#second off maybe you should think about why you’re holding a brown woman to higher standards than a white woman

[hyenasnake]

Hot take but some of y’all good omens fans are just racist lol

We haven’t even SEEN Season 2 yet and y’all are already hating on Beelzebub’s new actress because she’s not Anna. Not to mention how many of y’all I see still drawing Beelzebub as white when they’re being played by a brown person now (this doesn’t apply to pre-fall or pre-s2 fanart obvs). We haven’t even seen Shelley in action yet and y’all are already hating for no good reason.

Y’all are absolute babies and need to grow up and re-examine your biases. Especially re-examine why you’re holding a brown woman to higher standards than a white woman.

[chaoticwhumperbr]

The afterfight strategy

Hey guys!, so, I wrote another story in 20 minutes lol

I'm using a few cardiophile prompts with a friend to write short stories every day, if they turn out okay I might post them.

Warning: My stories are usually very soft and romance-based.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Rachel and Cedric didn’t have big fights often, but when they did, they were ugly. The kind where you’ll spend days without exchanging a word.

It was always awkward when they finally started communicating again, neither knew exactly what to do. So they developed a system of rules, after a big fight they would take one day off any appointments and spend the entire 24 hours together, to talk and… Make sure no one held a grudge.

This time it was Rachel’s turn to go to Cedric’s place, she walked in with a bottle of wine, maybe that would help start a conversation, make things less awkward… Or they could just get drunk and not care about anything else.

She rang the doorbell, bottle in her hand, they had done this multiple times in the course of their 5-year relationship, it still made her nervous, every. single. time. Cedric was taking long to open the door, which just made her worry, instinctively holding one hand against her chest, feeling her heart beating quite fast from stress.

The door suddenly opened, making her jump since she was distracted, her hand lowering to her side as a smile appeared on her face. Cedric kept the door open so she could come in, Rachel spend a few seconds looking at him, his blond hair looked messy as if he had just come out of the shower, his piercing green eyes staring at her as if they could stare into her soul.

Rachel had always thought she wasn’t as interesting, brown hair and brown eyes, pretty short… Nothing special, Cedric didn’t agree, he thought she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen.

“Hi, I brought something…”Rachel chuckled nervously, holding the wine bottle a little higher so he could see it, Cedric smiled in response, that smile that would always get her heart racing.

“Come in, sorry for taking so long to answer I was in the shower.” He held the door open so she could come in, Rachel did, their last fight had been only a few days ago but she could see the entire place had been redecorated, he was trying his hardest to make it up to her, make his house more comfortable.

“I should open that, I ordered pizza, hope you don’t mind.”Rachel smiled, thinking that was just usual Cedric stuff, he wasn’t a good cook, she didn’t mind though, other good things about him made his inability to do daily chores not even a small problem.

The night went out perfectly, they ate pizza, drank wine, and just talked about life, it was clear that the strategy worked, by the end of it they could even remember why they fought days before.

After dinner, they sat together on the couch and decided to watch a movie, it didn’t take too long to decide on what they should see. both were horror movie fans, both loved those types of movies more than anything. After a short discussion about whether they should watch a slasher movie or a haunting movie, they decided to go for the haunting, Cedric’s favorite, though Rachel loved those as well.

After so many years of being a horror movie fan, Rachel was used to jumpscares or tense, slow suspense, she never got scared. That day, though, it was different. After the first jumpscare, her heart simply did not slow down, her hand went to her chest, to feel the beats, Cedric didn’t seem to notice at first, but after the second jumpscare, Rachel got worried, letting out a soft scream from the scare.

Cedric laughed at first, thinking she was just startled because of the jumpscare, turning to look at Rachel. “Wait, after all these years of dating you’re telling me you’re scared of this trashy movie?”Cedric moved a little closer on the couch, noticing Rachel wasn’t laughing, he got worried. “Is there anything wrong? You’re pale, more than normal.” “Something’s wrong.” Rachel was terrified, feeling her heart thumping in a crazy fast rhythm against her hand. “Can you check my pulse? There’s something wrong…”

That wasn’t a big surprise for Cedric, he knew Rachel was a bit of a hypochondriac, it wouldn’t be the first time she thought she was having a heart attack. He loved her more than anything though, and would never do or say anything that could invalidate her feelings or fears.

Cedric just got closer to the girl on the couch, holding her wrist and feeling for a pulse. He noticed her heart was beating so fast no wonder she was worried, it was beating so quickly that it was quite hard to tell the BPM.

“I want to feel your heartbeat, just to be sure…”Rachel nodded when she heard those words, she let her hand rest on the couch.

Even before touching her chest, Cedric could tell how fast her heart was beating by how visible it was, moving the fabric of the dress she was wearing. He gently placed one hand on her chest, being surprised by how strong his heart was. It was Cedric’s first time paying attention to how powerful a human heart could be.

“Do you have any idea of what could be happening?”He looked at her, clearly worried, that woman was everything for him, of course, it was making him nervous as well, Rachel just shook her head though. “We should go to the hospital… But first, I’m just going to take a listen, okay?”

The woman nodded, Cedric lowered his head and let his ear rest on her chest, the beats were so strong it felt like little punches against his head, the sound that filled his ears was fascinating. Even though her heart was racing, he could still hear the perfect cycle of the human heartbeat, and it made him very, very curious.

“Wow, I’ve never heard anyone’s heartbeat before…”Cedric was distracted, so much Rachel let out a weak laugh. “I know, I know, let’s go to the hospital first…”Rachel rolled her eyes, though she thought his interest was adorable.

Cedric nodded and helped her into the car, the drive wasn’t so long, so they got to the hospital pretty fast. Rachel’s case was treated as an emergency because of how high her heart rate was, and all Cedric could do was watch as they hooked her up to the machines and performed testing.

A few days later, Cedric and Rachel were doing what they always did, watch a horror movie on the couch, it made him remember what had happened a few nights before, he giggled, looking at Rachel.

“Who would’ve thought your hypochondria would give you a panic attack so severe to make you think you were having a heart attack.” Rachel laughed back, she had been so scared that night, but now it was just a… Funny story. “I know, I know… I’ll try to worry less from now on- Wait, what are you doing?” Rachel asked as Cedric climbed on top of her, his ear against her chest, an adorable smile on his face.

“Shh, I’m trying to listen to your heart.”He said before closing his eyes, the combination of that beautiful smile and the physical touch was enough to make her heart start racing inside her chest. which made Cedric let out a laugh. “Good to know this is how I affect you.”

[hermits-that-craft]

Homebound - Deya’s childinnit au

This oneshot is for the amazing @deyageka ‘s hotel arc childinnit au! Go check it out, please! This is long, 8 page or 2,641 words, long, please note!

Sam walked home that day, humming to himself. Really, he wasn’t going home per say - just to the small house that Puffy, Foolish and himself had built after they found Tommy. Sam was calm as he could be, he walked instead of using his trident in an attempt to calm himself down after how long the day was. Dream has pulled at his strings early in the morning, and Ranboo sent him on a wild goose chase the second he left the prison. 

Sam hoped that Ranboo’s alright, his message didn’t sound right, even in chat. Why would Ranboo need a totem?

Sam walked into the house, and felt mounting dread as lights didn’t turn on. They should have already been on, the only reason why they would be off is if Puffy had taken Tommy out, but she had sent him a message asking him to come home as soon as possible. They weren’t in danger, she had said, Tommy had just wanted him back.

“I’m back!” Sam called. He smiled as he hoped that the pair were just napping as he shut the door.

False hope can only last so long.

“Puffy!” He screamed, looking at the woman as she lied on the floor. Blood ran down her face, unconscious. Almost like she was dead.

Sam doesn’t remember much of what happened next. Of course, he knows what happened. 

Dream escaped, stealing Tommy. At least, thats the basics. He knows Ranboo was there, he knows that Ranboo was - is - possessed. He knows that Tommy woke up as he was teleported away. He knows that some of the toys that Tommy had were taken.

He knows that Puffy hasn’t woken up yet, even though it’s been three days.

Phil and Techno came around, Techno helping Sam track down Dream and the boys. Tubbo moved Micheal into Sam’s base, hoping that it would be safer. Quackity, Karl, Sapnap and George also joined the search party. The groups split up, scouring the land. Tubbo joins, looking through places he knows Ranboo frequents.

Sam has been banned from searching after Phil found him, half dead, in the snow. 

Ponk helps him heal, but it isn’t enough. Sam can’t - won’t, he’s too much of a coward - voice why he won’t rest. It’s his fault that Tommy’s gone. It’s his fault that Dream got out. He is - was - Tommy’s father, and his was - is - the warden. He failed his jobs. He let not only Tommy, but the entire server down by letting Dream out.

Dream was right, Sam can’t protect anyone, let alone Tommy.  This is his fault.

“Hey, Sam.” Ponk says softly, carrying in some warm soup. “You up to eat now? I’ll eat some too, it can be a real date.”

There’s kindness in Ponk’s eyes, love and sympathy and caring in the brown eyes. Sam doesn’t deserve it. Sam’s hurt too many people, Ponk shouldn’t-

“You’re thinking too hard.” Ponk smiles, handing Sam the soup. “Stop blaming yourself for Tommy’s kidnapping. You couldn’t have known.”

“He’s gone because my prison failed.” Sam whispers. “I failed everyone. I was supposed to be the warden, I was supposed to protect-”

Sam breaks, sobbing. He can’t keep being strong, he can’t keep up this facade. It’s dragging him down, pulling him under the water. Vines wrap around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. The void would be a kinder death, he’s falling apart and-

And Ponk wraps his arms around Sam, letting the creeper hybrid sob into his arms. He holds Sam together, as the world falls apart.

----

“Tommy, settle down.” Dream rolls his eye, not that Tommy can see under his mask. The child is still annoying, but he follows orders easily.

“I want Papa.” Tommy protests, clinging to the Sam Nook toy that Ranboo had stolen for him when Dream took him. “Where’s my Papa.”

“I’m right here.” Dream says, cooing at the child.

“No you’re not.” Tommy glares, tears forming in his tiny eyes. “I want my Papa and Big Q and Karl and Foo’ish and Mama Puff and Sap and George!”

George.

“Do you like George?” Dream asks quietly, shock filling his chest. He could have George back, his best friend.

“Yeah! He reads to me and is safe.” Tommy smiles, tapping the Sam Nook toy around. “Makes me sleepy, though.”

“How would you feel if I asked George to come around?” Dream offers, taking out his communicator.

“Will he?” Tommy looks up, happily. 

“I’m sure he’d love to.” Dream says, and Tommy cheers, throwing Sam Nook to the side as he gives Dream a hug. “But now you need to go to bed.”

Tommy whines, but doesn’t struggle as Dream picks him up. The small child - only two or three years old at most - yawns, snuggling in to sleep as Dream places him in the bed. Dream smiles from under his mask, shutting the door slightly as he leaves. Dream walks down the stairs, watching through the door as Ranboo tidies up the living room. 

Dream whispers to Georgenotfound: Would you like to come around, I haven’t seen you since I left prison. Dream whispers to Georgenotfound: You can bring Sapnap as well, I guess. But I’d like to catch up with you - and tommy’s missing you i guess :/ Georgenotfound whispers to Dream: What are your co’ords? I’ll come now. We can bring Sapnap once he’s calmed down.

Dream smiles, sending through the coordinates without a second thought. Of course George would agree to come around. George is his best friend, he’s Dreams other half. George - and Puffy, a traitorous part of his brain whispers - would do anything for him.

Ranboo stops cleaning for a moment, looking up the stairs. Dream frowns, following his line of sight. No one is there, but he notices the small sobs that emit from the higher floor. Tommy. The child must be crying, maybe a nightmare. He’s too young to remember L’Manburg, the disks or the wars. He only remembers some people, after all.

Sam is one of them. Tubbo was not. A child's mind is a strange place.

Dream walks up the stairs, pausing outside Tommy’s room. He knocks before he enters, warning the boy. Dream turns on the light, not knowing what to expect. 

Tommy sits up in his bed, his eyes screwed shut as he sobs. Tommy hugs Sam Nook close, but no words fall from his lips. Dream sighs, scooping the boy up and gently rocking him. Tommy blinks his eyes open before he screws them shut, crying again. Dream frowns, sinking to the ground as he tries to settle the boy.

“Please stop crying.” Dream mumbles, rocking Tommy. He’s so small, so fragile. Dream can feel every shake of Tommy’s tine body as the child cries himself back to sleep. 

Dream sets the boy back into bed, tucking him in gently. He’ll wait with the boy until Ranboo is done, and then he’ll go to greet George.

----

“Dream sent me a message.” George says, casually leaning against the doorframe. “I have his coordinates.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Eret gasps, covering their mouth. Bad and Phil stand up, looking over George with carefully concealed confusion. “How long ago did you receive the message?”

“About fifteen minutes?” George frowns, checking the time. “Yeah, around fifteen minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t tell us until now?” Techno glares, an axe summoned into his hand.

“I couldn’t find you until now. Are you guys coming or what?”

“Have you told anyone else?” Phil asks, pulling his wings out of his cloak.

“Quackity, Karl and Sapnap are halfway there.” George says, walking towards the coordinates.

“Sam?”

“Doesn’t need the stress.” George says. “He’s too sick.”

“What’s the plan?” Bad asks quietly.

“Karl, Sapnap and Quackity stake the house out from a distance. I go in, distract Dream and Ranboo, and then grab Tommy and run.” George says.

“Where do we come in?” Techno asks.

“I dunno, we didn’t think that far ahead.” George shrugs. “Work it out when we get there.”

And with that, they walk.

----

Dream stands in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil as he waits for George to arrive. He’s boiled the kettle twice so far, waiting for his friend, but he doesn’t want the water to go cold before George can have some tea.

A knock sounds at the door, and Dream cautiously walks over, opening it. White clout glasses and brown hair appears, and Dream relaxes, opening his arms for a hug. George hesitates for a split second before he sinks into the hug. Dream doesn’t - wont - think about it. The hesitation.

“Hey.” Dream breaths, and George smiles. 

“Hey yourself. How are you?”

“Good. I’m a father now.” Dream smirks, and George pulls out from the hug. “Do you want some tea?”

“The gosip type or the good type?” George jokes, and Dream steps aside, showing George the kitchen bench, where two cups are laid.

“Guess.”

----

“Why did George hug him?” Techno whispers to Eret.

“They’re best friends, he’s keeping up the persona.” Eret replies. “Letting Dream’s guard down.”

“Will it work?”

“Well, we won’t know unless George either gets Tommy.” 

“Or he starts screaming.” Phil says darkly, his wings fluttering nervously behind him.

“Dream wouldn’t-” Bad shakes his head. “No, this Dream isn’t the same one who played with Sapnap as a kid. Dream would hurt George, wouldn’t he?”

----

“Is Tommy sleeping alright?” George asks, trying to sound casual. “Sam used to complain that he’d only ever sleep peacefully if I was there.”

It’s a lie, but George and Sam had both noticed that Tommy would sleep easily in George’s arms. Nightmares would still happen, but Tommy would calm down faster.

“He’s been having so many nightmares.” Dream admits. “He also cries a lot, even during the day. I think he needs you around. Familiar faces and all that.”

“What about Ranboo?” George asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Ranboo hasn’t been Ranboo since I escaped.” George can hear the self centered smirk in his voice, the proud lilt of admitting that he’s controlling the teen. “I think Tommy can tell that. It doesn’t seem to bother him all that much, he’s seen my face and isn’t scared.”

George’s stomach drops at that, fear lacing his insides. There’s a reason Dream wears the mask. He doesn’t look safe to be around, he looks like if the void had a neon green eye and a glowing, neon green hole gaping where his mouth and nose should be. But George knows better than to mention that, only raising his eyebrows with surprise.

“I would have thought that would make him cry.” George jokes, lightly elbowing Dream. “Is he sleeping?”

“I hope so, do you want to check?” Dream cocks his head to the side, not too unlike a puppy. George nods, and let’s Dream walk him up the stairs. 

Now’s his chance.

---

Sapnap nervously paces, the treeline hiding him from Dream’s watchful gaze. He’s far enough away to see everything, but not be able to hear anything. It’s safer this way, watching from a distance. Karl and Quackity won’t get hurt if he’s caught, this way. He doesn’t trust the silence, and from the nervous looks on his fiancees’ faces, they don’t like not being able to hear either.

An ear piercing scream tears the silence in half as Karl makes eye contact with Sapnap.

“GEORGE!” Sapnap screams, running towards the house. Snow melts under his feet, he can’t contain his anger. “George!”

Sapnap slams open the door to the house, his hand melting the door handle. George lays on the ground, his glasses under Dream’s foot. Blood. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. George is curled around Tommy, who wails at the top of his lungs. George isn’t moving. Why isn’t George moving? Why isn’t he struggling.

Duck.

Ranboo’s punch misses.

Sweep your opponents leg out from under them.

Ranboo falls to the ground, his head cracking painfully.

Keep your eyes on the room.

Blood pools under Ranboo’s head. Dream laughs.

Don’t let your guard down.

“Did you really think that George could take Tommy from me?”

Don’t let your opponent see any fear.

“I trusted you both. You’re my friends. I can’t believe you would betray me like this.”

Focus on the fight.

“I thought you cared about me, all I wanted was for us to be a family again.”

Dream stands on George, and Sapnap can hear the pained weaze that George breaths out. He’s still alive.

“Eyes on me, Snapnap.” Dream taunts, and Sapnap’s eyes jump back to his once-best friend. “You’ve got to work on that.”

Don’t make the first move.

“Not going to talk to me?”

Go on the defensive.

“That’s rude.”

Duck.

“Let’s dance.”

Duck. Sidestep. Block. Jab. Punch. Duck. Owch, was that his eye? Duck again, keep focusing. Get to the door. Duck. Open the door. Punch. Step outside. Block. Run backwards. Duck. Throw a punch

Sapnap is thrown through the air, landing with a scream on the ground. Snow melts around him, and he lets out a gasp of pain. There’s blood underneath him, staining the snow red. It’s pretty, almost.

Sapnap can see Phil and Techno fight Dream, out of the corners of his eyes. Eret and Bad run into the house, carrying out Ranboo, Tommy and George. They’re safe. Everyone is safe now. Sapnap did good.

“Stay awake Sap.” Karl says, and Sapnap forces his eyes open - when did they close - to see his fiancee’s. Quackity cradles his head in his lap, and Karl fumbles with his pockets. “Keep your eyes open, yeah, that’s good. Keep it up.”

Sapnap groans as Karl pours a healing potion directly onto his torso. It wont help much, there’s something in his back, but he can’t speak. It hurts too much.

“Open your eyes.” Quackity says, and Sapnap feels warm fingers on his cheek. “Open your eyes. BAD! BAD SAPNAP’S-”

----

Sam watches out the window of his room as birds flit around tree branches. Ponk had left the room half an hour ago, just after he served breakfast. Ponk hadn’t said much, simply kissing Sam’s forehead and telling him to relax.

Sam can’t relax. He shouldn’t be allowed to, pneumonia or not. Not while Puffy suffers, while Tommy suffers. 

“Hey Dad.” Quackity’s voice doesn’t surprise Sam, who sees his son every morning.

“Hey duckling.” Sam smiles. “How are you this morning?”

“Good. Sapnap and George are in a bad shape though. Bad kicked me out of their rooms.” Quackity laughs wetly, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sam says, opening his arms out for Quackity. The man smiles, but shakes his head, wiping away tears. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Quackity says, and apparently thats a cue for something, because Jack opens the door to his room.

Niki wheels Puffy into the room, the woman sitting on a wheelchair, her hair falling down over her shoulders. She’s still got a bandage on her head, but there is colour in her cheeks and a knowing smile on her face.

“Puffy.” Sam gasps, happy to see his friend better, if not up and running. Sam tries to stand, to give Puffy a hug, but Quackity just pushes him back into his bed.

“If you’re that happy to see me, you’ll need someone to hold you back with who Foolish has.” Puffy jokes, though her voice is hoarse.

Foolish walks into the room, gently holding a wiggling Tommy. Sam gasps, and true to Puffy’s prediction, it takes Quackity and Jack to stop Sam from getting out of his hospital bed. Foolish passes Tommy to Sam, and the man holds onto Tommy gently, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s here. He’s safe, finally.

“How-”

“We’ll explain later.” Quackity says. “Just relax for now. Everyone is safe.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 06

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: The dinner is coming up and there’s a little flangst. Also, they are still two stubborn idiots.

WC: 3779

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

It feels like she’s been sitting down for ages and she’s worried about Bobby and Liv. Sure enough, Sam sensed her worries and texted her that they are both being taken care of. So at least there’s that. 

Pamela made her slip into the sequin dress after her shower and the woman put some makeup on her face.

“Not too much, okay?” Y/N says, just making sure because she still wants to be herself after all.

The brown haired woman chuckles, “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll just turn up the volume a little, you’re fine the way you are. You have a cute face, don’t want to hide that below too much make up anyway,”

With careful strokes, Pamela shows her how she can apply it herself for her next outings and yeah, Y/N can’t say that she doesn’t like that. Because it seems hideous to always have a stylist at hand, no? She didn’t sign up for this crap.

When Pamela is done, she leaves with a contented smile on her face and Y/N walks over to the floor lengths mirror that’s attached to her closet to catch her own reflection. She wears heels, has to still get used to it because they are way higher than the ones she wears for work. Apparently being fake engaged to Dean Winchester comes with a sacrifice of her feet. 

Her eyes trail up her body from her shoes to her face and it’s weird because she thought that she’d probably not be able to recognize the women who will be staring back at her, but she does. Pamela was true to her word, she just really turned up the volume to Y/N’s boring self. 

Okay, now is the time to present herself, she guesses. Sam had said that they’re waiting in the study. She’s yet to find out where it is, though. 

Sticking her tongue out at her own reflection, she starts to chuckle. She’s living the life she never thought she’d get to experience and god, she hopes she won’t lose herself in it.

With a last look around her new room, she makes her way to Dean’s study.

  Dean makes his way into his study after having rushed home after the meeting to take a shower. He had been sweating bullets since this morning and it was refreshing to say the least. It would have been better if his dick wasn’t half hard when he thought about Y/N. He didn’t rub himself off, didn’t let himself go there and jerk off to the image of a girl he paid to pretend to be his fake fiancée. He was afraid that it would uncover things he didn’t need in his life right now. 

So, when he pushes the door to his study open, his dick is still semi but Dean thinks it’ll go away soon. Especially when he thinks about the dinner with his dad because that meeting is what nightmares are made of.

Sam’s already waiting on the couch, nursing a drink. He probably had a rough day as well and Dean can’t blame him. He walks over to his mini bar, pours himself two fingers of whisky and sits down with a grunt across from Sam.

“Go on,” Dean says, “I know you have a lot to say,”

The other man just chuckles, “She’s cute and pretty, you didn’t mention that,”

“Is she?” Dean cocks an eyebrow and takes a sip from his drink, “You’re right, I didn’t.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Sam,” Dean snorts out the man’s name, “I don’t even know her. She was in the right place at the right time,”

“You were never a good liar. I could always see through you.”

Dean frowns, “What do you mean?”

The other man chuckles as he takes a sip and lets the liquid travel down his throat, “You could have chosen anyone for that. The execs in your meetings, the ones working just below you, yet, you picked her.”

“Are you trying to go anywhere with this?” Dean asks with clear irritation in his voice. 

“Wait for it,” Sam says before he takes another gulp of the brown liquid in his glass and Dean rolls his eyes. Sam grins before he goes on, “All our lives, you have never picked a girl, Dean. Mostly they offer themselves to you, even back at school, do you remember?”

Oh, yeah, he does remember. Sam’s not wrong, but still.

“They offer and present themselves to you or your father picks them for you to bring along to social events and most of the time, you’re a one date kinda guy. You never ever picked one on your own.”

“You say it like women are something you find in a field,”

“Am I wrong?” Sam raises an eyebrow to match Dean’s, “Fact is, you picked out Y/N, even though you could have waited. You could have talked things through with me, wait until Carmen gets back and we could have come up with a plan. You know that she isn’t in for you either, she’s signed a contract and was willing to sign that prenup.”

“I didn’t want to wait for Carmen to come back to me,” Dean’s voice is stern. He really didn’t, he didn’t want people to think he let it slide when she’s been cheating on him. How will it make him look? He’s not a fucking idiot.

“I’m just saying that you’re being hot headed doesn’t help us at all. And the fact is still there that you’ve picked her and that means something in my book,”

“What stupid books are you reading?”

Sam chuckles and ignores Dean’s remark, “Carmen boarded the next plane back, by the way,”

Dean takes a sip from his drink, thinks about Sam’s words, “You can tell her that she doesn’t need to show up. I’m not taking her back when I have Y/N,”

The other man’s grinning from ear to ear and Dean rolls his eyes a second time, “And no, I don’t really like her. I barely know her. I just find her interesting, is all. She’s different to all the women I’ve ever met.”

There’s a laugh coming out of Sam and Dean scoffs annoyingly. 

Just when Dean wants to open his mouth to tell Sam to shut the fuck up, there’s a knock at the door. 

They both turn their heads to see Y/N open the door to his study. Dean feels a rush of blood to his head. How long has she been standing outside? How much did she hear? But before he can think about being more embarrassed, another punch knocks him out when he sees her walking in with her beautiful dress. 

“Sorry,” She says, “Am I interrupting?”

Dean has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak, “No, you didn’t. Come in,”

She nods and walks further into the room. She looks absolutely stunning, a really stark contrast to the look when he met her. It’s not that she was ugly before, she wasn’t — isn’t. He can see that she only wears minimal makeup.

“How do I look?” She asks with a smile as she twists around in her dress and somehow Dean wishes that Sam wasn’t here to see her like this.

“You do clean up nicely,” It slips out of Dean. 

Clean up nicely? What the fuck did he just say? Who says that?

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Sam chimes in to probably play off the stupidity that Dean just let slip out of his mouth and Dean sends him a grim look. 

But it doesn’t stop there because Sam ignores Dean’s look to wink at her. He’s a little irritated by it, to say the least. 

“So, Y/N,” Sam says, “Do you care to tell me how you two met?”

“Sam, aren’t you late for your appointment?” Dean interrupts.

Sam looks at him puzzled and it takes another two seconds until he catches on, “Oh, yeah. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you because you’re a delight,”

The tall man stands up and takes Y/N’s hand, places a kiss on the back of it before he leaves and Dean tries his best not to let the feeling of jealousy hit him. He doesn’t know why he should feel jealous anyway. There’s nothing to be jealous about. It’s a business deal. He should be used to it, right? Right.

“My father will arrive in thirty minutes,” Dean says drily, his throat restricting the longer she looks at him. 

“Is there anything I need to know before you feed me to him?”

Dean lets out a small snort, “I’m not feeding you to him. I’m there too and can help out. When I think of it, maybe it’ll be good if we could establish the story of how we met.”

“Oh, I know!” Y/N shrieks out and gets all excited. Dean thinks it’s really cute. “How about I got into the elevators so quick which made you spill the coffee you’re holding over your shoes and pants? Like, the story is really partially true and it would be less hard for me to make it sound trustworthy,”

“Go on,” Dean nods his head, and empties his glass before he sets it down on the table before him. 

Her long legs and the away she sits doesn’t help his state of mind. The dress has ridden up on the couch and Dean tries to look anywhere other than at that exposed flesh that he’d like to sink his teeth into.

“I was afraid that you’d be mad at me so I offered to buy you a coffee to make up for it, but you didn’t want that because you were late to a meeting. But I was persistent and waited in front of the door and asked you so many times if you wanted a coffee and to please let me make up for ruining your suit. And somehow you agreed, maybe just to shut me up. We went on a coffee date every day until we fell in love.”

After her story, she smiled satisfactorily. The smile of a winner if he ever did see one. One he shows too often after a done deal. 

