wall cracked, folded, and collapsed inwards. Gerry was showered with fragments of wood and plaster, stifling another scream, and screwed his eyes shut against the sudden influx of light. 

He cracked them open as quickly as he could, unwilling to meet whatever was in front of him with his eyes closed. Instantly, overwhelmingly, Gerry was brought face to snout with a giant wolf.

Gerry firmly believed that people weren’t meant to see apex predators up close. Nobody should be able to touch a bear, was Gerry’s opinion. What was an anaconda? Gerry was on the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t afraid, but he hadn’t made it to the ripe old age of fifteen without being highly cautious. 

It wasn’t right, staring this wolf in the face. Every inch of it stood out to him: the slobber, the snarl, the canines almost as long as his hand. It was silvery white, with a thick ruff and coat, and Gerry watched in awe as the wolf snarled and - 

And stopped snarling. It started looking at him curiously instead, bushy tail sweeping gently side to side. 

The immediate problem almost solved, Gerry was able to take in the figure behind the wolf. 

He was a guy. Unfairly tall, Black with curly hair drawn tight into a ponytail. Sharp features, undercut by unnaturally green eyes. He was in a suit that looked like he had put it on three months ago and had never changed. He was...wearing a trenchcoat? He was just a guy!

“A human!” The man - monster? Guy? Nightmare? Avatar? - cried. “Oh, good job, Daisy! You’re a fantastic investigator.” The wolf - Daisy was a stupid name for a wolf - barked lowly. “Yes, it is like an oven in here, isn’t it?”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. He was still cowering on his ass, covered in dust and plaster. This guy was Agnes’ monster? Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. “Who -”

“He’s even talking!” The man exclaimed, as if he was a dancing monkey. “They never talk to me voluntarily, you know.” Daisy barked again. “I think it’s cute! Kids are so repetitive, but this one smells great. Good job, Daisy.” 

Before Gerry could protest the man stepped forward and looked down at him, and a sick realization trickled through him. 

The man had nothing behind his eyes. Bright green, sick and churning, radioactive and poisonous. His expression was absent and vaguely curious, like a child watching an ant crawl through its anthill. Slowly, intensely, the man’s placid expression broke into a sharp and demented smile. 

It wasn’t the smile of a human staring at a tasty sandwich. It wasn’t even the smile of a monster drawing a human into a nightmare. It was the smile of a child holding the magnifying glass to the ant: triumphant, because now the child got to see what happens when an ant blackened to a crisp. Elated, because they were the child, and not the ant. Victorious, because they could only remember the distinction in the act of causing harm. 

“Statement of -”

“Leave him alone!”

The monster exploded into flames. 

Agnes leapt from her position in the crawlspace, slightly tucked away out of sight, and shoved at the wolf hard. The wolf yowled, her handprints blackening its fur, and it retreated snarling. 

It was not the first time Gerry had seen someone set on fire. It happened a lot, when you hung out with Agnes. But the man burned, in bright and beautiful red-hot flames, crackling and searing the skin and air and sky. His mouth was open in a silent scream. 

Something green shone from within the flames. 

Then the flames were gone. It was as if he had never been set on fire at all. At most he smelled vaguely of burning flesh, and his hair had broken free of its ponytail to settle in fuzzy waves. 

The monster looked mildly peeved. 

Agnes grabbed Gerry, leaving red-hot scorch marks on his hoodie, and yanked him behind her. Gerry was not embarrassed to say that he absolutely hid behind Agnes as she put herself between him and the monster and his wolf. The wolf who was now snarling deeply at them, and the slightly irritated monster who shook ash off his unharmed trench coat. 

“I don’t care if you called dibs on him,” the monster bitched. “You don’t get to stop me in the middle of a - oh, Agnes!” The monster’s expression brightened as he snapped his fingers. “Agnes Montague, right? Your cult introduced me to you at - what was it -”

“Annabelle’s annual party five months ago,” Agnes said flatly. Her wax hair was still burning at the ends, and although Gerry couldn’t see her expression he knew it had to be fierce. “Nice to see you again, Jon. Now stay away from him.” 

“If you called dibs then you shouldn’t have let me try to eat him,” Jon - which was the dumbest name for an evil monster - complained. He smelled his arm, grimacing. “Setting me on fire’s downright rude, Agnes. Didn’t Jude teach you any manners?”

“Go away!” Agnes yelled. Gerry realized quietly that she was still shaking. “He’s not yours! He’s the one thing you aren’t allowed to hurt!”

Jon frowned at her. Gerry could practically see it: Did_not_compute.exe. It simply didn’t make sense: that there was something in the world that he wasn’t allowed to hurt. That there was something in the world that was not his. 

Before Jon could speak again, his wolf barked harshly at him. She kept barking, completely indecipherably, as Jon’s expression screwed up in uncomprehension. “What does it matter if they’re children.” The wolf barked. “I mean, I don’t actually care if we piss off the Desolation or not.” Bark, bark. “Why are you always guilt tripping me!” Bark, bark, bark, bark. Eventually Jon’s expression turned somewhat abashed, and then downright embarrassed. 

“Right, right.” He turned back to Agnes and Gerry, a little sulky. “Sorry for trying to eat your human, Agnes. In my defense, he was quite -” The dog yipped. “ - innocent, and I’m sure he’s very fun. Great. Well, this was a waste of time. Call me if you get tired of him, Agnes.” 

Jon turned to go, and Gerry could not see his back soon enough. The heat had died as Agnes calmed down, her arms crossed over her chest and scowling fiercely. 

“Apologize to him!”

Jon froze, halfway across the room. Gerry quietly wanted to die. 

The monster slowly turned on his heel, looking at Agnes with a faintly flabbergasted expression. “You can’t be serious -” The wolf barked again. Gerry had the impression that the wolf was in charge of him. “Stop ganging up on me -” Bark. “I don’t know how to talk to humans, don’t make me!” A very firm bark. 

“Do it,” Agnes said firmly. “Or I’ll set you on fire again.”

Unbelievably, the monster groaned. He turned to Gerry, fluorescent eye twitching. “Alright, alright! Listen, uh - kiddo? Kiddo. I am very sorry that you tasted - I am very sorry that I tried to scar you for life and consume your trauma. I cannot stress enough how it’s nothing personal. There.” Weirdly enough, he looked a little proud of himself. “Hah. Totally rocked that talking to a human thing.”

“Uh,” Gerry said, too dizzy with the events of the last ten minutes to care very much about what he said, “is the wolf in charge of you?”

Even more unbelievably, the man brightened. “I’m her assistant! Not very many people pick that up. You’re very bright, little human. Do you want to pet her?” Jon glanced at Daisy, who looked unimpressed. Very loudly, he hissed at her, “Do children like petting dogs?”

The wolf, somehow, seemed to inform him that yes, they did. 

They were in too deep now. Gerry walked up and petted the wolf. It was fucking awesome. Agnes groaned and pulled him back again very quickly. She seemed a little jealous. The wolf yipped at her and Agnes reluctantly petted the wolf too. 

Jon clapped his hands. “Well! That was very unpleasant. I won’t ask what you’re doing hiding in a wall, Agnes. As a personal favor to you.”

“Thanks,” Agnes said flatly. 

“Tell Diego and Jude that I’m not doing it. Or eating your human. As a personal favor to you.”

“Definitely will.”

“Fantastic.” Jon’s eyes glinted, in the soft light of Agnes’ flames. “I’m very happy you’ve reincarnated into that fun child’s body, Agnes. Children are so tempestuous and impulsive. I wouldn’t have tolerated an adult setting me on fire. You understand that, don’t you?” 

Agnes nodded, almost shakily.

“You understand that for an adult, that would have had very different consequences.”

Agnes nodded again.

“Fantastic!” Then Jon was beaming again, all carelessness and laziness. “Have fun, you little delinquents. Come on, Daisy. I’m famished.”

He swanned off, wolf following closely on his tail. But the wolf looked back as it crossed the threshold, large yellow eyes piercing in a way that Gerry just couldn’t name, before they both disappeared. As slowly and terrifyingly as they had come.

Ten seconds passed, then fifteen. 

Agnes crumpled to her knees and bent over the floor, shaking, and her hands pressed hot scorch marks into the wood. She was still shuddering, and Gerry bent down next to her. He couldn’t physically comfort her, but he could put his hand close to hers on the wood. As close as possible, yet never touching. 

“We are so lucky to be alive,” Agnes breathed, before abruptly groaning. “I set him on fire! I set The Archivist on fire!”

The title tickled something in Gerry’s brain, bringing up an insane amount of questions, but he brushed them all aside. Gertrude was dead - or at the very least, very far away, where she was no good to him. She had to be, otherwise he would have noticed her cutting a swathe through Britain by now. 

“Who is he?” Gerry asked. He didn’t really want to know, but...well, he was himself. He wanted to know everything. It was kind of his whole thing.

Agnes sat down on her knees, rubbing her forehead, and Gerry cautiously sat down next to her. “He’s the monster who sold the world. The most dangerous man ever made.”

“The most dangerous man in the world gets bossed around by his dog?” Gerry asked, before the words sunk in. “Wait, I thought that was Jonah Magnus!”

“Jonah Magnus doesn’t kill people because they annoy him!” Agnes snapped, before she groaned into her hands again. “And I set him on fire…Diego is going to kill me!”

“For what it’s worth,” Gerry said awkwardly, “I’m glad you set him on fire. He was kind of a dick.” He paused again, uncertain of how to say it. “And...thanks for caring, I guess. You really don’t have to.” He shrugged, unwilling to state what had always been unsaid between them. “I’m a human. These things happen to us. You just have to deal with it.”

That was the way of the world. It had always been that way, even before the apocalypse. The strong and powerful and important like Jon kicked around smaller people, and the smaller people just hoped they survived it. 

Gerry was a survivor. Nobody had ever saved him before. Maybe because nobody had ever saved him before. 

Agnes tackled Gerry in a tight, pressing hug. She wasn’t hot at all, just mildly warm - an incredible act of effort and concentration on her part. Her arms were solid and unyielding, never mistaken for flesh, but she clutched at him with a unique desperation. Gerry cautiously hugged her back, letting her bury her head into his shoulder. 

“Not to you,” Agnes whispered. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not even The Archivist.”

“You can’t promise that,” Gerry whispered. 

“We’re family.” Agnes separated from him, stubbornly fighting boiling tears. “And I’m sick of just dealing with it.”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. “Family?” He said weakly.

Agnes blushed hotly. “If you want!” She tightened her fists on her skirt, winding the fabric between her fingers anxiously. “It’s just that - I know you don’t have anyone...and I have my cultists, but they don’t really care about me, not like you do...and I know it used to be different, that family used to mean something different, but I don’t care about what old people thought family meant. I care about you, and we’re sticking together, so that’s what we are.” She faltered a little. “If you want.”

“Siblings, then,” Gerry said faintly. “If you want.”

And he did want it. More than anything, Gerry wanted this. 

When Agnes smiled at him, and she hugged him tightly again, Gerry was halfway certain that yet another disaster was about to befall them. He knew that meteors were going to strike, that the ground was going to open up and engulf them, that the world would end in fire and ice, because Gerry was so happy it clenched his heart. He was so happy he couldn’t breathe. 

“It’ll be okay,” Agnes said into his shoulder, “we’ll never have to deal with Jonathan Sims again. I promise.”

****

It was not a promise Agnes kept. 

They ran into him again. And again. And again. Eventually, after meeting a monstrous golem of fear and suffering that induced paralyzing fear so frequently, said simulacrum of human experience became slightly tiresome. And you realized that he was, actually, really not that bright. Or at the very least not very mature. And that his wolf sister kind of wore the pants in that relationship. That he and his wolf sister were like Agnes and Gerry, in every possible way. And that he was, weirdly, deeply kind. And that he loved, so bright and pure and fearsome that it had brought down the world. That he was capable of loving Gerry. Maybe even, given enough time, anyone. 

Many months later, as Gerry, Agnes, Jon, and Daisy sat in an ice cream shop splitting blood orange ice cream (with real blood!) and bickering endlessly about if Friends was the Flesh or the Stranger, that Gerry thought he might feel something familiar in his chest. 

Something that clenched his heart, something that made him so happy he couldn’t breathe. Something that felt like fire and ice and meteors and disaster.

Jon must have felt it. He looked at Gerry, surprised, with ice cream slowly dripping from his spoon and congealing on the table. “What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? Agnes, is he ill?”

“No,” Gerry said, wiping at his eyes. “I guess I’m happy again.”

Everybody stared at him, slightly dumbfounded. 

Daisy barked. 

“You’re quite right, Daisy,” Jon said. 

He didn’t tell them what she was right about, and Gerry never asked. He already knew. 

[bunny-bts]

Never Want To Hurt You Pt II

Author: Idk how long or short this part will be to be honest lol

Warnings: same as previous chapter part I , add injury and accident, coma, polygamy?, Cheating

Pairings: I think this has taken a turn for future Jimkook x reader

It had been weeks since you had came back and since your birthday at dinner you and Taeyhung hadn't spoken much. You've known each other for your entire lives so there was nothing of you haven't been through, and yes you have been pissed at each other before but this was different. You had been walking around giving each other cold shoulders, certain everyone noticed. He had tried to speak to you and talk it out once he noticed you had gone out several times with Jimin and JK and was noticing things heat up between the three of you more and more. You shared a bedroom with him, again, something you had done more than enough to be used to and didn't mind. Only now the two of you weren't snuggled up like any other time, you were sleeping back to back and sharing a bed with Taeyhung with him not protectively holding you was not something you liked. You hadn't paid attention but the two makneas didn't like it either, that you weren't sleeping with them, or that they would be relieved to know you slept so distantly.

"I'm going to go potty, I'll meet you out there," you laugh as you walk out of the theater screening room with the maknaes and turn toward the restroom as they buy slices of pizza and drinks at concession then go outside. Today you decided to all match each other and wear print tops that you had found while window shopping, it was fun and so cute you thought.

They go out and find a table up against a fence to sit while you all eat and they wait on you. You weren't there right now so they could drop a facade they had going on as of late. Jimin, with a friendly smile although faker than tits in California as it was, throws a elbow on Jungkook's shoulder, "back off," he forces a chuckle. "Why? Why don't you make me?" Jungkook returns the same smile. "It's been six weeks, it's time one of us made a move, don't you think?" "I agree," the youngest smirks. "We can't just race over and bombard her, she will get nervous. How should we do it?" He adds. "Hmm, good point....it seems little Kookie is growing up," Jimin teases. "I'm a grown man, I assure you," Jungkook growls through gritted teeth and a toothy smile. "Are you now? You have a ponytail-" "she will need something to hang onto," Jungkook winks, "she's coming, be cool." He smiles at you and waves to show you where they are. "Oh it's funny because of irony-," Jimin starts as he waves and smiles at you too. "Yes, I know it is asking a lot Jimin, but please try your best," Jungkook straightens out his jean jacket as you approach. "oh and Jimin..." "Yeah?" "Don't fall" "What?" Jimin asks before being pushed off of the table he sat on top of. Before he is able to retaliate you're there and giggling.

"Jimin, poor thing," you giggle and offer him a hand up. "You're always falling, sit on the seat," you advise as you sit on the seat attached to the table and lean your back on the table itself, grabbing the soda they had gotten you from it and taking a sip.

"Y/N, ya~, sit on my lap. Seat is uncomfortable," Jungkook grabs your waist and sits you on his lap. He wasn't wrong, it was one of the picnic tables you see at playgrounds, metal with bar patterns. "Aww, so sweet thankyou Kook, haha~ people will think we are together" "maybe~," he laughs and sends Jimin a glance as he places a hand on your thigh and starts rubbing your leg. Jimin is still smiling but you can't see or hear him really growl behind his lips, he casually moves Jungkook's hand and places his on your thigh. "We really like you Jagi," he says sweetly, leaning in a bit. "I really like you both too, I have two thighs," you giggle and glance down, the youngest man easily takes the hint and places his hand on your other. "Oh, she is naughty," Jimin laughs as they both with their thumbs. The three of you definitely look really touchy, maybe like a polygamous couple. This was different, you hadn't had anyone fawn over you the way these two did and shit did you like it. It is quiet for some moments, you all just eat and relax. At some point you start playing with their fingers.

"Jagi~, what are you doing Aien?" You feel Jungkook's breath against your ear.

"Do you like our hands?" Jimin's is against your other.

"Yes," you say simply, probably blushing and trying to play it off with a smirk, "you have really pretty fingers," you stop abruptly and stand. "We should go, it's getting late"

"Yeah, hold our hands princess," they both reach out and grab one of your hands and the journey home begins. At some point you all have to cross the street so you have to let go and run but a rogue out of control car spins around and hits you.

"Y/N!!"

The time couldn't pass any slower for the two of them when you're brought to the hospital. You're in critical condition so they aren't allowed to see you and are left waiting on the others to come.

"What. Happened?" They find themselves slammed against the walls with Taeyhung having a firm grip on thier throats and unable to breathe as they are pretty sure that with the way Tae's nose is flaring there may as well be smoke.

"Tae! Let them go! You're going to kill them," Namjoon and Jin rush behind him and fight to pull him off.

"I WANT ANSWERS"

"You're going to get them, let them....regain color...," Namjoon soothes one friend as he looks to the other two. "What happened guys?"

The two youngest explain and Taeyhung excuses everyone else to go after several hours pass. Reluctantly they go and tell Taeyhung, Jimin and Jungkook to keep them updated. Which they do, they find themselves there for three days once you get admitted into the hospital, they all stay by your side and the other guys pop in time to time to visit as well but JK and Jimin weren't allowed to stay overnight. Taeyhung was literally the only thing you had remotely close to family by the hospital's definition since your aunt was no longer around.

"Now may I speak?" He asks you, he was alone with you at the moment and you had been in a coma. "I have been trying to explain....," He pulls a chair by your bed and strokes your baby hairs, "I know that you're mad about our birthday......I know you told me that you liked me and I know I hurt your feelings.....I did it because.....I never want to hurt you....," He leans in and kisses your forehead. "Please wake up soon.....you have changed. So much....," He glances at your fine 'baby hairs', "I remember when you looked like a peach," he giggles.

