#slowly but surely all of my disaster dominos are lining up

[second-chance-stray]

(Split Ends) RP Log: Cravs, Riylli, and Rising revisit Baldur in Limsa Lominsa.

Cravendy Hound - After entrusting Baldur, the ill-fated boy, to the healers based in Limsa Lominsa, the trio decided to head back to the company...at Crav's insistence, really. Every extra second spent in the maritime city was a second too much. And so, after taking the aetheryte home, we find the three on the company lawn.

Riylli Aliapoh lets out a stretch as they arrive, a bit groggy from the teleporting. "It's a shame you missed it Cravs, Rising ran in while I was castin' one of my spells and I knocked her a clean 20 fulms in the air!" She said, grinning with a bit too much pride. She then seemed to remember Rising was still there. "...By the way, you okay?"

Rising Lotus was patched up after their encounter as well, her right arm was coating in bandages, along with some other patches along the exposed skin of her body. She winced with each step, the healers picking all the needles from her form and now leaving her body to do the rest of the healer. She merely grumbled as Riylli spoke to her, putting her weight on her spear to take some of it off her leg.

Cravendy Hound: "Magic and melee don't mix, Riylli. But, er, 'ow are ye 'oldin' up, Risin'? That injury ye got looked somethin' fierce."

Riylli Aliapoh rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, taking that as a 'no'. She turned back to Cravs, deciding to ignore the issue like a mature adult. "So... Y'wanna tell us what that was all about? Why're you goin' so far to help this guy's kid?"

Rising Lotus: "...I'll be fine. Kinda a feel like layin' down." she glanced at Riylli, nodding afterwards "Aye. I'm curious 'bout that too."

Cravendy Hound: "I'm still confused 'ow a cactaur of all things made it to La Noscea. Could be a freak accident, but somethin' about it doesn't sit right with me." She sighs in thought, brow knitted and bothered. "....Ah. Uh. I guess I owe ye all an explanation."

Riylli Aliapoh plopped herself down on the step, ready for a story

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, get up! I-I'm not gonna bore ye with all the details," Cravs stammers. "Look. I made a promise to the kid's father. 'is dyin' wish was to see his son grow strong, with his own strength."

Riylli Aliapoh tilted her head. "...Y'know... It aint really his own strength if we had to step in to help... You sure you should be meddlin' like this? I mean, it was just a little cactus thing"

Rising Lotus "...Someone might not want that. I remember the merchant mentionin' somethin' 'bout some folk not carin' for him or his family or somethin'." she shrugs, wincing in pain afterwards "...also cactuar are from Thanalan, don't know how one would of gotten there."

Cravendy Hound nods to Riylli. "I agree, and originally, I just wanted to see if 'e was doin' okay. But this cactaur business...I think someone /else/ is meddlin' with 'im. And if we meddle to remove the meddler, then it'll cancel out, right?"

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears perked up in interest. "Y'mean someone left that cactus out there to take the kid out? Who exactly was this kid's sire? Why's he got so many enemies that would go so far as to try and kill his kid after he's already gone?"

Cravendy Hound shifts in place, heat under the collar. Unusually, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, as if the wrong word could set off a mine. "Kid's father was a pirate captain, but one with...'onor, I suppose. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Which lead 'im to rob from the same, powerful set of targets."

Cravendy Hound: "If ye got raided by Captain Thorne, ye didn't -just- lose yer shite. It was a kind of...a mark. A blow to yer pride, and that didn't sit well the rich."

Riylli Aliapoh thinks about this for a moment. "...So if we know who the targets are, why don't we just hop over an' kick their teeth in? Bet that'd gettem to stop messin' with the kid!"

Rising Lotus huffs, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments before glaring at Cravs. "...So what's gonna happen when these powerful targets  learn we're helpin' the kid? Last thing I need is to be marked like the boy, or if they learn we work for Heartwood an' create problems for the others."

Cravendy Hound: "That's step one. Gotta find who's still got it out for the kid, out of a handful of options." She then turns to Rising. "As long as we don't do anythin' illegal we should be alright. And we can threaten to expose 'ow they torment a kid to keep them from doin' anything to us."