“I don’t really have time for coffee dates,” Dean adds his two cents, knowing that it doesn’t sound quite nice but he just can’t help himself. That’s the way he is. The way people expect him to be.

There’s a little pout on her lips, and Dean’s not prepared for that because it looks too cute, “I mean do you have a better idea?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “I like it, I never said I didn’t,”

“Good, but I’ll let you come up with your proposal story, okay? I feel like I can’t pick my brain anymore than I already have. It has been a long day.”

“Right,” He stands up and pats his thighs, buttons up his suit jacket too because he thinks it hides his more than semi hard dick pretty well, “Wait here, I’ll be right back,”

  Dean leaves the door open and Y/N can hear his heels clicking on the stone flooring until the sound is out of earshot. She wonders what he’s up to, feels a little nervous about it.

While Dean’s gone, she gets up from the couch and looks around the room. The study is spacious, like every room in this ridiculously big penthouse, she guesses. There’s a desk at the far wall, a bookshelf graces the other wall. It’s full of books. She wonders if Dean really reads. It doesn’t seem like he has the time to do so. She wonders if he relaxes at all because he seems so tense all the time. Maybe he only tenses up when he’s around her, at least she can’t help to feel this way.

There’s the group of sofas where she was sitting on but right by the floor to ceiling window is another sofa that looks out over the city. She wonders why that is because the sofa seems a bit out of place. 

Standing by the window, she’s looking out over the city, the people and cars seem so small from up here. She doesn’t dare to touch the glass though in fear that she’d leave handprints all over it. Dean probably won’t be happy about that.

She’s lost in thought, wondering over and over again if she had made the right choice. It was a spur of the moment thing. She does a lot of those, like the time she hooked up with Jimmy for the first time. They were at a frat party and she knew him from her communications class. She let him drive her home, even though he was definitely not fit enough to drive but her head was spinning and she might have had a couple of drags of a joint too many. They didn’t even make it into her apartment, fucked right in the backseat, not worrying about contraception. 

By the time she knew she was pregnant, it was too late to abort, and honestly, she wouldn’t know if she would have. It’s not the baby’s fault. She and Jimmy tried to make it work, even though he was always suspicious if the baby was really his. Jimmy’s parents were loaded and he had a bigger apartment close to campus, funded by his parents. She moved in there because his parents wanted it that way, not because he did. While Jimmy was still enrolled and finished his degree, she dropped out to care for their baby. He eventually graduated but stayed in college to pursue his Master's degree. 

When Liv was four, Y/N wanted to try her chance at the job market as well, but Jimmy was against it. His parents were too, apparently, because they said that she wouldn’t be able to give their grandchild a good future and they wouldn’t stand to have their name dragged into this. She fought tooth and nail to keep Liv and changed the child's name back to her own. And after a long fight, they eventually agreed that she would take Liv, and Jimmy was not to pay a single dime. 

Getting out of the abusive and loveless relationship was probably the best decision of her life up until that point. Jimmy drank a lot and was overall not happy. He would lash out at her and she didn’t know why she stayed. Maybe there was a shred of hope that she desperately tried to cling on to. 

So, when she moved out, she stayed with Bobby for a while until she found the job in Dean’s company, and then it went pretty quick. She and Olivia moved into their own apartment.

A year later, she heard the news that Jimmy’s parents went bankrupt and Jimmy was trying to hold himself above water after he developed a drinking problem. Apparently, Karma’s right there helping her. 

She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Dean returning, only realizes it when a figure is standing behind her. Startled, she jumps a little as she turns around. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He mumbles as he steps closer to the window to stand next to her and they look out of the window together. It’s romantic, she thinks, with the backdrop of the city, especially at night.

Looking over to Dean again, she notices him holding a velvet box in his hand and smirks, “Is that a ring, loverboy?” 

Dean sends her a look accompanied by a little frown. Something that says, I have heard it but I won’t say anything because it’s stupid. Well, he might not be wrong.

“Sorry,” She breathes out, “I told you I tend to babble when I’m nervous,”

He sighs and lifts his eyebrow before he opens up the box and it is as if the air has been punched out of her lungs. 

“Wow,”

The ring is absolutely beautiful.

Dean smirks and clears his throat before he speaks, “It used to be my mother’s,”

It wasn’t like all the engagement rings Y/N’s seen that the rich and famous women are wearing nowadays. This one is modest, might even be boring and too normal compared to those. The ring has a bigger round diamond in the middle, with two smaller accompanying stones on its side. It’s a gold color ring too, not white gold like they usually are. It looks special and it looks like it has more sentimental value around it than monetary value. Maybe that’s also why she thinks it’s so precious.

“Dean, I can’t possibly wear this ring,” She says, but his hand already goes to her left one, grabbing it and holding it up to slip the ring on her finger.

He pauses to look at the ring, smiles as he sees how it fits. How did it fit anyway? How is that even possible? 

“I was right with the measurement,” Dean chuckles and she thinks that he wants to turn away, but he’s still standing here holding her hand, “I want you to wear it whenever you’re with me, okay?”

She can not do anything else but nod.

“I proposed to you on this rooftop, overlooking the city,” He says and it takes her a while to realize that he’s talking about his proposal story that he’s suggesting.

“Right,” She bites her lips and looks down to the ring briefly before she looks up to meet his eyes again. They are glistening a little, and there’s a hint of a smirk on his face. Right here by the window, his freckles are prominent on his face. 

Y/N’s distracted, feels the urge to count them.

“We were alone and we just had a meal. It was a warm summer night and we took our desserts on the terrace,”

She can picture it clearly and her heart starts to beat faster. 

“I didn’t prepare a speech,” Dean clears his throat, and adds, “And the things I said weren’t particularly romantic,”

“It didn’t matter, because I know that you feel more comfortable showing your actions rather than using your words,” She chimes in, “There’s no romance needed, no sappy words, because you already show me enough how much you love me,”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes after she said it. Somehow she thinks it’s fondness, but then something changes and he avoids her eyes. Instead, he looks down to the hand that’s still holding hers. His cheeks are tinted pink. It’s totally cute how embarrassed he gets. 

“So,” Dean swallows, “The contract says that we don’t touch each other more than necessary, especially not in private. But since my dad will be here, we will probably need to keep up the illusion, don’t you think?”

“Dean, the only one who seems to be uneasy and flinches at my touches is you,”

The pink in his cheeks rises up to his ears, “Yeah, I’ll try to change, okay?”

“I want you to feel comfortable. And please know that you touching me doesn’t bother me. I’m not disgusted or disturbed by it, okay?”

He nods, “I’m not—” He starts, but stops to exhale, and then he tries again, “I’m not disgusted by your touches, I just need to relax, I guess,”

“What would help you relax?” She asks and she means it. Maybe she can help. 

“It would help if I knew that I didn’t pay you,” He chuckles drily, “Dad will be here soon so let’s get this over with,” He pulls her along to the door and her grip tightens around his hand. 

She’s so fucking nervous.

“What if he hates me?” She whispers just before they reach the door and Dean turns around, places a hand where her shoulder meets her neck.

“My father wouldn’t like you even if it was real. He has high standards,”

“That’s fucking reassuring, thanks,” 

Dean chuckles, “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, okay?” He rubs along her arm with his other hand, “Can you pretend to love me for a while, Y/N?” 

“It depends,” She says with a shrug and his eyes widen. She smirks then to ease the situation because he obviously doesn’t get the joke. “Can you pretend that I’m the only thing that keeps you going? Pretend that I’m your first thought when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep, Dean? It’s more challenging for you with the array of women you’ve dated,”

He smiles crookedly, and there’s that glint in his eyes again, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not worried about my end of the bargain,”

Her face feels hot all of a sudden but she frowns after she catches herself, “Of course you’re not because you have nothing to lose,”

The frown on Dean’s face matches hers from before, “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah well, if I screw this up, I will lose my job and a steady income but you?” She pokes at his chest with her index finger, “You, Mister, will probably get a lecture from your dad, but you’ll be back to dating super rich women and beautiful models, and you can go on with your life as if nothing happened.”

Dean chuckles and he looks kind of amused? Which is not fair at all when she’s all worked up.

He pushes both his hands into his pants pockets, balances back and forth on his heels before he leans down to be on her level, brings down the air with him and she can smell his cologne. It’s intoxicating. 

“Tell you what,” Dean smirks, “If this blows up because of me, if they should see through me or if anyone should question my feelings for you, I’ll buy you an apartment and I’ll help you secure a job. I have connections. Somewhere where no one knows that you were being engaged to me. But,” He darts his tongue out, licks over his lips and she bites down on her own because she knows exactly how they feel, “If you make a mistake and it blows up because of you, sweetheart,” He makes a pause and stands back straight.

“I have nothing you’d want,” She shakes her head.

“There’s something,” He shrugs and he says it so easily too. She can’t help but frown in confusion.

“What?”

“If it blows up because of you, Y/N. If you fail to convince the world how much you love me,” He grins, and the grin grows cocky, “You’ll marry me,”

Ch. 07

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[kayecorral]

Freight Car

Chapter One of the Brown Book Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD (!), swearing

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Summary: Nine years ago, The Winter Soldier murdered your friend in front of you. Nine years later, Bucky Barnes shows up at your door with the hope of making amends.

⭑⭑⭑

⭑⭑

⭑

You wake up on the floor again.

In the crossfade between dreaming to waking, the hardwood is concrete against your cheek. The sweat in your hair is the slick of blood. You fade in and out, and awareness comes back slowly. A siren descends, moving closer and closer, then recedes into the quiet. You don’t know if you imagined it.

You do know that your alarm isn’t blaring. Your ringtone isn’t sounding. The birds chattering and chirping at your window are real. The steady knocking of your heart against your ribs is real. Maybe that’s enough.

You open your eyes. A sliver of light from the parted curtains cuts across the floor. Above it, dust dances in the still air. All is calm. If you had woken up in your bed, this would be a good morning.  

But you didn’t wake up in your bed. So, you peel yourself off the floor and half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom. As you cross the threshold and flick on the light, a face flashes before you. Before your mind can work to discern its features, you slam the door shut and flip the switch. You cry in the dark.

⭑⭑⭑

You call into work again.

You’re tempted to stay where you are—curled in on yourself under the covers—but Dr. Kaplan’s gentle voice prods from inside your skull.  “Trauma changes over time,” it says. “You have to face it as it comes. You’ll feel worse if you put off dealing with it.”

She picks up on the second ring. Judging by the sound of clinking silverware, she’s on her lunch break. You promise to keep this impromptu session short.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time. That’s why it hit me so hard, I think.” You begin. Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t know why. The nightmare is so distant now — just bits of feeling. Your brain is scrubbing away the memory like a mounted defense.

You’re quiet for what feels like minutes, and Dr. Kaplan just waits. She doesn’t pose a question or make a suggestion: in other words, she doesn’t offer an out. She never does. At first, her silence and seemingly unending patience unnerved you. You would later understand the value of having the space to organize your thoughts before speaking them.  

“I thought I was doing better,” you eventually say. “But now, it’s like I’m back where I started.”

“You are not back where you started,” she says. “We haven’t talked about your night terrors in months when we used to talk about them every session. That’s incredible progress. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

You hold the phone away so she can’t hear the tears in your voice. “But what does it mean? ”

“Well,” she pauses. “Have you been thinking about Jean lately?”

“Kind of,” you start to say, then remember Dr. Kaplan’s rule about specifics. “I’ve probably thought about her… twice in the past week. Marie, she, uh, she sent me a Facebook request.”

“Did you accept it?” She asks, with just a hint of amusement.

“I haven’t. I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?” Dr. Kaplan asks. She knows the answer, of course. You haven’t spoken to Marie since the funeral nearly a decade ago. You know she resents you. You saw it in the tightness of her smiles and the way her eyes turned to stone as you stood before Jean’s casket. You’re alive and her sister isn’t. You understand that. What you don’t understand is why she would reach out to you after so many years.

“I’m afraid of what she’ll say,” you admit.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dr. Kaplan says. You shift on the couch. “She knows that. Maybe she’s been thinking about Jean, too.”

“Yeah,” you respond simply. Your head is light from dehydration, and you should probably take a nap at some point.

“I’d recommend you take easy today…”

“But?”

“But next week, I’d like to hear about your Facebook convo.”

You smile. The tears have dried on your face.

⭑⭑⭑

Snippets of dialogue filter through your thoughts. A woman is talking about a missing child, and a detective is asking the “who, what, where”s. It’s an episode you’ve already seen, but it makes for good background noise: the dramatic stings, the fast-talking, the screech of tires as the driver peels off. You don’t know why you gravitate towards crime shows. It might be a bit morbid, but until now, you’ve never thought to mention it to Dr. Kaplan.

You’re almost done with the cake batter. It’s looking a little watery, though. You really should have followed the recipe instead of improvising.

You reach for the flour bag on the counter, and just as you raise it to the mixing bowl, someone knocks at your door. You jolt and the bag slips from your hands. You narrowly dodge as it plummets to the ground. It lands with a  thump and now, your feet and pants and floor are covered in a film of white powder.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

There’s another knock, a bit louder this time.

“Give me — give me just a minute!” You call out, voice frayed.

You step over your mess and towards the door. You notice how slick your hand is on the doorknob, so you wipe your hands on your pants and try again. You forget your ritual of checking and re-checking the peephole. You unlock the door, already anxious at the idea of keeping anyone waiting.

When you finally swing the door open, a tall, dark-haired white guy is staring at the carpeted hallway floor. He’s not looking at you, but you feel exposed in your flimsy tank top and flour-splattered pajama pants.

Meanwhile, his look is carefully nondescript: a leather jacket, a dark shirt, and jeans. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks like someone who doesn’t  want to be seen, but here he is, standing at your door.

Maybe he’s just a neighbor on a reluctant mission to convince you to turn your volume down. Maybe he’s a dealer at the wrong address. Maybe he —

Your stomach drops. The shadows had been obscuring his face, but now that he’s tilting his chin up to look at you… the broadness of his forehead, the color of his hair, his height, all these things pull together. They pull tighter and tighter around your heart, and you realize that you’ve seen this man before. You’ve seen him a thousand times.

Your hand flies up to your neck. Fear hits like a punch to your gut. He looks normal — so normal that you could convince yourself that it’s not him. It’s not him.

But now, his eyes — a startling shade of blue— meet yours. Cold washes over you as every sensation in your body amplifies. You feel small and weak. Your vision starts trembling at the edges. You can’t move — not even to release your breath.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. His voice sounds so different from the one in your memories. It’s not as coarse and low, it’s gentler and higher-pitched. “I just wanna talk.”  

“Talk.” The word escapes you, but you hadn’t meant to speak. Hearing your own voice makes this real.

He clears his throat. “My name is James Barnes, and I’m no longer The Winter Soldier.”

The Winter Soldier. You suppose it doesn’t matter now what that means. If these are your last moments, you’re not going to spend them deciphering code. Instead, you think of your life and all the things you’ve done and all that you haven’t done. In the span of moments, you try to make peace with your death.

“If you’re going to kill me...” you can’t keep your voice from shaking, “do it.”

His eyes widen. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m — ”

“Hydra wants to know what I know. Is that it?” Your mind reels with the new theory.

His eyebrows tick up. “Hydra doesn’t exist anymore,” he says with a measured tone. “Not really.”

You don’t know how to respond to that divulgence. You don’t even know if you can trust it.

“I’m here because you,” he adds your name — your real name, “are part of my efforts to make amends.”

Your thoughts catch on how he knows your name. It’s a small thing, really. He knows where you live, after all. 

“I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions.” He reaches up to scratch his neck. “And if you’re not, ah...” he glances from your face to your body, as if he were just now noticing your state of dress, “comfortable talking here, we can talk somewhere public. I guess what I’m asking is: can I buy you lunch or, uh, dinner? ”

You consider, seriously, that this man may be clinically insane. You have no other rational explanation for his showing up at your door on a Thursday afternoon, let alone his proposition. But you allow yourself to imagine it: you and him, sitting across a table with Jean’s ghost between and behind you. Your stomach turns at the thought.

“You murdered my friend,” you say slowly, “right in front of me.”

He nods. A pained look crosses his face, and that expression spurs your anger. It hadn’t occurred to you earlier that you should call the police. This man is a murderer, and he’s walking free. 

“You shouldn’t even be here — you should be in a prison somewhere!” You choke out as your throat tightens with impending tears.

“I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to kill her!” He says forcefully. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I — ”

“But you did kill her!” You can’t hold them back anymore, and now, you’re crying in front of the man who killed Jean. Humiliation heats your cheeks.

“You did kill her,” you repeat quietly. You turn your watery gaze away.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He says.

In your peripheral, you watch him step closer. When you flinch, he bobs back.

You should step back, shut the door, and call the police. Not that a slab of wood could stop him if he wanted to get to you. You’ve seen his silver arm. You’ve felt the grip of its fingers at the base of your neck. But, maybe you could manage a dial ‘9-1-1’ before —

“Look, I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he interrupts your line of thought and, against your will, you look at him again, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I do want to offer you answers. Maybe it can…” He waves his hand as he searches for what he thinks are the right words. “Maybe it can give you some closure. And then, you’ll never see me again.”

You consider the furrow of his eyebrows. Over the years, you’ve tried reconstructing his face from its missing half. Now that you have the full picture, it makes perfect sense: the upper edges of the mask aligned with the cut of his cheekbones, the thin bridge really did conform to his nose, and the wideness of his jaw was merely accentuated. But his features are such a striking contrast to the severity of that mask and that metal arm. He looks so much leaner than you remember. He looks like a man, not a machine.

“Stay here,” you say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and his brow softens. You shut the door and press your forehead against it.

After a few beats, you rest your hand on the base of your neck and suck in a few deep breaths. It’s a calming technique Dr. Kaplan taught you. But without meaning to, you flex your fingers. Just as your heart was beginning to slow, you’re pulled into the memory of him raising you by the throat. You gasp for air.

That man is behind this door. That man is behind this door.

You race around the couch to snatch your phone off the coffee table. You unlock it with shaking hands and now, your thumb hovers over the number pad.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you press ‘9’.

It’s true. You do want answers. You want to know why he killed her. You want to know about Hydra and his role in it. You want to know why he left you alive.

So you’ll get your answers,  then call the cops.

You pull on some real pants and cover up with a sweatshirt. But at the door, you hesitate to step out again. If you’ve imagined that whole encounter, if it was some vivid manifestation of your survivor’s guilt, then you wouldn’t have to go.

You press your ear against the door, and, as if your doubts had broadcasted through the wood, he coughs. You sigh and grab the doorknob. Your hand isn’t sweaty this time.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, his gaze snaps to you. You meet his eyes without meaning to. There’s no recognizable emotion in them. The creases in his forehead and the furrow in his brow are gone. Now, his face gives nothing away.

“There’s a place about two blocks from here,” you say simply.

He nods and looks to you as if for direction. If he were anyone else, you would start heading for the elevator without further ado, but the thought of Jean’s killer trailing behind you makes your stomach flip.

“I’d prefer you walk ahead,” you utter. His eyebrows raise slightly, but he gives no other visible reaction.

“Alright,” he says.

He moves down the hallway, and you follow. Your eyes stay trained on his back. Aside from your occasional direction, it’s a silent walk.

⭑⭑⭑

Sully’s is a dive, but it’s always busy, and this evening is no exception. The people who frequent this place are the kind of people who get loud after a few drinks and don’t give two shits about you unless you’re bleeding out on the floor. That’s perfect. God forbid anyone overhears your questions about murder and secret organizations.

“You want anything?” He asks after you choose a corner booth and tuck in. His casual tone bothers you, but he keeps his distance, at the very least.

“No,” you deadpan.

He nods and starts for the bar. A few people graze him as he passes, and it’s so crowded that you’ve already lost sight of him.

You place your phone face-up on the sticky, varnished wood table. Absentmindedly, you nudge the pedal base with your foot. You try to hone in on any particular voice, but all you hear is a buzz of conversation. It’s a comfort. It means that you’re not alone and he can’t hurt you here.

“I know you didn’t ask for anything, but…” Fuck. Your knee knocks on the bottom of the table. His voice is so sudden at your side.

He places a water glass in front of you, and you stop yourself before you can say “thanks”. He drops into the chair in front of you, a beer bottle tucked between his gloved palms. Gloves. He’s wearing gloves. You hadn’t noticed until now.

There’s an awkward pause. He watches you intently. Your stomach is churning, but you steadily meet his gaze. You have so many questions. Some of the things he’s said don’t make sense. One thing, in particular, though, is nagging at you.

“Back there, you said you didn’t have a choice,” you say dubiously, “what did you mean?”

He takes a drag of beer and sets the bottle down carefully before he speaks. “They brainwashed me.” He replies bluntly. “Hydra, I mean.”

Brainwashing? It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Aliens exist, as do superheroes and Norse gods and Mad Titans. What was once science-fiction is now very real and devastating.

He gives you a few beats to process, then continues. “For seventy years, I operated as The Winter Soldier.”

“Wait. Seventy years?”

“I just turned 106 in March,” he says with a sardonic smile.

“How is that possible?”

“I was on ice.” He sighs. “They only took me out when they needed me.”

“And Hydra… what happened to them?”

His jaw tightens. It’s the most reaction you’ve gotten so far. “They used to have this saying: cut off one head, two more take its place… Maybe they’ll come back, but right now, they’re gone.”

“So they aren’t after me,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

“If Hydra wanted you out of the way, they wouldn’t’ve sent me.” He grimaces, even as his voice mocks a shrug.

You get it now: you’re not a threat, and you never were.

“But I was a loose end, wasn’t I? Why didn’t you kill me?”

He shakes his head and says, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he finishes off his bottle and shifts his gaze to the table.

After a minute or two, you consider moving on, but something about his expression, both vacant and pensive, implores you to wait. In the interim, you glance from the people knocking shoulders at the bar to the couple in front of you.

“It was that look on your face,” he says, and you find his gaze is fixed on you again. “It was rage. And grief. And that-that grief almost overtook everything else, but I saw it.” He leans towards you, his eyebrows knitting close. “That part of you that… that part of you that wanted me to kill you, too.”

He glances at his hand on the table and releases a shaky breath. “I understood that,” he says. “I know what it’s like.”

Like a clenched fist releasing, the tightness in your chest eases. You understand something else, now, too. This is meant to be an exchange. He wants answers as much as you do, no matter how much pain they carry.

“Do you wanna know what I saw? On your face?” You ask after a few beats. He hesitantly nods. “Nothing. There was nothing,” you say. “You didn’t even look human.  It was like you were an animal. And you were looking at me like I was prey.”

You look away. The intensity of his eyes threatens to pull you into that memory. “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hear him say.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” you say quietly, chancing a glance up.

His face twists into something like shame. If he were a different person, you might try to comfort him. But he’s not a different person. He’s a stranger wearing the face that’s haunted you for nine years.

“So why now?”

“Well, I was…” He mimics a snap with his right hand. “And after that, I… started going to therapy.”

He pulls a small, brown book from his jacket pocket. “My, uh, shrink told me to make a list of people I’ve wronged,” he says as he flips it open to a page in the middle and places it in front of you. “You’re one of the last.”

You find your name third-to-bottom. The ones above are crossed through. He glances from your face to your fingers as they trace his careful scrawl.

“You don’t let people look at this, do you?” You ask.

He half-smiles and shakes his head.

“So why are you letting me?”

“I, uh,” he flexes his hand. “I don’t know. I just… thought I owed it to you.”

You briefly consider asking about the other names, but he doesn’t owe you those. He owes you answers about the life he can’t return. Just as another question bubbles up your throat, a ringtone sounds. You glance at your phone’s black screen, then back to his furrowed brow. He reaches into his back pocket to fish out a flip phone. A  flip phone.  You haven’t seen one in years.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He looks up from the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says as he squeezes out of the booth. He disappears as quickly as before.

⭑⭑⭑

You finally take a sip of water. The sweat of the glass bleeds onto your fingertips, so you wipe your hand off on your pant leg before touching your phone. 6:15, it says, which means you've been sitting on this hard, plastic seat for over forty minutes. He's been gone for about ten of them.

Before you can seriously consider just leaving, his form comes into view.

"I've gotta go, but..." He says as he pulls the brown book out of his pocket again. When he opens it, he tears a small piece from the page corner, then scribbles something with a pen.

He places the piece of paper next to the perspiration ring on the table. Stealing one last glance at you, he turns and leaves for the third and final time.

On it is a phone number and a name:

Bucky

[rebeccccccaaa]

P̶h̶i̶l̶o̶p̶h̶o̶b̶i̶a̶

___________________________

Peter Parker x Reader

Requested|| (ANON) If this is not too much trouble, could I request something with the reader always trying to run from relationships because all the men in her life hurt her, and then she meets Peter and she's trying so hard not to fall for him, so he starts thinking that there's something wrong with him, until she tells him that she doesn't wanna get hurt again and he's all like 🥺 I'd never hurt you and it's all fluff?

Warnings|| major angst, slight smut but nothing crazy (minors dni)

Author’s Notes|| this kinda sucks but oh well someone will like it lmao

___________________________

You sat at the bar wallowing in sadness as if the world’s problems revolve around you. You felt stupid and selfish but you could brush the feeling. You downed yet another drink waving the waiter for another who smiled sympathetically before handing you another glass. 

“Hey,” a familiar pulled you from your sulking. 

“How’d you find me?” you said quietly. 

“Got lucky I guess,” that was a lie; he swung throughout all of downtown New York for the past hour looking for you. 

“I suppose you here cause…” you trailed off.

“What happened?” he sat down next to you.

You were hanging with Peter in his room playing video games. You two had a beer just talking as friends do. 

Friends.

Friends don’t usually sit this close to each other. 

“You ok?” 

 “Yeah, just feeling a little tired,” you responded.

“You want to stay here tonight?”

“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I insist. It’s pretty late and a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out so late.”

“Peter.”

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncom-”

“Maybe I should go,” don’t let him in; he’s just gonna break your heart like the rest of them.

“Y/n,” he stood up with you.

“Why are you running?”

“What?” you defended.

“You’re running away from me. This isn’t the first time you've done this," he explained walking up to you. You instinctively backed away almost insulting Peter. The look in his face was as if you broke his heart. You felt overwhelmed and you needed to get out. 

You pulled open the door abruptly hearing your name being shouted. You hurried down the stairs to the busy streets of New York instantly hailing a cab. He asked where to and you gave him a bill telling him however far it would take you. 

Peter ran back upstairs freaking out. He pulled his phone out and tried calling you first, he honestly didn’t know what had happened. Peter’s had an infatuation with you since the day you walked through the door in his class.

You two quickly became friends and although Peter wanted something more you always declined his advances and Peter respected that. That didn’t stop him from sharing his fair share of flirty comments that you had always seemed to laugh at. But this time he knew he fucked up calling you pretty but he doesn’t exactly know why it scared you so much. 

He suited up quickly and flew out the window searching every bar, club, cafe, library that you could possibly be in. His heartbeat quickened every passing minute that he couldn’t find you until after over an hour of searching and panicking and no response to his phone calls he finally found you. He quickly changes before heading inside as naturally as he could possibly act to not make you even more uncomfortable. 

“Hey.”

“I don’t know,” you responded to him.

“Is it me? Is there something wrong with me? Did I do something out of line?”

“No, it’s not you, Peter,” you said, slightly raising your voice but not enough to draw attention.

“Can you at least explain to me what’s making you upset because I hate seeing you like this,” Peter said softly.

“I was just having a bad day,” you lied.

“The other day too? I know there’s something bothering you and I want to help you; I really care about you.”

“You can’t help me,” you said frustratingly.

“Why?” he urged.

“Because it’s about you!”

“But-”

“Gah! Peter, just- ugh!” you rubbed your face stressfully. You don’t want but the way you treated him and how you’ve done this too many times to be considered ‘a bad day’, you owe him an explanation; no matter how hard it’ll be to admit.