"You hurt her feelings so you wouldn't hurt her?" Jungkook says from the door.

"You wouldn't understand, Jungkook."

"Try me."

"Why are you back already?" Tae gets up and goes over to the other side of the room. "What's that?" He points with his head to Jungkook's hand. "Squish mellow....," Jungkook replies and takes the seat that his friend had just had.

"I promised I would never hurt her again"

Jungkook simply looks at him with a raised brow, "you know.....you know why she and I get along so well? Everyone treats us like children, and we aren't. Taeyhung, when she wakes up, I am going to ask her to be my girl and I would like your blessing....," He receives no answer, only Taeyhung standing and walking out. Maybe that was his way of avoiding giving a answer, or maybe he was just telling Jungkook to watch you for a while because he hadn't been able to sleep. He goes to the hotel room he had gotten basically across the street from the hospital, the room he had specifically requested was directly across from yours.

Flopping on the bad he closes his eyes.

"Taeyhung, sit down baby. This is Y/N," his mother smiles at him, holding a blanket in her arms with a baby inside it. "Want to hold her baby?" "Yes," he giggles. "Okay, you have to sit down and be very still first," his mom instructs, smiling back over her shoulder at your parents. He hops into a chair and sits as still and motionless as he can and your dad is trying his very best to hold back laughter. You cry before his mom can hand him over to you, only to stop when your aunt steps forward and takes you. He laughs and soon your aunt is handing you to him and showing him how to be gentle and hold your head. He holds you just fine for a moment, then you stretch and he accidentally drops you. His mom dives to the floor just barely catching you. "She's alright," she announces.

Tae shoots up, sitting bolt right again unable to sleep. He realizes that he is pouring sweat then looks around before getting up and walking past the giant window. He stops and moves the blinds, seeing you, in the bed at the hospital across from him and still in a coma. He sighs and takes a shower before trying sleep again.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" He stops short. You were peering around a corner into the kitchen where your dad sat sobbing. He comes up behind you to watch, "why is he crying?" "I don't know.....Oppa...," You step out so your dad can see you. "Y/N.....come here," your dad calls you over. You look to Tae who shrugs before going over to him. It was almost three in the morning, why was your dad like this? "Nae salang...." "Yes?" He watches the man smile at you, holding your waist. "You are twelve now, you're going to be trying many new things in just a few years, listen closely." You nod. "Your mother and I are no more-" "Why?" "Because I don't want to hurt you nae salang, understand?" You shake your head no. "You will be living with your aunty, here, for the time being," he kisses your forehead and gets up, he kisses your aunt on the lips by the door on the way out. Leaving you standing there very confused and Tae who is a little older and more versed on the world wide eyed in shock.

He finds himself tossing around and punches the pillow.

"Tae!! Tae!! Tae!!" He turns to see you running towards him outside of the school grounds. You jump into his arms, and he catches you. You had been gone the last eight months to stay with your mom in the states but it was finally summer which means you had months to be together. "Tae, I heard there is going to be a dance?" "Yeah, tommorow night, why?" "Well~," you swing his hand and bite your lip and he sees that happy twinkle in your eye. "Well?" "Ask me~, fine~, Kim Taeyhung, please go with me to the dance?" ".........No," that was it, that was the moment. "No?" "No, the dance is for a girl that you like and you're my sister basically so no," he lies because he remembers the night your dad was crying and he now being about to graduate understood your dad's reasoning. He didn't want to show feelings for you to someday accidentally hurt you, he had remembered what happened when you were born.

He couldn't do it, sleep was out of the question. He walks to the window to see that you still hadn't woken up. He leans his head on the glass and bangs his fist on it. Jungkook was holding the stuffed animal and leaning in, saying something to you then he smiles and uses the animal like a pillow, lying down next to you. Tae slides to the floor unable to stop the tears, "I....I never want to hurt you!"

Meanwhile in your room, JK was leaning over, "I got you a Squish mellow....ladies like those, right? But I'm going to use it like a pillow first, okay?" He giggles and lays down beside you.

"Still hasn't woken up?" Jimin strolls in, to be answered with the shake of a head. He comes to sit by the bed. "Why did you have to get her one of those?" He responds to Jungkook's confused expression by pulling another Squishmellow from inside his trench coat and tucking it under your arm, kissing your forehead. "I was thinking......you can ask her to be your girl....."

"I was thinking too......." "Yeah?" "Why don't we both ask her?" "Wouldn't that make you and I-" "Not necessarily, it would just mean that we would both protect her. If we had just kept holding her hands, she wouldn't be here....," Jimin nods in agreement. "So, we are going to ask her to be our girl"

"We should ask Taeyhung first"

"I did?"

"and?"

"I don't know, he didn't say anything,....Jimin..."

"Hmm?" Jimin glances over at him, he had been looking to his feet. One was tapping anxiously.

"I miss her...."

"Me too...."

[shadowlink06]

A Captive Heart (Deleted Scenes)

The first draft of this piece capped off at 31k words. These are the scenes I managed to save. Keep in mind, these are being presented as unedited so expect to see typos. One of the things I will tell my editors is to make the story readable. Don't worry about my feelings or deleting scenes. It was pretty normal that 5k was cut as during my World of Ruin series, at least 10k has been deleted or rearranged. Please do not read this post if you have not read the entire story as it contains spoilers.

Salve Regina did not have any deleted scenes since it was a last-minute story that I wrote. You can definitely see the difference when I have more time to think about the story.

Chapter 1:

Regis lamented over his son’s health the more that the days had passed. It was a risk coming to Tenebrae, but he could think of no other options for help when Noctis had slipped in his coma. Thankfully he had woken from it, but there still appeared to be something wrong with him. On the balcony overlooking the city, he stared into the tiny silhouettes of the people going about their day without a care in the world. He wished he could have been more carefree like them. Everyday was like walking on eggshells. He and Sylva had been friends in the distant past. Niflheim’s occupation of the region had limited their contact.

Aldercapt had been a man of greed. His reign had been one stained in bloodshed and heartbreak with the evolving magitek troops he had produced. The rumor was that there was someone within his court that was responsible for the sudden production of the inhuman creations. A human or daemon… it was hard to say at this point. What Regis did know was that in the last twenty years, there had been strides made from Niflheim that caused the barrier protecting Lucis to grow ever smaller.

Regis glanced at the ring of the Lucii. His forebears aided him as much as they could to drive away the onslaught time and time again but the price the ring demanded was a high one. That is why the King had gone through desperate strides to see that Noctis would get better, even if that meant being in enemy territory. Most of the retinue that had joined him had gone back to Lucis and only a handful remained behind to not cause attention to be drawn to Sylva while she did her best to heal Noctis. In his heart, the King wished for the illness Noctis seemed to suffer from to pass quickly but a part of him wondered if the daemon attack had taken more from his son than he could fathom.

Chapter 2:

Regis found himself unable to sleep the past few weeks. Speaking to Sylva had confirmed to him that the daemon attack might have damaged Noctis in a way that was hard for even the Oracle to heal. He had thought the worst of it had been over when Noctis came out of his coma, but perhaps it was just a prelude. When the boys had been settled for bed, the King had taken leave to the gardens with Clarus at his side.

A part of him was still suspicious of the daemon attack. He had known that Niflheim was making strides in their magitek production the last twenty years. Why that had been so had been bothersome to the King and his council. The war with the other nation had always been bloody with Aldercapt’s family refusing to stop it’s aggressive expansion in Eos. And then there was the crystal which they seemed to both admire, fear, and be jealous that such a power was out of their control.

But Regis, like his father before him, refused to give into Niflheim’s demands. There had been concessions made that had unfortunately given Niflheim more influence over what was once Lucian territory but they were still waging war desperately trying to drive the enemy back. What hope he had of ending the war seemed to be only a fairytale. Noctis was destined to continue this struggle, much to Regis’s disappointment.

That was why it was alarming that it seemed that Noctis seemed to be the target. No doubt it would hurt Regis, but also put him at greater risk since that was his only son. Regis could only hope that Noctis would pull through, whatever was wrong with him. “Clarus,” He spoke to his friend. “Do you think this is the right path to take?”

The Shield considered his words. “It is not my place to say your Highness.”

Wedding Crashers:

Even if it was in the early morning, Aranea always stopped by the same bar, at the same time. She wasn’t sure when the ritual started, but she, Biggs, and Wedge, always ate together before proceeding to their business at the Empire. As she walked in today though, there was a hole that filled in the pit of her stomach as she sat in the barstool, right in the middle of the men. The bartender, an old guy around 70, gave a nod and set a glass in front of her before pouring orange juice in it. “Usual?” His gruffled voice muttered behind the heavy gray mustache.

“Please.” Aranea said before he disappeared into the back to get her order ready.

“Should’ve ordered something different.” Biggs said as he lit the tip of his cigarette. Sure will be reassigned after the wedding day is announced.

“Feels strange.” Wedge admitted. “Thought I would resent those brats being their personal babysitters... but they were both good people.”

“Don’t tell me you are getting sentimental?” Aranea mused with an arched brow.

“Naw… it’ll be nice to take to the skies again.” Wedge replied.

“Agreed, much prefer it. We were meant for the sky.” Biggs said.

Aranea had to agree with them. That is where the three of them met together when they had signed up for the job. It was so fun being able to see all of Eos just outside of their window. She grabbed her glass before taking a drink out of it. The acidic burn of the orange juice stung going down, but she kept chugging it until nothing was left. “Humph, another era for Niflheim.”

“His Radiance certainly played his cards right.”

That made the commodore laugh softly. “Guess he did…” Too well. From there the trio grew silent as they continued to small talk about what would be next for them. Eventually the bartender came back with toast, eggs, and bacon for three of them as they ate breakfast together. Aranea didn’t finish her meal much to Biggs and Wedge’s surprise.

“You okay Lady A?” Biggs asked.

Aranea nodded before glancing down at the unfinished plate. “Yeah, guess I just got a lot on my mind.” She reached into her wallet throwing out enough bills to cover their meals and left a generous tip for the bartender. “Guess we better get ready to go.” All three stood up walking out of the bar. She readied herself to go to the castle while Biggs and Wedge headed to the aircraft hold to delegate security for the coming wedding. Before they parted the commodore couldn’t help but speak to her friends. “Biggs… Wedge. It’s been great knowing you.”

The pair looked at each other before chuckling softly. “Sure you haven’t been hittin’ the bottles Ms?” Biggs said with that goofy grin on his face. They knew that Aranea never drank for she had always been one to know what was going on around her. Biggs always said eventually he’d get her drunk one of these days. He hadn’t succeeded in the past ten years though.

Aranea forced herself to laugh. “Maybe a little bit. See you guys.” Although in the bottom of her heart this moment was the last time she would see them.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Titus walked into the Lucis council chamber early in the morning. It was Prince Noctis’s eighteenth birthday, and today was the day that Regis was dreading. Aldercapt had wasted no time in getting the date set up for the wedding the moment Noctis had turned of age. His Radiance had assumed that Regis would try something if the wedding day was extended longer… given how the council had been behaving the last few months, Aldercapt had been right.

Stil he had been unable to figure out just who was feeding the council information about the Prince’s movements. But he had gotten better about covering up his emotions when it was clear that sensitive information about the Prince was delivered. Whoever it was had been sly, always staying out of reach of Titus’s grasp and slipping away. It was hard to pin down who it was since whoever was feeding the court information wasn’t coming directly to the citadel to deliver the information. From what he could tell, the intel was spot on. Between them knowing Aldercapt’s schedule, times where the military cabinet would be attending meetings, or even when they were not in Niflheim, it was always accurate. Whoever it was, Titus was managing to stay one step ahead of them by abruptly changing plans or cancelling meetings to subvert a way to leave Noctis vulnerable. So far, he had been successful, but by now, the mole knew that there was a mole in Lucis which was making things more complicated. Titus was hoping that the mole would surface soon. His affairs at Niflheim had kept him from learning about the secret ops mission that Clarus was overseeing. Until the wedding day was taken care of, Titus was on leave giving him the opportunity to play his role as Drautos.

Lucis had to make their move soon else they would be subservient to Niflheim. That was why he was counting on something big happening during the small window where Noctis turned 18 and he produced an heir. It was a critical time for both sides, and it might have been time to cut his ties from Lucis completely. His only regret was the same one he had ten years ago, he couldn’t be the one to thrust his sword in Regis’s heart.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You won’t be able to do this on your own!” Noctis cried out.

She agreed with the Prince, but it was irrelevant. Everyone had gambled on this to work and so she could only press forward. “I said go! I can’t fight them and protect you brats!” She shouted pointing the spear at them to make her point clear.

Ignis hesitated, but pulled Noctis up. “We have to go Noct…” He said softly, eyeing the street and where the circled area was. Almost there… he hoped whatever was there was useful.

Aranea continued to destroy the units as they continued to deploy from the drop ship. “I’ve gotta take those damn things out.”. Charging her Stoss Spear, she pressed the tip of it into the ground using the momentum of the energy to propel her forward. She landed on the roof of the homes watching as the drop ships descended lower. “Perfect.” She said jumping rooftop to rooftop to close the distance in between them. She was thankful that her time in the sky was helpful in this situation.

The MTs might have been up to date with the constant upgrades and data supplied by Verstael, but the drop ship models were ones that had a few decades behind. The newer models were sent to battles, and the older ones were stationed within the city. They might not have been as fast, but the older drop ships didn’t have to be since this was the capital and it was always heavily guarded. It was an exploit that Aranea had hoped would happen. The engine was easier to get to in the older models. The glowing energy radiating from the hull gave away their location. Charing her spear, she moved herself closer to it before striking the engine with the tip. Several explosions followed before she had to jump away. The ship started to descend, and Aranea grit her teeth praying that the people below would hear the sound of the ship and evacuate the area safely. A subsequent crash and explosion followed, yet Aranea pressed on. She couldn’t worry about the casualties or damage now, there were two more ships that needed to be downed. She did the same maneuver as before and a second drop ship fell from the sky. The last one, was a bigger model, and one that had her heart skip a beat. The emblem off to the side was unmistakable. Glauca’s personal ship.

She stopped to catch her breath as more MTs dropped out of the General’s ship surrounding her. The searchlight was steady on her from Glauca’s ship and her mouth pressed together seeing that familiar sight of bluish metal and ominous red jump out of the drop ship. The impact of Glauca’s fall had the concrete a few feet from him disintegrate into shattered pieces of rocks. “Aranea Highwind…” The voice boomed. “All this time… you were the traitor in our midst.”

To that the commodore laughed softly. “Well what can I say? Guess I have a soft spot for kids.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“-I said just do it!” Verstael snarled watching the soldier cringe from his tone. “If the General or Aldercapt have an issue with it... they can speak to me personally. Make sure he is given a sedative to keep him knocked out.” No, he didn’t even want anyone seeing this boy and he covered up the boy’s face still speaking. “Take care of him… now.”

“Y-yes sir!” The soldier moved down and began to tend to the Lucian.

When Verstael was sure that he got the point across he was already aiming for the direction of his lab. “That boy…” He murmured, unable to get the image of his face out of his head. The features were unmistakable. As a scientist, he didn’t believe in fate or luck. Yet for once… he was at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. A DNA test needed to be done first to verify his thoughts, but deep down he already knew why that soldier looked so damn familiar.

Aftermath:

There had always been rumors about the King’s health. The access to the armiger did have it’s limitations along with the power of the kings. Prompto had never seen Regis use it first hand, but he knew that each time Regis blessed a Crownsguard or Kingsglaive with the power of the armiger, he lost precious time on his life. It was why the King had always described this mission as “be all to end all”. Of course Noctis being prisoner for as long as he had been was something that Regis had always wanted to change, but the cost… he had no idea it would be taken this far.

“You have nowhere to go now boy.” The voice said softly. “But worry not, you are in the place you are supposed to be.”

Prompto grit his teeth thrashing against his bonds. “I kneel before no king but Regis Lucis Caelum and his son Noctis Lucis Caelum!”

“Who is dead.” The voice reminded him. “And as for that brat… well you might have him back but even the company of your best doctors will not erase ten years under our care.” Of course he didn’t know that for sure but… they still had something that the Prince wanted. “Regardless of that… I must undo the damage that your mother has done to you. It is the only way you will be pardoned for your crimes.”

Prompto froze at the mention of his mother. Why did someone from Niflheim seem to speak so formally. No… it was a trick. The gunner laughed softly. “Is this your idea of an interrogation? Making up stories to think I’ll take the bait?” He heard a door opening behind him, but he couldn’t even turn to see who had come into the room. “You’re really bad at this…”

“Had it been anyone else, I might not have pressed the issue. But you and I… share a history together.”

Prompto didn’t recognize the voice at all though. Not wishing to give the man a reason to start his torture, he opted to keep the man talking for now. “I know no one from Niflheim.” He spat, the malicus was clear, the things that he had seen growing up, the people that suffered because of their magitek were burned into his brain. “I’m a proud Lucian! Never would I apologize to Niflheim scum!”

“That is no way to speak of the land of your birth, Prompto.”

The gunner’s breath hitched when the man said his name. He could have blamed it on his ID being taken, or even the Crownsguard uniform but he knew that all officers that had been tasked with this operation had all of their personal belongings left back home. So with that knowledge in the back of his mind… how had this man figured out his name? Now he was trying to look at the figure from his peripheral vision.

“It seems I’ve gotten your attention now.” The voice mused. “I’m glad she didn’t change your name. You were born in these halls, I held you in my hands. You were destined to be a scientist and know the best of cutting edge technology. But your mother… a coward unwilling to embrace the power of my research took you and fled. I had wondered where she had taken you too.” He snorted. “Lucis would have been the last place I expected.” But in hindsight it did make the most sense.

“Who…. who the hell are you?” Prompto choked out. The man finally stood in front of him and what he saw made his face pale as he came face to face with a man that looked so much like him. The freckles dotting his face, the blonde hair, the blue eyes burning back at him.