Cravendy Hound: "Nothin' illegal, alright? That means even if they're an ass, we can't just kick their teeth in." Cravs lectures to Riylli.

Riylli Aliapoh frowned. "It aint illegal if they're a bad guy! And ain’t kickin' teeth in how pirates settle their differences anyroad?"

Rising Lotus tried to give Cravs a skeptical look, but just ended up grimacing from the shift of posture, then just looked exhausted. "That ain't how it work if you're rich. Can get away with anythin'."

Cravendy Hound: "That's not 'ow the law works! And while that may be 'ow we settle problems on water, on land...under the Admiral's stink eye, we'd probably cause more trouble doin' that."

Cravendy Hound: "The rich still 'ave their pride. I'm thinkin' if word got out that the bugger pesters a goddamn child for 'is late father's legacy, it'd be enough to twist their arm."

Riylli Aliapoh looked to Rising, then to Cravs, and then up to the sky as she let out an exasperated sigh. "...Y'see? This is exactly why we Miqo'te got our own rules..." She grumbled, before finally looking back down. "Fine! We'll do it your way! But if any of 'em tries to swing at me it's fair game, yeah?"

Rising Lotus grumbled, pretty much done with the day. "Well in the case it does go tits up, we can handle ourselves much better than that boy I 'spose."

Cravendy Hound nods. What an exhausting day. "...well. Ye look like ye could use two days worth of sleep, Risin'. That's all I 'ad to say."

Riylli Aliapoh hops to her feet and dusts off her pants. "Alright! Just gimme a shout whenever you get a lead or whatever. Always happy to lend my skills to a good cause!" She flashes Cravs a grin, and very pointedly tries not to look over to the wounded Rising

Rising Lotus "...Aye. You know how to reach us. Though we ought to expect somethin' worse than a cactuar next time." she sighed and started making her way toward the door.

(Cravendy Hound) seems a good place to timeskip to next scene? any last posts and then :P )) (Rising Lotus) I'm good!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Timeskip ready! (Cravendy Hound) AAAHH that outfit!!! )) (Cravendy Hound) the blade harness xD )) (Rising Lotus) Oh yeah I don't think you've seen her in it yet!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (No fair, its so hard to get glams for Riylli ;-; (Cravendy Hound) it looks extremely good )) (Cravendy Hound) *timeskips in same outfit* xD )) (Cravendy Hound) HERE we can at least start in the company so it doesn't feel like, literally seconds after xD )) (Rising Lotus) Guess we'll have to have a fashion montage for Riylli at some point)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yknow what, its totally canon that RIylli only has one set of clothes (Cravendy Hound) ahahaha )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Oh, I DO actually have a glamour change! (Rising Lotus) so pick out something new then we can figure out how she got it!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (alakazam (Rising Lotus) mask (Cravendy Hound) fjkdslf just the gloves?! )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Theyre bandages ^o^ Shes been practicing the fire spell! (Rising Lotus) Damn I thought you were just going to throw that mask on xD))

Cravendy Hound - A week later, Cravs has reached out to Riylli and Rising for company (or maybe help?) again. It's related to the business in Limsa Lominsa, and she's wearing her disguise dress again. Oh boy.

Rising Lotus was eyeing the bandages wrapped around Riylli's hands. "...How's that fire spell going?"

Riylli Aliapoh grins to Rising. "It's goin' well! I got the basic formula down, just gotta work on intensity and duration!" She beams proudly, giving Rising a bandaged thumbs up.

Cravendy Hound: "That...looks painful."

Riylli Aliapoh gives a mock bow. "You gotta suffer for art y'know"

Rising Lotus couldn't help but smirk at Riylli's enthusiasm. "...We'll get it down before you touch anythin' we fish up..or the lava." she turned her attention to Cravs, holding back a snicker at seeing her dolled up again. "You find out more 'bout the boy then?"

Cravendy Hound: "Seems ye got some more sufferin' to do then," Cravs notes in a bright tone.