“Y/n,” he whispered, reaching out to touch you, making you flinch.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked fearfully.

"No! It’s not that,” you teared up.

“Peter, I’m falling in love with you and it terrifies me,” you whispered, stray tears falling gracefully down your cheeks. 

“What?” Peter was indeed surprised. Of course he dreamed about what it would be like if you loved him back but because of the way you avoided him and avoided even the topic of relationships altogether, this was the last thing he was expecting you to say.

“All my life, I thought there was something wrong with me. I was so confused how people can just break someone’s heart so easily. And yet, I still fell in love, over and over again just to get hurt in the end. It went on too long, and I let it. I told myself love is dead. Then I met you. You ruined my plans of dying sad and alone. I tried so hard to not fall but I can’t help it. The second I see you, I get these butterflies in my belly, and it feels like my skin crawls but like not in a bad way, you know? And I’m scared; it scares me,” you cried. 

“Y/n,” Peter whispered, bringing his hand up to your back, rubbing softly.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through all that and I know that my words and promises won’t do much. I just want you to at least hear me. You are the beautiful woman I’ve laid my eyes on, just being around you is enough to make me feel happier. Everyday I wake up thinking about you and-nand I go to sleep with you on my mind. All I do think about you; your smile, your eyes, your lips, your- your body,” he mumbled the last part shyly. 

“Y/n, I- I want to be the one that loves you; so much that you wouldn’t even think about heartbreak, you’d forget what it feels altogether."

His words hit you hard. You wanted that; you were so tired of running away but you don’t know if you can handle one more heartbreak; especially from Peter, the guy you fell so hopelessly in love with. Is it worth the risk? 

“I just want to feel loved, truly and genuinely loved,” you cried. 

Peter moved your hair from your face and wiped the tears with his thumb. One look into his dreamy brown eyes and you fell. Hard.

Peter pressed you against the back of his bedroom door. His lips were soft and velvety against yours. Your hands were intertwined and your stomach couldn’t help the eruption of butterflies. You’ve never particularly felt this emotive before for someone especially so intimately. His lips kissed the shell of your ear so softly you barely felt it.

“My pretty girl,” he whispered before pulling you to the bed.

You sat down lifting your arms for Peter who slowly pulled your hoodie over your head. He kneeled in front of you and pressed kisses down your torso making you wiggle and giggle. His hands cupped your breasts softly, squeezing playfully as his teeth nipped at your skin along your belly. 

He brought his hands to your bottoms and you lifted your hips to let him take it off. Once he did, he stood up quickly removing his one clothes and you sat up reaching out to touch his extremely toned torso. He grabbed a condom from the drawer beside the bed and hummed softly at your hands that roamed his body lovingly. 

He rolled the condom over his throbbing cock, crawling over you with a devilish smirk. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck kiss softly making you softly moan and sigh in pleasure. Your belly burned with desire aching for his cock. You wrapped your legs around his hips hissing when he pushed himself past your slick folds. 

“You’re a bit bigger than I anticipated,” you choked out. 

“You need a minute?” he cupped your face. 

You weakly nodded holding onto Peter tightly. Once you felt better and the pressure slowly dissipated, Peter brought his hips back and pushed again in you slowly. Your moans bounced off the walls as Peter thrusts sped up. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you pressed his forehead against yours. 

“Fucking hell,” Peter breathed out. 

His thrusts became sloppily and your skin slapped against each other loudly. You moans got louder and higher and Peter’s lower and rougher. Soon enough you couldn’t hold it any longer; your body contracting and tightening under him desperate to cum.

“Pete-”

“Go ahead, baby girl. Let go,” he looked into your eyes. 

You let your orgasm rip through you, letting your back arch into Peter and your toes curl. Peter’s mother opened but no sound came through as he reached his own high. His arms gave out after he climaxed and collapsed atop of you. Your body slightly trembled as you calmed yourself. 

“Please, please don’t break my heart,” you cried.

“I promise. I could never hurt you,” he kissed you passionately. He could taste your salty tears that stained your lips and tugged on his heart. He held you closely as you fell asleep never once letting go. And for once you felt loved. 

Truly, and genuinely loved. 

============

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

[catmaid-john]

Have some soulmate gretchella content courtesy of me (elliott) and em 👀 there was a lot of projecting as far as *ahem* character traits go, hope y’all enjoy!!!!

Summary: Gretchen has grown up with a less than ideal mindset about soulmates. How will they react when they meet their own?

Characters: Gretchen, Pamella, Marion, John, Jessique (mentioned), Vesna (mentioned), Eliza (mentioned)

Pairing(s): queer platonic gretchella

Warnings: subtle(?) homophobia and internalised homophobia, and that may be it but do read with caution as it’s pretty heavy. Let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count: 1,705

~

Gretchen was six when they asked about the red string on their finger.

“Daddy, what’s this?” they asked, holding up their pinky.

John sighed, closing his book he’d been reading in the study. “It’s a sign that you have a soulmate.”

“What’s a soulmate?”

“Someone meant for you. Like Vesna and I. We were soulmates, but didn’t let that define us.”

Gretchen tilted their head to the side. “What’chu mean?”

“Don’t let the world fool you. Everyone says soulmates are the most important part of life. They’re all wrong. You should focus on things like work and school, not some frivolous nonsense such as one person in all the world meant to be with you. Do you understand?”

Gretchen crossed their arms. “Okay, Daddy. Can we go fly kites today?”

“No, not right now. I have work to do. Maybe later.”

John hadn’t been doing work when Gretchen walked in.

They were ten the first time they saw a pair of soulmates first meet.

They were both boys. The red string that held them together turned white and they hugged.

Could Gretchen’s soulmate be a girl?

“Daddy?” they began as John drove them home from school that day. “I saw two boy soulmates today.”

John’s grip on the steering wheel tightened a bit. “I see.”

“Could my soulmate be a girl?”

“I’m not sure. I should hope not.”

Gretchen furrowed their brows. “How come?”

“Same sex soulmates have a higher mortality rate due to disapproval and lack of acceptance from peers. Not to mention they’re prone to… well, frankly, divorce.”

“But you and Mommy divorced.”

John’s grip tightened further, and Gretchen could see the marking on his pinky finger where his string once was.

“Yes, straight soulmates do divorce sometimes, but it’s higher in same sex soulmates.”

“Why? And what's morality?”

“Mortality. What I meant is that same sex soulmates more often die young and are even murdered. I don’t want that for you.”

Gretchen was suddenly scared. “What if my soulmate is a girl?”

“Don’t worry about that for now. It doesn’t matter.”

The conversation dissipated from there.

Gretchen was thirteen when they decided they didn’t want a soulmate anymore.

The odds of their soulmate being a girl were far too high. They didn’t want to end up like the dead soulmates their dad was talking about.

They took a pair of scissors and tried cutting their string. The scissors broke and clattered to the ground.

What? This had worked for John when he didn’t want a soulmate anymore. Were they doing it wrong?

They took a knife from the kitchen and sawed it across the string. The knife became ground down and dull.

They tried to untie the string but couldn’t find the knot. This soon became a game of finding the most slippery substance to help them slip out of the string.

Nothing worked. It was hopeless.

There was a chance that Gretchen was doomed to die young and there was nothing they could do about it.

Please let my soulmate be a boy, they thought. I wanna live.

They were seventeen when they stopped caring about what their father thought.

They also started using they/them pronouns alongside their step-sibling, Marion. John had married a woman named Eliza, who he claimed he met at a “gathering” for people who abandoned the soulmate life. Her kids were Marion and Jessique, who Gretchen liked much more than Eliza. Their dad had bad taste.

Gretchen was walking home from school when they felt a tug from their string. They usually felt an occasional pull from it but this was much stronger than that. It just about knocked them off their feet.

Before they could question it further, they were being pulled into the middle of the road. Luckily no one was driving, but Gretchen was still not having any of this today.

“Let me go!” they called uselessly.

It hurt to pull against the string but they really didn’t know what else to do. It was a little while before they suddenly collided with someone and was finally able to stop. Unfortunately the two of them crashed to the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” the stranger yelped.

Gretchen put a hand to their forehead, which had bumped into the stranger’s. “No, it’s all good. No harm done.”

“I should have paid more attention but my string was pulling me away and I—”

Gretchen finally took a look at the stranger in question. Bright orange hair overtook every feature and it was radiant as the morning sun. Eyes like drops of chocolate, enticingly sweet. She was too perfect.

Gretchen looked down at their string. It was white.

“Hi,” the stranger murmured. “I’m Pamella. I guess we’re—”

Gretchen got up and ran.

They were in tears when they came to terms with what happened.

They stood in the bathroom sobbing in front of the mirror. John’s voice echoed in their head.

Same sex soulmates have a higher mortality rate due to disapproval and lack of acceptance from peers.

They shook their head to rid themself of their thoughts. They didn’t care what their dad thought. They didn’t.

Same sex soulmates more often die and are even murdered. I don’t want that for you.

No. It was all stigma. It was all lies. Shut up.

You should focus on things like work and school, not some frivolous nonsense such as one person in all the world meant to be with you.

Shut up!

Gretchen was on the verge of screaming but kept as quiet as possible. They didn’t want to worry their siblings.

They didn’t care what their dad thought. They didn’t.

Even still they couldn’t accept what they have faced.

Gretchen was eighteen when they met their soulmate for a second time.

Perhaps not entirely true, given that they had spotted Pamella at school a few times since their run-in. This, however, was their first proper encounter since Gretchen ran.

“Uh, excuse me!” Pamella’s voice called out, catching Gretchen’s attention. They realised who it was and tried to walk away faster.

Go away, go away, go away—

“Hey!” Pamella caught up with them, standing in front of them with a shy smile. “So… I, uh… wanted to give you time to process everything, but I’ve seen you avoiding me like crazy. I just… wanted to know why? At first I thought maybe you were upset about me knocking you over, but I don’t know. Man, I feel like an asshole.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Gretchen blinked. “Sorry,” they said on instinct. “Uh… it’s not you, it’s me, I gotta go.”

They walked away without another word.

Gretchen was home alone with Marion when they confessed to what had been going on.

“Wow,” Marion murmured. “I mean, obviously I knew you’d met your soulmate, I just thought… well, I don’t know. Why’d you run?”

Gretchen buried their face in their hands. “It’s complicated.”

“C’mon, talk to me, bestie.”

Gretchen sighed and sat up. “My dad scared me as a kid telling me I was gonna die if my soulmate was a girl.”

Marion paused, their expression never changing. “The fuck?”

“He was talking about, like, mortality rates of gay soulmates and divorce and shit, so… ten year old me took it to heart for some reason.”

“Huh. So when you realised your soulmate is a girl… aw, Gretch.”

“I know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. I promise you, it’s not stupid. Your dad is a piece of shit.”

Gretchen snorted. “Yup, sounds right.”

“Don’t let him ruin your experience with your soulmate. I promise you, if you let your parent try to run your life, it’ll just hurt. Trust me.”

Gretchen glanced over at Marion. They couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Mari.”

“You gonna go after your soulmate?”

“I might have to.”

The next day at school, Gretchen was the one to approach Pamella.

“Hi,” they murmured shyly.

“Hey,” Pamella replied with hesitation.

“I, uh… I know I’ve been a dick… but… I wanna… try this whole thing again. You deserve better from your… soulmate.”

Pamella was clearly shocked, and Gretchen gave her time to process what they had said. She took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“Hi. I’m Pamella. He/him pronouns.”

Gretchen blinked. That was unexpected.

“Oh. Uh, Gretchen. They/them pronouns.”

Pamella smiled. “Nice to meet you, Gretchen. I’m sure you’re a bit surprised that I’m… ya know, trans. I’m not out to my parents, so that makes it a bit hard to transition, not to mention I’m scared to get my hair cut.”

“I mean, you don’t need a haircut to be trans, though. Being trans makes you trans. I mean, I’m still feminine and nonbinary as fuck, they’re not mutually exclusive.”

Pamella blushed. “Thanks. I’m glad you get it.”

Gretchen grinned. Maybe having a soulmate wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Gretchen and Pam were twenty when they decided to label themselves as platonic soulmates.

They weren’t romantically involved and they were okay with that. Gretchen was aromantic and Pam didn’t care about relationships. He really just wanted to be with Gretchen in a platonic way. They were all he needed.

They had tried to make it work as romantic soulmates, which didn’t last long.

The one thing they continued to do in their platonic relationship was cuddle.

Gretchen laid on top of Pam, who laid on his back and ran his hand up and down their back. Gretchen was having a difficult day and all they needed was cuddles on the couch with a movie on the TV.

Gretchen looked up at Pam, his new haircut still ravishing in their eyes. Gretchen had been tempted to shave their head but decided against it since they liked how they dyed it. Black on one side, their natural brown on the other.

“Pam?” they murmured.

Pam glanced down at them. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we’re soulmates because we just understand each other so much?”

Pam smiled. “I think we’re soulmates because we complete each other in a way no one else gets.”

Gretchen smiled back. They laid their head back down and closed their eyes, Pam running a hand through their hair.

“I’m glad we crashed into each other.”

Pam chuckled. “Me too, love.”

@nachosforfree

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Petra was standing in front of a coffee machine, trying to choose between latte and cappuccino. She almost pressed on a button with latte written on it, when a hand, which fell heavily on her shoulder, stopped her.

"Goodness, don't even think of buying coffee there!"

Startled, Petra whirled around. She gasped as she saw Captain Erwin standing in front of her.

"Am I... not allowed to buy coffee here?"

Was there some unspoken rule that newly promoted detectives couldn't take coffee from the precinct's coffee machine? Was she overstepping some line?

For a second, Captain Erwin's eyebrows drew together in confusion. But then his lips curved into a smile, as he let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh no, no, of course, you're allowed to order coffee there," he assured her. "But you really shouldn't. In Levi's words," he scowled, trying to mimic Levi's annoyed expression. Petra couldn't resist a giggle - Captain Erwin's impression was spot on. "It tastes worse than horse's piss."

Petra covered her mouth with two hands, stifling her laughter.

Captain raised his arms in a placating gesture. "His words, not mine. But it's truly awful. C'mon," he turned around and started walking, beckoning Petra to do the same. "I'll make you a better one."

***

As Captain was busy with preparing coffee, Petra couldn’t help, but look around his office. The office wasn’t big or spacious, but it was brightly lit and tidy. There wasn’t much inside, only a bookshelf, filled with case files and diplomas, a small leather coach and simple wooden desk. The desk, for some reason, attracted the most of Petra’s attention. It didn’t look different from her own, the same computer model, the same table lamp, however… there was a photo frame standing beside computer screen. She couldn’t see, who was pictured there, but she found it curious and a little strange nevertheless. She would have never guessed that Captain had a family. He didn’t seem the type.  

"Here you go," Erwin placed a cup in front of Petra. She took it with two hands, lifting it up and inhaling a deep, bitter aroma. It smelled perfect. She brought it to her lips, taking a first sip. Oh. Not only it smelled perfect, it tasted perfect too. She couldn't keep in a small moan of satisfaction that escaped her lips, as the hot liquid made its way down her throat.

Erwin watched her with amused eyes.  

"Thank you," Petra smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly, as she put the cup down. "It's the best coffee I've had in weeks."

"My pleasure," Erwin smiled back, drinking from his own cup.

Petra fidgeted. Captain’s expression was relaxed, but those bright blue eyes were so intense, she felt like he was staring into her soul. Why did he even call her there? Surely not just for coffee.

"C-captain?" Petra gripped the cup in her hands tighter. "Did you invite me there for any particular reason?"

"I wanted you to enjoy a nice cup of coffee," Erwin put the cup down and rested his chin on top of his hands. His eyes stared at her, following the smallest of her moves. "And to talk with you. How is the case going?"

"Um..." Petra swallowed, feeling uneasy. "It's, um, going."

Erwin slightly raised his eyebrow, but didn't push the matter further.

“Levi asked for a day-off tomorrow,” he said. “Would you be able to hold on without him? I know you’ve just been promoted a—”

“No, it’s fine!” Petra assured him eagerly. Of course, the prospect of surviving the shift without her more experienced partner was a more than a little worrying. But after what she had seen today in the interrogation room, maybe, it was for the best if Levi spent some time at home.

"Speaking of Levi,” Erwin began. “Does he give you any trouble?"

"Of course, not!" Petra exclaimed with way too much vigor.

Erwin smirked, raising an eyebrow higher. "Is that really so?"

Petra deflated, casting her eyes down. "Detective Levi is a great professional and I—"

"Petra," Erwin cut her off. "Levi won't get in trouble with me, don't worry. I'm asking as his friend, not as his superior."

"As his friend..." Petra whispered.

"Yes," Erwin nodded. "So if there's something I should know, please tell me. God knows, Levi would never tell me if something bothered him."

"I..." Petra nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I think you should take him off this case. It's clearly too personal for Levi."

"Hm, maybe, you're right," Erwin scratched his chin. "I knew that appointing him to this case would cause some problems..."

"Then why did you? Give him this case?"

Erwin shrugged. "I wanted to see his reaction. To see if he had truly moved on from Hange's death."

That was... that was heartless. But as she stared at Captain's face, she didn't see the cold calculation or simple indifference in his eyes. Only uncertainty and worry. Maybe, it was his weird way of caring about his friend.

"You knew from the beginning, right?" she asked quietly. "That this case would involve detective Zoe?"

"I had a feeling," Erwin agreed. "The murder happened in the same apartment complex she used to live in, after all. Hardly could be a coincidence."

Right... so that's why the witness had recognized Levi. Did he really share an apartment with his partner?

"Forgive my bluntness...” she cleared her throat, gathering all of her courage to maintain a direct eye contact with Captain. “But what was the nature of Levi and detective Zoe's relationship?"

"They were partners," Erwin answered, his jaw set. "In every possible sense of that word.”

“Oh,” if before Petra’s cheeks were rosy, now they turned almost crimson read. She felt stupid for asking such a personal question. Clearly, her partner wasn’t the only one, who was still affected by detective Zoe’s death. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s nothing,” Erwin waved her off. “Levi isn’t the most open of people, so I understand the desire to… get to know him better.”

Petra nodded, although Captain’s words didn’t really help her understand anything. It also didn’t really make Levi’s story any clearer. She still couldn’t piece together what kind of bound existed between Levi and detective Zoe. They clearly were much more than just colleagues. Definitely more than just friends, too. Maybe, they were dating? Or even married? There were many ways in which the world ‘partner’ could be interpreted. Maybe, that’s exactly why Captain Erwin used it.

"By the way, did you finish questioning the witness?" Erwin asked, bringing her back to the present.

"We did," Petra replied, avoiding his gaze. The recent incident in the interrogation room still hung heavily over her head.

"I assume it didn't go that well," Erwin noted.

Petra sighed. "The man that the witness described.... Didn't fit the description of Zeke Yeager."

Erwin covered his eyes with a hand. "So he really is pursuing that theory..." he glanced up at Petra. "What was the description given to you by the witness?"

"Um, according to him, the killer is a tall man with brown and curly hair."

"And what makes you think he described a killer?"

"Huh?"

Erwin straightened out. "Are you absolutely sure that the man that the witness saw was a killer?"

"He went with the victim to her apartment..."

"But we can't know for sure if he was the one to kill her," Erwin said resolutely. "Did the witness say how that man left the building?"

"He finished his shift earlier," Petra answered, feeling more and more confused with each passing moment. “Do you think that someone else killed her?”

“I’m not stating anything,” Erwin replied, evasive as always. “I’m just saying that you can’t be too sure in any of your theories until you actually get some evidence. It narrows your scope.”

“A-aha,” now Petra got it. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth and all that, right?”

“Yes,” Erwin smiled widely. “Remember these words and you’ll do great at your job.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Petra smiled briefly, before furrowing her eyebrows. Something in Erwin’s words bothered her. Could it be that…

“Captain, do you… do you also think that it was Zeke Yeager, who killed that woman?”

Erwin didn’t answer immediately.

“I know it seems weird for you,” he began with self-deprecating smile. “And I know that Levi may seem like he’s obsessed with catching Zeke, and, maybe, he really is, but… You didn’t know Zeke. He was smart. Very smart. And he liked playing with people. I’m not saying that he’s alive, I’ve seen evidence that very much proved the opposite, but the fact that he’s somewhat involved in that murder is certain. The glasses belonged to Hange, and the blood was hers too. Who else could have gotten it? It’s either one of Zeke’s henchmen, maybe, someone, who seeks revenge for his death, or…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“But the description didn’t match!” Petra tried to argue.

“Wigs exist,” Erwin said simply.

Petra hanged her head. She wanted to protest, wanted to come up with some argument that would destroy this whole outlandish theory. Unfortunately, if Levi and Erwin kept overlooking one small fact that Zeke had died two years ago, she doubted there was anything that would be able to dissuade them.

“Oh, shoot!” Erwin suddenly exclaimed, glancing at his wrist watch. “I’m almost late to a very important meeting!” he got to his feet, gathering the papers on his desk. “Thank you for the company, Petra.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” she smiled prettily, even though her head was still reeling from their conversation.

“Good luck with your case,” Erwin said, as he followed Petra out of his office. “And look over Levi for me, okay? If anything happens, you know where to find me.”

He gave her one last smile and then hurried away. Petra stared at his wide back for a second, and then she pulled herself together, turning around and heading towards her office.

It was about time she got some actual work done.

***

To her surprise, when Petra had entered their office, it turned out that Levi wasn't there. She glanced to the side, his coat wasn't hanging on the clothes rack. However... his computer was on, the screen burning brightly in the otherwise dark room.

Petra couldn't take her eyes off that computer. She remembered her first day at work (it seemed almost surreal that it was only yesterday, it felt like weeks has passed) and how Levi was so focused on his computer, as though whatever was on his screen was the most important thing in the world. She remembered her desire to find out what was he working on.

She stepped further into the room, wondering where Levi was right now. He promised Moblit he'd visit the forensics department, maybe, he was there? But why would he need his coat for? And why didn't he turn off his computer?

Petra took another step, her eyes darting to the desk next to Levi's. Detective Zoe's desk. It was a little different than yesterday.

There was... There was a pair of glasses lying atop one of the reports. The same glasses they found on the scene of crime, Petra realized, as she saw a crack running through the left lens. But the blood was gone. Whoever cleaned them, did a real good job. Petra had a feeling she knew one particular person, who liked keeping things clean and tidy.

She felt a lump form inside her throat. Two years had passed, and Levi still didn't give up on her, hoping that one day she would come back. Petra couldn't decide if she should admire his loyalty or pity his naivety.

Either way, she hurriedly turned away from that desk. It made her feel melancholic and more than a little depressed.

If the glasses were there, it meant that Levi had already visited Moblit and his team. Where was he now? How much time did she have?

Glancing back, as if to check that Levi wasn't coming back this instant, Petra took a deep breath. And then she swiftly sat down at his desk.

Moving the cursor, she studied his desktop. There wasn’t much on it, just a few folders. She ignored the ones with the obvious contents – the ones named ‘cases’ and ‘reports’. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw the folder with a name ‘that fucking asshole’, she almost clicked on it, but then she saw another folder. This one was named ‘Sannes’, and Petra’s breath hitched, as she remembered Levi asking her about him. Could it be… could it be that this folder contained some evidence? The one that could back up Levi’s claim about Sannes’ involvement with criminal underworld? Feeling her pulse fasten, Petra opened the folder.

Well, she tried to open it, because as soon as she clicked on the folder, a new tab opened, requesting a password.

She cursed.

Petra tipped her head back, thinking. What could a man like Levi use as his password?

She typed four zeros and then pressed enter.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Of course, it was too naïve to hope that Levi would use something as generic as this. But Petra wasn’t going to give up so soon. She opened the first drawer of his desk, trying to find something that would give her some sort of idea. Petra grinned as she found the old driver license. It was expired, but in the corner Levi’s birth date was written.

Bingo.

She quickly wrote the numbers and pressed enter, her hands slightly trembling in anticipation of seeing what was inside that folder.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Shit. Closing the first drawer, she opened the second. She rummaged through it for a couple of moments, but found nothing, except old autopsy and ballistic reports. Petra groaned – she was starting to get desperate. She closed the second drawer with more force than was necessary, opening the third one. The last one.

It was empty, except— Except an old, tattered photo. Three people were pictured there – Petra immediately recognized Captain Erwin and Levi, even though they looked much younger. A bespectacled woman stood between them, her hands wrapped around both of their shoulders. It must be detective Zoe, Petra guessed, looking at the woman’s wide grin. Detective Zoe wasn’t the only one smiling – there was a delighted beam on Captain Erwin’s lips as well, and even Levi, as weird as it looked, was wearing a small, but satisfied smile.

They looked so joyous here, so… so happy. And now one of them was dead, and two others suffered heavily because of that loss.

She turned the photo around. There was something written on the other side.

The only time, when your face didn’t look so constipated, shorty! Keep it as a reminder

“Shorty?” Petra gasped, rereading the small note again. She would never dare to call Levi like that. Most people probably wouldn’t. Hange Zoe was clearly an exception. And it was obvious that Levi took her advice of keeping the photo to heart, the picture looked worn out, as though it was frequently held and looked at.

Shaking head, she tried to regain her focus. She didn’t come here to go through Levi’s stuff. Well, technically, that was exactly what she was doing right now, but she really didn’t mean to pry into his personal life. She did it more than enough today. She needed to guess his password, and, unfortunately, that photo didn’t help her in the least.

But what if…

Biting her lip, Petra bent over the keyboard. She almost finished typing ‘HangeZoe’, when the door handle began to rattle.

Petra jumped in her seat, frantically closing the password window on the screen and hiding the photo back inside the drawer. She wasn’t quick enough to get to her feet, though, the door began to open, as Petra erratically tried to think of some excuse to explain, what she was doing behind Levi’s desk, but nothing was good enough. She could quite clearly picture his furious expression, she already wanted to start apologizing, but then the door was opened completely.

And Petra saw Oluo, standing on the threshold.

“Goddamn it!” she cried out, heart still thumping way too loudly inside her chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Oluo frowned. “I have never heard you curse before. And, by the way, isn’t that detective Ackerman’s desk?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, ignoring his last question.

Oluo rolled his eyes arrogantly, all signs of his previous suspicion gone. Petra felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight of his annoying face. Never would she guess, but she missed Oluo terribly.

“Someone wants to see you,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “So finish whatever you were doing at detective Ackerman’s desk and let’s go.”

“Someone?” Petra blinked in surprise. “Who?”

“Djel Sannes,” Oluo told her with puffed out chest. He was clearly proud to receive a command from such important man. “Deputy police chief.”

The folder at Levi’s computer immediately appeared in Petra’s mind. She couldn’t open it and see, what his partner found so suspicious about that man. But, maybe, she could investigate it herself.

She got to her feet, adjusting her blouse and skirt.

“Let’s go then,” she joined Oluo at the doorstep. “Can’t make him wait, right?”

 ***

As they were walking through the precinct’s corridors, Oluo didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second.

“Do I have something on my face?” Petra snapped, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

Oluo hurriedly looked away, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “No, of course, you don’t.”

“Then what’s the matter? You’ve been staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

“You look just fine,” Oluo huffed, still refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s just… you’ve changed.”

“Changed?” Petra let out a surprised chuckle. “People don’t change over a day, dummy.”

“Maybe, change isn’t the right word then, but…” he scowled, annoyed with his inability to express himself clearly. “You carry yourself with more confidence now and at the same time… you look more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”

Well, she wasn’t sure about her newfound confidence, she felt nothing of the sort, but troubled? That was a vast understatement.

“A lot of stuff happened over these two days.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Oluo’s soft voice caught her off-guard. Petra glanced at him. Oluo was looking back. There was no amusement in his eyes, and his usual smirk was absent as well. He genuinely wanted to help her, Petra realized with a start.