Verstael summoned a gun from his own armiger. Unlike Prompto’s weapons though, the magic that came from it was glowing red rather than blue. He pointed the barrel at Prompto’s face wrestling with what to do about the situation. “Hello... my son.”

[somnilogical]

either ziz or anna salamon is directly lying about their interaction

ziz:

<<“And then?” they asked. I’d start looking for horcruxes. No, that’s actually probably enough. But I’d think through what my win conditions actually were and try to find ways that wasn’t the same as the “victory” I’d just won.

“And then?” “I guess I’d cry?” (What [were they] getting at? Ohgodno.) “Why?” I’ve never killed a human before, let alone someone I liked, relatively speaking.

They asked if I’d rape their corpse. Part of me insisted this was not going as it was supposed to. But I decided inflicting discomfort in order to get reliable information was a valid tactic.

I said honestly, the thought crossed my mind, and technically I wouldn’t consider that rape because a corpse is not a person. But no. “Why not?” I think I said 5 reasons and I’m probably not accounting for all of them. I don’t want to fuck a bloody headless corpse. If I just killed someone, I would not be in a sexy mood. (Like that is not how my sexuality works. You can’t just like predict I’m gonna want to have sex like I’m a video game NPC whose entire brain is “attack iff the player is within 10 units”. [I couldn’t put it into clear thoughts then, but to even masturbate required a complicated undefinable fickle ‘self-consent’ internal negotiation.]) And, even if it’s not “technically” rape, like the timeless possibility can still cause distress. Like just because someone is my mortal enemy doesn’t mean I want them to suffer. (Like I guessed by thought experiment that’s nothing compared to the stakes if I can gain a slight edge by hurting their morale. But… that sounds like it would probably sap my will to fight more than theirs. And I said something whose wording I don’t remember, but must have been a less well worded version of, “you can’t just construct a thought experiment and exercise my agency in self-destructive ways because I in fact care about the multiverse and this chunk of causality has a place in the multiverse you can’t fully control in building the thought experiment, and the consequences which determine my actions stretch outside the simulation.”

I mentioned it sort of hurt me to have invoked Quirrell’s algorithm like that. I said it felt like it cost me “one drop of magical blood” or something. (I think I was decreasing my ability to do that by forcing it.)>>

<<I asked Person A if they expected me to be net negative. They said yes. After a moment, they asked me what I was feeling or something like that. I said something like, “dazed” and “sad”. They asked why sad. I said I might leave the field as a consequence and maybe something else. I said I needed time to process or think. I basically slept the rest of the day, way more than 9 hrs, and woke up the next day knowing what I’d do.>>

<<I said that for me to actually leave the community on account of this, I would demand that Person A’s peers spent at least 1 full day psychologically evaluating me. That meant I could be net negative by (at least) the cost of 1 day of each of their time. But I accepted that. I did not demand more because I was imagining myself as part of a reference class of determined clever fools like the life insurance suicide person I expected to be large, and I thought it would make it impractical to Last Judge all of us if we demanded a week of their time each, and sufficiently important that we all could be.

Person A proposed modifications to the plan. They would spend some time talking to me and trying to figure out if they could tell me / convince me how to not be net negative. This time would also be useful for increasing the accuracy of their judgement. They would postpone getting their peers involved. But they wanted me to talk to two other people, Person B, [one of their colleagues/followers], and Person C [a workshop participant], I accepted these modifications. They asked if I’d taken psychedelic drugs before. I said no. They said I should try it it might help me not be net negative. They said most people didn’t experience anything the first time (or first few). They described a brief dosing regimen to prepare my brain, and then the drugs I should take to maybe make me not bad for the world.>>

https://sinceriously.fyi/net-negative/

anna salamon:

i disbelieve, conditional on her saying them, that she would have forgotten saying these things. except via "forgetting" through some deliberate double-think "amnesia"-for-the-sake-of-politics. which is again a choice to lie; just pushed to a different part of the process of deception.

--

putting this here to fork people one way or the other. ""rationalists"" have generally stopped computing logical forks. emma told me someone she was talking with replied to her arguments with 'but you can prove anything with logic'. they have tried to stop thinking, to stop the process of putting one thought in front of the other in a way that presses on the most important problems of the world. and now curve inwards in the insanity that awaits people who have given up.

have you tried talking with your parents about how living forever and saving the world is great? notice how if you try and keep talking about this most of them are absolutely insane despite having "intelligence"? thats what happens down the line when you stop putting one thought in front of the other. thats what people become after they have given up and made their concessions.

its not like you can actually stop thinking, you are constantly producing theorems as part of living. after someone decides to give up on what they want what they really really want, the theorems they constantly produce are predicated on the choice to give up and compound that contradiction until they make less and less sense as an agent.

anyone who has the ability to internalize logical forks should decide which of the two they think is directly lying. instead of like not wanting to ever argue about anything important again because its Babytime(TM) and they decided to be Useless Adults in the YA sense of the term.

(Useless Adults is truth in fiction. people come into this world wanting everything and the extent to which they give up and stop fighting for it is the extent to which their agency has decayed. and having babies almost always isnt a clever plot to take over the world, so they gave up on taking over the world, so most adults filtered for becoming parents, that is most parents, are far less agentic than non-adult children they claim as "theirs".)

--

thats the locked room mystery: at least one of these two humans is directly lying, who do you think it is and why?

if you think this logic fork is invalid, why do you think its invalid?

[saharamae21]

Never Ran Smooth (Part 6)

Hey guys! SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! I’m in the middle of moving at the moment and it’s been hard to find time! Also sorry to anyone who got a message from me, my account was hacked...

Anyways here is part six! | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Seven |

__________________________________________________________

Take pains. Be perfect.

I walked with Kie to grab some sodas from the concessions stand. I could feel the childish grin plastered on my face as I skipped a little.

"Someone seems awfully chipper," an unnerving voice rang out. Rafe, Topper, and Kelsi stood proudly in front of us.

"Move," I said confidently, trying to get past them.

"That's no way to treat your escort," Rafe mocked, grabbing my arm in the process. I twisted uncomfortably, trying to free myself from his grasp. Then he looked at Kie. "Tell your boy that we know what he did."

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?" she replied, clearly not interested in what he had to say.

"Uh, he'll know," Rafe said, finally releasing my arm.

"Bye," Kie said, giving him a glare. "Douche."

I laughed at her comment and rubbed my arm a bit. I've known Rafe my whole life thanks to my brother, but he's going off the rails as of recently. I barely recognized him anymore.

"Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote," Kie started, immediately catching Pope's attention. "Tell your boy that we know what he did."

I watched as JJ and Pope bickered back and forth a little bit before stealing glances at Rafe and his friends.

"If that doesn't work, I got this," JJ muttered a little too loud and patted his bag. I hit him quickly.

"You did not bring a gun here!" I whispered. "JJ, so help me God, what did you guys do?"

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," he said. Sometimes it's easier to just drop the subject, rather than to keep reaching for answers you weren't going to get.

About halfway through the movie I hear Pope and JJ bickering back and forth. I walked as both of them got up, saying they had to pee. I looked nervously at Kie, but she reassured me that they were going to be fine. Kie knew them both better than I did, so I just sat there quietly. After a few minutes, I noticed Kie looking around.

"Where are they? Do you see them?" she asked me. My breath hitched as I noticed Topper and his posse was gone. "Shit..."

We both got up and ran behind the screen. Kie was clutching JJ's bag. My heart felt as if it stopped when I saw what Rafe, Kelse, and Topper were going to Pope and JJ. I watched as Kie went running toward Topper, trying to get him off of Pope.

"Rafe stop it!" I yelled and ran, grabbing his arm before he could swing again. He flailed his arms wildly in an attempt to get me off of him. "Get off him!"

Then I felt his elbow collide with my cheekbone and I went down. I fell directly to my butt and began to cry. I've had the same reaction to getting hurt. My brother was often rough with me growing up and my only reaction was to bawl, no matter how childish it seemed. Seconds after I got hit the screen erupted in flames.

"Shit, Rafe. You hit her," Kelse said.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Topper said and the three bolted.

I watched as Kie, JJ, and Pope kneeled down in front of me. I sniffled and held the side of my face. I kept trying to hold my tears back, but nothing would work.

"Let me see," JJ said, carefully moving my hand away from my face. "Shit, Sav. That's gonna turn black."

"I'm fine," I said with a sniffle. Kie helped me up and brushed me off a little bit. "We should leave before the cops come." "I'll walk you home," JJ said, giving me a small smile. I said my goodbyes to Kie and Pope before walking awkwardly with JJ. He walked quickly, avoiding eye contact with me the whole time. Why did he offer to walk me home if he wasn't going to say anything. "Hey..." "Yeah?" I asked. This is it Savannah. He's going to tell you how he feels!

"Kie told me you guys heard me when I said I wasn't into you," he said awkwardly. I watched him push his hair back and stop for a second. He blocked my path, determination filling his face. "I just don't want you getting the wrong idea. You and I aren't going to happen."

I stared up at him because that's all I could do at that moment. I felt my heart shattering into a million pieces. He averted his gaze from me and stood in front of me awkwardly.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I came across in a different way, but you and I will never work out. I just don't want to lead you on," he said while staring straight into my eyes. "I'm just a flirt by nature. And at one point I thought maybe I was into you, but that idea is long gone. Plus I think I kinda like someone else."

I just nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah, okay. Friends?"

"Friends," he said.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

A day has gone by since JJ walked me home. At first I thought I was going to die because that's what your first heartbreak does to you. However, when it came down to it, I felt a sense of relief. Maybe JJ wasn't meant to be my first love. He meant so much to me as a friend, that losing him completely was worse in the long run. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to be awkward or immature and let this one thing affect how I acted with him in person. I gathered up all my courage and headed out towards Heyward's.

"Hey Savannah," Pope's father greeted me as I walked up. I smiled and said hello back before making my way inside. I took a seat at the counter and watched the shop flood with workers. Pope noticed me and smiled.

"Hey Sav. Gnarly black eye," he said, tossing me a peach. "Fresh from Savannah."

"Thanks," I said. In the background of the commotion I could hear Heyward talking about Pope and how proud he is to be a finalist for a scholarship. "So what's it like being a genius?"

He stared at me for a second, debating how to answer the question. "Well, it has its perks. It makes my parents proud of me. It also gives me an opportunity to make something more of myself by going to college. I can't help, but to think it took something from me though. Like maybe I'd be better with girls if I could shut my brain off."

His glance went to Kiara. I smiled as if I had just learned a secret no one else knew. "How long have you liked her?"

"As long as I can remember," he said, defeatedly. I patted his shoulder and looked at Kiara too.

"She's great, isn't she?" I asked. I watched as JJ joked around with her. "She's cool and confident. Everything she does is right. She doesn't care what others think of her."

Just as I finished my thoughts I heard Heyward come in. "Hey, Pope, someone here to see you."

At that moment, the world had stopped. Deputy Shoupe walked in with a paper in his hand. Pope was shaking. "Evening officer."

"I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property," I watched as Kie and JJ ran over. Everything seemed to go in slow motion from that point on. We all followed him out and tried to understand the situation. Then, as Pope was about to get into the car, JJ burst out with emotion.

"It wasn't him," he yelled. "It was me. He tried to talk me out of it, but I was mad because he'd just been beaten up. I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit. I can't let you take the blame for somethin' I did. You've got too much to lose."

I could tell by the look in Pope's eyes that he did it. I could see the regret and the guilt building up inside of him. I looked over at JJ and saw a sad glint in his eyes. He was smirking, feeling proud that he was protecting a friend. I was frozen in shock at everything going on. And just like that, he was gone.

I watched as Pope threw his hat and ran inside. Kie followed closely after, but I just stayed out there. It's hard when you feel two ways about something. I know JJ would be mad at me if I went after him. He would feel burdened if I used my family name as a way to get him out of this. He would push me away further because of the gap in status. That didn't stop the feeling of affection for him. I wanted to be someone he could trust, someone he could rely on. I wanted to be someone he could love. I finally walked inside and sat down besides Pope.

"How are ya holding up?" I asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He just shook his head, unable to look at me. "Don't blame yourself, Pope."

"Why did I let him take the fall for me?" he asked. The guilt that laced his voice broke my heart. I know he meant it in a rhetorical way, but I had to answer.

"Because he loves you," I said with a soft chuckle. My heart ached a little. I've never had someone care for me like that. "He loves you so much that he would give up everything he has so that you can have the world and more."

Pope smiled for a second and lifted his head. The tears in his eyes seemed less and less as the seconds passed. I looked down at my hands and twiddled my thumbs around as Pope said thanks to me. Hearing words of praise always made me uncomfortable.

"Hey Sav?" I heard Pope's voice ring out. "Why do you hang out with us?"

"Well," I thought for a second. "I've never had anyone care about me. My whole life has been a competition with my brother. Even now it feels like my brother and I are pawns on my parents chess board. They only care about the piece that will make them the most money later on in life. When I saw you guys hanging out, I always thought to myself: Wow, I want that. I want someone to care for me unconditionally."

I felt my shoulders sink a little and this time Pope put a hand on my shoulder.

"Should we go see how JJ is doing?" he asked. I nodded and off we went.

The jail wasn't a spot I was too familiar with. The light blue and white cars lined the street in front of the building. I felt an uneasy feeling as we made our way inside. I couldn't help wondering what the damage was and how this would all unfold. Kie strutted confidently up to the front desk and told the secretary that we were looking for JJ Maybank.

"He left a few minutes ago," she answered politely. "His dad picked him up.

I watched as Kie and Pope exchanged a look of horror before silently bickering about what to do. My eyes remained on the secretary though.

"Do you know what will happen to him?" I asked. The lady nodded.

"He has a court date set in a few weeks and he will have to pay back the damage that was done to the boat," she said. My heart dropped. Topper's boat was worth at least $30,000. He would never be able to pay that off. In the bottom of my heart, I knew he wouldn't want me to meddle. I knew he would never ask me to get involved. I wanted to though. Even though he didn't love me, even though we were barely friends, I needed to do something.

I paced around my bedroom, trying to find the right words. My blush pink gown swayed with every step. Then I heard the knock.

"Hey sweetheart, what did you need?" my dad asked with a worried look.

"I never ask you for anything," I started. My voice shook with every word. "I never do, so please this one time do what I ask. JJ, he g-"

"Savannah," my dad said sternly. "First, wasting your time with the pogues, getting a black eye, and now this? I already know what he did. I already know what kind of boy he is. I never said anything before because I didn't want to upset you, but this is too much!"

"He's not like that Dad!" I bursted out with emotion. "Just listen to me. This will ruin his life, I need to help him!"

"You have a black eye because of him," I could sense the tension.

"I have a black eye because of Rafe!" I yelled. "Rafe is the one who hit me. Rafe is this horrible, manipulative, prick that deserves everything he's going to get! Dad, JJ didn't sink that boat. He's covering for someone. Just help him, please. He doesn't have that money and it's going to ruin his life."

I felt a stinging on my cheek. I couldn't even process what had happened. My mother who had heard the commotion and rushed into my room to see what was happening gasped loudly. She rushed to me and put her hand on my cheek.

"Nicholas!" she screamed. I placed my hand to my cheek, the cheek my dad had just hit.

"Do you think 30,000 dollars is nothing, Savannah?" he had resentment in his voice. He turned and walked out of my room. As soon as he was gone, I sank to my knees. I sat there and for the first time in my life, there were no tears. I had gotten hurt, but no tears came out.

_________________________________________________________

Tag List: @jjmaybangme

[xxx-cat-xxx]

I walk this lonely road

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

TW: Self-harm references, Coronavirus (but nobody gets infected), Alcohol

A/N: This fic makes reference to self-harm and to the coronavirus. I know the latter is a really sensitive topic at the moment, so if that’s something that might upset you in any way, please be careful. 

The virus affects almost everyone in the world at the moment at some level and this fic is meant to explore one particular experience among millions. I do not claim that this experience is representative in any way, and I definitely do not claim that it is worse than what others have to deal with. Nat is in a very privileged position, but she is still hurting, and that’s what I wanted to write about.

As always, thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

*

They lock down the tower in the second week of the pandemic. 

Steve, while helping to set up tents next to the already overcrowded Metro General, shared his lunch with another volunteer who tested positive two days later. Since tests are hard to come by and none of them were showing symptoms, the team decided against using their influence to get tested through the backdoor and instead are self-quarantining for at least two weeks. 

Bruce and Tony are elbow-deep in research to find a vaccine and wouldn’t leave the tower if an armed battalion tried to force them out. Clint went back to stay with his family at the farm as soon as the first cases started being detected in New York. Steve is keeping busy by exercising, recording PSAs about everything from handwashing to social distancing, and sending uplifting video messages to infected fans. 

Meanwhile, Nat is slowly coming apart at the seams.

Before the self-enforced quarantine, she was distributing essentials to homeless and low-income families, but now, trapped inside the tower, there isn’t really anything she can do remotely to help the population. 

(Except maybe taking out the president with one of his own killer drones, but that’s not exactly in the realm of legality.)

It’s not that she hasn’t experienced being locked down somewhere for weeks at a time before, but that was on missions, with work to do and a goal to achieve. Right now, she has nowhere to go and nothing to do, and for Nat, that is the worst possible combination. 

The first few days are comparatively easy to bear. She runs the better part of a marathon on the treadmill every morning. Brushes up on her Mandarin. Hacks the Pentagon for the sheer thrill of it. 

Anything to keep her from spiralling too far down. 

Five days in, she wakes up at midnight from a nightmare about the Red Room, feeling like there’s a boulder on her chest weighing her down. She scrambles up to open the window and takes huge, gasping breaths of the cool night air, trying to convince herself that it doesn’t make a difference whether she’s inside or outside the window frame. 

Finally, she slides down onto the carpet and digs her fingernails into her bare shins, heart still beating way too fast and too loud in her ears. Catches herself wishing for a task, an attack, anything she can do, eyes the small imprints of her nails in her legs, a few of them oozing blood. The pain is tempting, much too tempting. She tries not to think of the blades under her mattress, in the cupboard, below the bathroom sink.