“Yes,” she answered him after a moment, “I would love to talk about it,” she paused, staring straight in Oluo’s eyes. “With you.”

“Oh,” Oluo stopped abruptly, nearly colliding with someone. Petra giggled into her palm. He looked so flabbergasted. To Oluo’s credit, however, it took him only a few seconds to regain his posture. “I k-know a place!” he exclaimed loudly. “I found a new restaurant near the precinct, the food is delicious and it’s really nice p—”

“Alright,” Petra cut him off, still chuckling. “Let’s visit it tomorrow evening. If that works for you?”

“O-of course!”

“Great,” she patted his shoulder, before leaning in to press her lips to his cheek. “Then it’s a date,” she whispered into Oluo’s ear, before walking away, leaving him to stare after her with a dazed smile on his face.

Petra turned the corner and there it was. The door to Djel Sannes’ office. It looked the same as all doors in precinct looked – a sturdy, wooden door. Nothing unusual about it, and yet— and yet Petra’s palms were sweaty. Her heart was beating faster than usual too. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, it was just a visit to her superior’s office. She talked with Captain Erwin earlier, and it wasn’t nerve-wracking at all. She would even call it pleasant. And she wasn’t even sure, if there was something wrong with deputy police chief, she had never met him after all. The only thing she knew is that Levi didn’t trust him, but Levi also believed that people, who had died two years ago in the explosion, were alive. His opinion clearly wasn’t the most reliable.

She just needed to get a grip on herself. What had Oluo said to her? She carried herself with more confidence? Well, maybe, the time has come to prove it.

Petra took a deep, calming breath and raised her hand, knocking on the door.

“Come in!” came a deep, booming voice from the other side of the door.

Petra took another breath, and then. She walked in.  

***

Deputy police chief’s office, as it turned out, wasn’t much different from Captain Erwin’s. It was a little bigger and his desk was a little fancier, but otherwise it was the same type of office every high-ranked policemen had.

Djel Sannes himself didn’t look as scary as Petra imagined. He looked kind of plain, actually. He was a middle aged man with wide shoulders, neat haircut and clean-shaved face. There were more than a hundred men like him in their precinct.

Petra’s heart rate slowed down a little.

“Detective Ral!” Sannes spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. “I was waiting for you!”

Petra put on a polite smile, sitting down on the opposite side of his desk. “It is an honor, sir. Do you wish to discuss something?”

“Just welcome you on your new position. You’ve been a detective for…”

“Two days,” Petra answered.

“Exactly!” Sannes snapped his fingers. “And we’re seeing each other only now,” he cocked his head to the side, looking at Petra. His expression was still easy, friendly, but his eyes became sharper. Colder. “You’ve been busy, I’ve heard.”

“We were appointed a new case tonight,” Petra nodded, pointedly ignoring the sudden change in Sannes. It was probably her nerves getting to her.

“Yes, a woman was murdered. Do you have any clue who had done it?”

“We are working on it.” Petra said with much more confidence than she actually felt.

“Good, good,” her false bravado had either gone unnoticed by Sannes, or he simply didn’t care enough to call her out on it. “And what about your partner? Detective Ackerman?”

“Um… what about him?”

“I know that man,” Sannes said offhandedly. “To put it mildly… he’s not the easiest person to deal with. Is he bothering you? If he is, don’t hesitate to tell me, I’ll appoint a new partner for you.”

“No, no,” Petra waved her hands. “Detective Ackerman is a very skilled detective. I like working with him.”

Sannes gave her a very skeptic look. “Is that really so? I find it hard to believe, actually.”

He reached over to the drawer, opening it and taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and sitting back in a chair.

“Do you smoke?” he asked Petra, offering her a cigarette.

She silently shook her head. Smoking inside the precinct was prohibited. But obviously Petra decided not to say it out loud.

“I should have fired that man a long time ago,” Sannes took another drag. “I would have done it, if Smith wasn’t so overprotective of him. He always had a soft spot for Ackerman. For him and that partner of his. Surely you’ve heard about her already?” he glanced at Petra, shaking out the ash into the ashtray. “Detective Hange Zoe,” the distain in his voice was so clear, Petra felt uncomfortable. “Between you and me, that woman got what she deserved. She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s exactly what had gotten her killed.”

Petra wondered if Sannes had ever shared his thoughts on the matter with Levi. Sannes’ nose didn’t look like it was ever broken and Levi still worked as a detective, so she guessed they never had that particular conversation.

“But you’re not like them,” Sannes said. “You’re not a scheming bastard like Smith, you don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong to like that Zoe did, and obviously you’re not a psychopath like Ackerman. I like you, Ral,” he grinned approvingly. “We should work together.”

“T-together?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You help me and I help you.”

Petra honestly couldn’t believe her ears. So Levi was right after all. Although, she still had not even a hint of his connection to criminals, there was no doubt that Djel Sannes, deputy police chief, was a corrupt and malicious man. And it meant that Petra had to choose her words very, very carefully. She couldn’t let him know that she wasn’t on his side.

“And… what do you need my help with, sir?”

“Oh, not much,” Sannes put out his cigarette, the smug smile still present on his face. “Just keep an eye on your partner. If he does something suspicious… well,” he let out a small chuckle. “You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” Petra nodded with a smile she put on to mask her disgust. “Is that everything you’ve wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, that’s all,” he waved his hand carelessly. “You may go, but,” he gave Petra another careful look. “I’ll be expecting to hear from you, Ral.”

“Of course, sir,” she raised to her feet. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

It was only when Petra was inside her office that she could finally breathe out in relief. With each passing hour, her life was getting more and more complicated. She would never expect deputy police chief to ask her to spy on her partner.

Speaking of which… where was Levi? She hadn’t seen him all day.

Petra’s eyes darted to his computer, but she quickly changed her mind. She had more than enough revelations for one day. She was tired to the bone, too. She glanced at the clock – it was already past six, which meant her shift was finally over.

Grabbing her bag and coat, Petra hurriedly left the precinct. She had a crazy day.

And something told her – tomorrow would be no better.

[darkhymns-fic]

A New World of All of Us

There's a lone inn that stands in the middle of nowhere, once a place for those on pilgrimage to rest during a leg of their journey. But few speak the name of the Goddess anymore...

Two travelers come by, unfamiliar, but with a dog. But a customer was a customer.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Noishe, Original Characters Rating: PG Chapters: 1 of 3 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week, Day 6: Let's go explore the new world together! I suddenly wanted to write a story with OCs, but with Lloyd and Colette being the main focus still! So, this is what came of it, and it's not complete yet! But there is a first chapter of hopefully just three altogether. If you read and enjoy, please let me know! And thank you everyone for Colloyd Week this year!

--

For the inn that was placed on the crossroads leading between Iselia and Triet, many still called it a House of Salvation whenever they passed by the structure.

It wasn’t such a surprise as to why they still did- for ever since it was claimed by the new owners, they hadn’t done much changes to its original architecture. It still maintained its two stories, shaped like a pillar, with a great open area inside on the first floor. Where once the symbols of Martel would be decorated along the walls with banners and silk, where the humble statue of Spiritua would be placed on the small prayer dais in the front, with mats on the floor to cushion a worshipper’s knees, it was now just a general dining area for visitors, with an innkeeper’s counter placed to the side. The prayer alcove had been converted to a delicacy stand, selling the innkeeper’s homemade treats they had baked for the day.

Upstairs were still the rooms for the weary to rest, once mainly meant for those on a pilgrimage. But many didn’t really go on pilgrimages anymore – none but the very devout few, who still believed in the Goddess that now watched over a newly remade world.

Mara didn’t really think much about that really. Seeing the time as the sun lowered in the sky, she stepped out of the barely renovated inn, a broom in hand, and proceeded to sweep up the dirt on their front steps. But the broom was a little too tall for her, and she struggled to keep it elevated just right as she went about her task. She also hadn’t done the laundry recently, so her dress was a mixture of dust and polka-dots, and her boots were scuffed from the mud from a few days back when she had to handle a few maintenance tasks in the rain.

Then again, business had been slow these days, and it wasn’t like there were patrons around to keep up appearances for…

And her brother hadn’t been back for many hours. He had left this morning for the nearest town, and already it was practically sunset, the horizon letting her know with its orange glow. “I should have gone with him,” she muttered to herself, pushing out the broom in an odd angle that nearly made her lose her balance. She squeaked, held onto a nearby fence railing, feeling the slow burn of embarrassment flood her face. “And he needs to get me a new broom too…”

She might only have been half as embarrassed as she was, if not for hearing the voice that was, apparently, not too far off. “Uh, excuse me? Kid?”

Mara had only been lucky enough to cut off her own terrified shriek, clutching at her broom like a weapon as she turned. In front of her, the man that had called out to her held up both hands – and they looked to be very red hands? “Whoa, sorry! I… I was just checking if you were open!”

Ah. Damn. She had done it again. She had nearly scared away another customer.

“Hold on! I mean… welcome to the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Where we accept hands of all kinds from all walks of life!” She had said that way…way too loud. Mara did all she could to not wince from all that blunder that came out of her mouth. “Have you seen our pamphlets in town?”

“Huh? Uh, no not really…” Even though this guy was clearly unsure about the whole situation… he wasn’t exactly backing away! Mara tried to take that as a good sign. “Just happen to know this place from a few years back… This is an inn now, right?” He pointed at the sign that was hanging off the front, the hinge off the left just a tad bit lopsided. “Is it alright if we stayed?”

Mara opened her mouth to shout a resounding YES to his question. Then she looked at him for just a bit longer, trying to determine his age, coming up with maybe in his mid-twenties or so… The red hands she had been seeing was from the gloves he wore (instead of being really badly sunburned like she’d been thinking), which matched with the red of his outfit, at least from what she could tell. He wore a brown traveling cloak that was clasped at the collar, nearly reaching his feet. From his motions, she could hear the familiar clinking of metal – weapons, she gathered. A mercenary? Or was he a bandit?

But then, she figured he’d try to be a little more subtle with his weapons if he was coming here to steal her gald under the pretenses of being a customer… His hair was also a bit unkempt, waves of russet hair that under the setting sun, seemed to turn into a darker red if she squinted at it just so. There was only just the hint of stubble on his chin, his missed days of shaving catching up to him.

Then she thought about what he said. “Pardon, who’s we?” She didn’t see anyone with him…

“Oh, me and my friend!” He smiled at her the moment he mentioned said friend, as if a light had just been turned on in the vicinity. “And our dog. Do you allow dogs here?”

“Of course!” she said immediately. “We get strays around here all the time anyway.” Too much, sometimes. Also, her brother wasn’t exactly fond of such strays for a certain reason, if she could just remember why…

“Great!” With that, the man in red turned, put both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Heeey!! It’s all good!!”

Huh. Maybe this guy was a bit stranger than she thought. Well, she had already invited him to stay so there was nothing she could do. I probably should have asked if he had money first….

When she started wondering if he was calling in backup of other bandits to rob her blind, she saw the figure he was calling for. Someone who was just in the distance, half-hidden in shadows by the setting sun. From where she stood, it looked like a horse-rider, and as said horse seemed to gallop forward, its rider waved back happily.

The man waved back so strongly, enough to nearly knock off the cloak from his shoulder. Mara raised an eyebrow. Why did he act like he hadn’t seen this person in forever?

As the figure got closer, she barely could see much else at all. They were dressed in the same brown cloak as the man but it covered them from head to toe, complete with a hood that was pulled over their head. All Mara could make out were the white gloves they wore, which held lightly onto the mane of the horse they rode.

“Hello, I hope we’re not intruding,” they finally said. The voice was soft, slightly higher-pitched – and by then, Mara saw the stray locks of blonde hair as they fell out of the hood. She had been so entranced by the figure that she hadn’t noticed the horse they rode until it was basically in front of her.

It then started to…whine?

Wait, that wasn’t a horse! Mara blinked, looking at the creature with its snout, its overly large ears that fanned out from the sides of its face, its fur with varying shades of green. It was a… what was it?

“Noishe here doesn’t bite,” the man said with a grin, ruffling the creature’s fur, unmindful to the giant ears that looked as if they would whack him across the face at any moment. “He’s a real good dog.”

Mara blinked. “Excuse me. Dog?” She glanced at the creature, noting those familiar features, yet… “That’s a dog.”

“Yep! Would you like to pet him?” spoke the figure – the woman, she finally figured – who still sat atop the dog. Who rides a dog?!

“I’m… I’m fine.” Mara still held her broom, half defensively, even though one end of it was dangerously close to unbalancing herself again. “Well, lucky for your…dog… we have the stables already cleaned out, so you can settle it there.”

“Thanks.” The man grinned, hands on his knees as he peered down at her from his height. She mentally groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Hey, so, are your parents around?”

Yes, of course this always happens, doesn’t it?

“And why would you want to know that?” she countered back.

This predictably threw the guy for a loop, making him blink and stare dumbfounded for a solid five seconds. “Well, it’s kinda scary for kids to be by themselves, you know? And we wanted to ask the owners of this place a few things.”

“You’re looking at her.” Okay, co-owner, but it was still the truth.

He blinked again. “Huh?”

“I’m not a kid.” Mara frowned, standing up tall. “I’m eighteen years old!”

The guy scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously. “I mean… you kinda still are…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Owner,” said the lady from behind him. She had dismounted from her dog (?) and finally pulled down her hood. Mara held her breath when she saw how the woman had a cascade of golden hair that was arranged in a braid, turned darker by the setting sun, and nearly reaching her waist.

Something about her also seemed… different to Mara, the way she smiled, or the curve of it, at least. She felt a sense of elegance from her, and wondered if maybe she was one of those priests from years back. But the Church of Martel’s influence had waned over the years, and most of its clergy had long abandoned the cloth with the appearance of Tethe’alla.

“My name is Colette,” said the woman, subtly breaking the silence. “Is it okay to ask for your name?”

Mara considered, then nodded. It was nice for some people to have manners here. “I’m Mara. I run this inn with my brother, whose getting us food for tonight’s dinner. I can promise you two a warm meal in a bit if you stay.” Then she pointedly looked at the man. “And be sure to treat me with respect like any adult!”

She was pleased to see the man looked thoroughly embarrassed, still scratching away at that itch on his scalp. “Ehe… Sorry.” A gentle nudge from the woman named Colette startled him for a moment, before his worried face was replaced with a big grin. “Oh yeah, and my name’s Lloyd! Thanks for having us.”

Remember to be nice to people. She could hear her brother’s words in her head and tried her best to cut off any tones of snark in her voice. “Not any trouble. We’re happy you’ve chosen us at the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Now come right this way!” She winced again, seeing the somewhat stunned look on the others faces. She always went overboard like this, or just be grumpy to people otherwise…

After getting the dog to lay somewhat comfortably in the hay (and the woman insisting on giving the giant weird-looking dog a few belly scratches on the tummy), she finally led them inside through the double doors, warning to watch their step on the stoop of the entrance. It was always higher than expected, and she’d had to mentally train herself to hop over it every time or risk a little stumble.

The guy named Lloyd followed her example, deftly hopping over the stoop. The woman named Colette deftly did not.

Mara felt as if she watched Colette’s fall in slow-motion, hearing her startled yell, seeing the way she flailed her arms, which made the cloak around her flutter like a pair of burlap wings – revealing a stark-white outfit that she was wearing underneath – and then fall flat on her face against the floorboards.

Any impression of elegance Mara felt from her instantly went flying out the window.

Lloyd rushed to her side, grasping Colette by her arm. “Colette! You alright?”

“Ehe…” Colette raised her head to Lloyd, already a bruise forming on her forehead. Mara had to wince at that. Ouch. “Sorry. Guess I tripped again.”

“That looked like it really hurt,” he commented, pulling her up gently, their boots making the floor creak.

“Kind of, yeah…”

“Uh, I can get you some ice and a salve for that bruise, miss,” Mara helpfully offered, realizing soon that maybe she should. And since it was their inn that this had happened, she didn’t want any weird legal matters happening.

“That’s okay, I’ll just sleep it off,” Colette said, smiling gently again – just now with a little bump on her forehead. It kinda ruined the effect…

“Yeah, and we got plenty of apple gels to help!” Lloyd looked strangely proud about that, but once he turned back to Colette, his expression went back to concern. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Oh, wait-” Now back to Mara with questioning eyes. “Uh, is it still just one room up there?”

He said that so specifically that Mara was caught off guard from it. It was true that this place had only one room upstairs, fitted with multiple beds to house people in need of rest. They had kept meaning to put some walls in, or at least dividers, but they never really had time for it. “Yes! It’s just at the top of the stairs. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Thanks.” The guy gave her a thumbs up (How weird) and then led Colette up the stairs, their cloaks the last thing Mara saw as they ascended. She thought she also saw Colette’s face continually looking towards downstairs, especially to the dining area specifically.

Once they were out of sight, and she heard the door click softly, she remembered something very important.

Crap, she thought, tightening her hands on the broom she was still holding for some reason. I forgot to ask them to pay…

--

“Is it really not okay to look around there?”

“Maybe not yet… Don’t want to weird that kid out - and he’s not here anyway. Maybe we can try at dinner. Also… you really should rest that bump of yours.” A small laugh. “Sorry I didn’t catch you.”

“It’s okay. My clumsiness is supposed to be lucky, remember? Maybe this means we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“Heh, you know, you’re right!” A creaking of the bed as someone on it, followed by the sound of shuffling, like someone rummaging through a pack. “Got the apple gels here. You should have some.”

“Okay. Can you feed them to me?” Followed by a light giggle.

A sigh, but there was laughter in it, warm and sweet. “You dork.”

--

When Tavi finally neared the inn, it was with labored breathing, his legs rushing fast across the roads. On his back, he lugged a heavy satchel filled with day-old bread, hastily preserved meat and cheese, along with a few spare gels and any other foodstuff that he could get at a bargain. He tried to keep it steady with his left hand, grasping at one of the straps on his shoulder, making sure it didn’t tilt and carry him down with it.

In his right hand, he held onto the hilt of his sheathed sword. His Exsphere glinted from the shine of the twin moons overhead, seemed to burn from where it was set, just beneath his knuckles.

The attacks on the roadsides had been more frequent lately.

Tavi was at least fast when he needed to be, hoping he had lost his pursuers along the way. A quick shift into a thicket of trees, using what little magic he knew to sweep away his footprints, and his sharp ears could finally just hear the soft chirping of crickets at his feet, the rustle of soft wings as they flapped above him.

As long as they didn’t know where he was headed… they’d be fine. They would have to be.

The inn was a welcome sight to him, looking strangely so pastoral in the nighttime. The paint on its right side was peeling off, and the lower awning that stretched just beneath the second floor was eaten away by mildew, but all in all… it wasn’t half-bad of a place.

He only slowed down his run to a light jog, sword slightly rattling against his leg as he did so, when he saw something using the stables they had. But it was covered in shadow, possibly sleeping inside. There was fresh hay and the trough was filled with water. Was Mara taking in stray cats again? Much of the felines liked to roam the woods near their inn, sometimes curling up on the roof, mewling out into the night. Though now, it was rather quiet…

Shaking his head, he then quickly sprinted to the inn once he saw how close he was. He pushed open the double doors, deftly hopping over the little out-of-line step with ease as he did so.

He was then met with a broom to the face.

“By the Goddess, Tavi!” Mara shouted, hopping on one foot as she jerked back the broom before she did any more damage. “You can at least knock to let me know you’re here!”

“Can you not tell it’s me by now?” he argued, spitting out a few broom bristles from his mouth. “You’re so jumpy.”

“I think I have every right to be?” spoke his sister. “You never consider how I feel.”

Though older than him by two years, she was much shorter than him, just coming up to the middle of his chest. She had a head of green hair cut just at the chin, yet still covering up her ears. In her polka-dotted apron and big boots that looked like they should belong to a blacksmith instead of a small innkeeper, she was always quite a strange sight to see.

He shook his head at her with a laugh. “At least help me with the groceries, I’m about to break my back in half from all this.” He played up the struggle as he slowly removed the satchel, bemoaning all the while. “Treat your elders right!”

“I’m older than you! Enough with that joke!”

Tavi grinned, but Mara had laid her broom against the counter to reach up for the foodstuff and promptly walked away to the kitchen. “We we have customers now. I’ll have to make them dinner too.”

As Tavi tried to tie back his long red hair, he paused in mid-action, then rounded on Mara. “What? Right now?” He groaned. “I didn’t buy enough to feed more than us! How many are there?!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to tighten your belt!” Mara wagged a finger at him. “Besides, it’s just two of them. They seem pretty harmless, and we need the money! They’ve been up in their room for the past hour, so don’t go waltzing upstairs right now.”

Then she pointed that wagging finger at his hand. “And you’ll need to hide that. Or are you forgetting to do that while in town?”

Tavi instinctively place his other hand over the Exsphere, feeling a strange sense of self-consciousness. “I know. I just… got it torn off by a tree branch earlier while I walked.” He wasn’t lying when he said that either.

Maybe Mara suspected, maybe she worried… But instead she walked back into the kitchen, hefting the satchel more easily than her height would seem to say. “Oh, and they have a dog too. A really big one at that, just so you know.”

Tavi choked on his own spit, glaring at Mara once more. “Mara, did you just forget that I’m allergic to dogs?”

At the door to the kitchen, Mara stopped. She turned back to him slowly. “I did actually.”

“Please, Mara…”

“Just don’t go near it! It’s outside now anyway, and they’ll be gone by morning I’m sure.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. At the very least, there was no dog fur near him. “Fine. I’ll be by for dinner,” he said, then headed for one of his own rooms that was to the right of the main alcove of the building – which was more of a storage room that he had converted into his very own.

He figured he’d have to look nice for his guests, and picked up an old mirror that needed a good cleaning, trying to fix up the messy locks of red hair that had been tousled everywhere during his run.

With how tall he was, his lanky frame, and his own bright hair compared to Mara’s, no one would have ever taken them both to be brother and sister. Not unless one happened to catch the subtle points of their ears.

He made sure, as he combed his hair, to cover that part of himself. Better to be safe than stabbed, he thought wryly.

--

Noishe, in his pen, scrabbled at the hay to make himself comfortable. Some of the water from the trough had spilled over as he lapped it earlier, so he made sure to gather the drier parts of the hay to rest on comfortably.

It had been a long couple of weeks of travel, and he was looking forward to rest. But even Noishe knew he might not get that tonight…

From his position, he poked out his head from the stable, hearing the door shut suddenly. He raised his head up to the windows, seeing the light flicker out quickly inside. Only by the moon could he see the shape of familiar faces, familiar hands.

He remembered Lloyd’s hurried look from earlier, Colette’s soft words of reassurance. It had been tough recently, but always they had each other. In the light of the morning, he’d never seen smiles as bright as theirs.

They deserved a good night’s rest, too.

Still, Noishe kept his ears up as he settled on the hay, remembering the hurried footsteps from the stranger. Maybe, at the very least, the early evening could have some calmness before the storm.

[shotsbyshae]

Stay

Warnings: Language, General Violence-ish

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve was taken by you from the moment he saw you, without ever knowing who you were. 

Song: Stay by Rihanna

A/N: Just a quick one shot for @ne-gans​ birthday challenge. Happy Early Birthday! 

Funny you’re the broken one, but I’m the only one who needed saving.

Chemistry.

He feels it as soon as soon as he steps off the elevator at the Triskelion – his eyes landing on you. Steve watches for a moment as you stand in front of the marble monument, scanning the names of the fallen agents carved in it. His recent argument with Fury has his blood boiling, but there’s something about you that makes him forget all of that – for the moment at least.

He’s nervous as he approaches you, maybe partly due to Romanoff’s persistence on his dating life lately or maybe something else. Steve glances at the Wall of Valor, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s memorial to all agents lost in the line of duty, it had been one of the first things he’d noticed his first time in the building.

“Heading out or getting back?” he questions you quietly, recognizing the look in your eyes.

You turn your head slightly to look up at him, surprise and slight confusion on your face, “I’m sorry – what?”

“On a mission,” Steve continues, as he looks back at the wall. “I usually stop by here before I head out on one.” He reaches across, running his finger lightly along one of the names etched in the stone – J. Barnes.

“Keeps what we do in perspective,” you respond, a relaxed smile settling on your face. “I’m heading out.”

“Well, good luck Agent,” he smiles slightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his navy-blue jacket. “Be safe.”

“Thank you, sir,” you say sincerely. “You too.”

***

Steve remembers being pulled from the water – knows it was him.

Bucky is still in there – somewhere.

He also recalls hearing the sound of your voice.

“Rogers – Fury I’ve got him. South – bank across the river,” your voice is muffled as if you’re speaking frantically into a pillow. Your hand is warm – comforting – as you check for a pulse on his neck. “Can you hear me?” He remembers feeling that same warmth on his face. “Steve – I need you to stay with me – okay?”

Your face hovering above him and the concern in your eyes is a hazy memory when he wakes up in the hospital. Music playing softly from one side of the bed, while his new friend sits patiently by the other.

“I want to see her,” he says quietly, having been awake for an hour and already tired of being confined to the bed.

“See who?” Sam looks over at him curiously.

“The agent who found me on the riverbank.”

***

Fury gives him your name but is hesitant about sending you.

“She’s one of mine, Cap,” he says firmly. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gone. Her family’s just been destroyed.”

“I just want to thank her,” Steve responds innocently.

“Uh – huh, sure,” Fury’s not stupid.

Steve sees the look Sam gives him from across the hospital room when you open the door and the tick of his jaw is enough of a threat from the badly beaten man for Wilson to keep any extra remarks to himself.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Sam nods before stepping outside.

You step over to the foot of the bed, placing your hands on the plastic footrest, “You know – when someone says to stay safe –”

“It doesn’t mean this,” he begins to smirk, stopping suddenly with a wince as it pulls at the stitches in his cheek. He licks his lips before continuing. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond, a knowing look crossing your face. “But that’s not really why I’m here – is it?” Steve feels the scrutiny of your gaze. “You want to know if I saw him.”

“Did you?”

You nod your head slowly, “Steve – who is he?” The scrutiny gone, replaced with an uneasy curiousness. “Because the man I saw didn’t look like a killer.”

“Bucky,” Rogers replies. “He was my friend.”

“Barnes?” you question in surprise. “Bucky Barnes, but he –” Your voice trails off.

Steve’s brow furrows, “What do you mean he didn’t look like a killer?”

The sincerity in your eyes is enough confirmation for him, “Because I’ve been around enough of them to know – killer’s don’t show remorse.”

***

Connection.

Maybe it formed that day in front of the monument, or when your voice gave him something to hold onto on the riverbank. It could have been that moment in the hospital when you were the first person to not see Bucky as a killer.

Steve only knows that it’s there because he feels it stronger than he’s ever felt anything in a long time. He doesn’t know how to ask, but you don’t give him a chance.

“Steve,” you approach the man in the brown leather jacket as he walks through the cemetery. He turns to you expectantly as Sam continues ahead a few steps. “If you’re going after him, I want in.”

“Are you sure?” he questions.

“I want in,” you say defiantly. “I researched the Winter Soldier in the academy. No one thought he was real – I did. I know everything that file has in it – maybe more.” That lie came so easy for you, it was almost scary. “Steve – please.”

“Okay.”

Bucharest

“Any sight,” Steve comments, the blue ballcap he’s wearing pulled low on his brow.

“Not on my end,” Sam’s voice comes through the com in your ear as you walk slowly through the crowded market, glancing to your right you see Wilson there, two aisles over. Rogers is an aisle over on your left, a few steps ahead of you.

“These strawberries are amazing,” you remark, after taking another bite from the ripe fruit in your hand. “You guys should really try some.”

“Better than the ones in Budapest?” Sam questions curiously.

“Sweeter.”

“Guys – focus,” Steve’s voice sounds slightly annoyed.

“Cap,” Wilson’s tone changes immediately and you look over quickly to see the man you’d saw that day at the river. His hair tucked under a dark ballcap much like Rogers, he appears almost normal as he looks at the various fruit in front of him. “You’re too close.” Sam’s voice says. “I thought you said you said no contact.” Steve doesn’t respond and you glance to him – frozen in place.

He hears Sam’s voice, knows he should turn away before Barnes sees him, but he can’t move. It isn’t until your hand touches his arm lightly that he breaks his trance, looking down at you.

“Hey babe,” your voice is different, a little higher pitched as you show him the strawberries in your hand. “Look what I found.” He sees movement and flicks his eyes back to Barnes, watching him turn towards the two of you.

It’s a split-second decision.

Damn you, Romanoff.

Your whole body tenses up as he presses his lips against yours, shielding himself and you from Barnes’ view. Everything stops when Steve feels that hesitation from you.

The connection – chemistry – was it all in his head?

He feels the warmth of your free hand curling around his neck as you relax, running the tip of your tongue lightly along his bottom lip. The push and pull of control exhilarating as his tongue dips in, tasting the fruit – rich – sweet.  

“Uh – guys,” Sam’s voice over the coms interrupts the moment. “Hate to break that up, but Barnes’ on the move.”

You pull away slowly, trying to make your voice audible, “We should go.” You compose yourself as best you can, taking another bite from a strawberry as you turn to walk away. “Smart play.” The comment comes out quietly so only Rogers can hear as he falls into step beside you. “Barnes would have seen us if you hadn’t done that.”

“Was it?” he questions, glancing to you as the two of you turn down an alleyway. “Just a play?”

“That’s up to you,” you remark just before an unseen force grabs Rogers by the back of his jacket and tosses him like a ragdoll into the side of a dumpster.

A metal hand has you pinned against the concrete wall of the building so fast you don’t have time to think, much less breathe as he presses against your trachea. Your fingers grasp the metal forearm, but you know it’s useless to try and break free.

“Buck – stop,” Steve sputters, collecting himself from the ground. “You know me.”

“Who are you?” cold blue eyes glare into yours and suddenly you question everything.

Your sense of duty.

The feeling of acceptance.

The need of family.

Everything that S.H.I.E.L.D. had offered you.

“She’s with me,” Steve is edging closer hands in front of him cautiously. “We’re just here to talk.”

“Jacket,” your voice strains against the pressure on your throat. “Pocket.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow before his other hand searches your pockets aggressively, jerking the folded photo from inside. He flips it open with his fingers, staring down at the older woman with long black hair, strands of gray mixing in along her temples. She’s holding a bright-eyed baby in her arms.

His eyes flick back to you almost angrily, “Where did you get this?” Not giving you time to answer before he looks over at Steve. “Where did she get this?”

“What?” the look of confusion on Steve’s face is clear.

“This photo – I know her,” Bucky turns his gaze back to the picture before his eyes slowly drift up to yours. The moment of silence deafening before the mechanisms in his hand fill that void and he takes a step back, leaving you to grasp at your throat with both your hands. Sucking in a ragged breath as Steve takes a protective step towards you. Barnes holds the photo up, giving you and Rogers a clear view of it, his voice cracks as he states. “This – this is my sister.”

Your statement comes out between heavy breaths, “I called her Nana.” Steve glances to you in shock, mouth dropping open slightly as you fix your gaze on Barnes.

“You’re my uncle,” you see the flurry of emotions on Bucky’s face. “And the only family I have left.”  

[elderkale]

by any other name

50th masterversary @dwmasters​

tell me we’ll never get used to it - by any other name

(posting chapters here while off ao3)

There was no conclusive start to their time together. For her to have marked a beginning would have meant accepting that there would be an end, a limit, a day when their time would run out. And she didn’t.

She remembered the first time she’d seen her only because she knew it must have happened. What had she been wearing? Had it been sunny outside, or had it been overcast? Was the room hot or cold? When had their eyes met for the first time?

What had she seen in her?

This is how it goes.

There’s a monster on the loose, and everyone is hiding. There’s a monster on the loose, and the story should have a hero. There’s a monster on the loose, and it should be taken down by spears and cannons the strength of dozens.

There’s a monster on the loose, and she doesn’t care about any of that.

The Midsummerman, they’d called him. He’d liked to display his victims in works of art so meticulous it almost hurt to take them down—knives and cyanide, crowns perched on bleach-white skulls, hands and wrists interlocked in a bed of flowers. Like children, asleep in the meadow.

Midsummer for his dreams. Man because that was what they believed him to be.

Sometimes, she still cursed his name in her sleep.

*

She approaches her nightmares critically, clinically, cynically, and calculatingly, and everything else that starts with a C. What does this mean? What about that? Whose face is this? This hand? This body hanging from the rafters? Are those my demons crawling from the shadows and pinning me down, or are they someone else’s? Is it a river I’m standing in, or is it a sea?

Denial is the prescription she writes herself. She’s not a doctor for nothing.

*

She’d paid attention to her in the way a person paid attention to the stones on a trail, or the turn of the stars behind the clouds.

In another world, she didn’t think she’d even have noticed her. In another one, she didn’t think she’d have been able to tear her gaze away. Maybe in yet another one, where stakes were higher but life was simpler, they’d have been thrown together by fate and accident and wild, wild circumstances and gone up in each other’s flames, and it would have been easy.

She’d bumped into her on the first day, she recalled, going around the corner. She’d spilled tea on herself—not much, just a splash—and dropped a pen. Of all her memories of the day, she had no idea why that was the one that stood out the most. The way the mind works, eh?

She’d asked questions, she remembered. Most people liked to ask questions as if they already knew the answer to them—sos and what you’re sayings and rights. She’d asked questions the way questions were meant to be asked—wide-eyed and curious and serious at the same time, taking things in and thinking about them instead of being bitter about being wrong. She thinks that’s what struck her first.

She’d listened with her eyes and her hands and her face and her body, and, when she’d looked up, she’d meet her eyes and nod. A happy nod, a solemn nod, an impish nod, but a nod nonetheless. Yes, it said, I hear you.

And then, over a body stuffed with coals in a field of withered flowers, in the midst of lights and frenzy and protocol and shouting, she’d held a shaking woman in her arms and stroked her back and sat and listened until she gave a name.

*

What do we do now?

*

There had been an expression that almost looks like loss on her face when they’d lead Van Statten away, and, not quite sure what she was doing, but doing it anyways, she took her hand and led her to a hole-in-the-wall chippy with enough actual holes in the walls that she refused to eat in the building itself (much to the disgruntlement of the woman behind the counter, who’s shouts of It’s fucking atmosphere! followed them all the way down the street and around the bend).

(Maybe that’s when it started—the two of them wandering into a churchyard and sitting beneath stone angels, her laughing as she upset the box, and laughing harder as she plucked chips from the ground and ate them, dirt and all.)

Looking back, she found herself wondering why she never left. Or, rather, why she stayed. Companionship was the word that often surfaced. Camaraderie and a mutual inability to think of anything else to do, and maybe some curiosity thrown into the mix, too.

And then, one day, on the highest bluff in the middle of nowhere, hot and sweaty and aching to the bone, the trees below lit up like a forest of flames in the light of the setting sun and the sky above burning and swirling with stars and clouds, she took her face in her hands and pressed her lips to hers, and everything felt right.

*

Is this love, she wonders at a point, or is this obsession. And who’s to say that it isn’t both.

She doesn’t know the difference.

*

It’s enough to say that not much changes, because it’s too much to think about the little things that do. Hands that linger for fractions of seconds that burn like dying suns and the smallest of smiles from across hallways and conference rooms that shouldn’t make her heart beat like there’s two of them but do. Gazes that hold her and make the hair stand up on the back of her neck and scorch her to the core. A jacket hanging on a doorknob in her flat and an old pink mug on the kitchen counter in hers. Calls that stretch far past what could reasonably be called night, except there’s a reason now, and strands of bleached blonde hair tangled up in the sheets with brown.

And the kisses. The kisses are good, too. And everything else that follows.

She mentions it offhandedly, one day, the pipes and mildew in her flat. And then, because she wants to help, or because she doesn’t have a filter, or for no reason at all, she’s asking her to move in.

There’s a moment, when she’s staring at her, where she thinks she’s put her foot in her mouth. But then she throws her arms around her, and she can feel her smiling against her lips.

Her flat sells surprisingly well, considering the nest of cockroaches in the bathroom they didn’t tell the buyer about.

*

Jack is ecstatic. When is he ever not?

If only he could know how it ends.

*

It had been unrealistic, she supposed to have expected things to be perfect then and for forever. More fanciful, still, for her to expect her to be perfect then and for forever. Smiles tended to wilt behind closed doors and laughter turn to growls, and she had the illusion of all the time in the world to see every grin twist into a scowl.

Money was one of the few things she’d never had to worry about, which was just as well. She didn’t think she’d have been able to bring herself to care.

She’d disagreed. She’d disagreed back. And then they were shouting, and then she was storming out of the flat. The slam of the door had echoed down the hallway behind her, and kept ringing in her ears even five blocks away.

She’d spent the night curled up on a bus stop bench, hood pulled over her face and arms crossed tightly over her chest, and woken to an old woman with a shopping cart tugging at her boots.

She’d given her the boots. She didn’t know why. She still thought about them, sometimes.

She’d found her like that, twisting an old coupon the woman had given her idly in her hands, in the morning, a cup of tea in either hand and a box of custard creams tucked beneath her arm.

They’d bought a purple couch.

*

Three of us against the world, she used to say. And then it was two, and then. . .

And who knew what it was, now.

*

Communication is the key to a good relationship, she’d heard someone say once. A teacher, maybe? She doubted it was any of her friends. Maybe Jack, if he weren’t so bad at giving advice, and even worse at following it.

Communion is subjective. She talks, of course she talks. It’s the one thing she’s never learned not to do. She talks and she talks and she talks, but she never says, and she doesn’t think she hasn’t noticed.

She knew her; she barely knew her. She told her everything, but she still knew nothing. They’d speak without ever exchanging a word, and she would squeeze her wrist lightly when she stood to refill their mugs. She’d answer questions until she didn’t, and she’d ask until she stopped. Ebbing and flowing, the conversations went, and that’s how they left it.

It was beyond words, in a way, and so much lesser in another. Honest. Arduous. Cryptic and impossible and, depending on how you looked at it, completely pointless. She wishes everything were so easy.

She thinks that she knew—about her, what she was and what she wasn’t—or suspected, at the very least. She’d never said anything, not with words, but she’d say it in other ways—the way she’d roll over when she would crawl back into bed in the dead of night, and silently wrap an arm around her waist; the way she’d make no comment about the plain, dark clothes that would appear and vanish in their closet without explanation; the way she’d turn the news off when she switched it on in the morning and locked their fingers together as they drank tea over the papers; the way she never said a word.

See? Communication.

*

She wished—

Oh, god, she wished.

*

There’s a house on the junction of Satellite Street and Fifth Avenue. Boards that hadn’t been there when the house had been sold are nailed across the windows on the first floor. The windows on the second floor are shuttered. Daffodils grow in the front yard, and the roof is covered in dead leaves and fallen branches.

He was tired. Tired and scared, and ready to give up. She’d time it perfectly. He wouldn’t have fought.

Except she was wrong.

Nine shots. Six hits. She still couldn't stand fireworks.

Trembling on a porch, gasping for air, spreading pools of red, and pain that was so much more than just physical. Hands that couldn’t move, a heart that couldn’t beat, and eyes that could do nothing but watch as two more bullets sunk into her heart.

*

Rose.

[thejolexgroupchat]

Hi! Love all the fics you guys write :) could you guys do one where Jo and Alex were together before Alex even started his intern year? Like idk they met somehow while Jo was in college & Alex was in led school and started dating. Everyone tries to hook up with Alex but he’s got this super secret girlfriend that everyone makes fun of him for. They could still have a large age gap or they could be like a year or two apart. Basically, I just want to see Alex holding out for Jo and being super proud & showing her off when she gets into the residency program.

the one where they met in med school - part one

So... we absolutely LOVED this prompt, took it and ran with it. This originally was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kind of grew out of control and became what it is now.

This fic was written by @iamtrebleclefstories (Leya), @doc-pickles (Nina), and tumblr-less Nat

                                                           ———

                                                       (July 2006)

“Hey! I miss you,” Jo smiled as she talked into the phone. “How was your first week as an intern?”

“Honestly? It sucked. But it was also amazing. I don’t know if that makes sense,” Alex replied, shrugging although he knew she couldn’t see him. “And for the record, I miss you more.”

“That’s impossible. You’re so busy you don’t even have time to miss me,” Jo chuckled. “Me on them other hand? My life revolves around school and studying. Studying isn’t as fun without you around. I miss our study dates.”

“I do too,” Alex sighed. He really did miss her. A lot. All the time. He’d only been living in Seattle for a month and it was definitely a challenge. He really didn’t know how he was going to make it through the next year without her. “But at least you have Lexie there. You’re not completely alone.”

“Yeah you’ve got a point,” Jo hummed. “But Lexie doesn’t do all the things for me that you do, if you know what I mean.”

Alex groaned, “Stop it. We’re way too far away from each other to do this. I need you so bad right now and I can’t have you and it sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Jo agreed. She couldn’t believe how far they’d come. She and Alex had been together for about 2 ½ years now. In all that time, they’d been attached at the hip. He was her best friend and she was his. It was odd not seeing him everyday. It was unnatural to sleep without him beside her at night like he’d been doing for years. “I have a week-long break next month though and I was thinking of coming to visit. I’ve saved up a bunch of money from tutoring undergrads.”

“Would it be bad of me to just keep you locked up in my apartment the whole time you’re here, because that sounds appealing,” Alex’s words sparked a string of laughter from Jo, making him sigh down the line. “I miss hearing your laugh and that makes me feel pathetic. It feels like I’m in one of those stupid rom coms you and Lexie forced me to watch all the time.” “We didn’t force you, you readily agreed to it, Karev,” Lexie’s voice echoed faintly in the background, Jo shushing her as the two bickered quietly. 

“Am I on speaker?” 

“Um… maybe?” Jo shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t see her through the phone. “You can’t possibly be embarrassed. Lexie has seen and heard worse from you.”

“I sure have,” Lexie yelled out from her spot across the room. “Keep going! Don’t let me stop you from being all mushy and talking about how much you miss Jo.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “Keep your comments to yourself, let me enjoy my girlfriend for a little while please.”

“So, tell me. Did you make any friends yet?” Jo asked. 

“What is this? Middle school?” Alex scoffed. “I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to become a surgeon. A kickass, rich, plastic surgeon.”

“Yes I’m sure between the scut work and the enemas you have plenty of time to dream about all the money you’re gonna make,” Jo giggled down the line. 

“Oh, you just wait. When you’re an intern I’m going to have you doing all my scut,” Alex warned playfully. “You’ll be sorry for making fun of my career aspirations.”

“I just can’t see you going into plastics,” Jo confessed, a large grin on her face. “Not that you wouldn’t be good at it, but I just don’t see it. Maybe general or ortho!”

“General? Wow I didn’t realize you thought so little of me,” Alex leaned back onto the brick wall behind him as he listened to the sounds of Jo’s quiet laughter. 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with general,” Jo insisted. She groaned as she saw the time. The worst part about Alex moving across the country was the time difference. “I wish I could talk more, but I really have to get ready for bed. I will try to call you tomorrow evening.”

“I’m on-call tomorrow,” Alex revealed sadly. “I hate this. I went from going to bed next to you every night to struggling to even find some time during the day to talk.”

“I know,” Jo sighed. “I hate it, too. Of course I wish you were here, but I am so proud of you.  You’re living the dream right now, Alex. If that means I have to miss you for a little while, so be it.”

God, he really loved this woman. Alex smiled and clutched the phone tightly, “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Jo answered. It still made her heart beat quickly whenever she heard him say those words. He’d been the first person to ever say them to her and mean it. “Go kick some ass.”

“I will,” Alex chuckled. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

Alex hung up his phone and sighed as he walked back into the bar across the street from the hospital. He walked back up to the group of his fellow interns and ordered a beer, staring at his phone for a moment before finally putting it back in his pocket. 

“What’s up with you?” Yang asked. “You look all, mopey.” 

“It’s nothing,” Alex shook his head.

“No, she’s right. You look depressed,” Grey seconded. 

“I’m fine,” Alex took a swig of his beer. “I’m just a little homesick.”

“You know what will cheer you up? Getting laid. You see that girl over there,” Yang pointed to a woman across the bar with red hair and blue eyes. “She’s been eyeing you for a while now. I’m sure if you asked she’d say yes.”

“I don’t need to get laid,” Alex narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re uptight. Isn’t he Stevens?” Yang asked the woman he’d identified as Dr. Model. 

“He is,” Stevens nodded, laying her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I know we’ve only known each other for like a week, but this is the most disappointed and depressed that I’ve seen you. And that’s saying a lot, considering that we are surgical interns and basically slaves to the hospital.”

"I'm not depressed and I do not need to get laid," Alex grumbled, taking a swig of his beer. "If you must know, I was on the phone with my girlfriend."

"Evil Spawn has a girlfriend?" Cristina raised an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a relationship type guy."

"Neither did I, but then I met her. So, just stop pestering and let me mope in peace."

"Wow. Karev has a heart," O'Malley chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "I didn't see that one coming."

“Oh screw you guys, why don’t you go get laid? Being so invested in someone else’s love life has gotta be a sign that you need to get some.”

                                                          ———

                                                   (August 2003)

“Hey! You’re Jo right?” 

Jo turned around to see a young woman with short brown hair and brown eyes smiling at her. Jo outstretched her hand, “Yes. I’m Jo. You’re Lexie, my lab partner right?”

“Yup!  It’s so nice to officially meet you,” Lexie shook Jo’s hand. 

She seemed like a sweet and perky person. The exact kind of person that Jo didn’t normally associate with. For the longest time, Jo didn’t have any friends or get attached to anyone. She had two friends the entirety of her undergrad and typically didn’t look to make any more. Jo supposed it would be nice to have someone, "It's nice to meet you, too."

                                              (September 2003)

"I can't believe you actually did that!" Jo exclaimed as she and Lexie walked down to the lab. "You became another one of Karev's conquests."

"Honestly, I don't even regret it," Lexie confessed, a large smile on her face. "There is a reason why Leah is so hung up on him. He knows what he's doing. You should go for it. Sleeping with him is like a right of passage or something."

"Ew, no way," Jo faked a gag. "He's an ass. I have much higher standards than Alex Karev."

They entered the lab to find the program's resident man-whore going over some samples. Jo had to admit, he was pretty hot. Alex Karev was cocky and charming and incredibly intelligent. He was always getting the highest grades and was every professor's favorite student. She was into him. But she'd never say it out loud.

"Hey, Lexie," Alex smirked as they walked over to their stations. He gave Jo a once over and looked at her with one of his signature crooked grins. "Hello Lexie's friend. You got a name?"

Jo considered staying quiet but finally decided to respond, "Jo Wilson."

"Nice, I like chicks with boys' names."

"Karev, " Lexie warned.

"What? I do. It's hot," Alex shrugged.

"Alex, stop sleeping with all the first years. It ruins them," Lexie admonished.

"I slept with you," Alex pointed out. 

"Yeah, and it's never going to happen again. Besides, Jo's my best friend," Lexie shrugged. "I'm protective of her."

                                                (October 2003)

“I told you I didn’t need you to follow me,” Jo grumbled. “I can take care of myself.”

"Calm down,  princess. There's no need to get your panties in a twist," Alex rolled his eyes at Jo who'd been yelling at him for the past few minutes. They'd been studying with a group of friends in the library when Jo decided to leave and Alex offered to walk her home. “I just don’t think you should be walking home alone with that fancy watch on your wrist that daddy probably gifted you. Can’t risk someone mugging the princess.” 

"Stop calling me princess!" Jo shouted, turning to face Alex as anger bubbled up inside of her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself for a moment. "My mother left me at a fire station when I was two weeks old. I got bumped around foster homes until I was sixteen when I took matters into my own hands and started living out of a car. I parked it behind the gym of my high school so I could sneak in and use the showers before class. My home ec teacher--Ms. Schmidt--she’d let me do my laundry there for free. And yeah, I got into good schools because I worked my ass off. And when I walked across that stage at graduation, I didn’t have a cheering section filled with my richy-rich family. I had one person, Ms. Schmidt. That’s it. She’s the one who gave me this watch when I got into Med School. Her son works for the company.” 

Alex had the decency to look down at the ground ashamed. He walked up to the wall Jo was leaning against and stood beside her, “It is a nice watch.” 

“Thanks.” 

The next time they see each other, things are different. Understanding Jo’s background gave Alex a deeper appreciation for her work ethic. Even though they were in different years, Alex found himself seeking Jo out for projects and studying. Being around her made him want to be better. He wanted to excel in ways he hadn’t in the past. And that said a lot, considering he was already at the top of his class. 

So that’s why when he saw her sitting at the bar a couple weeks later, he decided to join her. They’d had an argument earlier in the day where some things were said. Alex walked up to the bar and grinned at the bartender, “A beer for me and another round for Hobo Jo. Let me guess… Thunderbird or is it straight paint thinner?” Alex looked back up at the bartender. “You got a little brown paper bag you can put that in?”

“Would you stop,” Jo sighed and looked at Alex. “I had no parents. I lived in my car. Yes I have trust issues, it comes with the territory.” 

“You need to stop acting like you’re the only person who ever had a crappy childhood,” Alex rolled his eyes slightly. 

“Oh yeah? How many foster homes did you get kicked out of before you moved into your car?” 

“Seventeen. And I didn’t live in my car. I went to juvie,” Alex took a sip of his drink. 

“Stop making fun of me,” Jo shook her head. 

“I’m not.” 

Jo’s face scrunched in interest, “Really?”

“And you’re actually lucky that your folks abandoned you. It means you didn’t have to watch your schizo mom go after your baby brother with a steak knife.” 

“Fine, fair,” Jo conceded. “But you never woke up in the middle of the night with junkies banging on your bedroom windshield, praying they’d get tired or bored before they put a rock through a window.”

“No, I didn’t,” Alex shook his head in response. “Because the junkie was my dad and he didn’t break windows, just fingers.” 

“Well, did you ever have foster parents that made you and nineteen other kids sleep on cots in the basement? Locking the doors, lights out, so that if you had to pee in the middle of the night, you had to use buckets they set up along the wall. Buckets you couldn’t see because if you turned the lights on, the bigger kids would hold you down and take those buckets and--” Jo’s voice cracked slightly.

Alex bowed his head in sadness, “God… no, never.” 

“Me neither,” Jo shrugged. “Saw it in a movie on cable.” 

Alex’s mouth twitched into a shocked grin as he let out a few chuckles, “How did you get cable in your car?”

“I don’t live in my car anymore, jerk,” Jo giggled lightly. 

Her story must’ve done the trick to break the ice because before they knew it, Jo and Alex were well on their way to becoming best of friends. They laughed and joked together for hours, even going as far as fake crying to get out of paying their tab. 

“You know, you’re not half bad, Karev,” Jo grinned as she and Alex walked out of the bar. She clutched the sides of Alex’s jacket which he had so kindly allowed her to borrow. “I actually had a lot of fun tonight.” 

“So did I, Wilson,” Alex smiled back at her. “What do you say we grab some tacos and eat them in the back of my truck?”

“Sounds great to me.”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Dark Paradise (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: AU! With their ‘arrangement’ in place, reader and Keanu go apartment hunting. Part of the Always the quiet ones universe. Part 1 - Always the quiet ones | Part 2 - The Proposal | Part 4 - Without You

Author’s notes: I don’t know about you people, but I’m slightly addicted to this series. It’s so fun to write! As usual, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Wordcount: 4247

Warnings: Age gap; smut (dirty talk; d/s undertones; exhibitionism)

It was strange to be in the presidential suite without Keanu, but definitely something you could get used to. You took your time in a long bath, using the deliciously scented bath products from the hotel that you were very familiar with, despite never using them yourself.

You stepped out once the water turned tepid, your skin feeling silky soft and smelling amazing as you wrapped your body on one of the fluffy white robes, a towel holding your hair on top of your head. You scanned the menu for room service, your stomach rumbling. It was late and your last meal had been lunch.

Picking up the phone, you paused in hesitation. Everyone in the reception desk knew you. They would recognize your voice at the same second. How were you gonna explain this? You set the phone down again, choosing instead to order your favorite burger and milkshake from the diner a couple of streets over. They frequently delivered to the hotel guests and employees so no one would bat an eye to see them there.

You grabbed your laptop and books, bringing it to the bed with you because you had an essay for your abnormal psychology class to deliver next week and you hadn’t had time to start. Between work and all the other courses, you had been feeling overwhelmed and stressed and every time you tried to sit down to write, it was like your brain would just shut down and refuse to form any coherent thought.

Tonight, it was the first time in a while you felt completely relaxed and as you pulled out your reference notes, the text flowed easily, the essay practically writing itself as you swayed to The Weeknd playing on your earbuds.

You finished the first draft in record time, saving it on your college folder with a smile. So, this was how studying felt like when you had plenty of time and no distractions? It was amazing and the idea of not only having an apartment of your own but not to worry about long work hours and crushing debt was starting to sound even more appealing.

Pulling up a few real-estate websites, you started to browse apartments you liked which were around St. Joseph’s College, but after another moment’s consideration, decided to look for places closer to Columbia University, where you were planning to attend for Law School.

At first, you searched for an apartment with two beds two baths just like you first envisioned, but the prices terrified you. Why was everything in New York so fucking expensive? You could never ask Keanu to spend so much on you, a woman he barely knew. Then again, what would be the right price under those circumstances?

With a sigh, you got up, putting your clothes back on and moving to the balcony to watch the Manhattan lights. What were you thinking by getting in such a weird, messed up situation? You could already foresee that every single step of this would be riddled with uncertainty and self-doubt and you already hated.

You were usually so sure about your own choices. You had been sure that you needed to move away for college and even though you hated leaving your mom and brother behind, you knew it would be the only way to ease the weight of responsibility on your mother. If you stayed, she would insist you dedicated exclusively to school and she would kill herself working two, three jobs to keep your family finances afloat.

From a distance, with only phone calls twice a week, it was easier to pretend you weren’t struggling. It was easier to pretend that you were having the life she always dreamt of for you. The life Keanu was offering you right now.

And when you accepted his proposal, you had been sure too. Thinking about your future and the fact that even though you barely knew him, Keanu made you feel like no other man or boy ever managed.

It wasn’t a coincidence that, even though you knew next to nothing about him, he had been your first. You knew he was the kind of man you wanted, and you didn’t regret your decision. You were just doubting if this was the right way to go about things.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, making you start and giggle, especially when he pressed his cold nose against your neck.

“I could hear you overthinking things as soon as I stepped inside the suite,” Keanu commented, tugging you closer to his body, surrounding you with his heat and you rested against his chest, relaxing in an instant. How was this possible? “If you changed your mind…”

“No,” you sighed, turning in his embrace, your arms coming around his neck, fingers combing through the soft hairs in his nape. “I just…”

“Unsure if it’s the right thing for you?” he asked, and you chuckled because you hated and loved how he could just read your mind.

“Maybe,” you replied as Keanu rested his forehead against yours, letting out his own sigh. “I mostly wondering why you’re doing this.” He pulled back long enough to give you a look, his eyebrow arched in question and you felt heat rising to your cheeks. “I mean, you’re a handsome guy. Smart, educated, very good at…”

“Sex?” he offered with a smirk and you chuckled.

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t really what I was gonna say.” Even if you were thinking it. “My point is, you literally could just ask me or any other woman out and they most likely say yes.”

“Truth is, I’m selfish,” Keanu said with a shrug, his hands trailing softly down your back, rough fingers under your shirt, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I have very little free time and when I do and I want to spend it with someone, I want their undivided attention. Bills and unfulfilling jobs tend to take their focus away.”