She knows it’s not exactly pain she longs for, but it’s a functional substitute for everything else. 

Nat swallows. Then she makes the executive decision that she needs to go for a walk.

*

She wears a mask and gloves when she slips into the darkness. Even with the protective outfit, she keeps away from walls, streetlights, shop windows, anything she could potentially contaminate. 

The night air is just the right kind of chilly to feel alive. The city, devoid of people, cars, and pollution, is a different kind of beautiful. The huddled groups of desperate families in front of the downtown hospital are not. 

Nat finds a children’s playground with monkey bars wedged in between two residential buildings. She does pull-ups until her shoulders are on fire. Then she climbs up and lies on top of the climbing frame, her gaze getting lost where the skyscrapers meet the night sky. 

She only climbs down when she can hear the sirens of an ambulance from a nearby street. Then she wipes the bars clean with the hand sanitizer and paper towel she brought along. When she makes her way back to the tower, it finally feels like she can breathe a little easier. 

*

Tony and Steve are waiting for her when she sneaks back in through the delivery entrance.

Tony looks tired, three-nights-awake-in-the-lab kind of tired, but there’s a manic energy radiating from him that almost seems electric; Nat wouldn’t be surprised to see sparks flying off his fingertips. It’s the kind of energy that keeps him up and running until whatever problem he is working on is completely solved, until the world is saved once more. 

Nat would love to say she feels guilty upon seeing him. But the ugly truth is, all she can feel is envy.

Steve looks… not exactly angry. His face is stony, but something else flickers in his eyes. Nat takes off her gloves, the coat, the mask, and that’s when she realises. He looks disappointed. 

“What were you thinking, Natasha?” he says, his voice low and tight. “You know we’re all under quarantine! What, do you think you’re above this or something?”

“I was wearing a mask—” she begins in a weak attempt to avoid this conversation, but he doesn’t even let her finish.

“You know damn well they’re not a hundred per cent.. You’re just tempting fate for no good reason.”

“I don't—”

“What, you don’t get sick?” he interrupts and maybe it’s a good thing because what she was going to say was something else: I don’t care if I get sick. It’s the truth, but it’s nothing either of them want to hear. 

“It’s not just about you, Nat,” Steve continues, ignorant of her thoughts, his voice rising and a vein starting to swell on his forehead. “What if you infect someone else? For god’s sake, Tony’s only got two thirds of his lung capacity left. Did you think of that before putting him in danger?” 

“Calm down, Cap,” Tony interjects. “I’ve lived through worse—”

“No, I’m not calming down!” Steve snaps. “We are so privileged to be able to live here with all the food and money and medical services we could need―all we have to do is endure a few weeks of boredom, which really shouldn’t be too much to ask in exchange for everyone’s protection. And you decide to throw all of that out the window for a stroll?” 

He stares at her for a moment as if waiting for her to defend herself, but there’s nothing she has to say. What should she tell them? I couldn’t bear the thoughts in my own head? I can’t deal with not knowing when I can be out again? It was either that or sitting on the bathroom floor, cutting lines in my own flesh just to fucking feel in control of something?

“I really expected more of you,” Steve says finally, an eerie calm in his voice. Then he turns on his heels and leaves. 

“Well, that was dramatic.” Tony rubs a tired hand over his eyes before looking at Nat directly, his expression sober. “His mother died of TB, you know?”  

Nat feels numb. “Yeah, I know,” she says quietly.  

Tony’s expression softens. He seems to make a decision. “Come on.” He waves roughly in the direction of the elevator. “I guess we both need a drink.” 

“Okay.” Nat takes a deep breath. “I’ll take the stairs.”

When she enters the living room fifteen minutes later—after showering thoroughly and changing her clothes—she finds drinks on the table and Tony on the sofa, working again. Nat sits down on the armrest of the chair across from him, keeping a safe distance. Jazz music is playing in the background, the fake fireplace is lit, and it all just feels wrong. 

Nat takes her time to fill her glass and slowly drain it. When she looks up, Tony is observing her, his dark eyes unusually warm. 

“I get it, Nat,” he sighs when their eyes meet. “Trust me, I do.” He nods at the tablet sitting in his lap. “Why do you think I keep busy with this all the time?”

She gives a tiny nod of appreciation and hopes he gets that too. Tony smiles at her with a bit of sadness and then turns back to his work. 

Nat goes to the kitchen to refill her glass. When she comes back, Tony is asleep, twisted up on the couch as if he just fell over from exhaustion, tablet still in his hand. She goes back to wash her hands thoroughly, and then, holding her breath, takes the device out of his hand and covers him with a blanket.

She sits there, alone with the scotch bottle, Tony’s snores, and her thoughts, until pink clouds start to creep over the sky. 

At 5:35 on the dot, Steve appears in the doorway, dressed in his workout clothes. He stops just outside of the room and leans against the doorframe, taking in the scene. The look on his face makes it clear that it’s her turn to speak. 

Nat takes a moment to weigh her words. “It’s just… I can’t sit in here not knowing when I’m going to be out. Not again,” she finally admits into the fake fireplace that has now grown cold.

Steve doesn’t reply, but he relaxes just the tiniest bit against the doorframe and something in his expression shifts. 

“Are you up for a sparring session before hitting the treadmill?” he asks.

“You want to work out with me?” Nat doesn’t look him in the eyes. 

“That’s why I’m asking.”

This isn’t an apology—not from either of them. Nat isn’t guilty, just sad. And if Steve was sorry, he would’ve said so straight away. But this is not a concession―it’s a I don’t approve of your actions, but I’ll still be here for you. Just like Tony’s glass of scotch, what it means is: You don’t have to go through this alone. 

“So?” Steve asks. 

Nat pushes herself up from the armchair. The residual alcohol in her bloodstream and the all-too-familiar tiredness make her head swim for a moment, but she’s stable once she gets to her feet. “Fencing. Let’s go.”

____________________________

This is part of the Red in my Ledger series.

All my fics

[vkelleyart]

Happy Valentine’s Day, loves! My candy heart comes to you in the form of this fluffy illustrated one-shot (a.k.a. fic-with-a-pic). I hope you enjoy it!

TITLE: “Merlin, May I?” (7466 words)

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Simon Snow gets roped into a game of ‘Merlin May I’ against Baz Pitch, what starts off as a competition between mages for the most dangerous request ends up precipitating an unexpected collision of hearts.

READ ON AO3 | Fic + art close-ups are under the cut

Special thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​, @penpanoply​, and especially Mr. VKelleyArt (Merlin May I kiss you?) for beta reading this fic. ❤️

SIMON

Ah, Spring!

With the sun on my face, the promise of a warm roast beef sandwich in my pocket, and an outdoor luncheon with Penny to look forward to, I’m living in the present moment for a while. The rains have finally given way to clear skies and a crisp breeze. Green has returned to the Great Lawn. And, in a pleasant turn of events, Agatha’s started talking to me again since we broke up last winter. (Okay, maybe not actually talking, but she’s not scurrying off in the opposite direction when she sees me approaching in the hallway anymore. Progress.)

My faith in humanity momentarily restored, and death-by-dark-creature and other variations of my imminent doom seemingly far away, few things on earth could spoil a day like today.

“Oi, Snow!”

Except maybe that.

I turn my gaze downhill to see the voice hailing me belongs to Dev Grimm. Beside him, sneering at me from below a perfect wave of black hair is Baz Pitch.

They are both standing on the inner edge of a circle chockablock with eighth-years. It looks like some sort of spectator event is happening, because standing in the center of the circle are Gareth and Niall, the expression on Gareth’s face bleak and dazed, like he’s just misplaced his dignity and doesn’t know where to look for it.

Dev calls me again. “Fancy joining in, Simon?”

“Not likely,” I say, watching Gareth drag his feet up toward the drawbridge like a man condemned. “What happened to him?”

Baz turns toward me and runs a hand through his hair, moving it out of his eyes. “Gareth was just defeated in Merlin May I,” he answers, prompting the spread of a pompous grin across Niall’s face. “And now Niall here will reap the benefits of Gareth’s… concessions.” A rumble of laughter moves through the crowd.

I frown.

“‘Merlin May I’? What in the name of magic is that?”

“You don’t want to know, Simon. It’s a rotten game,” says Penny, traipsing down behind me. “And shame on all of you for enabling this ridiculousness!” she scolds the crowd, instigating a sea of eye-rolls.

“Come now, Bunce,” says Baz, stepping through an opening in the crowd toward us. “You don’t mean to say you’ve never played Merlin May I. I figured you a braver magician than that.”

Penny’s eyes turn into slits behind her glasses. “Refusing to play that nightmare of a game has no bearing on my bravery. It just means I’m not a glutton for punishment. Or a thundering idiot.”

Baz’s eyes move away from Penny and fix on me. I feel my cheeks flush, and suddenly the sun’s warmth overhead is bordering on oppressively hot.

“That’s perfect. Snow is both. I bet he’d love to play.”

BAZ

Aleister Crowley, I can’t believe my luck. Fate has delivered Simon Snow to my Merlin May I tournament, and though his plucky sidekick is trying to tug him away, he’s still rooted to the spot, which tells me he’s a few carefully timed insults away from playing a round of it himself.

“Simon, don’t you dare,” warns Bunce.

“Don’t worry, Penny. I don’t even know what Merlin May I is.”

“I’d be delighted to bring you up to speed,” I say. “Merlin May I is the mage’s hawk-dove game. We take turns making requests—to do things, take things, and generally force our opponent’s hand—until someone makes a request the other person can’t comply with. Dev, care to brief Snow on the rules?”

“Gladly,” he replies. “The rules are simple…”

You must say “Merlin May I” at the start of every request.

You may not repeat any requests already made.

No requests that will result in shagging, death, or other potentially fatal calamities are allowed either.

To accept a request, you must say “Yes, you may.” Otherwise, say: “You may not.”

The first person to say “You may not” loses the game, and the game is over.

When the game ends, every request the loser agrees to during the game, the winner gets to carry out.

“In other words, say ‘yes, you may’ at your peril,” I finish.

“So it’s ‘chicken’?” Simon sums up. “You just ask questions to see how much the other person will tolerate before they decide they don’t want you to completely fuck them over?”

“No. Chicken is prosaic and dull. Merlin May I is a game of risk and trust. A test of free will,” I reply grandly. “Your opponent may or may not throw you to the merewolves depending on what you request, so you’ll need to weigh just how much harm you want to inflict against how much you’re willing to take. Which is also to say that you should only ask questions you already know the answer to if you want to stay in the game, and that is the last tip I’m giving you.”

“It sounds terrible. I’ll pass.”

“What’s the matter?” I say. “Worried I’ll ask to move your bed to the bottom of the moat?”

“You probably would,” Simon mutters. “Why would anyone play this game? Seems like an easy way to lose friends and make enemies.”

He isn’t wrong. Watford played host to one of the most epic Merlin May I games of all time, and it brought a dramatic end to the school’s then-power couple, Gemma Harrington and Claus Beuchner. They were eight hours into the game when Gemma asked to fly Beuchner’s parents’ Lamborghini into a maelstrom and Claus agreed. He was out of his depth, of course, lost spectacularly, and got into so much trouble for agreeing to Gemma’s requests that his parents made him volunteer to scoop dragon dung at the Swedish Speartail Sanctuary for the rest of term. When he returned, the aroma of smoke and putrescence followed him around the halls for several months.

“Precisely,” I say. “I’m already your enemy. You have nothing to lose.”

“No, thanks. Come on, Penny.” Snow takes a bite from his sandwich, adjusts his rucksack over his shoulder, and turns like he’s about to leave.

I never want him to leave.

“Come, Snow. I’ll make sure your defeat is quick and painless.”

At this, Simon fixes me with an icy glare. “Who says you’d defeat me?”

“I do.”

“You won’t be feeling so jammy in a minute,” he snaps.

I smirk. “Then you’re in?”

Simon drops his rucksack, takes another bite of sandwich, and straightens his jacket. “I’m in.”

“Splendid,” I say.

“Simon!” exclaims Bunce.

“It’ll be fine, Pen,” Simon mutters. “There’s hardly anything terrible this prat can do to me that he hasn’t already done.”

“Apart from kill you!”

I roll my eyes. “As much as it’s in everyone’s best interest for Snow to die, Bunce, requesting his death is against the rules.”

Bunce glares at me, then at Simon. “I’m not playing witness to this. Go ahead and have at it. I’m going to lunch.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll just be a moment,” Simon calls after her, but she’s already storming away. He turns back to face me and sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Dev steps forward. “Hands up,” he says and pulls his wand out of his pocket. I extend my right hand toward Simon.

Snow is instantly suspicious. “What’s this about?”

“Insurance,” I answer, “to ward against cheating and ensure we carry out what we agree to. Go on.”

Hesitantly, he takes it. Dev lays the tip of his wand against our joined hands and says, “Do or do not. There is no try.” Dev’s magic sinks blue and cold into our skin.

The game has begun.

“You can start,” I say.

“Fine,” Simon huffs, then takes a massive bite of sandwich as he thinks of something to ask for. After a solid minute of chewing, which I can only assume takes so long because it is directly fueling his capacity for thought, Snow finally says, “Merlin May I pass your essay for Magical Words class off as my own?”

“Yes, you may,” I snigger. “Though I should warn you that Miss Possibelf isn’t a complete moron and will know who really wrote it by the time she gets three words in.”

“I didn’t ask for commentary. Your turn.”

“Merlin May I keep our window closed at night for the rest of term?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Is this why you wanted me to play? So you could magically strongarm me into complying with your petty wishes?”

“I’m just taking advantage of a rare opportunity to get what I want without throwing curses at you,” I reply. “Your answer?”

“Yes, you may,” he grumbles. “But then… Merlin May I practice my swordplay on your side of the room?”

I frown at him. “I’m assuming you can resist shredding my bedsheets. And clothes. And all my bloody furniture. Yes, you may.”

Simon smiles, satisfied at having sufficiently lowered my upper hand and disturbed my good mood.

We go on for several rounds, and Snow impresses me with his creativity. He manages to rope me into trading soap with him (which pained me deeply to accept, but I suppose even Simon would prefer not to smell like a hospital once in a while) and confiscating my stash of salt and vinegar crisps because apparently the crumbs get stuck to his bare feet. I told him he wouldn’t have to fuss about it if he’d stop being a Neanderthal and get a set of slippers. (At which point, he Merlin-May-I’ed mine away from me.)

But it’s all relatively harmless. Nothing he’s asked for has legitimately threatened me, and as a result, I’ve had a decently challenging time trying to match Snow’s list of requests. I’ve obstructed Bunce’s secret visits to Mummer’s House, and I’ve forced him to let me Clean As a Whistle his side of the room whenever it starts to look like a numpty nest, but I don’t know how much further to go.

Our spectators look bored. Snow has so little to his name, there’s barely anything worth taking from him without leaving him naked and joyless, the latter of which doesn’t suit my interests at all. I just want to needle him, not destroy his will to live.

“All right,” I pick back up, deciding to raise the stakes. “Merlin May I eat all your scones at tea tomorrow?”

Simon blanches. (Adorably.) “All of them? I’ve never seen you eat one, let alone as many as I can put away.”

“What does that matter so long as it means you don’t get to eat them?” I retort.

He folds his arms across his chest. “Fine. I hope you choke on them.”

I tip an ear toward him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Yes. You. May,” says Simon through clenched teeth. He looks justifiably forlorn until something wicked occurs to him and his smile returns.

“Merlin May I… play your violin?”

The crowd around us “Ohs” like this is a football game and Snow’s just fouled me.

Because he has. My violin is nearly 300 years old. It’s practically a museum piece. If my parents ever found out Simon so much as touched it, they’d cancel my classes and confiscate the instrument along with my entire sheet music collection.

It’s also my most treasured possession next to my wand. Crowley knows what this hamfisted idiot might do to it.

Well, fuck all, it’s a risk I’ll have to take.

“Yes. You may,” I hiss. “You’ll pay for that one, Snow.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it then.”

His whole body is tilted in my direction. His jaw is pushed out, his eyes flinty. This is my favourite of Simon’s expressions (he only has about three), which is why I provoke it as often as I do. It often precedes him roughing me up, which is the only physical contact with Snow I’m allowed to have, but I’ll take it.

No one would know it by looking at me—least of all Snow—but my heart is practically beating its way out of my rib cage with anticipation.

I know the answer to my next request. It’s the one I ask him in my mind all the time. But I’ll finally get to say it out loud.

I make sure everyone can hear me.

“Merlin May I kiss you?”

Simon drops his sandwich.

SIMON

“Kiss me?” I repeat. “What are you playing at?”

Baz cackles at me. “Well, it’s a classic trap, isn’t it? If you say ‘yes,’ you’ll finally be called out for spreading lies because no one in their right mind would let a vampire’s mouth anywhere near them. Back down, and you’ll not only lose the game, you’ll be branded a coward,” he explains. His head is tilted slightly upward so he can look down on me.

“So which is it, Snow?” he asks, his eyes bright, triumphant. “Are you a liar, or are you a weakling? Either way, I win.”

“I’m neither. You are a manipulative arsehole,” I growl.

He shrugs. “In the present circumstances, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I clench my jaw and shove my elbows against my sides to keep from reaching up and creating a more dramatic bend in his nose with my fist.

“Well?” he drawls, his voice saccharine sweet. “May I?”

Fuck it all, there’s nothing else I can say, is there?

“You may… not.”

Baz’s lips curl into a vicious smile. Applause for his cunning victory permeates the crowd of students around us, and I can feel my magic, red and burning, prickle up my spine like the mercury in a thermometer.

No.

I’ll be damned if this actual bloodsucking wanker walks off thinking he’s won.

He’s turning away from me when I seize him by the sleeve. I yank him back and shove my face into his, catching his mouth in a kiss that nearly cuts my lip on my own teeth. Everyone around us gasps in unison, then goes instantly silent.