“So, you’ve done this before?” you asked carefully because you’ve been dying to know.

“Does it matter?” he asked, pulling away from you and there was a tension in his shoulders that you hadn’t seen before.

“Yes,” you replied a little more firmly because you needed to know. You needed to know what kind of future could be waiting for you.

“Twice,” Keanu finally replied, stepping closer to the railing and lighting up a cigarette. “First time, she ended it. It wasn’t what she wanted in the long run. She’s married now. With a kid.”

“And the second time?” you prodded, trying to be gentle.

“She wanted more than I could give so I had to end things. For her own good and mine.”

You could tell there was more to it but decided to leave it alone, your curiosity sated for now. Instead, you fitted yourself between his body and the railing, making Keanu smile as he looked at you. His gaze held you with its intensity and you wanted to hide, but also to expose your entire self to him because it made you feel like the only person on Earth and it was such a strange but thrilling feeling.

“It never felt like this, though,” he whispered, leaning closer, filling your nose with the smell of smoke and expensive cologne. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you.”

“I want you too,” you assured, arms returning to his neck.

Your mouth found his and for a moment you got lost in the taste of him. Just the touch of his lips upon yours was enough to make your knees feel weak and arousal pool between your legs.

“You should eat first,” Keanu said with a soft smile. “Your burger is getting cold and your milkshake is melting.” You followed him back to the bedroom, surprised to see the takeout bag on top of a bedside table. “The delivery guy was at the reception desk when I got in, so I just brought it with me.”

“Thanks.” You grinned, your belly growling at the smell of the greasy food.

“Where are you going?” Keanu asked when you took a step to the sitting room.

“I’m not gonna eat in bed,” you replied with a snort. You knew how much of a pain in the ass it was to clean up those sheets from grease stains.

Instead, you brought everything to the small dining table in the sitting room, mouth watering as you unpacked your food. You were halfway into your burger when Keanu came in, your laptop in hands.

“Looking for apartments?” he asked, sitting next to you. “Let me see?”

“Sure. Third tab is my favorite so far,” you said licking the excess of ketchup from your fingers before you popped a fry in your mouth and tilted your head to see the screen too.

“It’s a shoebox,” Keanu complained with a displeased noise, moving to the next tab and then the following one and the one after that. “They’re all shoeboxes.”

“I don’t need much,” you shrugged and watched as he altered the search parameters, his brown eyes scanning the options, his forehead slightly creased in concentration. “Fry?”

“I already had dinner,” he said, clicking in one of the adds.

“Ok, but this is French fries,” you pointed out, waving it in front of his gaze. “The best in town.” He chuckled, before snatching it from your fingers with his lips.

“I like this,” he said and the first thing you noticed was the price that nearly made you choke on the mouthful of milkshake. “Don’t worry about prices,” Keanu assured with a smile. “Just tell me if you liked it.”

“Well, obviously,” you sighed, glancing back at the pictures and the wide window panels. “But seriously, Keanu, I’d good with a studio or…” You trailed off when you saw him pull out the real-estate agent information, take out his phone. “It’s almost eleven p.m. Keanu, you can’t just…”

He shushed you, a smirk on his face as he pressed the phone to his ear with one hand, the other traveling up your thigh, making you shiver.

“This is Keanu Reeves.”

His hand moving higher as he spoke to the woman on the other side. You tried to still his wandering fingers when they reached between your legs, but Keanu just gave you a wicked smile, his voice not wavering even the slightly as he started teasing you. You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your noises as you rocked against his fingers.

You got lost in the sensations, in his teasing and you didn’t even realize he ended his call. Not until Keanu pulled your hand away from your mouth, meeting your lips for a sweet kiss.

“We have an appointment tomorrow at noon. Can you make it?”  

“Yeah,” you assured, moving to his lap. “Now, are you gonna fuck me again, sir?”

“Yes,” Keanu replied, smirking. This time when he stood up with you in his arms, you barely made a sound. “Until you can’t sit straight without feeling and remembering me.”

----

You tried your best to focus on what the professor was droning on about, but it was hard when every time you shifted in your chair, you could feel the throb in your center, not exactly painful, but definitely making sure you didn’t forget the pounding you got last night and you had to hide your satisfied grin behind a sip of your water so not to drag attention to yourself.

You never thought sex could be quite like that. Sure, Keanu was your first real experience, everything else just awkward fumbling, but even in your inexperience, you could tell that wasn’t just good. It was unbelievably amazing.

Feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, you reached for it and the sight of Keanu’s name on the screen made your heart speed up. It was just a text message; sending you the address for the apartment complex you’d be visiting and asking if you wanted him to send a car for you. You had no idea why you were acting like this.

With a quick reply, you assured you’d be there and that you could take the subway before you tried to get your attention back to the lecture. This was one of the toughest classes in your course, you knew only 5 percent of the class would get grades higher than B and you planned to be in that percentage.

Once the class was finally over, you put your things away and checked the time to make sure you could pop in your dorm to drop your stuff and change before you met Keanu. You wanted to look nice and maybe a little more… mature? Maybe it was silly of you, but you wanted to make sure to cause a good impression and jeans and a ratty tee wasn’t the ideal way.

So, you exchanged them for one of your favorite sweater dresses, cream-colored and tied around your waist with a ribbon. You always felt the shape complimented your curves, as well as the tone, made the earthy hue of your skin pop up.

           “You look hot,” your roommate commented, making you grin. She was hardly your favorite person sometimes, but she did have an amazing taste. “Meeting the boyfriend?”

“Never said I had a boyfriend,” you pointed out as you put on your boots.

“The hickeys told the tale,” she smirked, nodding that the bruise peeking from under the hem of your dress and you blushed, tugging it down. “No shame. Maybe he can get that stick from up your ass.” She called out from over her shoulder as she moved away, taking your charger without asking once again.

“Soon,” you whispered to your mirror self, before picking up your bag and heading out, fidgeting the entire way to Morningside Heights, the neighborhood a distant cry from your own and you felt slightly out of place as you approached the elegant building.

Keanu was waiting for you at the foyer, once again in a suit, this time all black, his hair neatly combed and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, especially with the way he smiled when he spotted you, his gaze traveling appreciatively down your body before he met your eyes again.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, letting Keanu pull you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“You’re just in time, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes never leaving you. “We’re ready, Gwen.”

For the first time, you noticed the woman in a crisp pantsuit, her hair pinned back in a neat bun, a fake smile plastered in her face as she looked at you and at the way Keanu was holding you close, his large hand pressed against your hip, warm and possessive.

You matched her smile, daring her to say a word, knowing that she wouldn’t, not in front of Keanu anyway.

This was something you would have to get used to it. The judgmental looks whenever you were anywhere near Keanu. He seemed oblivious to it, but you could just feel eyes following the pair of you as Gwen led the way to the wall of elevators.

The first apartment she showed was one of the studios you had seen originally. Yes, it was small, but the wide windows let plenty of sunshine in; the modern concept kitchen was gorgeous, and the bathroom had plenty of space. You loved it.

“Shoebox,” Keanu whispered in your ear as Gwen droned on and on about the qualities of the place, making you giggle. “Can you show us the other one we talked about?”

“Absolutely,” the woman said, leading the way out, the elevator taking you three to a higher floor in the building.

This one was also amazing and considerably bigger. Two bedrooms, two baths, an open kitchen, the master bathroom was huge, with a tub that looked very inviting and a closet bigger than you knew what to do with.

“What you think?” Keanu asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you ran your fingers over the stone countertops.

“It’s amazing,” you told him with a grin, which he returned. “What do you think?”

You followed him as Keanu walked the apartment, analyzing every inch before, turning to look at Gwen.

“You have a penthouse?” The woman stilled for a second, stunned before she checked something on her phone and then looked back at Keanu.

“We do, but it’s already reserved,” she said, her tone apologetic.

“Show us anyway.” And who could resist when Keanu was flashing that charming smile, looking so suave and unflappable?

You watched as flustered Gwen raised a finger asking for a minute and scurried off, phone to her ear, probably talking to her superiors.

“What’s the point of checking an apartment someone else already getting ready to buy?” you asked, coming to stand next to him. The idea of it being the penthouse scared you a little and something told you Keanu knew.

“Just to sate my curiosity,” he said, fingers toying with the edge of your dress. “I like this look on you,” Keanu said, pulling you closer, his hands coming to your ass. “Easy access.”

You giggled and pushed his hands away moments before Gwen returned, her smile wide and you could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes as she led the way to the top floor, the elevator opening to a small hall that had only one door. She unlocked it and let you and Keanu step in first.

Your breath caught in your throat once again. This time due to the ceiling to floor window panels that showed the most gorgeous view of New York. There was a huge terrace and your heart leaped when you noticed you could see Columbia University from up there, closer than you could have hoped for. St. John’s cathedral too.

This apartment wasn’t much bigger than the other one you just visited and had all the same winning features. The biggest difference was the terrace and it was definitely something. You could see yourself having breakfast out there with Keanu when the weather was nice or cuddling at the lounge seat overlooking Manhattan and the Hudson River.

“You loved it, don’t you?” Keanu asked in a throaty chuckle, his arm surrounding you, his lips grazing your cheek, his beard tickling your skin.

“Ok, yes,” you admitted, turning your head to look at him. “But it’s too…” He silenced your words pressing a finger to your lips, his brown eyes shining bright as he looked at you.

“It’s just right. For both of us.” With a final kiss to your cheek, Keanu moved away, meeting Gwen in the living room.

You could protest of course. Insist on the smaller one but Keanu was right. This was perfect, the kind of place you had only dared to think about in dreams. The master bedroom was large enough that you could have a small home office in it and leave the second bedroom exclusively as a guest room. Your mom would die for that kitchen. It was everything you wanted, and Keanu was more than willing to buy it for you.

With much struggle, you turned your back to the view so you could watch Keanu and Gwen talking. There it was again, the flustered look confronted with his smooth ways and you almost felt bad for her. You had no idea what he was saying, but it was enough for the real estate agent to lift her finger once again and scurry off.

“Even if we love it,” you said returning to the living room, but pausing to admire the high windows. “Someone else is already about to buy it.”

“You’d be surprised what the right offer can do,” Keanu replied with a smirk. He shrugged off his blazer and set on the kitchen counter before he moved towards you, his gaze dark with desire.

“Keanu, we can’t…” you warned just as he crowded you against the window, his lips hot against your neck, his hands on your thighs, sneaking under the hem of your dress.

“Why not?”

“This isn’t our place.” Your voice turned a bit high-pitched as he nipped at your skin. “And she can come back at any moment.”

“She’s talking to her boss, who’s gonna talk to their bosses so they can find a compatible, but more affordable place to offer to the other interested part. That will take a while, so we have time.”

His hands moved to the front of your thighs, dipping in between before nudging them apart and you let him. Any resistance you had reduced to shambles when Keanu pressed a wet, sucking kiss to that sensitive point just bellow your ear that always made you soaked in seconds.

You rested your hands on the sun-warmed glass of the window, bending your body just enough so your ass was pressed against his growing erection, making Keanu smirk against your neck as he tugged your dress up, your panties down and dipped two of his fingers inside you and making you moan.

“Today you have to be quiet, sweetheart,” he said, and you could hear the noise of his buttons and belt being undone. “And I don’t have time to prep you like I usually do.”

“I can take it, sir,” you replied, voice shaking as he continued to move his fingers in and out at a fast pace, making pleasure shoot through you like lightning bolts, the surge of arousal and lust igniting your nerves.

“I know,” Keanu whispered against your cheek. “You’re already drenching my hand, your cunt desperate for my cock.”

You didn’t have time to reply nor to feel embarrassed, because he was replacing his fingers with his cock, burying into you till the hilt and muffling your cries by pushing two fingers into your mouth, his other hand positioning your hips so Keanu could better thrust into you.

His pace was punishing and soon you were pressed against the window, his hand coming up to play with your breasts as he fucked you, his grunts and curses tickling your ear, his smell surrounding you as he took you.

If there was any cognitive function left in you, you would be worried about getting caught; about someone from the nearby buildings seeing the two of you, but all you knew was the shattering pleasure spreading from your center to the rest of your body, coiling deep inside you and building like wildfire. You just knew your orgasm would be the kind that left you completely shattered and weak.

“Are you close, sweetheart?” Keanu asked, tone breathless as he ground into you, his thrusts short and angled just right. “I wanna feel you squeezing me tight when I cum inside you.”

You only nodded, bringing his hand from your breasts to your clit and Keanu started rubbing circles, his soft touch a contrast to the way he was taking you, but it worked, because in moments you were whimpering and shaking as the tension coil snapped and you came, gushing and throbbing around him.

“Fuck! I love how tight your cunt gets when you come,” he grunted, his thrusts gaining speed and losing coordination as he fucked with abandon, muffling his own groan with a bite to your shoulder.

His weight pressed you against the window, the glass smudged by your sweat as the two of you caught your breath and, in your case, also recovered the control for your lower limbs.

You were barely aware of Keanu fumbling behind you, slowly pulling his fingers from inside your mouth, wiping the spit the escaped from the corner of your lips and drying them on his pants before, pulling out his softening cock as the same time he brought a handkerchief between your legs, gathering most of the mess the two of you made.

At the sound of steps on the foyer, you hurried to fix your dress, hoping your hair wasn’t too much of a mess as the Gwen returned to the room, taking one look at the two of you and blushing bright red.

She knew. Of course, she knew. It was written on your faces. She could probably smell it in the air.

“The apartment is yours, Mr. Reeves.”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling wide, both hands inside his pockets. “I’ll have my people send all the required documents to your office.”

“Alright,” she nodded, a timid smile in her face. “Would you like some more time to… uh, look?”

You could feel your cheeks flaming as her gaze moved your direction. You quickly looked out the window, avoiding her eyes.

“Please,” Keanu replied with a smirk, and you felt his hand back on your hip. “I’d like the inspect the master bedroom a little more closely.”

“Just drop the keys at the lobby once you’re done,” she said, her eyes knowingly as she walked out of the loft.

Once the door closed, Keanu tugged you into his arms, his mouth seeking yours for a searing kiss.

“I hope you cleared your schedule because I’m planning on fucking you in each and every one of these rooms,” he said against your lips.

“I’m all yours,” you replied with a matching smirk, sucking on his bottom lip just to hear him grunt, his hands tightening over your hips.

“Don’t you forget it.”

xxx

Permanent Tag List (give me a shout if you want to added or removed)

@toomanystoriessolittletime​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @theolsdalova​  @beyond-antares​ @cumberbatchbaps​ @sgt-morgan​ @futuristic-imbecile​ @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​  @fanficsrusz​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @poisonedjoinery​  @soarocks @penwieldingdreamer​​ @alwaydreamingofu​ @partypoison00​ @hnryycvll​ @kevia1000 @krazycags01​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @soarocks​ @reid-187​

Tag List for Always the Quiet Ones

@keandrews​ @fuck-yeah-hope​ @keanureeefs​ @pinkzsugar​ @fortheloveoffanfic​ @baphometwolf666​  @whyskeysour @hstyles-imagines​

[halothenthehorns]

THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

Sirius cradled the book in his hands for a moment, a curiously contemplative look on his face, pretending he couldn't hear James mumbling under his breath, "he got to read about Harry's Championship game last year- can't believe he gets all the good ones."

Sirius, unbelievably, didn't even hesitate as he gave the book a toss back and said, "knock yourself out Prongs."

James caught it with fumbling fingers and was still blinking in shock at his best friend, causing Sirius to smirk all the wider as he shrugged and said, "what, I'm not going to argue the point. You're right, I got a whole Quidditch game where Harry won, you should get the lesser of them with just some stupid World Cup."

James couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at him for the picking, he knew reverse psychology when he heard it, but it wasn't going to work! Sirius had given this up, and he wasn't getting it back!

They joined the throng of people heading into the trail, every camper on premises shouting, singing, and causing the air itself to fill with excitement.

Lily more than agreed. She wasn't even fond of the sport and she held an ever growing smile on her face, all the boys in the room acting like they were on a sugar high they were so excited to be hearing about this. It had certainly been built up enough.

 Harry couldn't wipe a smile off his face as they made it through the forest, and wound up in the shadows of the largest stadium Harry had ever seen. It was solid gold and so large he could imagine several whole cathedrals fitting inside. Mr. Weasley noticed the look of awe on Harry's face and happily said it seated a hundred thousand!

"And gets sold out every year," Remus added on, all of them also grinning at the look now back on Harry's face.

They made their way to one of the entrances where a cheerful woman inspected their tickets and informed them they were in prime seats.

"Top Box!" Sirius all but screamed in remembered excitement!

To get to the Top Box, she informed Arthur all he had to do was climb as high as they could go through the stairwell.

Remus once again couldn't help but think 'did everyone in the world know Arthur' but he was too busy laughing that James was half yelling as he read with overflowing enjoyment so he didn't bother.

They hit the stairs, watching as people slowly trickled out around them to their seats, until finally they found their place where only twenty chairs were available. The view was spectacular, perfectly positioned between the two goal posts. The field below was of the brightest green, the stands looked more like dots from this position, and directly across from them was a backboard where advertisements were currently being scrawled across.

Harry's eyes kept getting wider the more he remembered that place, thinking it nearly put the Hogwarts Quidditch field to shame with its massiveness, something he never would have believed possible before this moment.

James and Sirius, having only attended one themselves previously, were flashing grins at each other in remember exuberance of how that match had gone, having always wanted to take their kids one day, and getting to hear this play out through Harry now the closest they'd yet got to that dream, so this was practically wish fulfillment to them!

Remus and Lily had never gone to one, and the immense size and splendor of this spectacle was actually starting to blow their mind.

Harry only watched a few before he began inspecting his own area more closely, as he and his group filled in the first row. Almost directly behind him, he instead spotted a tiny little creature.

Harry did a double take at that, his mind caught off guard by the sudden unexpected visit he thought he was getting from, "Dobby?"

"What?" The others squawked in surprise.

Harry was frowning in puzzled confusion, placing his hand to his temple in agitation as the moment left him, and he was left floundering to explain. "I, I'm not sure. Just, looking around, thought I spotted him." He was still grimacing, so James decided to keep reading to clarify an answer.

Its face was buried in its hands, but it still had large bat like ears and was wearing a tea towel for clothes, all giving Harry a strong remembrance of Dobby.

The fact that Harry thought this twice didn't necessarily mean he was right, he would have thought the same thing twice in a row with his memories being replenished in the style they were. It would definitely be something that needed to be explained if it was Dobby, since they hadn't heard of the little guy for over a year now, in Harry's time.

It glanced up at the name, and the image was ruined as Harry instead found large brown eyes and a squashed button nose.

"Not Dobby then," Sirius stated.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Remus snorted.

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Canis,*" Sirius shot back.

That wasn't Dobby, but it was a house-elf like Dobby had been.

"Had been?" Lily giggled. "You mean is, or was in that instance."

Harry rolled his eyes, he wasn't the one who'd written this down.

Dobby used to be enslaved to the Malfoy family before Harry had tricked them into releasing him. The little one in front of him now squeaked Dobby's name in surprise in an even higher pitch then Dobby's tone, and though it was hard to tell, Harry hazard a guess this one was female. Ron and Hermione looked around in surprise as well, never having met Dobby themselves, but having heard of him through Harry.

"Huh, never realized that before," James muttered randomly, completely unconcerned now that it wasn't Dobby and wanting to get back to the Cup!

Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Did you tell him about Dobby?" Remus asked in surprise.

"Not directly," Harry shrugged, "but maybe Ron did, or the voice just got him curious. It did stick out."

Harry apologized for the confusion, but the elf squeaked back that she knew of Dobby.

Lily started humming 'It's a Small World After All' under her breath in surprise, but since this was one of the least strangest or coincidental things that had happened to Harry, she didn't mention it.

She still had her face half buried in her fingers, looking anywhere but at the open space in front of them as she greeted that her name was Winky, then deduced that he was Harry Potter.

"Brilliant deduction skills on this one," Sirius grumbled under his breath, not having appreciated one bit the last elf Harry had to deal with, hoping this one wouldn't have anything at all to do with his pup.

When Harry agreed he was, Winky explained that Dobby spoke of Harry Potter all the time. Harry asked how he was doing, and Winky sighed in disappointment, saying freedom wasn't doing him any favors.

"Has she ever met the Malfoy's," Remus demanded in disgust. "I think she should hold that to herself until otherwise."

Harry asked if he was okay, and Winky explained that his newfound freedom was going to his head. He was looking for a new position, but no one would take him, because he wanted to be paid now.

By the stunned look of the others, it didn't take much for Harry to ascertain, "so that's weird then."

"Absolutely," James nodded, his mind actually derailed, partially enough his tone wasn't as high pitched as Winky's from excitement at least. "Never heard of a thing like that."

"I think it's cute," Lily shrugged, a small frown still on her face at the thought of that elf. "I'd take him up on that offer in a heartbeat."

"Let's hope you're not the only one," Remus shrugged.

Harry glanced at Sirius, who he'd noticed had stayed absent, and couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Sirius had made it perfectly clear he certainly wasn't fond of elves, what would he think of this? He said nothing though, and Harry was certain if he really cared he would have, so Harry didn't bring it up.

Harry asked why shouldn't he be paid? Winky explained that only a tainted elf would want such a thing, elves took pride in their work and Dobby was shaming their kind by going round like this! If he kept up like he was, he'd wind up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures.

"That would be a first I'm sure," Remus muttered.

Harry was frowning now as he said he was glad to hear Dobby was trying to have some fun, but Winky said back stoutly that house-elves weren't meant to have fun.

Sirius watched Harry and Lily start to look rather confused and upset by this, so he groused, "This one's starting to depress me as much as the last one, can't she just let it go?" with an eye roll. Personally, he didn't hate Dobby as much as he initially had, not after he'd at least tried to save Harry, been abused by the Malfoy's for years, and Harry now considered him a friend. He still wasn't sure what Harry and Lily's big fuss about them were though. This little Winky was acting the way any other elf would.

They do what they're told and that's that. She then explained that though she was terrified of heights, her master had told her to come save his seat, and that's what she was doing.

"Ooh, that's terrible," Lily half cooed, half looked like she was going to start scolding any second. "That wizard couldn't have sent up anyone else, their friend or anything, instead of the elf he knows is afraid of heights."

"He might not know," James offered, "not to many wizards bother to get to know the likes and dislikes of their elves."

"And I doubt she'd inform him," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"It's odd enough to bring your elf to this type of thing," Remus shrugged, looking to break up Lily's agitated face that James hardly sounded more concerned about this then Sirius. "So I'm sure there was some reason." 'Hope the Malfoy's didn't get another one' he privately added in his head, thinking that wouldn't go down well with anyone.

He then looked to James to keep going, which he happily did, thinking they were getting way too worked up over an elf.

Harry was frowning in sorrow now as he asked why her master would do that if he knew she was afraid of heights? Winky explained again that she'd been asked to save a seat, as her master was too busy to come just yet, gesturing slightly to the empty chair beside her.

Harry felt like a tap dancer was running up his spine all of a sudden. Something, there was something right there...his body gave a great shudder of protest at his prolonging on trying to think on this for even a second, and he let lose a great gasp of surprise before he sagged back into the couch and glared balefully around the room in agitation, muttering the usual 'sorry, memories, nothing.'

The other's did not look happy, in fact they were getting pretty concerned at how often Harry was doing that even before he went to school this time, but what could they do?

Winky didn't want to be up here, but she was doing as she was told like a good elf. She gave one last terrified whimper at the edge of their box, then buried her face in her hands again. Harry turned back to talk to his friends, Ron asking if all house-elves acted like that?

Sirius suddenly gasped, and looked likely to fall off the couch, causing the others to jump in concern as he turned a stunned look to Harry and demanded, "I've just realized, you haven't been to the kitchens yet!"

"Err no," Harry said uneasily, still rather concerned by his overreaction.

As were the others apparently as James swatted at him and snapped, "you almost gave me a heart attack! Of course he hasn't you dolt, we would have heard about that."

"But, he's entering his fourth year," Sirius added on, looking from James to Remus and back like they were missing the biggest of pictures. "We could have walked down there blindfolded by then!"

"I'm going to strangle you," Lily told him pleasantly, "and Merlin help me I never thought I'd say this, but James get back to your game before I do."

Sirius was still eyeing Harry like he was truly concerned for his wellbeing at this slip, but James was happy to oblige.

Harry just shrugged back and said that Dobby had been weirder. Ron had lost interest already, and was instead using his omnioculars to people watch the crowd below, exclaiming in excitement when he used his rewind feature to make a man below pick his nose over and over again.

Shattering all the annoyed looks at Sirius for them to begin snickering at Ron. Sirius gave a slight pout, that's what he'd been trying to do, clearly they were being overly sensitive. Though upon reflection, after the past few days they'd had, he supposed it had been just a tad uncalled for.

Hermione was looking through her program, telling how both teams had brought a mascot that would do a small show before the game.

"The Irish always bring leprechauns," Remus quickly told Harry before he could ask.

"Bit of a bore really," Sirius nodded, "you'd think they'd try to break their stereotype."

"I do wonder what the Bulgarians will bring," Lily admitted.

Mr. Weasley had heard and quickly said that's always a fun show, both teams trying to one up each other with something native to their land.

As time kept passing, more people came into their box, and Arthur got up to shake the hand of several very important wizards.

"I really don't think Ron can call his dad's job boring anymore," James muttered, finding Arthur's presence more and more charming as this continued.

Percy kept hopping out of his seat so often he looked like he was trying to sit on a porcupine.

Causing all five of them to start snickering, that wasn't too hard to picture, especially as they could see the twins doing this to him on purpose.

When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

"Why's he bowing at them anyways," Lily giggled. "They're not the monarchy."**

"Trying to show off?" Remus offered with a shrug.

Looking thoroughly embarrassed with himself, he fixed his glasses and quickly retook his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry who Fudge greeted like his best friend.

"You become the stupid Boy Who Lived," Harry grumbled, "then he'll butter up to you just fine."

They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion,

James could not get that out without a hard bite to his words, it sounding all the more harsh sense his recent spike of this same feeling towards his own best friend. He didn't need some stranger acting that part as well.

asking how his summer had been, then introducing him to the Bulgarian minister in too loud tones.

"I never understood that," Remus snorted. "Talking loudly does not make them understand you any better."

"Don't ask us," Lily shrugged.

Fudge was trying to get through a language barrier, repeating his full name several times, but it wasn't until the Bulgarian caught sight of Harry's scar that he began babbling in excitement.

Harry was the only one who let out a surprised bit of laughter at that, with a rather hard edge, finding it funny his scar did a better job than the Minister. He did ponder on why he was being so harsh towards the man who hadn't really done anything to him?

Fudge sighed as he said to them that he'd been having to deal with that all day. He really needed Crouch around.

"Is he the only linguistic in the whole ministry?" Sirius snorted.

"I would have thought at least the Minister would bother to learn some for this upcoming game," Remus nodded in agreement, as he would have known he'd be meeting at least a few foreign dignitaries.

Then he noticed his house-elf was saving a seat.

"That's Crouch's elf," Lily grumbled, this not making her feel any better.

"Guess I'm not surprised," Remus shrugged, "his is as old a house as any."

Then he spotted the newcomers, Lucius

James spat out that last word in shock, which quickly turned into a haughty glare. Of course those Malfoy's would have to get the Top Box as well, Harry couldn't go five minutes without having to deal with their pompous arse! He would probably turn all sorts of jealous when he found out the Weasley's were up there with them, and they'd gotten in for free, because Arthur had done a good deed! Teach them a lesson!

There was a bit of grumbling all around from the others, but as all they could do was protest, James slogged on. He wanted to get to the game already, and hopefully ignore the existence of those particular purebloods.

his son Draco, and who must be the wife and mother.

Harry felt a flash of something he didn't quite understand as he first remembered this woman, was that warmth? Not quite as much as he'd felt about learning of Mrs. Weasley, but there was definitely something there... it was gone the moment he caught sight of his godfather.

Sirius' face gave a particularly ugly sneer at the mention of one of his relatives, having never liked Narcissa anymore than her sister Bellatrix. Both had their noses so high in the air it was a wonder they didn't drown in the rain.

She looked very much like Draco, the same platinum blonde hair, and a crinkled up nose suggesting she smelled dung close by.

"I'm sure it's the presence she's forced to live with, herself," Sirius muttered.

Mr. Malfoy greeted the Minister with a familiar handshake, and Fudge was delighted to meet Lucius' family, giving his wife Narcissa a delightful compliment and greeting Draco just as happily. Then Fudge introduced them to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, whom he couldn't pronounce the name of, then moved on to say he knew they must know the Weasley's.

"Like he knows the bottom of his shoe," Remus grumbled, then he remembered the last time those two had met, and he cracked up laughing at the expense of Malfoy senior again. He quickly filled in the others, at least giving James back a smile as he continued.

It was not a pleasant reunion, as the last time Arthur and Lucius had been in the same room, Arthur had hit him in the face with a book during their fight.

"Which Arthur won, with brilliant irony," Sirius cackled.

"A book on toadstools, can't forget that part," James agreed.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes were cold as ice chips as he asked in the worst of slights how he'd managed to get up here, surely he hadn't sold his house, it would never collect this much money.

Harry ground his teeth together hard in frustration, knowing he couldn't have said anything at the time, but always the most agitated when people made dig's at the Weasley's like that!

Fudge, who wasn't listening,

"Pity that," Lily snapped, "as he was showing his real face right then!"

happily explained to all who were listening that Lucius was up here as his personal guest, as he'd just made a large donation to St. Mungo's.

Remus mimed retching off the side of the couch in revulsion, something they all heartily agreed with. At least it was a good cause, if for the wrong reasons.

Mr. Weasley managed to get out how nice that was of him with a strained smile.

"Sad he can't mean it," James sighed.

Lucius' eyes then landed on Hermione, who flushed at the attention, but glared back defiantly.

"That'a girl," Lily nodded with a proud smile.

Harry knew why Mr. Malfoy would look down on her like that, as Hermione was muggle-born, something that Malfoy as a pureblood

"Pure of a conscience," Sirius muttered.

found a second rate person at best.

"She won't be so second-class when she knocks your son's lights out again," Remus happily smirked.

With the Minister of Magic watching though, no one could say much more as the Malfoy's took their seats. Thankfully Bagman chose that moment to arrive, asking if they were ready to get this show on the road? Fudge agreed they were waiting on him.

James was just thanking his lucky stars this chapter hadn't tried to end right here! All this buildup, and he would have had to try and convince Harry to give up the chapter next!

Bagman pulled out his wand, used the Sonorous spell, which made his voice magnify loud enough every corner of the stadium could hear him announce the start of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!

James was pretty close to sounding like he had the same charm placed on him, making the baby wriggle uncomfortably in Sirius' lap, but then he cooed gently to his godson, which seemed to convince the baby it was all in good fun as he relaxed back into his arms.

The board across from them wiped itself clean one more time, and then sported the score, which currently read at 0 0. Then Bagman began to introduce the Bulgarian mascots, Veela.

"Uhoh," Remus said in a happy little singsong voice.

"That wasn't their brightest idea," Sirius snickered.

"But a plentiful distraction," James cackled with glee.

"What are Veela?" Harry inserted, a puzzled frown on his face, that old agitation never waning where the answer should have been.

Lily chose to explain, "they're human like girls, with a very beautiful exterior used to draw in men, sort of like land sirens. They're not quite so much to look at when they get angry though," she finished with an odd smile.

Harry was still very curious indeed, wondering at that 'human like' part. Were they like Remus, human but with a touch of something else, or like centaurs, a touch of human but mostly something else? He decided to wait it out and see for himself.

Harry began to ask what Veela were, but then he was given the answer by a group of beautiful women dancing onto the field.

Causing all four of them to crack up laughing at Harry's expense, who was now doing his best to detail every inch of the carpet, still unable to hide his bright red face.

They couldn't be fully human though, there was something to graceful about their feet, a little too much perfection in their almost glowing skin, the white hair that fanned behind them without help. Then music began, and Harry hadn't a worry in the world.

"Ah magic," Sirius said with a dreamy look in place.

"He'll do that every time these are mentioned," James snorted, "apparently he met one once when he got dragged on holiday, and it was the best night of his life."

"You're just jealous," Sirius' gray eyes were gleaming as he flashed his teeth in a wide grin at both of his friends.

"Actually, we just don't believe you," Remus shot back.

Sirius looked very much like he was going to argue, but James had already heard this so much he could have quoted both parties, so he kept going loudly over the two.

The longer they danced, the more Harry could not seem to look away, nor did he want to, as he knew that if they ever stopped the world would end.

Lily was now uncontrollably giggling, her fist pressed hard to her mouth as she easily pictured that expression on her poor unwitting son, though he in no way resembled that now. He most certainly remembered that feeling, but was not experiencing it, instead he had switched his attention and was now mentally memorizing the ceiling.

The more elaborate the routine below, Harry began to think that he should do something equally impressive right back.

"This ought to be fun," Remus' grin broadened as he finished matching Sirius' glare and instead tried to poke some fun at Harry, who was still trying to mime a statue of complete disinterest, but mostly failing.

He considered jumping from the box, but would it be good enough?

"Most impressive," James snorted, "as you would break your neck in a spectacular way." He was now more than happy Harry was in a magical box that would not allow that to happen.

Hermione's voice shot through his fog of a brain as she asked what on earth he was doing, standing on the edge like that? Ron was in a similar pose like he was about to jump off a diving board.

Some of the blood rush to his face dulled back down slightly as he realized at least he hadn't been the only one, Ron had clearly been affected by that as well, though this didn't lessen the laughter in the room one jot.

The Veela's were done now anyways, and several angry roars rose from the crowd as they went to take their seats, which Harry of course agreed with, now wondering why he had a shamrock on his shirt. He was of course on Bulgaria's side. Ron, in a similar mind set, was now tearing apart his shamrock hat.

"That's one way to win over a crowd," Remus nodded in agreement.

"Wonder how many of the Irish fell for it," Lily asked, "or do you think they all collectively bought earplugs for this occasion?"

Mr. Weasley took it away before he could do any permanent damage, reminding to let the Irish have their say. Ron clearly wasn't listening, as Hermione tutted at their side.

"Ah don't be too harsh on them," James still managed to keep a happy smirk in place at his own son's expense even as he defended, "most males, and probably some females in the crowd, can't help it."

"Ah magic," Sirius repeated, finally stopping his insistent glare at Remus and instead adopting the expression from earlier, only causing Remus to laugh harder.

Bagman took control again by announcing it was now time for the Irish mascots! At once two green comets came shooting out of nowhere, and collided, causing a rainbow to appear in the sky. Then the comets split apart again, and began circling the entire of the field, little bits of gold raining below them. Mr. Weasley happily exclaimed that they were leprechauns, while people below were scrambling under their seats to collect the Galleons.

"Those should come with warning labels," James snorted, "will disappear, do not pretend otherwise."

"That would ruin the fun," Sirius snickered.

Ron collected his own wealth when they passed over head, shoving a stack full into Harry's hands and telling him that was payback for the Omnioculars, now Harry had to buy him Christmas!

"Uhoh," Remus said in a singsong voice, "looks like Ron hasn't learned that lesson yet."

"Hopefully his dad overhears and tells," Lily shrugged, "or Hermione will tell him, or Merlin Harry will laugh it off when he realizes later."

"Least he's keeping his priorities in line," Sirius snorted.

Once the leprechauns had settled down as well, Bagman began announcing the players of Bulgaria, including; Ivanova, Zograf, Levski, Vulchanov, Volkov, and Krum! Ron began yelling repeatedly that was him, that was the Viktor Krum!

"Thank you Ron," Lily murmured under her breath, "I thought Bagman meant the other Krum."

Once the roar of approval from half of the field died down, Bagman gave the same treatment to the Irish, introducing; Connolly, Ryan, Troy, Mullet, Moran, Quigley, and Lynch! Harry gave a quick zoom in on them, and saw they were all sporting Firebolt's just like Harry's.

Sirius gave a happy little wriggle all over again at that news remembering Harry had received his own, Merlin his godson could probably go out on that field right now and rival those two professionals!

Lastly he announced the referee of the game, an impartial Chair Wizard from Egypt through the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa. Harry spotted the man through his bald head, but a mustache much like Uncle Vernon's.

James was in such a good mood he didn't even care that Harry had mentally brought up those useless slugs!

He carried a silver whistle on a chain around his neck, which he held in one hand as he placed a box down in the center of the field. He kicked it open, and the two bludgers and snitch were released, while Mostafa rose into the air with the Quaffle in hand. Harry only saw the flash of gold from the snitch for the briefest second,

James and Sirius let out surprised whistles, it was a miracle for anyone to catch a glimpse of that thing at the professional level!

then he gave a sharp whistle blast, tossed the Quaffle in the air, and the game began.

"Finally!" All four boys cheered, thinking it was high time they get this part going!

Bagman only had a second to announce each player's name as the Quaffle was passed with such intense speed between the six Chasers.

"Someone needs to take some commentary tips from Jordan," Lily muttered, finding that boy much more fun to listen to then prattling off names.

This was like no other Quidditch game Harry had ever seen before, and he wasn't missing a second as he pressed his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses they were digging into his nose.

"Worth it," Harry breathed, his eyes getting wider every second as memory's washed back over him, the speed and skill of these players making him almost breathless.

He'd never seen such skill on a broom, and Harry chose to slow the action down with his magical binoculars, as the Irish formed together a defense, Harry pressed the play by play option on his Omnioculars which helpfully flashed the message 'Hawkshead Attacking Formation' across his screen. That quickly changed to 'Porskoff Ploy' when Troy made as if to throw the Quaffle, but instead ducked underneath the oncoming Bulgarin Beater.

James could not have sounded any more excited for what he was reading if he tried! The pure bliss of listening to a Quidditch game, the awe on his son's face instead of a painful memory bothering him, it was all he'd been wanting from these books!

The ball passed a few more times, ending with Levski possessing the Quaffle, but then the crowd gave a mighty roar, and Bagman was cheering how Troy ha scored! 10-0 Ireland! Harry yelped in confusion that Levski still had the Quaffle, looking wildly around for the action!

"You're still watching in slow motion," Remus reminded, none of them taking but a moment to catch up and make the connection.

Harry gave a muttered sorry, but James just snorted and waved him off, he wasn't particularly rooting for either side, just getting to read this one truly good thing and watching Harry enjoy it!

He and his two friends still gave a hearty cheer in delight for the score, actually hoping Harry would keep it on slow down. Sure it left him a beat behind, but they adored the extra detail.

Hermione reminded from beside him that if he wasn't going to watch at normal speed, he'd be behind. Down on the field, the Veela were pouting while the leprechauns rose in the air and began laughing in delight. Furious with himself,

"After what Ron did with his slow capture," Sirius snorted, "I think we'll let you off the hook."

Harry spun it back to normal time and again listened and watched as the name game continued shooting from Bagman, results only fifteen minutes later saying 30-0 Ireland.

Lily had not thought it possible, but her husband's voice continued to rise in volume and ecstasy the longer he kept going, the thrill of the game ensuing him with as much energy as if he were out there playing himself.

The Irish crowd were going wild, but the Bulgarians wouldn't let it last long. Finally Ivanova got a goal in, and Arthur advised all of his boys to stuff their fingers in their ears real quick,

Causing all five of them to give another giggle, almost happy the Irish were so clearly winning, as clearly the Bulgarians doing the same would result in a deaf watch.

as the veela started to dance in celebration. Harry screwed up his eyes too;

"Now what good is that going to do you?" Remus snickered. "You'll miss when they stop."

"Better to short time it and keep my head on," Harry shrugged.

but peaked after a second to see the game was resuming. Bagman kept going with the name commentary, but cut himself off in exclamation. Every set of eyes in the stadium began shrieking in delight as Krum and Lynch pelted down, and Harry followed their progress with squinting eyes as he searched himself for what both players must be after, the Snitch. Hermione began screeching in fright that they were going to crash, but she was only half right. Krum pulled out of the dive in the last second, but Lynch plowed into the ground causing groans from the rest of the stadium.

"Oooh," all five of them winced in sympathy for that landing, Lily with a particularly hard wince as she couldn't help picturing that happening to her baby one of these games.

Mr. Weasley tried to call a foul, that Krum had been fainting, but Bagman only called it as a time-out as the mediwizards on hand went out to check on Lynch. Ginny was looking horror stricken as she leaned over the box, but Charlie quickly reassured he would be fine, that was just part of Krum's plan.

"Oh that's brilliant," James chirped, his eyes lighting with understanding.

"He'd make a nice Slytherin," Sirius snorted, finding that a pretty sneaky way of winning.

Harry felt a quiet laugh under his breath, somewhere deep inside him he knew Ginny didn't need anything about Quidditch explained.

Harry rewound the footage and hit play-by-play again, the screen flashing 'Wronski Defensive Feint; Dangerous Seeker Diversion'

"I love how even that warns you it's dangerous," Lily said with an obvious look at Harry, who was trying his best to ignore that look and wipe the eager smile off his face.

as Harry eyed Krum's look of intense concentration while he pulled out. Harry had never seen anything like him, Krum seemed more like he was flying without support he maneuvered so well.

"Best feeling in the world," all three Quidditch players murmured with smirks.

Harry flipped his screen back to normal and was now watching Krum in real time circling above, his eyes narrowed with concentration as he used this unimpeded time to look for the Snitch.

They may have already come to this conclusion, but while Lily and Remus could take a step back and gave appreciate snickers at such a clever diversion, the other three still found it too much like what Malfoy would do to be too impressed.

Not too much time later though, Lynch got back to his feet with praise from his side of the crowd, and mounted his Firebolt again for the game to resume. Only fifteen minutes later, and the Irish Chasers had pulled even farther ahead with the score now being 130-10.

"Wow, they really are superb," Sirius yelped.

"But Krum's clearly the better Seeker," Remus countered.

"I think the twins were dead on with their bet," James nodded in agreement. "It all boils down to if the Irish can pull ahead enough that Krum's capture won't mean anything."

"Lynch could still pull it off," Sirius countered with a calculating look, trying to take what little knowledge he had of the player and say, "one knock out doesn't mean he's done for."

Lily cleared her throat loudly when both Remus and Harry looked likely to jump in, then mutely pointed to the book with an obvious look. James mumbled a bit but agreed.

Bulgaria wasn't taking this lightly, now resorting in much dirtier methods to keep the Quaffle on their side, until finally Mostafa called a foul for excessive use of elbows, cobbing.

"What a little gnat," Sirius managed to get out, still half jittering in place from his own pent up excitement at hearing all of this. He was actually starting to regret giving this chapter up to James, Merlin this was a good time!

The leprechauns responded to that by floating into the air and forming the word's 'HA HA HA' to mock the Veela, who tossed their hair angrily but began dancing in excitement for their team none the less. As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears,

Lily's giggling still managed to intensify at that mental image.

but Hermione, who hadn't bothered, was quickly tugging Harry's arm to get his attention, and giggling as she told him to look at the referee.

"Uh-oh," Remus chuckled, not looking particularly upset.

"Am I getting the feeling this is why they were brought along," James snickered, "for some preference from the ref."

"Intentionally or not, they're getting it now," Sirius nodded.

Harry looked down and saw that Mustafa had happened to land right in front of the Veela as they started their dance, and was now behaving strangely by flexing himself and smoothing out his mustache. Bagman sounded quite amused as he scolded they couldn't let that go on.

"He cannot be the only one," Lily nodded, her husband sounded exactly the same way.

Then he told that someone should go slap the referee.

"Now how come whenever I say that, I get told off for being unsportsman?" Sirius pouted, his eyes shining with too much giddy pleasure to really mean it.

A mediwizard was given the job, sprinting across the field with his fingers in his ears, as he kicked Mostafa in the shin.

Causing all five of them to begin laughing all over again, this was a brilliant game in every direction!

Mostafa came back to himself, and began shouting at the Veela. Bagman seemed to understand, as he told the crowd that he seemed to be threatening to take the mascots off the field.

"Ooh, Harry would actually get to be at a first," James practically began shaking with a whole new level of excitement.

The two Bulgarian Beaters seemed to take that personally, as they landed on the ground and began arguing with the referee, who was now pointing at the air and very clearly telling them to get back to the game. The leprechauns were having plenty of fun with this, now forming the words 'HEE HEE HEE.'

"There's a difference between mocking and distracting," Remus snorted.

"I don't see why it's worth arguing the point with him," James raised a brow in surprise. "If they tick him off enough, they'll just earn another foul."

When the argument continued, Mostafa lost his patience, and blew the whistle twice, earning Ireland two more penalties, while the Bulgarians boo'ed their displeasure.

James looked incredibly pleased with himself, while his friends laughed at the old familiar expression he'd always get when he called a play right.

The two Beaters took the hint and went back to the air, where the game was still steadily getting bloodier. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, no longer seemed to care if their clubs hit Bludger or person.

"This is turning as bloody as your Cup," Lily frowned with worry, each new game she kept hearing about only increasing her feeling she'd rather her son not take this up professionally.

"Hope they got a foul for every one of those," Sirius simply smirked.

When the Bulgarians yet again played another foul, the leprechauns chose a new tactic of turning themselves into a giant hand with only one finger up at the Veela.

"Oh now that can't be allowed," Lily raised a brow in surprise, "there are children present."

"Kids, do not mimic what that leprechaun just did. There, problem solved," James' shoulders were shaking he was still laughing and cheering so much that his shot back to Lily didn't hold much.

The Veela completely lost it, as fire seemed to sprout from their hands and they seemed to grow leathery wings from their back as they began fighting back with the leprechauns in a much more violent way. Harry no longer found them remotely beautiful, as they now resembled birds more than women.

Harry was spluttering in shock that those creatures of fantasy could turn into that! He most definitely understood what his mother meant now!

The others didn't look particularly concerned, on the contrary as Sirius eagerly said, "well, Harry did get a first it seems. As far as I know, the two team mascots have never started brawling before!"

"This is the best day ever," James nodded fervently.

Mr. Weasley happily endowed on his children the life lesson that this was why you never chose for looks.

"Valuable life lesson," Sirius agreed with a wicked grin, "though thankfully I have that and brains."

Lily chucked a pillow at him for that.

Above this, the game was still in full swing, Moran scoring for the Irish yet again. The Irish didn't get as much of a chance as usual to make their cheers heard, as the Ministry was pelting onto the field with wands out to try and get the two mascots under control.

James reading was coming out so breathy from trying to contain all of his laughter and excitement, his reading was nearly as chaotic as the scene he was describing.

Gameplay kept going, with Levski, then Dimitrov with the Quaffle, but then Quigley (Irish Beater) hit a bludger towards Krum, who hadn't a chance to duck and got a face full.

"Youch," Remus yelped in surprise, thinking that at least now he and Lynch were on even grounds having both been clobbered in the face this game.

The crowd gave a collective groan in pity, Krum's nose was clearly broken from any distance, but the whistle didn't ring.

"Was he going after the Snitch," Sirius asked curiously, his attention torn between the two so much it actually was getting hard to keep track. "It didn't say."

"Not directly," Harry shook his head, "so it was a foul."

Mostafa was still distracted by his broomtail being lit with fire from a stray Veela throw.

"That'll do it, yeah," Lily nodded, her eyes steadily going wider in wonder at this mess of a game that all of the boys were endlessly enjoying.

Harry may have been supporting Irish, but he wished someone would notice Krum's plight, he was by far the most fascinating player to watch. Bagman was loudly calling for a time-out as well, and still being ignored, but then Harry suddenly shouted loudest of all to look at Lynch! He was rocketing towards the ground again, and that was no Wronski Feint. Half the crowd was following the same progress, watching as Krum quickly caught up. Harry wondered how he could even see with blood flying across his face,

"Well it seems to have just broken his nose, not his entire skull," Remus said fairly.

"Thank you Professor," Sirius snorted, they'd worked that out for themselves.

Remus flushed in surprise, that old joke not holding nearly the same weight it used to, but Sirius and James were so entangled in their match they hardly seemed to notice what they were saying anymore.

but he seemed to easily draw level with Lynch as Hermione screamed that they were going to crash again! Ron shot back that no they weren't while Harry guessed that Lynch was, and this time Harry was right. Lynch once again got a face full of grass, and was quickly set upon by the Veela.

"Gah!" Lily yelped this time, actually fearing for that poor Seekers safety under that horde.

Charlie was still looking around wildly, calling for where the Snitch had got to, who'd caught it?!

"Because that was the important part," Lily grumbled, her mind still on poor Lynch.

Harry found it first, clutched safely in Krum's hand! His face still as red as his robes from his nose bleed, Krum was soaring through the air, his hand held high and proud in a fist, the tiny flutter of wings barely visible.

"That was bloody brilliant!" James cheered, throwing the book in the air in celebration and bouncing in his spot like it was a trampoline.

Sirius was to busy laughing, holding tight to the baby and still likely to fall off the couch any second, though his expression was remarkably similar.

The other three were only the slightest bit calmer, all laughing with pleasure at the event, though mostly laughing at the other two boys raucous reactions to it all. James seemed to take forever to settle back down and read out the rest, not that he was trying to hard. He would never have believed two days ago he could ever find such a good mood again, and he was terrified the moment he kept going something would come to spoil it. He wanted to hear of nothing else for the rest of these books, and yet he knew full well that wasn't going to happen. It still didn't manage to diminish his smile one bit, so wide it nearly distorted his words as he kept going.

The final score read 170-160 to Ireland, but the majority of the crowd was still lost in confusion, having been watching the spectacle of the two creatures. Slowly though, sound like an engine revving swelled to every corner as the delighted screams of the Irish came through.

"They did it, the twins did it, they won!" Remus laughed, falling back against the couch with his own shot of laughter at that realization.

"Oh, that's going to be so good for them," Lily nodded in absolute agreement, now their mother would have to give them a chance.

"This game could not have been any better in any way, shape, or form," Sirius nodded with absolute certainty.

Bagman was shouting the results for all to hear, that Ireland had won, but Krum had got the snitch!

Harry was laughing hardest of all at Bagman shouting out those exact results, he was so happy for the twins, so happy that his family was enjoying this moment of bliss, like the others hoping this wouldn't end.

Adding on that no one could have seen that coming!

"Well two of them did," James murmured happily, wiping a few watery tears of glee away.

Ron, who was jumping around in pleasure and applauding like mad, still had the sense to ask what Krum had gone and done that for, he knew they were too far behind to have won.

"That's right Ron," Sirius nodded along like a bobble head, "you keep applauding that idiot who recognized defeat with pride."

Harry happily shouted back that Krum had ended the game on his terms, he'd known the Irish Chasers were too good.

"I'm so proud you get it," James added on, tossing an easy arm around his son's shoulders and managing to keep going like that, Harry still snickering along at his side.

Hermione agreed he'd been quite brave,

"Brave is certainly better than grumpy," Lily agreed, her shoulders shaking from her own overdone laughter.

watching Krum's progress as he landed and some mediwizards came to inspect him, having to fight through the still raging battle of Veela vs. Leprechauns.

"So glad that's still not being ignored," Remus managed to stutter out half way intelligibly.

Behind Harry, Fudge and the Bulgarian Minister were shaking hands, then to all of their surprise the man said with a thick accent that his team had fought bravely.

Causing five collective snorts of laughter from the room. Oh yes, clearly this Minister didn't understand a lick of what Fudge had been saying! Which made all previous interactions near gold.

Fudge spluttered in outrage that he could speak English, but had been letting him pantomime everything all day! The Bulgarian just shrugged back, saying it had been funny to watch.

"Can we have him as our minister?" Sirius begged the book, turning huge puppy eyes onto anyone who would say yes. "He's clearly got a sense of humor!"

"I wish," Harry nodded in agreement.

Bagman was still announcing for the crowd that the Irish were coming up to the Top Box to greet their respective Ministers.

James squealed like, well like a Quidditch fan who'd just found out he was meeting the winners of a Quidditch World Cup. They were going into the Top Box, within autograph distance of his son!?

Harry's surroundings were suddenly rendered visible to all below them as every eye zeroed in on the Green clad team shaking hands with Fudge, who still looked rather put out he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Ah learn to laugh man," Remus was doing it enough for both of them as he got that out.

Then Bagman said to give a big round of applause for Bulgaria, as that team entered as well.

James was squirming so much it was hard to keep reading the print, he had to remove his arm from Harry to hold the book better, and even then he sounded deliriously happy.

The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

Harry winced, but for once felt no true feelings of embarrassment, as surely he was not the main focus this time.

Harry got his first face close impression of Krum, who had two black eyes, and was still clutching the Snitch.

"That's his keepsake," Sirius tried to whisper into Harry's ear so as not to get James to stop, but only just barely getting back to his normal tone from all the shouting, so Harry was instead left rubbing at his ear again.

Harry noticed that on the ground he didn't look nearly as nimble, more duck-footed and round-shouldered.

"Who cares," the other three boys said at once.

He and Lynch shook hands, Lynch's eyes strangely unfocused as if he was still getting over that last knockout.

"I can imagine," Lily nodded, her eyes still slightly more round than normal for concern of this stranger for two head injuries in one game. And James had said the Seeker position wasn't that bad!

He was still smiling happily though as he rode on the back of one of his fellow players broom while the Irish team did a lap of victory.

"Well his team kind of won without him, so it's good he's not the focus," Remus snorted.

Bagman finally used the 'Quietus' spell on his voice, it coming out raspier than usual but a pleased smile still on his face as he told them that people would be talking about this game for ages! Then he noticed the twins watching him expectantly, and he uneasily asked the boy's how much he owed their outstretched hands.

Harry felt an odd clench up of his stomach, one that he managed to laugh off with the others in praise for the twin's sudden fortune. Surely that feeling was just backlash from all his happiness of the game.

HPHPHPHP

The longest chapter yet of this book...and yet it was still kind of boring. Sorry about this, but as we all know, things really start picking up next chapter!

*Nickname offered up by Shakira94. 

**...British people bow to their monarchy, right? Sorry if they don't, I'll take it out if not...again sorry for the stupid American showing.

[mythicamagic]

Young Love - Oneshot crossover

Zutara & Sesskag

Summary: Deciding he needs to do something about his long time crush on Katara, Zuko enlists the help of self-proclaimed relationship expert and matchmaker, Kagome. With the help of her bodyguard, the busybody will stop at nothing to ensure the couple's success. AU, highschool. Tropes! Why have one otp when you can have two?

AN: This is a writing commission for the lovely @prationality​ ^^ Highschool AU has demons integrated into it. Yes it makes no sense. Just suspend your disbelief, buds.

Young Love

For the better part of a year it had been a thorn in his side. The niggling, aching, irritating feeling of complete and utter warmth flooding his chest whenever a certain person entered the room.

Zuko trudged moodily through the hallway, gaze fixed ahead. He needed to do something about Katara. Having a crush on one of your best friends was not ideal, and worse still, he couldn't talk to anyone about it.

Sokka was out. He would either immediately tattle to his sister or get protective. Aang was possibly the worst one to ask, as he'd harboured puppy love for her since kindergarten, though Katara remained willfully ignorant. Suki would tell Sokka. Toph had been a serious candidate as a confidant but he'd decided against it when she'd blabbed last week about his secret tradition of watching Love Amongst the Dragons every year at the theatre.

He'd never be able to live that down.

I could tell Uncle, Zuko briefly thought, soon shaking that idea away. He'd rather not have a lengthy anecdote about turtle ducks swimming in the pond of unrequited love.