There. I’m not a coward or a liar if kissing a vampire in the presence of at least three dozen witnesses ensures I won’t get bitten.

I didn’t plan this out very well, though.

My mouth is pinched shut and crammed uncomfortably against Baz’s, and he’s completely frozen on the spot. (Literally, I think. His lips feel like ice.) I’m tempted to open my eyes just to see if his are closed. He doesn’t even pull his sleeve out of my fingers.

I also think I’ve bruised my lip. I don’t know if I’m motivated by discomfort or habit, but I soften against him the way I would if he were Agatha. And for the briefest moment—less than a few seconds—I kiss him properly. I suppose I don’t know any other way to kiss.

Astonishingly, Baz’s breath smells like cinnamon tea. I don’t know what I was expecting (blood, maybe?) and I also don’t know why this observation feels so important, but it instantly wedges itself in my long-term memory.

Because… he’s kissing me back.

I flinch and pull away.

When I open my eyes, Baz looks like he’s been visited by Merlin‘s ghost. His lips are still parted. His eyes are wide and glittering at me.

I clear my throat.

“Reckon it’s lunchtime,” I say above a chorus of hoots and howls of laughter. I feel lightheaded and embarrassed, so I try to channel Baz’s arrogance, smirking as I reach down for my rucksack and sandwich (the latter of which thankfully fell onto the former when I dropped it).

When I stand back upright, he’s striding down toward the Wavering Wood away from me, his coal-black hair dancing in the wind behind him.

BAZ

I’m sitting on a large rock—fuming—when I hear Snow’s footsteps crunching loudly behind me. His foot must slip on some wet leaves because I hear him yelp so loudly, it sends the dryads back into their huts. He has the grace of a hippopotamus.

“Hunting, are we?” he calls after me.

“Fuck off,” I say.

“Funny. That’s usually my line.”

I ignore him.

“I don’t know why you’re sulking,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who made me play.”

“A decision I wholeheartedly regret. Come to gloat now that you’ve humiliated me?”

“Humiliated you? You were trying to humiliate me!” Snow bothers his curls with one hand and makes a gnarled mess of them. “I actually came here to apologize, but seeing as you’re still intent on being a git, I’ll just head back to lunch with Penny and be satisfied that you’ll have all my scones tomorrow as a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize indeed. You cheated,” I snap, and I hate how petulant I sound.

“I didn’t cheat.”

“Yes, you did. The game was over. And then you decided to make up your own rules.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You cornered me!”

I spring to my feet and spin around to face him. “Of course I cornered you! Entrapment is how you win! I’d demand a rematch if I didn’t think you’d just find a new way to cock it up!”

Snow flings down his rucksack. “Come on, then. A rematch.”

“Here? In the Wavering Wood, where no one can witness your defeat? That’s convenient.”

“Yes, here. Where no one can wipe you off the floor if you call a chimera on me and it goes after you instead,” he snarls. “Which, by the way: you’re welcome.”

“I’m not thanking you for that. If not for me, it would have obliterated us both. You don’t even know how to trigger your own nuclear meltdowns without my help.”

“Get on with it, arsehole.”

“On one condition,” I hiss. “This time, we play the sudden death version of the game. That means every request gets fulfilled on the spot—no hesitation, no excuses.” I fold my arms. “Then we’ll see who is the hawk and who is the dove.”

Simon nods.

“You’re on.”

SIMON

“You start this time,” I say, squaring my shoulders.

Baz is leering at me through narrowed eyes. “Merlin May I have your sandwich?”

It takes everything in me not to throw it at him.

“Yes, you may,” I reply. He reaches me in two steps, stopping less than an arm-length away. (Trying to intimidate me already, the prick.) Then, he grabs my sandwich and flings it into the brush.

One does not simply take away my sandwich and my scones without a fight.

I go straight for the jugular.

“Merlin May I have your wand,” I say in as even a voice as I can muster.

Baz’s nostrils flare. “That depends. Do you plan to use it to blow yourself up?”

“Answer the question.”

He pauses, then he reaches into his sleeve and draws out his wand. “Yes. You may,” he says, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will, his eyes locked on mine as he drops it into my palm.

Shit. I never thought in a million years he’d ever let me take his wand. It seems impossible—counterintuitive even—but he must trust me at least a little if he’d relinquish it. I set it down on the rock.

“Merlin May I have your sword?” he asks.

I feel myself pale. “Shouldn’t you be asking for my wand?”

“No repeats. And what would be the point? You’re practically useless with one.”

“Fuck you, Baz.”

This isn’t going well at all. I can’t bloody think with Baz this close to me. After a brief pause in which I struggle to come up with ways this could backfire, I come up dry and finally say, “Yes, you may.”

He extends both hands. I call the Sword of Mages and hold it up between us by the hilt. Baz doesn’t so much as flinch, but I can see his brain working behind his eyes.

He didn’t expect me to give up my sword anymore than I expected him to give up his wand.

I lay the blade gently across his palms, but he doesn’t put it down. “Why are you still holding it?” I ask.

“There’s nothing in the rules that say I have to put it down. Consider it a deterrent—in case you’re thinking of asking for permission to hit me.”

“Is that right? Well then: Merlin May I take your hands?” I ask.

“You… may.”

Baz looks irritated and bends to put my sword on the ground behind him. Where I can’t reach it.

When he stands again, I hold out my hands. For a moment he just stares at them, and my mind races for a way he might twist my request to harm me. He’s a vampire; I wonder if he would use super strength to crush my fingers in his grip.

But then he slides both his palms over mine. Gently. His hands are rougher than I expected (from a lifetime lighting flames in his palms, no doubt) and cold.

So cold.

The shock of it makes me involuntarily close my fingers around his, like it’s my own hands that are freezing and I need to warm them.

Unnerved, I look up at Baz’s face.

He’s staring right at my throat.

BAZ

Fucking Snow.

He’s better at this than I thought he’d be. I need a way to get his hands off my own and end this before I forget we’re playing “Merlin May I” altogether and trap him with a kiss instead of a question.

I see something glitter near the button of his collar. “Merlin May I take your cross necklace?” I say.

His eyes widen. “It’ll burn you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a vampire.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Give me the necklace.”

Snow lets go of my hands, and I let out the breath I had no idea I was holding. I watch as he reaches behind his neck, unclasps the chain, and dangles the cross between us.

I don’t let him drop it in my hand. I simply close my fingers around the chain, making sure not to make contact with the cross itself, and cup my other hand around the pendant as I would protecting a flame from the wind. He can’t see that it’s not touching my skin. Quickly, I drop it onto the rock beside my discarded wand.

Snow frowns. “Let me see your palm,” he demands.

I shake my head. “Not if that’s how you’re asking.”

He growls. “Merlin May I see your palm?”

I hold my hand up, but he snatches it out of the air and squints so he can get a better look. With his other hand, he runs a finger down the centerline of my palm to see if I’m burned, and it’s everything I can do to keep my breath from hitching at the sensation of it. His touch is so soft, it feels like dragonflies lighting in my hand.

It’s as if he doesn’t want to inflict more pain, in case the cross had burned me after all.

Snow looks up at me, disappointed. Hurt. Because he knows I’ve tricked him and he can’t prove it. I ought to be used to that expression. I lie to him daily. This shouldn’t be any different than any other trick, but here, alone in the Wavering Wood together with my hand in his, standing on the receiving end of that glare feels like he’s slapped me.

Surely, he knows. He must know; when I cornered him on the great lawn and threatened to out him as a dishonest weakling, I wasn’t talking about him. How could I be? Simon Snow is the most powerful mage ever to walk the earth (and trample my heart in the process).

I am the liar. I am the coward.

I am… losing my nerve.

My constitution won’t let me concede defeat yet—I am a Pitch, after all—but I also can’t help entertaining an outcome where I just cave, hand him his victory, and come clean. Crowley, what would that feel like? What disasters might occur if I confessed it all right here, with the Chosen One burning lines into my palms with his fingertips?

Maybe then, I’d be freed from the other game we play. The one where I pretend I’m not a love-sick vampire with a brass neck and too many secrets. I could just let it all go—my better judgment, my family’s wishes, my hardwired instinct for self-preservation—and say it…

I asked to kiss you, Simon Snow, because I knew you’d never let me. Because I punish myself for loving you by conjuring scenarios where I can come close enough to your fire without being burned.

Of course, he went and kissed me anyway, and now I’m incinerating.

If only.

I wish I could believe that, if he trusts me enough to hand over the only two things in the world that could protect him from someone like me, perhaps I could trust him, too.

I’d tell him no one asked for my permission to make me what I am. There was no “Merlin May I?” when the vampires bit me. There wasn’t one when the Crucible shackled me to Snow, either, and I sure as fuck didn’t ask to fall in love. The whole concept of free will as it applies to my life is a sick joke.

Simon was right. This game is terrible.

I don’t want to play anymore.

SIMON

When I look up at Baz’s face, I see him staring straight at me, his grey eyes boring holes into my pupils. They’re like mirrors in this light, casting back the greens and browns of the forest around us. I catch myself looking for my reflection in them before I clear my throat and say, “It’s your turn.”

I have no idea what he could possibly ask for now. We’ve disarmed each other, except for my wand, but he’s right. Ever since he asked to kiss me, my magic has been volatile and flaring just under my skin. I’d avoid using it against him. (Too risky.) And, rules or no rules, he’s still close enough to bite me if he wanted. No one else is here. Looking at his face now, tense and concentrating, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

Would being bitten feel different than kissing him felt?

I think, in either case, my heart stops.

He’s got a strange look on his face. When Baz finally speaks, it’s unlike any sound I’ve ever heard come from his mouth. His voice is soft and low, all its sharp edges gone. Like music.

“Merlin May I touch you,” he says, “here.”

His fingers hover over my neck, just below my jaw.

My heart is racing now. Maybe he’s putting me in a thrall (vampires can do that, can’t they?), or else it’s a challenge. Maybe he wants me to think he’s actually going to bite me so I’ll concede defeat. But neither of these theories seems compatible with the sound of Baz’s voice, and the next moment, the breeze sends a whiff of cinnamon in my direction, turning all my thoughts to mud.

I say, “Yes, you may,” and Baz’s face is unreadable. I feel his fingers first, then his palm. His thumb trails against my cheek. I expect it to feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. My skin is always too warm and his feels like cool water against it.

I can’t help it. I think of Baz’s lips parting against mine.

The breeze picks up then, sending his raven hair flying. He turns his face into the wind, but his hand is on my neck, and I don’t want him to let go.

“Merlin May I touch your hair?” I ask.

He looks confused. It’s an expression Baz doesn’t usually wear unless I’ve done something uncharacteristically civil, like thanking him for leaving the bathroom door open, or waiting for him to finish his homework to turn off the light. It usually precedes a sneer or an eyeroll, but instead, I see Baz’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

Is Baz… nervous?

“Why?” he asks.

“It’s getting in my eyes,” I say. Maybe he was right about me being a liar.

Nevertheless, Baz nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “You may.”

Hesitantly, I reach up and move several wayward strands of his hair off his forehead, tucking them behind his ear.

My arm stays raised of its own volition. Instead of pulling away, I thread my hand further into Baz’s hair until my fingers are full of it. I’ve always wondered what this would feel like, so I run my hand through it again, and it slips softly through my fingers. I don’t encounter a single knot.

I can��t believe he’s letting me do this.

As I do, Baz tips his head into my touch and closes his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was enjoying it. But then he sighs, and I revise my assessment. He’s definitely enjoying it.

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell are we doing?

“Merlin May I…” Baz whispers, his eyes still closed.

Cross that, I’m definitely in his thrall. I must be. Gravity or some other kind of magic is pulling me closer to him, and I’m staring at his mouth when I feel his hand—the one that isn’t on my neck—slip gently over my waist.

I’m unarmed. No one is here to save me. But I’m not afraid of him.

I wonder if his lips are always so cold…

“Yes?” I whisper back.

His eyes open just then. He’s so close to my face, and where once he looked serene, he now looks stricken.

“Baz?”

He yanks his hands back and shakes his head, like he’s stirring from a bad dream.

“I forfeit.”

I must not have heard him correctly. “What?”

“You win. I’m out.”

“You’re out? You can’t just quit the game,” I say, but he ignores me, scoops up his jacket and wand and heads hurriedly back up the hill toward Mummer’s House. Grabbing my things, I rush after him, but his head start and long legs mean I’m utterly outpaced.

I’m halfway up the hill running at full speed after Baz before I realise I have to turn back around.

I’ve left my sword and cross behind.

BAZ

I’m back in our room, pacing.

More accurately, I’m trapped in the torture chamber between my ears.

I keep reliving the moment on the Great Lawn when Simon’s mouth softened against mine, and when I’m not doing that, I’m obsessing over all the moments that followed. Snow’s fingers in my hair. My hand on his waist. The sticky, smoky smell of his magic pouring off of him as he leaned in… It’s all cycling over and over in my mind like I’m looping through television channels and every network is broadcasting the same slow motion instant replay.

I’m not nearly as devastated over Simon calling my bluff and embarrassing me in front of everyone in our year as I am that he kissed me and didn’t mean it. But then… why did he linger? Why did he run his hand through my hair? Did I imagine him moving in to kiss me again or was that… real?

Nothing makes any bleeding sense.

I should leave. Head to the catacombs. He’ll be here any moment, and I need to get out of this godforsaken room. I would torch it to a cinder if it meant not having to share it with Simon Snow anymore.

My hand is on the doorknob when Snow pushes it open and nearly knocks me down.

“Baz,” he says, panting. We stand there for an endless moment gaping at each other like a pair of idiots before Simon finally notices my rucksack.  “Where are you going?”

“Library. I have homework,” I mutter, and I try to push past him, but he blocks my path.

“Why did you forfeit?”

“I couldn’t come up with anything else to ask, obviously.”

“That wasn’t in the rules.”

“It’s implied.”

Simon sets his jaw and pushes me further into the room. “Well, I don’t accept your forfeiture.”

“It doesn’t matter if you accept. It’s my choice,” I retort. “And honestly, what’s wrong with you? No one in their right mind passes up the opportunity to win Merlin May I.”

“That’s not how I want to win!”

I wish there was a rule prohibiting the victor of Merlin May I from talking about it ever again.

“Please, Simon,” I say, lowering my voice, and he starts at the sound of his first name. “I don’t want to play anymore. You won, fair and square. Crowley, even when you lose, you fucking win…”

I shove past him and make it through the doorway when I hear him call out behind me. “Why did you ask to kiss me?”

I spin around to the sound of neighboring doors clicking and creaking open. “Aleister almighty, are you a bloody air raid siren? Keep your voice down!” With a huff, I rush back to our room, push him back inside by the shoulders and close the door behind me. “Haven’t you wrecked my reputation enough for one day?”

“Why did you ask to kiss me?” he repeats, ignoring me. He looks pained.

“Like I said. You should only ask questions you know the answer to. I asked because I knew you wouldn’t allow it,” I whisper loudly. I almost stop myself before curiosity commandeers my voice and I say, “Why did you touch my hair?”

“You touched me first.”

“Because I was trying to intimidate you!”

He shakes his head, furious. “I know what it looks like when you’re trying to intimidate me, Baz. You do it every fucking day,” he growls. “Tell me the truth.”

“I have nothing more to say to you,” I snap. “You’re the one withholding infor-”

“Because I wanted to!” he shouts over me. And then, silence.

I’ve lost the ability to speak.

Or think.

Simon’s face is dragon red.

I think actual sudden death would be preferable to standing awkwardly across from Simon with no feeling in my extremities and no hope of escape. The Humdrum could materialize right here in this room to vanquish us, and it would be a mercy.

Snow looks fit to go off right now.

“I thought maybe you’d put me in a thrall,” he murmurs finally and laughs bitterly at himself. “I thought kissing you was about winning that stupid fucking game. But you kissed me back, and now it’s all I can bloody think about and… Baz, why did you kiss me back?”

My mind is reeling, scouring for excuses, but for once, I’m unprepared. Everything I could say right now would only hurt me on its way out of my mouth.

He steps toward me. “Don’t tell me I imagined it.”

Entrapment is how you win.

I don’t have to lie to him, do I? He just said he wanted his hand in my hair. I’m getting dizzy thinking about what else might he want from me. Aleister Crowley, I want him to have it, whatever it is. Simon has opened a door. I just need to walk through it.

Out with it, Basilton…

Instead—out of habit, sheer stupidity, cowardice, or all of the above—every muscle in me clenches like locks in a fortified wall, bracing me for my usual self-immolation. I hate myself with every word as I monotone, “You imagined it.”

Snow’s eyes darken, and he nods.

“Right,” he says quietly. “Don’t bother going to the library if you’d rather stay. I’m leaving.”

He picks up his belongings.

Oh, Simon.

I never want you to leave.

SIMON

“Snow, wait.”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. Not a second later, I feel Baz’s hand on my shoulder.

“Merlin May I… tell you a secret?” he whispers, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He feels close.

Glancing over my shoulder, I answer: “Yes, you may.”

“Crowley, don’t turn around,” he says. “You’ll just make this worse.”

I’m at a loss for words, so I just nod.

“You’re right about me. About what I am,” he says, his voice low from behind. “I don’t want to be a vampire anymore than you probably want to share a room with one, but I didn’t really get a say in the matter.” Dropping his hand from my shoulder, he adds, “I’ve never bitten a person. And I never will—unless you tell anyone what I’m saying to you, in which case I’ll have no choice but to tear out your larynx with my teeth.”

I can’t help myself. I turn to face him. Baz’s face is ashen, his eyes fixed to the floor. He’s holding himself by the arms, like he might come apart if he lets go.

“I was a child when the vampires attacked Watford,” he continues softly. “They bit me. And they killed my mother.”

It takes all my mental faculties, but I finally find my voice—only I don’t know what to do with it except whisper, “Jesus Christ,” which is both an inadequate and utterly useless thing to say. Though I can’t see Baz’s eyes behind the veil of his dark lashes, at least my reaction doesn’t seem to offend him because he keeps talking.

“I didn’t lie when I said that I asked to kiss you because I knew you wouldn’t allow it. But then you kissed me , and…,” he says, his voice so quiet, I can barely hear it. “You didn’t imagine it. I kissed you back.”

He finally lifts his eyes to look at me.

“Because I wanted to,” he whispers.

My heart is thundering in my chest. I don’t know what to say. This is too much to process and I’m clearly shit with words anyway. I have so many questions, but none of them are appropriate, and Baz is just standing there with his hair in his eyes, waiting for my cue—to fight, flee, or die on the spot, probably.

But I don’t want him to do any of those things. He told me the truth for once, and it was the biggest, most terrible truth I could have imagined.

And he trusted me with it.

I step around him and toss my jacket and rucksack on my bed. “My turn.”

“What?” Baz looks properly surprised.

“Merlin May I sit beside you?”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “Snow, I didn’t mean to imply that I still want to play this infernal game.”

“I know,” I say, moving toward him. “Consider this the world’s first single-player game of Merlin May I. Your answer?”

He furrows his brow and says warily, “Yes, you may. Aren’t you at all concerned that I’m—“

“Still my turn,” I cut him off, pulling him by the wrist toward his bed and taking a seat next to him. With one hand, I smooth his hair away from his eyes and fix him with a soft gaze. “Merlin May I hold your face?” I say.

Baz is looking at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head. He doesn’t say “yes, you may.” He simply nods. As both my hands reach up and rest against his cheeks, I decide to let the infraction go.

Because he’s trembling.

I’m weightless with shock. This Baz isn’t a threat or a villain or a monster. He’s just… a boy.

He leans into my palm and closes his eyes. His eyelashes look wet.

“Merlin May I tell you something?” I say.

“Yes,” he breathes, “you may.”

I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I want to kiss you again,” I whisper.

His eyes spring open. “No repeats,” he replies, breathless.

“That was a different game.”

“Same opponents. Same day. Same game. It’s illegal.”

“I don’t think you mind.”

I weave my fingers through Baz’s hair without asking, my hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. He lets me.

“You’re not worried I’ll bite you?” he asks.

Smiling, I touch my forehead to his. “‘Merlin May I is a game of risk and trust.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

“You don’t trust me.”

I shrug. “I trust you not to make supper out of me.”

He shakes his head against mine, and laughs. “I don’t understand your strategy.”

“I don’t have one,” I say, and I’m so close to his mouth that I’m breathing in the scent of cinnamon and cedar. “What’s your answer?”

His answer doesn’t come in words. He just shuts up and closes his eyes. His hand finds my wrist, like he’s afraid of me, but I won’t hurt him. As I close the gap between us, a thought enters my mind.

This is so much better than fighting.

BAZ

I’m certain I don’t know what I’m doing. My first kiss only happened an hour ago in front of God and everyone, lasted mere seconds, and precipitated the most senseless and backwards game of Merlin May I in the history of Magic.

I’m not sure if we’re still playing.

I don’t care. Fuck this ridiculous game.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

On. My. Bed.

Thank Crowley he’s done this before. His hands are still on my face and in my hair, and whatever blood is in me is singing in my ears. He’s blessedly warm which is helping my trembling, and his lips are so strong with intention—to devour me whole, it seems—that mine move in his rhythm, like we’re dancing and he’s leading.

And he’s humming. Like I’m something to savor. I can hear the whisper of his breath, its warmth skimming gently over my face. As his lips move against mine, it sounds like the tail end of a rainstorm. I would give up all my possessions to Merlin May I if he asked for them, just to keep him attached to my mouth.

I feel light. Like I’ve been exorcised of something toxic and terrible.

When he pulls away, we both look stunned.

“So…” he rasps, “this is not how I envisioned finishing out my day.”

“Someone should make sure hell hasn’t frozen over,” I murmur, grinning in spite of myself.  

Snow’s eyes brighten. “Merlin’s tooth, I’ve never seen you smile like this before.” He sounds awed. “I mean, you’re fit whether or not you’re smiling at me, but you’re gorgeous when you do.”

“You think I’m fit?” I ask incredulously. “Are you possessed?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still a git,” he laughs.  

“A git, it appears, you’re willing to kiss,” I say, and I can’t help the disbelief that sneaks into my voice. “I didn’t think kissing blokes fell into the realm of things you do for fun.”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure it does,” he murmurs. “You’re the only bloke I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

I smile. “Crowley, Snow, you have no idea how strange it is to hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“Can’t be much stranger than hearing you admit you’re a vampire,” he says. “I promise to properly shut up about that from now on, by the way.”

“What happens now?” I ask, staring at his lips.

“I haven’t thought much farther ahead than snogging you until Penny has to send a search party here to find us.”

He barely finishes his sentence before something courageous comes over me and I take him by the shoulders. I don’t need to say “Merlin May I” for permission to kiss him this time, so I just do it. I just want to dwell a little longer in this impossible reality where I’ve confessed all my secrets to Simon Snow and he somehow still wants me—in spite of what I am, what I’ve done to him, and what we were to each other before I conned him into playing a game designed to drive mages apart.

Leave it to Snow to completely subvert the point of Merlin May I by sheer accident.

A long moment later, Simon pulls away from me, frowning. “Are you still eating my scones tomorrow?”

I raise an eyebrow. “If all this is just an elaborate scheme to salvage your scones—”

Snow knocks my arm in retaliation. “No, I mean, is Dev’s spell still active?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Are we still playing?”

He shrugs and reaches for my hand. “Dunno. We sort of got sidetracked…”

And now he’s lacing his fingers in mine.

Simon Snow wants to kiss me and hold my hand, and any moment now I’m going to wake up.

“I suppose we both lose, then,” I say. “And that way you can keep your precious scones.”

“We’ll share them,” he whispers, bringing our joined hands to his heart. “I’d say we both won.”

❤️❤️ HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, LOVELIES! ❤️❤️

[artificialqueens]

Secret Hearts (Ninex) - Crazy4Kameron

Hey! So I totally meant for this to be part of the Valentine’s day challenge posted by @writethehousedown and life just got in the way. Than this story just wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, and I really wanted this adorable useless lesbians to get the love they deserved. Thank you so much to Mistress and opalescent-cheetah for all of the help editing this. Also veronicasanders for all of the amazing suggestions that helped make this story what it turned into. Hope you enjoy please leave me a kudos or comment.

Why she had let Brooke talk her into this was beyond her. Nina loved her best friend and was willing to do almost anything for her, but sitting and watching ice skating in a freezing cold arena for the next few hours was not top of the list. She would much rather have stayed home with a nice cup of tea and watched reruns of Murder, She Wrote with her dogs.

Out of boredom, Nina offered to go to the concession stand for them, and it was then that she first noticed the new security guard. Her gorgeous dark skin and brilliant, sparkling white smile popped against the blue of her uniform.  I wonder when she started working here, cause I don’t remember seeing her before, and I would definitely have remembered her. Maybe Brooke knows who she is, I’ll have to ask her when I get back. Nina thought, unable to move her gaze from the gorgeous woman.

“Hey, was the line bad?” Brooke asked, moving her legs to the side so that Nina could squeeze past.

“It wasn’t that bad, but on my way out I noticed this new security guard. Do you know who she is?” Nina asked.

Brooke gave her a blank look. “There are a lot of security guards here, Nina, so you might want to be more specific…”

Oh. Of course. Nina flushed pink. ”Well she’s about this tall,” Nina said, putting her hand up to her chest to show Brooke. “She has the most beautiful shade of chocolate brown hair, and her eyes are this gorgeous sparkling hazel colour. Her smile is the most perfect thing that I have ever seen.”

Brooke laughed. “Sounds like someone’s got a bit of a crush…."

“What? What are you talking about? I was just giving you a description of her like you asked.” Nina stated while trying to hide the colour now running up her face.

“Well it sounds like you’re describing Monet, Asia’s roommate. Vanjie told me she started here like two weeks ago. You should totally go and talk to her.” The blonde encouraged.

“Oh, I don’t know. You know I can’t talk to girls I like, plus I’m sure she has a boyfriend or whatever. I mean, how could she not?”

Brooke pulled out her phone and quickly began to text someone. Within a few seconds her phone dinged with a response. “She’s single and gay, You’re welcome. Now go talk to her.”

A mixture of joy and fear ran through Nina’s body.

"But I– what would I even say? I can’t just walk up there like, ‘Hey, you’re hot, let’s date’,                           that would just be weird.”

’'Oh my god. You are hopeless, Nina West.” Brooke rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Hey! You were the same when you were hardcore crushing on Vanjie,” Nina laughed, elbowing her.

“Was not!” Brooke exclaimed, but her cheeks had flared crimson. “Anyways, I really need the bathroom. Come on.” She grabbed Nina’s arm, tugging her through the crowds.

“Where are we going? I thought you said you needed to use the bathroom and they are in the opposite direction?” Nina asked, confused.

“I know, but I just need to do something first.” Brooke stated, pushing through the crowd and stopping directly in front of Monet.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you, my names Brooke, I’m Vanjie’s girlfriend and I teach juniors ice skating.” Brooke points behind her. “And this is my friend Nina. She works at the daycare attached to the complex. We’re friends of Asia’s and just wanted to introduce ourselves, since you’re new here.“

Monet reached out her hand and Brooke quickly pushed Nina in front of her, making Nina shake Monet’s hand. “Oh well it’s nice to meet you.” Monet was a little baffled by what was going on, and was still trying to be polite.

“It’s–uh–nice to meet you too.” Nina replies, still shaking Monet’s hand, eyes locked on each other, but only for a moment. Nina quickly realizes she’s still holding Monet’s hand and pulls it away, eyes quickly darting behind her to look for Brooke and mouth “I hate you” to her before she disappears into the crowd.

“So do you like working at the complex so far?” Nina asked, trying to figure out anything to say.

“Yeah I mean, it’s a job, but it uh, definitely has its perks.” Monet replied, looking Nina up and down, a smile forming over her lips. Nina could feel the heat begin to rise up the back of her neck and into her face.  “So you’re a daycare teacher? How do you like that?”

“OH I love it! I just adore watching all their little faces as they discover and learn new things. I mean obviously it has its downsides, you know, tiny children with sticky fingers can get a little messy at times, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Nina glowed from the inside out whenever she spoke about her job and the kids that she taught each day. It really was one of her greatest passions in life. Monet could only chuckle and watch Nina as she suddenly became very animated and talkative.

“Wow, I have never met anyone who loves anything as much as you seem to love those kids.” Monet said. “And that’s saying a lot considering I live with Asia and have to live through her and Kameron being disgustingly in love.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Brooke is my best friend, and I have to deal with her and Vanessa on the regular.” Nina giggled.

“You have a really cute laugh.” Monet said. “I really like your sweater too. It brings out the blue in your eyes.”

The only thing that Nina could think to say was ‘thank you’, then there was a sudden silence that seemed to be deafening. Nina finally cleared her throat and spoke. “I should -uh umm- go find Brooke. She’s my- uh- ride and it’s getting late.”

“Yeah of course. Well it was really nice to meet you, and I hope that maybe we’ll get to see each other around, you know, since we work at the same place and all.” Monet hoped that she hadn’t overstepped any lines or offended Nina in any way.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again, but it was nice to meet you in the meantime. I hope you have a good night.“ Nina was mentally kicking herself as she turned to walk away. How could she not have complimented Monet back when she was saying all those nice things about her. There were so many things that she could have said and she just blanked and probably ruined her chances. She needed to think of something that she could do to try and win this funny, gorgeous woman over.    

***

Asia had just begun her morning tasks to get things ready for her day at the complex when she heard the distinctive swoosh of the doors being opened and wondered who could be here this early in the morning. Turning, she saw a woman who had been visiting her quite a lot recently, a tall blonde with a kind smile, walking towards her.

"Good morning and how can I help you?” Asia chimed in her best customer service voice.

“You know you don’t need to use that voice on me, right?”

“Yeah force of habit, sorry.” Asia shrugged her shoulders sighing,and with her next intake of breath put a smile on her face. “So what are you doing here so early, doll?” Asia asked, curiosity laced through her voice.

“I just thought that I would come to say hello, and see how you’re doing this morning. See if you need anything?” The blonde smiled, but Asia had a hunch that the other girls’ intentions weren’t as innocent as she made them out to be.

“Is that really why you came to work this early in the morning? Are you sure, Nina?” Asia smiled and sat on her chair, turning her computer on for the day. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with a certain bright-eyed, dark-haired security guard, who also happens to be my roommate?” Asia pressed, smiling up at Nina, whose cheeks she could see flared crimson, and she found herself wishing that Nina wasn’t such a wuss about her crush. Asia knew that despite Monet’s outward confidence, she was secretly insecure and that the two of them would get nowhere without her help…and Asia had never asked to be the one caught in the middle of their school girl crush.

Nina let out all the air in her lungs that she hadn’t realized she was holding in till that moment. It was like her body had turned to jelly, all the tension leaving it at once as she flopped forward on the counter, ”Did she like the chocolates?“

"Yes, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t put your name on the card. It would’ve been less weird."

"Having a secret admirer is sweet and exciting and romantic!” defended Nina.

Asia could only shake her head at Nina’s completely unrealistic view of the world. “I know you think life is a Disney movie, but in reality, things like that get taken the wrong way all the time.” Asia scowled. “Do you want Monet to think you like her or want to harvest her kidney?”

“Okay I get it, maybe it’s a little weird not to put my name on it, but what if she doesn’t like me? I’ve never liked anyone this much before.” Nina’s eyes fell to the floor, and she bit her lip as she contemplated whether she should finally be brave and let Monet know how she felt. “Well, I have another gift for her. Do you think Monet would be freaked out if I left her another one? Should I not leave her any more gifts? I don’t want to freak her out, do you think it will freak her out?” she rambled, anxiety getting the best of her over the situation.

“Not if you put your name on it,” Asia said. “And don’t forget to mention why you’re bombarding her with gifts,” she added on, almost as an afterthought, turning her chair to face her computer screen.

Nina flushed. “I wouldn’t call it bombarding.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t change the fact that you should at least sign this one,” Asia countered, looking up from the screen.

“Fine, I’ll write her a note, hand me a piece of paper, but I’m putting the note inside the box.”

“Won’t you have to unwrap that beautiful paper to do that?” Asia raised an eyebrow with skepticism in her eyes,reaching across her desk for a pad of paper.

“Yes but I am an expert gift wrapper and unwrapper. Just hand me the paper, a pen and some tape and leave the rest to me.”

                     ——————–

"Monet! Come here!” Asia yelled from behind the info desk, motioning her over a look of disdain on her face.

Monet bounded over at the sound of Asia’s voice. “Why the hell are you yelling at me so early in the day?” Monet asked happily, all hopped up on her morning coffee, lifting her hand to reveal a steaming paper cup in her hand..

“A. calm down and give me that sweet steaming nectar of the Gods now,” Asia stated, reaching for the cup in Monet’s hand, “B. there was another gift left for you on the desk this morning.” Asia pointed to a small box wrapped beautifully with red paper that had tiny little pink hearts all over it. This instantly shifted Monet’s focus, as she reached over the counter to inspect the box that looked like it had been carefully wrapped, but there was no tag to say who had left it.

"So are you going to open it or just stare at it till you get x-ray vision?” Asia asked sarcastically before sipping her coffee.  

“I’m admiring the beautiful paper, thank you,” Monet spat back, “now if you don’t mind, why don’t you go do some work or text your girlfriend, so I can open my gift in private.” Monet shooed Asia away with her hand, turning her back to her roommate.

Asia pouted but took a few steps back, still craning her neck to try and get a better view before going to help someone at the other end of the counter. Just then Vanjie and Kameron came walking in, arms linked, laughing about something. They dropped their gym bags on the floor, as they had not made it to the gym to start their day yet.

"Hello, my goddess,” Asia began walking back over after helping her customer. “And what, might I ask, is so funny?” Asia leaned over the counter to give Kameron a kiss. The redhead melted into her attention for a little longer than necessary.  

“Vanjie was just telling me a story about a weird client that she had last week.” Kameron blushed as Asia pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear, stroking her thumb across her cheek and staring lovingly into her eyes.

Monet rolled her eyes, smiling to herself at their public display of affection, but really she was jealous. She wished that she could find some to love as much as Asia loved Kameron. Monet was truly delighted that her friend had found someone that made her so happy. She could only pray that one day she would find a girl like that. Perhaps this secret admirer was that girl… if it even was a girl. She hoped that maybe one day she could see that beautiful friend of Brooke’s again. The one she met the night of the skating show, but she knew better than to let her hopes get too high.

“What ya got there, Monet?” Vanjie asked, curiously eyeing up the little box in her hand.

“Oh, she got another present from her secret admirer,” Asia cooed.

“Another one? Wow, whoever it is must really like you, you lucky girl.” Kameron playfully shoved Monet’s shoulder.

Before Monet even had a chance to open the present, a tall blonde with short curly hair, rosy cheeks and what seemed to be a permanent smile came round the corner. Monet couldn’t believe her eyes; it was Nina, the girl from that night, the one that she couldn’t get out of her head. She was followed very closely by a group of small children in a not quite straight line. It was like Monet was seeing an angel - Nina was as beautiful as she remembered.

Did God hear my prayers? Monet thought, unable to tear her eyes away, as she watched them approach the front desk. Nina stopped the small parade of children and turned to face them.

“Class, it’s time to quiet down now please.” The blonde put her pointer finger to her lips. The children instantly quieted down, pressing fingers to their own shut lips, mimicking their teacher. “Hello, ladies. How are you on this wonderful day?” The blonde asked, turning to face the other girls, all the while keeping an eye on the kids.

“I’d be better if I was spending it with my girl instead of teaching a spin class full of sweaty old grandmas.” Vanjie chimed in before going back to looking at her phone.

“Ignore her, how’s your day going so far?”Asia smiled, putting her hand on the blonde’s arm.

“Oh, can’t complain, just wish I had someone special to go home too.” She blushed, looking at the others, eyes lingering just a little longer on Monet. To Nina’s chagrin, the security guard didn’t seem to notice. Asia clearly did, though.