This left confiding in an outsider. However, he couldn't tell just anyone or it would become the gossip of the whole school.

Knocking on a classroom door, he waited.

"Come in!" Came a hearty chirp.

Wincing, Zuko pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The empty pottery classroom felt perfect for a secret meeting since the department had suffered cutbacks. Including the teacher. And the pottery classes themselves.

A young woman leaned against a desk, dark hair cascading around her shoulders. Glittering blue eyes danced with mild amusement, causing Zuko to become instantly wary. Maybe this had been a mistake.

"Glad you could make it!" Kagome Higurashi grinned, gesturing to a seat. "Come sit down, silly. I don't bite."

Stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, Zuko leaned against a desk as well. "I'll stand, thanks."

She let out a huff, shrugging and relenting. "So, let's cut to the chase; as you know, I'm the best matchmaker in this school."

Zuko was pretty sure she was the only matchmaker in the school.

"Anything you say will be kept totally confidential. I can't guarantee you'll get the partner you want but my track record speaks for itself," Kagome beamed.

"I'm going to stop you right there," Zuko sighed. "I don't...want to trick her into anything. I just-"

"It wouldn't be tricking," she looked affronted. "You seriously think Kouga and Ayame or Sokka and Suki would last if the foundation of their relationships had been built on lies? No, no. I'm just going to help you put your best foot forward."

Dragging a hand down the scarred side of his face, the teen grunted. "Maybe I just want to talk about it."

Kagome blinked, spreading her arms wide. "Well go ahead. No one's stopping you, Zuko."

Gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to sigh again, his lips pressed into a thin line, suddenly reluctant.

Tilting her head, the busybody took him by surprise. "This is about Katara, isn't it?"

He jolted violently. "H-how did you know?" He croaked. Shit. Did Katara know? Was it that obvious?

Kagome smiled while flipping dark hair dramatically over one shoulder, idly brushing down her green skirt. "Hey give me a little credit. I did say I was pretty good at this gig."

A quiet noise, like a snort, sounded out behind Zuko to his left. He turned sharply, startled to find another student leaning against the wall. If Zuko remembered right, the imposing young man was an upperclassman. "The hell- I thought we were alone."

"Don't mind Sesshoumaru. I hired him a long while ago to watch over these types of meetings," Kagome waved it off. "I've had clients get pissy before."

Sesshoumaru stared at him, unblinking. Pale white hair was tied back into a low pony tail, features fairly delicate and regal, clashing with the heavy energy rolling off him in waves.

Zuko felt a shiver run down his spine and faced forward. If she needed a demon bodyguard of such high calibre within a school with relatively low level onis, he wondered what kind of clients she'd dealt with in the past.

"So, Katara?" The matchmaker prompted.

"Yeah well...I like her," he said lamely. "I mean I...she's…"

The young woman peered at him curiously, causing Zuko to grit his teeth. "I don't know! Gn...maybe this was a mistake."

Kagome pushed off the desk to approach and gently touched his arm. Her expression no longer looked amused or playful, now very earnest. "Hey, it's okay. These kinds of feelings can be really complicated, especially when they're for a friend. It makes you worry that you'll cause a fissure in your friendship group."

Golden brown eyes widened a touch, throat becoming dry with mild fear. He could only nod mutely. Perhaps she did have somewhat of a talent for reading people.

She gave a smile, "look I completely understand if you want to keep your silence around her and just vent to me. That's fine, buddy. But I really, really think you should go for it and let me help you guys get together."

"Aang and Sokka-"

"Don't rule Katara's love life," Kagome cut in, voice firm. "Besides, if she does go out with you, Sokka will probably just give the protective brother speech and threaten to harvest your organs if you hurt his sister-"

"That's fair, I'd deserve it if I hurt her," Zuko mumbled soberly.

Kagome winced and patted his shoulder. "As for Aang, he'll come around. From what I've seen he might get upset but Toph will straighten him out. What do you say?"

The moody teenager stared down at his calloused hands. Exhaling hard through his nostrils, Zuko clenched his jaw. "Do you think I have a good shot?" He grumbled, glancing at her.

Kagome grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "With me by your side, you've got the best shot."

---

Overlooking the martial arts group as a type of mole for Kagome felt incredibly easy, considering Sesshoumaru was well versed in many of them.

At the moment, Katara stood a little ways away on a tatami mat, practising her Tai Chi form. He'd never had much cause to speak with the girl beyond small talk. Still, Kagome had nudged at him to try and glean more of her personality.

Walking over and stretching his arms, Sesshoumaru grunted. "Your right heel kick should be higher."

Her gaze flattened, becoming defensive. "Did that old goat Pakku tell you to say that?"

"No, this one is telling you."

Katara hummed, going back a form and trying again, kicking higher so that her leg pointed out straight. Sesshoumaru nodded, chancing more conversation. "You are a female."

"Astute observation. Where are you going with this?" She raised a brow, smoothly moving her body into another form.

"This one seeks advice. Be grateful you are the one I have chosen for council."

Katara released a long breath, straightening out of her form and minding her long braid aside. "Arrogance isn't a good method if you're wanting my help but go ahead. I'm used to the tough guy act from pre-Suki Sokka."

Sesshoumaru did not need her permission but spoke. "How does one secure the attentions of a human female?"

"Are you asking me dating advice?"

"Hn."

Katara eyed the demon, raising her arms and turning on one heel to move into another stance. "I can't speak for most girls because my family has its own traditions to follow, but a necklace wouldn't hurt."

"A necklace?"

She nodded, holding her posture. "Something personal, though. I'm sure you demons have traditions to follow too, don't you? Maybe include one."

Sesshoumaru mulled this over, inclining his head, expression wiped of emotion as per usual. Kagome didn't need to know what exactly he'd asked Katara, that was his business. "Hn, you were mildly useful."

Huffing, she kicked her left foot up near his enigmatic face. "You're welcome. Was that form good enough?"

"You wobbled on your right heel. Again."

Katara grumbled under her breath.

---

Sitting quite contentedly in a cafe a few days later, Sesshoumaru sipped some tea. The atmosphere around him lulled into contentment. Despite the hustle and bustle of the patrons, he didn't feel particularly uncomfortable or annoyed. This sense of peace was abruptly broken as the scent of citrus and summer brushed into his nose.

"Hi!"

Kagome set her bags down in the opposite seat, sliding into the booth beside him and accidentally bumping his shoulder. The tea sloshed in his cup. "Okay, so their class had a project to complete and were separated into partners. Katara was originally paired with Haru, but!" She grinned, holding up a finger. "I pulled some strings and managed to switch him with Zuko. Isn't that perfect?"

Sesshoumaru blinked slowly. "How is it perfect?" He uttered, though she'd tell him anyway even if he didn't ask.

"Well this way, they get to spend quality time together totally alone!" Kagome gushed, opening a menu. "They'll be here any second. I reserved a booth for them just over there. You picked the perfect spot for spying."

"I did not know you would be here," he said flatly.

Tugging up her bag and rifling through it, Kagome produced a wig. Tying her hair back, she put a hairnet on, smoothing the blonde wig atop her head. Sesshoumaru felt used to her antics by now, watching while she took out a headset with a microphone and earpiece.

Kagome remained immensely serious about her unofficial job. Near everyone knew who she was in school, therefore a disguise became necessary when snooping. If Katara noticed her, she'd get suspicious about her presence.

"Is it still alright for me to babysit Rin later?" She asked casually.

He hummed, sipping the cooling tea. That was their exchange. Sesshoumaru remained a bodyguard of sorts while Kagome repaid him for his time by looking after his adopted sister when he needed to work after school.

They'd entered into their strange agreement six months ago. He could still hear the raised voices coming from the classroom. The abrupt slam of a desk hitting a wall and scent of salt in the air. How Kagome's wide, terrified eyes swung to him once he entered the room, her struggling form pinned beneath an incensed human student. An unhappy customer who hadn't taken too kindly to her failure.

In contrast to this grim memory, Kagome happily fussed with her equipment, stilling when a pale hand reached out to touch a dark strand of hair that escaped her wig. Lithe fingers tucked it back into hiding, sharp nails lightly skimming her cheek.

Kagome glanced up at him, blushing slightly. "Uh...thanks," she murmured.

Sesshoumaru stared, voice a soft rumble. "Hn."

Noticing something out of the corner of her eye, she gasped and shook his shoulder. "They're here!"

---

Sitting down across from Katara, Zuko took a breath, glancing around. It didn't take long to locate Sesshoumaru. Next to him sat a smaller blonde woman who gave a cheerful thumbs up. Zuko's gaze flattened. This was going to be a disaster, he could tell.

"Are you alright? You seem troubled about something."

Zuko jumped, looking at Katara as she set up her laptop and took out a binder. She was incredibly organised already despite the project just starting. It was just a little thing, but he liked it about her. She'd even arranged the papers by subject matter alphabetically.

"I'm fine," he said in a dusty voice.

Katara frowned slightly, the waitress interrupting them to ask what drinks they wanted to order.

Swallowing stifling nerves, Zuko did what he always did and ploughed on through uncertainty. Opening the envelope Kagome had given him, he slipped the earpiece in while Katara was mulling over the orders.

"Hey~ can you hear me?" Came Kagome's amiable voice. "Just nod if yes."

Zuko nodded. Katara ordered a Darjeeling tea, while he stiffly asked for a coffee.

"Okay, just talk about the project with her for now."

Katara was already a few steps ahead, talking while the waitress left. "I think we should start with the community centre."

"Huh?"

She tilted her head, hair loopies brushing the sides of her face, brunette hair falling in waves down her back.

Zuko's throat became dry, clasping shaking hands and resting them on the table. "Right. The project. Yeah, the community centre could definitely use some improvements."

Blue eyes blinked, the light from the window beside them bathing her dark skin in a soft glow. "How do you know that?"

An automatic sneer graced his features, glaring hard at the napkins. "My father poured money into building it just to secure a business deal by looking like a humanitarian. However, the second he got what he wanted he pulled the funding for resources."

A gentle touch startled him out of that particular tangent.

Katara gave an encouraging smile, "that's fine. Because you know what?"

Her smile was infectious and he gave a reluctant one in return. "What?" He grumbled.

"We're going to get the funding for even better resources and more involved staff, all without his input. You're going to do that. And it'll be great, Zuko."

Zuko swallowed, skin pricking with the sensation of her hand on his. She knew. She knew everything about his history with his tyrant of a father. How he'd given up the position that would've allowed him to succeed his father. Now he lived in a humble apartment with his Uncle.

Ozai had been responsible for evicting a large portion of Katara's neighbourhood from their houses through some legal jargon many years ago. After some arguments and fights in school, the two old enemies now sat in amiable silence. She could look at him with such soft eyes. Her forgiveness had soothed so much hurt between them.

The waitress returned, breaking the spell between them. Letting out a heavy breath, Zuko stiffened when a young man stepped around the waitress to address his friend.

"You're miss Katara, correct?"

She straightened, raising a brow questioningly. "Yes. Can I help you?"

The young man produced a bouquet of radiant flowers from behind his back. Fire lilies. Katara's mouth promptly fell open, the orange flowers placed in her frozen hands.

"Looks as though you have an admirer," the stranger winked, turning away.

Katara rose from her seat slightly, blushing. "Wait! Who are these from?"

"No idea, miss," he said over his shoulder, glancing at Kagome and smiling slightly. She gave a quick wave, grinning as Miroku left.

Zuko remained frozen in place. Fire lilies were almost too obvious! They were a type of flower well known in the city as one his family had produced. Hell, they were part of the logo on their company. He winced a little, thinking they might cause offence-

"They're beautiful," Katara inhaled the scent, blushing slightly. "They smell kind of like cinnamon," she mused, glancing up. "Do you...know who they might be from?"

"No idea," he mumbled, hearing Kagome's groan through his earpiece.

"Damn it, Zuko. Wait for me to give you some guidance. You could've said something much smoother!"

He touched his ear and turned his head slightly into his collar. "I'm not smooth! She'd know I was being weird if I fed her a line!" He hissed.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Katara bit her lip, fighting a smile.

From across the room, Kagome hit her forehead. She could only afford so much tech and had given him an earpiece. She couldn't hear his ramblings personally, it was only because of Sesshoumaru's excellent hearing and relaying of information that she knew what was going on. Zuko was right, he wasn't smooth at all.

Flustered, Zuko turned back to Katara a little too quick- knocking over the coffee cup with his arm and making a noise when the contents spilt onto the table.

Katara gasped and scrambled to place the lilies down, lifting her laptop away. The spillage headed towards her pristine, organised notes that had been set out to discuss. Zuko yanked his red jacket off his shoulders and pressed it down onto the table. The material quickly soaked up the coffee greedily.

Katara stared.

Kagome gawked, grasping Sesshoumaru's arm and shaking it slightly. "Wow. I didn't think things would escalate so quickly! This is perfect."

"Hn."

Lifting his gaze awkwardly, Zuko met smiling blue eyes. "You didn't have to do that," Katara said quietly, minding the papers away. "Thanks, Zuko. Would take forever if I had to print those out all over again."

Ah, of course she'd have backup copies. Duh. "Y-yeah, no problem. What are friends for?"

The sound of a hand smacking a forehead graced his hearing once more through the earpiece. "Honey, you're trying to leave the friend zone, not dig deeper into it."

Zuko glared at nothing in particular.

"Try saying: I know how much your notes mean to you, and anything that's important to you is important to me too."

Sighing, he ran a hand through dark shaggy hair, parroting Kagome's words out loud.

The girl sitting across from him took hold of his jacket, looking thoughtful. "I can wash this for you," she mumbled, glancing up at him. "And about...us being friends. I uh…" she blushed slightly. "I was wondering if-"

"Are you Katara?"

They looked up with twin scowls on their faces. This time a group of young men stood around their table. Zuko's face coloured red the second they opened their mouths and started singing. Every head within the cafe turned to watch.

Belting out some romantic ballad that hurt their ears and made Zuko want to shrink in his seat, he watched as they serenaded Katara. She looked mortified.

From across the room, Kagome gave another thumbs up. Something within him snapped.

"FORGET IT!" He burst, getting to his feet and shimmying out of the booth to storm out of the cafe. Katara called out somewhere behind him but the sound of his heart pumped deafeningly loud and fast in his ears. He couldn't continue, he realised. Embarrassing Katara wasn't something he'd set out to do. She didn't deserve that.

Cool outside air fanning over flushed skin felt like a welcome respite compared with the confusion and unease within the cafe. He marched through the parking lot, hands balled into fists.

"Zuko-" he yanked the earpiece out and stuffed it in his pocket. And yet, the calling of his name continued.

His heel dragged, Zuko stopping with mild surprise when he noticed Katara jogging after him. She'd left her things behind, laptop included. Taking a breath, she brushed one of her hair loopies away from her eyes.

"What's going on with you?"

Air rushed out of his lungs. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko let the words quietly escape. "I...hired Kagome Higurashi."

"The matchmaker?" Katara's brow furrowed. "Why would you need to-" it clicked, and she glanced back into the windows of the cafe where the fire lilies had been abandoned. "Oh. Were...those from you?" She said slowly.

Zuko stared hard at the cement beneath his feet as though willing the ground to swallow him up. "Sort of."

She huffed, drawing closer and planting her hands on her hips. "There's no 'sort of,' Zuko. Are you interested in me or not?"

His eyes widened and slid up. Katara looked obstinate for information and oddly unoffended. He'd half expected anger or immediate dismissal. But maybe...maybe he hadn't been giving her enough credit.

Squeezing calloused hands into fists, he nodded. "Yeah, I am."

Katara's eyes widened slightly and the shock slid her hands free from her hips.

He ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, minding the bangs from his eyes. "I like you," he muttered. "I've liked you for a long time. It's just that I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be greedy. You don't have to like me back or anything. Just don't break up the group because of me, Katara. This doesn't have to make things awkward. You all… mean a lot to me, ever since you accepted me into your group. So I don't think… I could take not seeing you," the words kept coming until Katara stepped forward, touching his hand.

"You never think things through, do you?" She murmured.

Zuko bristled. "Are you making fun of me? I'm pouring my heart out here-"

Katara giggled and suddenly grabbed him close, hugging him tightly. Zuko froze, stiffening within her arms. His breath fanned over her ear, hands settling at the perfect height on her waist, drawing her closer and revelling in the feel of her. The sensation of fingers brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck felt heavenly. "You wouldn't be kicked out of the group no matter what happened between us. You're not buying time or there by accident. Everyone wants you with us. So cut that out. As for the other thing…"

She surprised him by tilting her chin up, blue eyes connecting with golden brown. Zuko stilled, gaze flitting over her face, before giving in to the impulse to press his lips to hers.

They yielded easier than anticipated. He inhaled her scent, traitorous hands sliding up to touch the fall of soft hair. It was then that his mind caught up with his actions and Zuko broke away from her. "Ah- sorry, that was stupid. I didn't think-"

Katara made a frustrated noise before pulling him down again, cupping his face in both hands. He wondered what the scar felt like to her. Katara kissed him again, turning his brain into mush by parting her mouth and sliding a wet tongue against his lips. He granted her access, making a slight groan in the back of his throat. When her thumb brushed his ear Zuko near melted in her hands, fingers curling tight in her clothes, the material straining.

She then broke away with treacle immediacy, face flushed. She boldly took his hand, smiling. "Let's get our stuff and go for a walk together," she seemed to decide for them, a sparkle in her gaze. "There's a lot to talk about."

Zuko opened his mouth, croaking out a few nonsensical noises, before nodding astutely. "Okay."

If someone ever asked them how they'd gotten together, he honestly had no idea what to say.

----

Kagome hadn't moved an inch after watching Zuko run off. In fact, she'd seemed quite pleased with herself instead of concerned. Sesshoumaru hadn't understood why until Zuko and Katara reentered the cafe with a contented air about them, their gazes finding each other every few moments. They grabbed their bags, the flowers and the ruined jacket, leaving together without a backwards glance.

Kagome stood and removed the wig and headset, putting them away.

"You knew," he uttered.

"Hm?"

"You planned for this to happen, did you not?"

Sliding her bag over one shoulder, she shrugged. "After reviewing their profiles, I understood that Zuko has a temper and could get overwhelmed. Katara has one too and is fiercely stubborn as an ox about looking after people. I just prodded him a little and knew she'd follow him if he lost his nerve. Then there'd likely be a culmination of feelings," she turned. "My work here is done. Thanks for sharing your booth with me, I'll leave you to it," Kagome smiled and waved, walking out of the cafe with a spring in her step.

Sesshoumaru set some money down and smoothly rose, following with a blur of colour.

"Kagome," he said quietly once the doors slid shut behind him.

She blinked and looked up at him as he joined her side in the parking lot.

"This one does not need a culmination of feelings to understand what emotion I experience around you."

"What's that, irritation?" She teased.

Sesshoumaru frowned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace with fangs as the charms. "We should engage in courtship," he said gravely.

Kagome's eyes widened, gaze flitting from the grim necklace and then back to his face, searching as though trying to discern his sincerity. His lips thinned, until a small smile tugged at her mouth, morphing into a gentle one.

Taking the necklace, she blushed slightly. "Is it customary for dog demons to give a tooth necklace when you want to date someone?"

"Hn, those are mine."

"YOURS?"

"They will be most useful when it is time for us to have children."

"C-children!?" Kagome looked a little unsteady. "Sesshoumaru!"

"Hn," a hand slid around her waist. "Though I'd like to have you all to myself for many years first."

"I should hope so, buster! We're in high school and I didn't even say yes yet," she huffed.

He lifted a large hand, palm up. "Then I will take the necklace back-"

"No, it's mine, no take backsies!" Kagome held it away from his grasp, soon grinning and leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw. Sesshoumaru stilled at the action, gaze flitting down to her. "I accept, silly," the young woman murmured, hand curling around his own. "Though you could've wooed me a little first. Have my clients taught you nothing?" She teased.

Sesshoumaru's lips curved, gaze becoming half-lidded. "We may go to a restaurant tomorrow evening if you wish."

"I do wish," she hummed, putting the necklace on and wincing a little at how weird it was. Still, they didn't exactly make a normal couple themselves. "Let's bring Rin, though. She hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately."

Sesshoumaru gathered her closer then, causing her heels to lift from the floor. A deep well of warmth and pride spread through his chest right down to his toes. The matchmaker was truly a perfect choice for a mate.

"Hn," Sesshoumaru rumbled, pressing smiling lips to hers.

End

[royal-shinigami]

Darkest Secrets (2/?)

The Witcher and Game of Thrones Crossover

 Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Witcher Reader x Ellaria Sand

 Warning: Slow Burn and language (maybe)

 Word Count: 1.7K

 (Y/N) is in a room that holds a strange throne made of swords. Joffrey is sitting with two women standing on either side of him. One has long blonde hair and looks like the king. The other has long red hair that is curled.

 Joffrey then broke the silence, “I have brought you here to see if you are capable of fighting and defending. I will have you fight my best soldier to test your skills and if you live you will be sworn to protect me.”

 She looked at him as if he was crazy, “I do not work for people willingly. I have other things to deal with then looking after you.”

 “You will call me your grace, or I will come down there and kill you myself,” He said angrily.

 “I am a Witcher I kill monsters to protect villages when I get paid to do so. Looking after a child is not part of my job.”

 “A Witcher? What the hell is that?” The blonde asked.

 “You don’t know? Witchers are mutants that are trained to kill monsters at a young age through extreme trials. It’s why my eyes are this way,” (Y/N) said pointing to her golden cat like eyes.

 Joffrey raised an eyebrow, “If your who you say you are then you will have no problem killing who I put you against.” He exclaimed in a loud voice, “Bring in the Knight!”

 The red head next to Joffrey turned to him and whispered, “If she says that about herself why put her up against anyone. Obviously, she can fight by the way she looks.”

 “It would still be fun to see her kill someone I have become quite bored recently and this would be good entertainment. Now be quiet and watch.”

 (Y/N) turned to the knight covered in armor and wielding a sword. She took out her own sword wanting to get this over with quickly. They both stood there waiting for a signal to start. Joffrey giving the signal and the knight ran toward her and (Y/N) easily blocking the sword that swung at her with her own. She pushed him back and off his feet on to the ground. She ran forward and swung her sword down nearly missing him as he rolled away. He stood up again and lunged at her. She hit his sword with hers knocking it out of his hand and swiped the sword across his neck cutting it open. Blood sprayed on the floor as the knight fell dead.

 She heard clapping behind her and turned to see Joffrey smirking and the blonde slowly clapping. The red head did not seem as thrilled with the situation.

 “That was amazing. I have never seen a woman so skilled with fighting.” The blonde said walking up to (Y/N).

 “I am Cerci the mother of the king and I am glad you will be serving him and his future wife Margaery,” Cerci said in a sickly sweet voice that (Y/N) did not believe for a second as she looked towards her son and who you assume is Margaery.

 “Did I really have a choice?” (Y/N) said back to her.

 Cerci started to scowl, “We will have your head on a spike if you continue talking that way,” She then turned and walked back toward her son.

 “As the future Queen I am happy you are here our wedding is in a couple of days and we will need all the help to protect the Lannister’s on such an amazing day.” Margaery smiled.

 “You are dismissed and will not be needed unless called upon. The hound will take you to your chambers.” Cerci said as she walked out of the room with Joffrey, Margaery, and a couple of soldiers trailing behind.

 (Y/N) turned to see the man who most put her in this situation in the first place. He held a mad expression on his face permanently from what you have seen.

 “Follow me,” He said as started to walk out of the room. You put your sword on your back and proceeded to follow.

 You looked around at every passing room seeing nothing stone stacked on one another, torches lining the walls, and soldiers scattered everywhere. Some wore different uniforms which you thought were soldiers from the other six kingdoms. The ones that stood out the most were the soldiers wearing gold and red clothing while carrying hooked daggers. They did not wear protective gear like the rest and looked like royalty instead of guards to a higher up.

 The hound most likely wanting nothing to do with you opened the door to your room and then walked off without a word. You walked in and looked around not used to a room like this. Most of the time you slept in the woods with your horse next to a fire. Your brother and Jaskier a lot of the time preferring to stay at brothels with a random girl. You rarely visited them, but it was nice to be with someone occasionally no matter if it’s a random man or women you didn’t care.

 You walked in the room and looked around but grew bored and decided to find out about this place. You walked out and closed the door and made your way out of the castle like building.

 Once out on the streets where all the people were walking and buying items such as food you looked over at everything. The kingdoms that you traveled were never as bad as this. It had a horrid smell and it looked like barely anything was clean or organized.

 You walked further into streets not taking any notice of the stares and the whispers about your appearance especially your eyes. You made it to a building that girls in very little clothing surrounded. You figured it was a brothel considering one of the girls walked up to you and started asking if you liked women as she clung to your arm. Before you could say anything, she dragged you into the building and up the stairs. The moment you got to a room she started to kiss you. ‘Why not it has been a while’ you thought as you started to kiss back. The moment you both got on the bed you started hearing screaming as if someone was getting tortured.

 You quickly got up abandoning the girl you were with and running toward the noise. You opened the door to the room and saw the man who is screaming at a table with a dagger in his wrist. The man holding the dagger looked pissed. He wore a gold robe that had images of a sun on different sections. His hair is dark brown and short in length and he had a moustache and beard. The woman across from him wore similar color clothing that was more revealing. She has long dark curly hair and is strikingly beautiful like who you assume is her lover.

 The man continued to scream as the one holding the dagger twisted it.

 “So many veins in the wrist. He’ll live if you get him help straight away.” He said in a disdainful tone while looking up at the other man.

 Suddenly two men entered the room the short man started to speak, “Forgive the intrusion. I need to speak…” He stopped talking the moment the man ripped his dagger from the others wrist.

 The woman walked over to her lover and held his face in her hands as he wrapped his around her waist and they started making out in front of them.

 (Y/N) looked over at the short man and the other standing behind him with a bewildered look. The shorter man known as Tyrion looked at you finally noticing that you are here.

 “You must be King Joffrey’s new Knight. I am Tyrion Lannister Joffrey’s uncle, and this is Bronn.” Tyrion said as he pointed to the man behind him.

 Bronn looked you up and down and smirked, “Nice to meet you”

 You ignored him and looked back over at two who continued kissing. “I am here to welcome you to the capital,” Tyrion said wondering if either of them is listening at all.

 “Ellaria Sand my paramour,” As he gestured to the woman next to him then toward Tyrion, “The King’s uncle imp Tyrion son of Tywin.” The man said in a heavy accent.

 “If there is anything I could do for you” Tyrion was cut off.

 “And who are you?” He asks looking directly at you.

 “Prince Oberyn this is the King’s new knight (Y/N)” Tyrion said.

 “That’s too bad someone like her should not be wasted on a Lannister,” Oberyn said as he looked you over not bothering to hide his staring.

 “Someone like me? I did not ask to be where I am,” You said in a guarding way.

 “I do not mean to offend you. You hold so much beauty that it is a waste having to be a guard dog in this shit kingdom.”

 You stared at him no man ever talking this way toward you. Usually once someone sees you they want you dead because you’re a Witcher or the man is too drunk to notice.

 “Thanks, I guess but I’d rather find my brother and his bard then be here.”

 “What exactly do you do?” Bronn asked looking at you.

 “Kill monsters like I have been doing since I was a child,” You say not wanting to continue about yourself.

 “I love a woman who has such skill. Your eyes are alluring to anyone around they almost don’t look real,” Ellaria smirked.

 “Sadly, only Witchers have eyes like this so people can tell who to kill when they see one.” You say not holding any emotion in your voice.

 “I think it is time we take our leave. Come (Y/N) the King will need your assistance,” Tyrion said noticing your change in mood.

 “We will see you soon (Y/N),” The Prince said with a smirk on his face with an arm around his paramour.

 You nodded and turned to walk out with Tyrion and Bronn.