She raised her voice the littlest bit, projecting so Monet would be sure to hear and take note. “Let me tell you, that if someone as antisocial as I am was able to find someone willing to put up with me,” Asia said, tickling Kameron’s side. Kameron jerked away before slapping her shoulder and wrapping her in a tight hug. “So can you, Nina. I know I’ve told you this before, but you just need to put yourself out there a little more.”  

“I know Asia, I just hate being single.” Nina frowned.

Thank you, Lord, she’s single. I don’t know how I got this lucky, but thank you Lord for letting this precious angel walk into my life. Nina is the perfect name for an angel like her. I love the way that her eyes sparkle when she laughs, how her hair falls in curls around her shoulders and look at the way they bounce when she turns her head. Look how good she is with the kids, they all love her, but how could they not. You can see the kindness in her eyes, as she talks to them, I don’t know how she does it. I could never be so patient with that many screaming kids, but she’s amazing.

“Well, I was just wondering if the kids could hang up some Valentine’s Day hearts that we made. I know that it would make them really happy.” Nina asked, looking back at the kids who were still all standing in something resembling a line, holding giant red and pink hearts decorated with glue and glitter.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I mean, you can just tape them up over there.” Asia pointed over to the empty space on the far wall, and Nina turned her head to look.

Monet couldn’t take her eyes off Nina.

“Thanks, Asia! Come on kids, we can put our hearts up on that wall. Now I want you to all walk over there without running anyone over, and wait for me to help you put them up. Please stay together.” There was a chorus of happy little voices as the children began to scream and run in all directions.

God, could Nina’s smile get any more perfect?

“Hey Monet, are you alright?” Kameron asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine why?” Monet asked, a little dazed.

“Cause you drooling girl,” Vanjie stated looking up from her phone to finally engage in the conversation, “You might want to stop staring so hard and wipe your mouth.” She whispered leaning closer to her friend.

“Ah, shit!” Monet quickly wiped at the sides of her mouth, drying the drool that had indeed begun to dribble out. “Thanks, girl, that could have been embarrassing.”

“So you likin’ Miss Nina over there?” Vanjie wiggled her eyebrows, a knowing smirk growing on her face.

“I mean, she’s pretty cute, but I have a secret admirer and all.” Monet tried to look unaffected by this statement like she didn’t want to just run over there and ask Nina out. Monet could tell by the looks of disbelief that her friends gave each other that they weren’t convinced.

“But, like, what if my secret admirer is smokin’ hot… You guys aren’t buying this are you?” Monet already knew the answer before Vanjie and Kameron could shake their heads no.

“Girl, just go talk to her,” Kameron said. “I’m pretty sure I saw her staring at you too earlier.”

Asia elbowed Kam in the ribs before giving her a quick warning glance.

“What do I even say to her?” Monet inquired, feeling like she was about to meet her favourite celebrity, not go and talk to a cute girl. Monet was normally good at talking to girls, always able to turn on the charm when needed. This was a new feeling, she had never liked anyone this much before, had never feared rejection like this, never felt at a loss for words.

“Ask her if she needs any help putting the kids’ decorations up?” Kameron suggested, ”Then just try and make small talk.”

“Here.” Asia handed Monet a roll of tape. ”Go ask her if she needs any more tape. It’s the perfect ice breaker.”

“Thank you so much, Asia. You are truly a lifesaver.” Monet grabbed the tape, took a deep breath and headed off towards Nina and the kids.

“Jose please don’t push, wait your turn, I’ll be there to help you in a minute.” Nina sighed as she pressed a tape loop to another child’s heart and directed them to the wall.

“Sorry, Miss Nina!” the little boy shouted, stepping back to wait his turn.

“You looked like you could use some help over here. I brought some more tape.” Holding up said tape as evidence, Monet approached Nina slowly and with a smile, so as not to scare her.

Nina looked up, smiling. “That would be great thanks."

The two smiled at each other, but only for a moment before a scream could be heard from the children. Quickly turning to see what had caused the commotion, they were met with the sight of three of the kids fighting over a spot on the wall where they wanted to put their hearts.

"You can’t tell us what to do Antwan!” demanded a girl with brown pigtails.

“Yeah! We can put our hearts wherever we want!"shouted another girl.

"Adelaide, Catherine, Antwan, please come here,” Nina asked with a stern yet soft voice before turning to Monet. “Do you mind keeping an eye on the others while I sort this out?"

Monet shook her head and Nina grabbed her arm, thanking her before taking the other three children off to figure out their disagreement.

"So who still needs some tape for their heart?” Monet was met with an eager audience of hands and jumping children.

“Me! Me! Me!” was all that could be heard in the front lobby. Monet looked back to her friends with a terrified look on her face before she mouthed the word ‘help’.

“So… do we go help her or just let her suffer for a bit?” Vanjie asked.

“I mean, it is kinda funny to watch, but we can’t just leave her to be eaten alive,” Kameron responded, pulling away from Asia to go help Monet out of her current predicament. The other two girls followed closely behind Kameron.

“Okay guys, you need to use your indoor voices now,” Asia said, copying Nina’s earlier actions she put her finger to her lips. The kids were less obliged to take orders from someone who wasn’t Nina, but they calmed themselves. Once everyone was (relatively) quiet, Asia looked at Monet and nodded as a signal that now it was her turn to give the orders.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to play a little game, okay? So I want you all to get in a line and I’m going to put tape on the back of all your hearts. Then Kameron and Vanjie are going to decide who’s standing the quietest and stillest and help them go put their heart on the wall.” Monet spoke as soft and gentle as she could.

The kids began forming a line. Monet leaned over to her friends to whisper, “Does anyone know how many there are supposed to be?” Her friends looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads no.

Monet began to rip off tape and make loops to stick on the back of the preschoolers’ hearts when she noticed a little boy three from the front crying.Crouching next to the little boy, she asked him why he was crying and he showed her that he had ripped his heart. “We can fix that. You want to know how?”

The little boy nodded his head, wiping at his tears.

“Well, what’s your name sweetheart?” Monet asked gently, holding her hand out and waiting for the boy to take it.

“An-Andrew.” he sniffled out.

“Well Andrew, you see this tape here? It’s magic, and it can fix a broken heart just like yours. Do you want to see it?” the little boy nodded his head and took Monet’s hand that she was still holding out. She guided him to a small table near where they were standing and he put the heart down.

Nina had finished talking to the youngsters that had been arguing and had sent them off to go get back in line and wait for their turn. Nina was standing back, watching in awe at the young woman taking so much care and being so tender with her student. The sight made her heart skip a beat and a warm fuzzy feeling took over her body. She decided that she wanted to see how Monet handled her students and stood to the side for a few moments longer than needed.

Monet had Andrew close his eyes as she placed the tape on the rip in his heart. Making sure the tear was invisible, she then had him repeat some magic words before letting him open them to see his art project fixed as good as new. His face lit up with joy and he squeaked with happiness.

“Thank you!!!” he said before running back over to get back in line and wait his turn again.  

Vanjie was helping the little rugrats find the best place to put their hearts so everyone would see them, and Asia was making sure that they stayed quiet and in line. The kids seemed fascinated by all of Kameron’s tattoos and muscles that they got an up-close look at as she knelt in front of them to help put tape on their hearts.

Nina was watching how good all of the girls were doing with the kids; she mentally checked the children off her list as she went, when she realized that one outspoken blonde girl was missing.

Nina began scanning the lobby to see where the little girl could have gotten to, and noticed her over by the front desk, going through what looked to be one of their purses. Nina immediately walked over to where the girl was, crouching down next to her, and was met with the sight of her applying lipstick to her face. The girl instantly stopped the second she realized that she had been caught, handing the lipstick over to Nina, who picked the pursed up off the floor.

“Hey Vanj, isn’t this yours?” Nina asked, holding the purse up in the air.

“What?” Vanjie looked over to where Nina saw standing and noticed the tiny culprit whose face was covered in her lipstick. “Oh FUCK NO!” Vanjie yelled as she took off to gather her things.

All the kids clapped their hands on their mouths in shock, “OOOOOH, YOU SAID F—”

“Vanjie! Language!” Monet yelled before the children could finish repeating the word. “Don’t repeat what she just said, it’s a bad word, kids.”  

“Is that my Fenty lipstick!?” Vanjie exclaimed, taking the lipstick back from Nina, then reaching into her gym bag for her makeup wipes to try and clean the girl’s lips and face. ”Didn’t your mama teach you not to touch what ain’t yours?” Vanjie asked, the girl shaking her head, partly to answer the question and partly to stop Vanjie from wiping at her face.

“ You never take someone else’s stuff without asking. Specially they Fenty lipstick. You stick with Tia Vanj, and I’ll teach you bout the good things in life.”

"Vanjie, we want these kids to grow up to be respectable members of society,” Asia said while trying to make sure that everything was still where it belonged in the lobby and that the kids hadn’t broken anything or run any of the other patrons in the lobby over. “Plus I’m sure Nina can handle punishments.”

“You tryin to say I’m not a respectable member of society, mami?” Vanjie questioned, hands on her hip, head cocked to the side in offense, slightly taken aback by the statement.

“What I’m saying is that you have a way of getting around the rules, which isn’t something that these kids need to learn,” Asia retorted. “I know that your mama taught you manners, that’s the truth. What she didn’t teach you was volume control.”

“I don’t have to take this. I have a class to teach and a hot girlfriend to go see!!” Vanjie yelled.

“Vanjie, before you go I think there’s something that Samantha needs to say to you, isn’t there?” Nina spoke with a firm yet gentle tone, letting the girl know that what she had done was wrong, but Nina wasn’t mad at her.

“Yes, Miss Nina.” The girl’s cheeks burned with shame, and also anger that she’d been caught and lectured. “I’m sorry I took your stuff without asking,” Samantha sniffled out, almost in tears. Vanjie walked over to the small girl and gave her a hug.

“It’s okay little mama, just don’t do it again."

The tiny blonde nodded her head and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Vanjie stood and gave her friends an angry glare before grabbing her things again and stomping away.

"Awww Vanjie! I’ll see you later?” Kameron yelled after her.

“Only if you have a peanut butter and chocolate shake!!” Vanjie shouted over her shoulder.

“Hey! I thought that was a morning thing! Plus I didn’t even do anything.” Kameron threw her arms up.

“No, but your girl did! So now I want a peanut butter chocolate shake.” Vanjie pouted.

Nina walked over to where Monet was standing, shaking her head in the direction Vanjie left in. She motioned in the direction of the other kids. “You’re really good with them.”  

“Well I mean they’re good kids, I just hope my friend didn’t traumatize them.”

Nina laughed at her joke, and Monet felt a tiny sensation of relaxation wash over her body.

”But for real though, how could they not be good kids with a teacher like you.” Monet felt brave and bumped Nina’s shoulder with hers.

Nina’s laughter quickly turned to a bashful giggle, and her heart skipped a beat.

The well-behaved kids seemed to be at their limits, as some of them were laying on the floor, others chasing each other in circles playing tag, nearly running into other patrons on their way to other activities in the Complex.

As Nina was trying to calm the kids down a little, she noticed Monet walking closer, and could feel her body begin to tense up. Oh my goodness, she’s coming over here. How can she be so beautiful and so good with the kids? She’s so funny, I’m not that funny and I have no idea what to say to her. It’s like whenever she gets close to me I forget how to speak. I hope she doesn’t think I’m a total weirdo or a rambling idiot. God I hope I look good right now. There aren’t any stains on this dress are there?

“I think it’s really sweet of you, to ask Asia if the kids can display their artwork in the lobby for everyone to see.” Monet stepped closer to Nina. “You seem to have some real little Picassos on your hands here. Especially that little purple-haired boy. He really seems to be on a level all his own.”

“Oh that’s Salem, they’re such a sweetheart and so good with the other kids. They’re always trying to help out the younger ones so that they feel included during playtime.” Nina began to almost glow while gushing over her kids and how amazing they were. Monet found this very endearing and wanted to know what other wonderful traits this woman had that made her so perfect.

“That’s very cool, their parents don’t force them into a box. And I love that they let them use hair chalk.” Monet smiled.

The children were starting to become louder and harder to control, and Nina knew that this wasn’t going to last much longer. As much as she wanted to stand here and talk to Monet all day, she knew that her kids needed to come first.

“Class! Class! Please quiet down. Jose, please pay attention, eyes front, thank you. Now I know you all really want to put your hearts up, but we need to be a little quicker because Miss Peppermint will be here today, for storytime.”

The children began to excitedly jump up and down and scream at this announcement.

“Children!” Nina waited for quiet again. “Okay so now I want you all to quickly go stand by the wall and find somewhere for your heart and wait for Monet or myself to come to help you tape it up. No pushing, and if you’ve already put yours up, please calmly go stand over by Asia and Kameron and wait.”

There was a sudden stampede of tiny legs in all directions as they all seemed to rush towards their desired destination, seeing who could get there the fastest or who could reach up the wall the highest.

Once all of the excitement had died down and all of the hearts were finally up on the wall, Monet finally got a chance to talk to Nina alone for a few moments.

“You know, you got yourself a really fun little class, Miss Nina. I may have to come and visit from time to time.” Monet reached out to touch Nina’s arm, and Nina visibly shivered.

“That would be nice,” Nina breathed out, trying to compose herself in front of the children.

“Yeah, it would be.“ Monet looked into Nina’s blue eyes and was suddenly stripped of all previous thoughts. All she could think about was the beautiful blonde in front of her. Neither of them was able to look away, lost in the moment, till suddenly there was a chorus of, “EWWW, GROSS!” Snapping back to reality, they noticed that they were now surrounded by tiny faces all staring at them.

There were a few moments of silence while Nina tried to think about what she should do, all of the children still looking at her for further instructions. That was when she noticed that two of the kids were playing near the stairs, spinning in circles and seeing who could still walk a straight line.

“Is something wrong?” Monet asked, concern in her voice, her brows scrunching together as she began to look around too.

“I just need to stop the kids from playing near the stairs.” Nina smiled at Monet to thank her for her concern, as she walked over to where the kids were playing.  

“Kevin and Ashleigh stop spinning like that near the stairs, before someone gets hurt!” Nina shouted. But it was too late. Ashleigh had spun around a little too quickly and slipped on her own feet, falling straight on her face. That’s when the deafening cry could be heard throughout the complex and Nina instantly went into mother bear mode.

It was nothing that she hadn’t had to deal with in the past, she was the teacher of a group of rambunctious preschoolers after all. She quickly walked over to where Ashleigh was now laying on the floor crying, and checked to see if there was any blood.

Monet instantly ran over behind the front desk and grabbed the first aid kit and brought it over to where Nina was sitting on the floor with the little girl, assessing the damage. Nina looked worried as she scanned the girl’s body, for any visible injuries and then began to ask her if anything hurt and if so, where?

Monet crouched down beside them and put her hand on the lower part of Nina’s back, to try and help keep her calm and because she just really wanted to be close in case there was anything that she could do. She hoped that the physical touch would help reassure Nina and let her know that she was there if she needed anything.  

“How is she?” Monet asked “I brought the first aid kit, just to be safe.”

“Thank you. I don’t see any blood, I think it’s just a bump on the head and a few scrapes.” Nina stated.” Do you mind finishing up with her, while I go check on the rest of the kids?”

“No, not at all. We’ll get you fixed up right as rain, won’t we sweetheart?” Monet tried to smile at the little girl, but she was still sobbing too hard to respond.

When Nina came back over after making sure that the rest of her class was okay and hadn’t killed Asia and Kameron yet, she saw Monet sitting on the stairs, Ashleigh beside her all smiles and giggles like nothing had happened.

Standing back up, Nina hugged Monet tightly, winding her arms around her neck. Monet wrapped her arms around Nina’s waist and when she tried to pull away realized that Nina had not yet let go. This seemed to be a little long for just a friendly thank-you hug, but Monet only chalked it up to Nina’s relief to Ashleigh being all right.

”Thank you so much! I don’t know what you said or did to make her smile like that after getting hurt but you are a miracle worker,” Nina said, breath warm against Monet’s ear.

“It was really nothing.” Monet swallowed, her mouth suddenly going dry from their close proximity. She could now tell how good the blonde’s curls smelled and it made her want to run her fingers through them. If she could ever take her hands off of Nina’s perfect waist.

Finally, the two pulled apart, smiling at each other, fixing their clothes just for something to do with their hands.

“Well, I should uumm, you know, get my class back to our room before Peppermint shows up and wonders where we are.” Nina knew she was stumbling over her words, but this gorgeous woman before her just had this effect on her.

“Yeah well, you wouldn’t want her to think the whole class went missing or anything.” Monet laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head.

Finally, the awkwardness between the two was broken when Asia called over. “If you two are done talking, I really think these kids need a snack or something. And to get out of my lobby, before anything gets broken or stolen.”  

“Of course. Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Asia for letting us put up our artwork, and get into line with your hands on your hips. I want to see a line of little butterflies.”

“Thank you Asia!” echoed through the lobby, making everyone giggle and wave at the line of tiny butterflies.

“So Monet.” Asia turned to look at her friend.  “Did you ever get a chance to open that gift you got this morning?”

“No not yet, but I’ll open it later.” Monet had better things to do at the moment than worry about a present from someone with no name.

“Oh, you’re really not going to open it now? Maybe the person left a note inside the box with their name on it and you can find out who it’s from.” Nina’s sombre tone was such a contrast to her earlier perky demeanour. The look in her eyes alone made Monet want to open the gift instantly just to make her happy.

“Why don’t you just open it now, before you forget,” Asia chimed in, trying to put Monet in the right direction, plus she was also curious to see what was in the box.

“Okay, why is everyone so concerned with my gift?” Monet marvelled.

Nina knew that she had to get the kids back and couldn’t wait any longer no matter how badly she wanted to see Monet open the gift.

“No reason.” She walked to the front of the line. ”Come on kids, it’s snack time and then Miss Peppermint will be here for storytime.”

Asia walked over to the counter, grabbing the small slender box before she handed it to Monet.

”Open the damn box,” she demanded.

Monet looked at the perfectly wrapped box, someone had definitely taken time and care while wrapping it. After carefully pulling the paper off, Monet lifted the lid to find a perfectly folded note, sitting on top of two pins. The first pin was a limited edition Storm pin that Monet had been looking for, for what seemed like forever, to add to her collection.The second was the sweetest Mary Poppins pin Monet had ever seen.  

Gently lifting the note out of the box, Monet unfolded the perfectly folded piece of paper, to find that it was written on a piece of stationery that came from the complex.

Monet quickly read the note, then quickly read it again to make sure that she had read it right the first time.

Wait no way. This can’t be right. But the name is right there. I can’t believe this.

A smile spread across Monet’s face as she gently picked up the Mary Poppin pin and pinned it to her collar.

"Hey, Nina!” Monet yelled. “How does Saturday at 7 sound?"

"Perfect.” Nina’s smile was so wide that you could see the joy radiating from her face. Her step was just a little lighter than before and her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird. She couldn’t wait for Saturday.

[pucks-no-fucks]

Work Friends: Sidney Crosby X Reader

Authors Note: This took WAY too long for me to write and it’s kind of scrambled and I don’t like it but I can’t tell if it’s because it’s bad or I just think it’s bad. However it’s here! And I have officially gotten every request in my inbox done! So send some requests in please❤️

Summary: Crosby meets reader for the first time, only to find out she’s close to the other boys and he gets jealous as a result.

Warnings: I think there’s a curse, short argument (ish?) and that’s it! :)

Requested: Yes | No

@bladihel

Word Count: 1,743 words

Your job was simple and fun. Working at PPG paints arena was always fun. Fun. It made you cringe thinking about it. You were an ice girl. Why it made you cringe wasn’t something you could give an answer for. Maybe you didn’t have the body to be one or the talents, yet here you were.

It was the home opener. First game of the season for Pittsburgh was home and that made your insides flutter. Being an ice girl made you cringe. Being an ice girl for the Pittsburgh Penguins made you ecstatic. The arena wasn’t far, but you left early today. You wanted to take in the gorgeous arena and enjoy it. Your bag hung over your shoulder as you walked through the doors. Showing your pass they allowed you to walk around.

The concessions were preparing and the 50/50 crew was chatting it up. You smiled and went to walk past the locker rooms. You smiled and walked to head to the ice crews locker room. You bumped into someone and lost footing. You screwed your eyes shut in preparation for impact. Before you hit the ground a hand had already firmly grasped your arm and pulled you back on your feet.

“I’m sorry I should of watched where I was going”, they told you. You opened your eyes and there was Sidney Crosby.

“No no, I wasn’t paying attention that was my fault”, you stammered. He smiled at you. Sidney fucking Crosby just smiled at you.

“Really, it was my fault”, he insisted.

“I’ll take half the blame if you do”, you said quietly.

“I think I can live with that”, he told you with a big smile.

His smile made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He didn’t let go of your wrist.

“So, what brings you here?”, he asked you trying to make conversation.

“Just looking around on my way to the locker room”.

He turned on his heel and started walking with you. “You’re part of ice crew”?

You nodded. “Yep, I joined late last year”, you took a glance at him. He was focused ahead of him. “Your focused this time around”, you said with a nudge.

He laughed and nudged you back, “Maybe I should loose focus again, I might run into another pretty girl”. He winked but kept walking with you.

Your face went red. You reached the ice and your mouth gaped at everything going on. The preparation and the behind the scenes. “Wow Mr. Crosby this is just- wow”, you said in amazement.

“Mr. Crosby really”? You turned around to see his hands on his hips and his face painted with amusement.

“What am I supposed to call you? Sidney?”, you laughed and went to stand in front of him. His eyes glistened with mischief.

“Or-“, he was cut off by another voice.

“Y/N?”, Sidney turned around allowing you to look and see. Letang and Malkin were standing there.

“Oh my god!”, you squealed and ran up to them, hugging them both.

“How’s Alex and Victoria? And how’s Nikita”? Sidney stood behind you shocked.

You made small talk with the boys and walked with them back into the locker room. Sidney stayed quiet. The two hugged you and walked into their locker room. Sidney stood with you, burning holes into their backs.

“You look upset, are you okay?”, you whispered. The air was thick.

“Yes”, he said sharply. He looked at his watch and back at you. “I have to go”, he forced through his teeth. He opened the doors of the locker room and rushed in.

He left you standing in shock. Did Sidney Crosby really just do that?

When Sid walked in the boys were talking about you, glad that you became a permanent member of ice crew. It gave him a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Sid you okay”, Geno called to him. Sid hadn’t even realized how angry his face looked and how roughly he was tying his skates.

“Yes Geno”, he seethed. Geno gave him a look but continued preparing to go on the ice.

“She’s really pretty”, Jake told Letang. Letang laughed and punched his shoulder gently.

“Ask her out then”, he teased.

Sid stood up and walked out of the locker room abruptly. He was half dressed and everyone gave him a look.

Sidney was going to get to you first. He heard the boys call after him but he was on a mission.

You walked out of the locker room feeling down. You peaked around the corner and saw Sid coming. And he looked pissed. Your heart jumped in your throat and your stomach sank. You turned swiftly and walked into the locker room.

Sidney saw you turn back into the locker room and his shoulders sank. You were avoiding him. His jealousy flipped into anger, sadness, and guilt. Geno walked up beside him. “Sid, you go and play. Sid score. Then talk to girl”, he said patting him on the back. “It almost time”.

~Time skip~

You watched the warmups. You were holding back tears and it angered you. Why were you upset? You talked to him for twenty minutes maybe?

Sidney had a hard time focusing. He really lost his cool and it was eating at him.

When the game started it was slow for the Penguins. Down by two in the first period.

He looked out the tunnel to see you skating on. He gnawed at his lip. You looked distressed but were forcing a happy face. He decided then and there that he was going to pull it together and win this game. His poor performance was affecting others. And although the had already been aware of that, something about seeing you on the ice made it real for him.

Second period started. Sid was pushed around on the ice a lot. He scored twice in the second and they were now almost through the third. It was tied with ten seconds left and he had the puck.

5 seconds left. Sid just shot it, praying it went in. In the blink of an eye the puck nestled in the back of the net.

Hat trick.

The arena roared. They rejoiced and screamed. Everything was going so fast but everything to Sidney felt like slow mo.

You stood in your position and cheered for your boys. Your heart swelled seeing them all jump on the ice and celebrate the first win of the season.

You finally had changed out of the uniform and were preparing to leave. You were always the last one. When you opened the locker room door Sidney stood directly in front of it. You froze. Perhaps you could pretend to forget something and turn around and wait awhile in the comfort of the locker room for him to leave.

“Can we talk”. It wasn’t a question and you knew it.

“Y-yea”, you stuttered. “I have to walk home and I don’t want to stay too late”, you mumbled.

“I can drive you”.

“It’s okay I’ll just walk”.

Sidney was staring intensely at your face. “I’ll rephrase that. I’m driving you home”, he said softly.

“Okay”. He reached for your bag expecting you to hand it over.

“I’ve got it”, you muttered and started walking.

“Give me the bag”, he said sternly.

You reluctantly gave him your bag, he visibly relaxed. He reached for your hand.

You pulled away from him. “Hand”, he stated simply.

“Do you think I’m a child or something. I’m 26 not 6”, you hummed.

“I’m sorry I just don’t want you drifting off to try and walk home”.

You sucked your teeth but grabbed his hand. Your hand was engulfed by his own. It felt right. “I’m sorry”, you mumbled.

He sighed. “I haven’t been exactly nice either”.

“Yea what happened earlier”, you asked. He started to gently swing your arms.

“I got jealous”, was his quiet reply. He seemed embarrassed.

“I don’t know if anyone told you but Tanger and Geno are both committed to some gorgeous women”, you teased leaning into him.

He smiled. “Jake said you were pretty and Kris encouraged him to ask you out”.

Pittsburgh’s wind hit you the second you walked outside. “No offence to Jake but he’s not my type”.

Sid looked hopeful. “What is your type then”?

Sid has you pinned against his car. “My type is tall, sweet, handsome Canadian”.

“Who would that be”?

“Nathan MacKinnon”, you said. Sid’s face fell.

“Nate?”, he said quietly.

“No idiot, your my type. I was pulling your leg”, you cupped his face in your hands.

“Come home with me”, he mumbled while leaning in to kiss you.

Your lips brushed gently. “I don’t think so Mister”, you smirked. He pulled at your bottom lip gently with his teeth.

“Please, we don’t have to do anything”, he mumbled. Your fingers started playing with his tie, you hummed in response.

“Please baby”, the words fell from his lips. He sounded tired.

“You need to sleep”, you smirked pulling away.

“I’ll be restless thinking about you. I won’t be able to sleep”, he said smirking and pulling you back in.

Sid was never one to rush into things. Especially a relationship. However you were screwing him up entirely. You messed his routine up. Now he was rushing to be with you.

Your hands travelled up his arms. “Take some NyQuil”, you hummed.

He laughed and connected your foreheads. “NyQuil really?”, he said with a chuckle.

“It works”, you laughed. Your fingers interlocked behind his neck.

“I can make you something to eat if you come”?

Lazily you blinked with a small smile. “Yea I’d really like that”.

Sid had a big smile on his face.

“With a glass of NyQuil”.

He giggled and kissed your jaw.

“I’m sure there are other ways I can tire you out”, he continued down your throat.

“Like?”, you inquired.

“A pillow fort”, Sid said passively.

“Really?”, you said in awe. Never would you think that Sidney Crosby would be one to make a pillow fort.

“Yea”, he mumbled.

“I’d like that”, you grinned and stroked his hair.

He smiled but said nothing more. He opened the car door for you. Thanking him, you got in, grateful.

He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it while he drove.

“Good thing we were work friends”, you told him.

He looked over at you with a small smirk.

“Yea. Work friends”.

[autochthonousone]

Unbroken Bonds

It was curious. Suns had gone on after the events that transpired within Aislinn’s laboratory and he’d not felt an ounce of trepidation. All that he’d felt was a mounting sense of anticipation. A glowing ember of elation attributed to something that he’d dared never to hope. Even amidst the chaos of the procedure he’d swore to temper his expectations. To rein in his wild yearnings. It was only a recipe for his heart to be torn asunder in the same way that it had nearly a decade ago when he’d believed his brother killed.

But then he said ‘Ren’.

A simple gesture. A word that was meaningless to anyone that hadn’t grown up with the Ala Mhigan knight. It was a name that had long since fallen out of use in favor of his epithet ‘Armsbreaker’. Even the man himself had never used it, nor had he ever asked for it to be used by others. Yet, when spoken by one who’d lived those years of his life with him -- his very blood --  there was no denying the impact that it had on the knight as he sank to the ground beside his beleaguered beloved; his eye shimmering with the silent threat of tears.

Now he stood outside the door of Aislinn’s apartment with Eliane ( @tea-and-conspiracy )  at his side, his hand desperately clasped around the elezen woman’s own. It was now that he felt the trepidation. The sense of subtle dread as he stood upon the precipice of what he’d never had the courage to hope. It terrified him. This lofty height that he felt himself ascending toward, the gradual lifting of the burden that he’d mantled himself with for all these years. Should it all come crashing down upon him now he feared that he would never truly be the same.

No doubt Eliane could feel this rising tide of emotion within the knight, a gentle pressure being returned to the knight’s hand as she cast a warm, calming look upon him with her vibrant, minty gaze. She, too, had her own recent experiences with daring to hope. No doubt she understood that which he was going through. The vulnerability of such a feeling.

“Pray, have faith, my love.” She offered in quiet assurance as her lips slipped into a gentle smile.

The knight’s reply was a slow bow of his head and grateful expression whilst he flooded his lungs with a deep breath. The calming effect of her reassurances taking quick hold. He had no reason for doubt. Between Eliane and Aislinn, Bertram was in hands far more capable than his own. It was they that had performed the miracle.

“Right.” Barengar’s low voice rumbled in a subdued response.

It was at this moment that the door to Aislinn’s apartment opened and Barengar’s heart nearly skipped a beat. His stormy blue gaze snapped to the door as the woman slipped out to join Eliane and Barengar just outside. No words were exchanged. There was but a meaningful, if not gentle, look from Aislinn ( @lettersnorth ) and a slow nod of her head as she stepped away from the still open door. When she stepped passed the highlander she hesitated for just a moment before lightly touching a hand to the man’s shoulder.

It was time.

The hand fell away as Aislinn moved aside, Barengar’s meeting the gaze of his childhood friend briefly before falling back to Eliane’s. With silent encouragement she gave his hand one last squeeze before attempting to usher unto the open door.

Another deep breath and before Barengar knew it he was standing within the apartment, closing the door behind him. His eyes immediately feel upon the man sitting upon the Ul’dahn sofa, gazing into the fire with his one remaining eye. He didn’t look up to Barengar immediately upon the elder highlander’s entrance. Yet, when he did, he was upon his feet just as quickly. Bertram’s gaze fixated upon Barengar in complete silence.

Immediately Barengar’s mind began to write itself a fiction. That the fury still nested deep within his brother’s mind. That they may have restored his mind but he yet remained unable to be near him as some form of painful justice. The warrior’s mouth opened but words failed to leave his tongue as the breath uselessly drained from his lungs. He could feel his, usually, staid heart hammering within his chest.

But then Bertram moved. He moved with urgency and haste straight toward his brother. Barengar almost reacted to shield himself but Bertram was simply too quick. Before the knight knew it his brother’s arms were around him in a desperate embrace, squeezing tight around his elder brother.

“Ren.” Bertram breathed with pain in his voice, still clinging tight to his brother, “I’ve been horrible to you. I … don’t know what to say.”

The Armsbreaker was stunned, his eyes wide as his mind struggled to accept reality for what it was. As something that he’d never believed he’d ever experience again. Yet here he was within the embrace of his long tormented and long believed lost brother. The moment was too surreal, his mind could not accept it as reality. That is until he heard his childhood nickname from the tongue of his brother. It was then that everything came crashing down.

Barengar’s arms immediately wrapped around Bertram, one hand gripping firmly upon the younger Greyshark’s blonde hair as he pressed his lips into the crown of his younger brother. His eyes welled with unbidden moisture as emotions of rare potency stormed within the man with a torrential force. It was not long before the tears were openly streaming down his face.

“No. No.” The knight responded with a voice that croaked with emotion, yet still had the force behind its intent. “Ain’t any o’ that y’r fault, Bertram. None o’ it.”

“I tried to kill you, Ren.” Bertram pushed back against his brother’s dismissal of the guilt.

Barengar simply clung tight to his brother for a moment longer before moving his hands to Bertram’s shoulders and pushing him back so that he could look his, slightly shorter, brother in the eyes. There was a deep and firm resolve within the elder’s gaze. A look that Bertram now recalled with the greatest of acuity. It was an expression that brought a sense of peace and comfort.

“And ain’t any ‘o that y’r doin’, Bertram. Y’were used by a monster o’a man.”

There was a span of silence that held between the two Greysharks for several moments before Bertram relented, his shoulders deflating slightly as his breath evacuated his lungs. There wasn’t any use in arguing otherwise with him when Barengar looked like that. Not that he wished to. If anything the younger brother took solace in knowing that some things had never changed. Even in the face of everything that’s happened to them.

He was still Barengar.

Bertram slowly lowered himself back down upon the sofa and drew in a deep breath to center himself. Attempting to make use of some of the techniques that he’d come to learn from his father’s soul crystal. Though he could only do so much, nor would he wish to curb this feeling in its entirety. While overwhelming it wasn’t bad. Quite the opposite. It was a profound sense of relief, a notion that everything just might be okay.

Barengar watched his brother as he sank back down to the sofa before moving to settle himself down nearby on the bend of the ‘L’ shaped seating. He allowed Bertram to have some space as his brother fought to keep himself from bending to the intensity of emotion. The thought itself shined a spotlight on the tear streaks that still stained his own face, his arm rising up to use a sleeve to wipe them away.

“I … can’t just let him get away with it, Ren.”

Bertram’s voice was quiet and pensive when he finally broke the silence. It took Barengar a moment to process what it was that his younger brother meant, but it didn’t take long. He knew exactly who he was talking about. It was a sentiment that very few involved in the situation would disagree upon.

Osmund Garrett needed to pay for what he’s done. Not just to Bertram; to countless victims of his ‘grand’ experiments. The trail of blood and tears that stained his ‘Path of Progress’. There was simply no recourse.

“An’ we won’t, Bertram.” He asserted firmly, making it clear he felt the same way. “Bu’ chasin’ shadows ain’t goin’ t’do anythin’ f’r us. Y’need t’take y’r time. Jus’ … be you f’r a minute.”

Bertram turned his gaze upon Barengar for a moment, looking as though he were about to argue with him but relented in the end. He simply let out a quiet sigh and nodded his head in concession. He couldn’t exactly argue with that logic. If he ran off to chase ghosts now he’d only be falling back into a dismal pattern.

“Jus’ … take s’me time. M’sure tha’ Aislinn’d be glad t’put y’up f’r as long as y’need. Bu’ y’r always welcome t’c’me stay wit’ Ellie an’ I. S’more th’n enough room.” Barengar commented with wry amusement before he continued, his tone growing softer for a moment. “Ther’s … a lot t’catch up ‘pon.”

There’s a span of silence once again as Bertram’s gaze slowly shifts toward the gentle glow of the hearth. A slight smile slowly formed upon his lips in the wake of an unspoken thought before he looked back to Barengar with that same smile. He wasn’t wrong on that particular note. There was so much that he didn’t know. So much that he hadn’t yet learned. He hadn’t just talked with his brother for far, far too long.

“You’re right about that, Ren …” He turned so that he was more directly facing his brother. “Why don’t you start?”

And so they talked. As brothers should. Each accounting their lives in the wake of their tragic divergence from one another to the best of their ability. They came to know each other all over again.

The Greyshark brothers were finally reunited.