Cravendy Hound: "Right, the Baldur business - I narrowed it down to a couple of names. But that's as far as I can go gatherin' information out 'ere. Thought it'd be more efficient to ask the kid 'imself. Which means." Cravs gestures to her outfit. "I'll need some escorts to talk for me once we're in Limsa again."

Riylli Aliapoh was clearly enjoying the attention, but quieted down to let Cravs speak. "Why not just talk to the kid as Cravs? If he's lost his sire, it... might be nice for him to know he's still got people close to him out there..."

Rising Lotus "Hmm...'spose maybe she doesn't want him to turn her in for the gil? If he really needs to be supportin' him an' his mom anyway." she shrugged. "Doesn't look like the type to sell out someone who's helpin' him though."

Cravendy Hound went as white as a sheet at the suggestion. "A-ah, that's...Uhh, we've got, um. A misunderstandin' between us. If 'e knew it was me, 'e'd flip out for sure. Trust me, it's easier this way." Cravs clears her throat and then hurries out before Riylli or Rising can ask further.

Cravendy Hound - The trip over is pretty awkward. If the subject was brought up again, Cravs would simply pick up the pace and pretend not to hear. And, once the trio were in Limsa, her lips were sealed, clarification frustratingly out of reach. That said, she was definitely walking somewhere with purpose.

Rising Lotus gave up askin' fairly quick, she knew she wouldn't get anywhere at the moment. She'd pry it out of her later though, one way or another. "So... you know what he'll be up to today? Or you jus' hopin' we run into him?"

Riylli Aliapoh wouldn't bring it up again, at the very least smart enough to see Cravs didn't want to talk about it. Instead, she would offer fun facts of things she had learned so far in her research. "...So, did you guys know that a forge runs hotter than lava?"

Cravendy Hound mimes holding something heavy and swinging it around. And to Riylli's fact, she gives the miqo'te a doubting look. Really?

Riylli Aliapoh nods. "Yeah! Turns out lava is only like... half as hot as your average blacksmith forge! It aint even hot enough to melt iron! Makes my job easier, but it's kinda disappointin' y'know?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Thank you for subscribing to Lava Facts)

Cravendy Hound desperately wants to ask if that's how Riylli has been testing her fire shield spell - by dunking her hands in a forge. Cravs moves her hands around as if dipping them in something.

Riylli Aliapoh tilts her head, unable to figure out the mimicry. "Can't you like... at least whisper or somethin' when were alone? Surely they don't got ears everywhere?"

Cravendy Hound looks around and finds it acceptably empty. "Did ye dunk yer 'ands in the forge to test yer spell?!" She whisper-yells.

Rising Lotus narrowed her eyes at Cravs "...So he's... carrying somethin'.. then puttin' it in the oven?" she seemed to be combining the conversations. Then Cravs actually spoke. "Oohh you're talkin' 'bout that. I hope you didn't do that, use a fire or somethin' first Riylli."

Riylli Aliapoh blinks at her. "What? You crazy? What if the spell failed?" She said, shaking her head. "Nah, I've been usin' a campfire! Got a problem with the magic runnin' out too fast though..." She muttered, rubbing her poor cooked hands

Cravendy Hound stifles back laughter, and pats Riylli on the back. There there.

Rising Lotus: "I can get ya some cream for that. Know a gobbie that makes some quality stuff. Don't worry it works too, used it after gettin' a nasty burn from some giant bug sparyin' me with gunk."

Riylli Aliapoh grumbles and glares up at Cravs at the treatment, but lets it slide since she couldn't tell if it was meant to be mocking or not. "...That'd be great, thanks. I don't gotta pay for it, right?"

Cravendy Hound: "Bug....gunk? Bug gunk...That sounds. Hm." Cravs raises a brow at Rising but doesn't say more.

Rising Lotus "Well I ought to considerin' how you made me a pin cushion on our last outin' together." she snickered a bit, the first time she cracked a joke about it. "But nah, he owes me one anyhow. Next time I'm up there I'll grab ya some." she gave Riylli a firm pat on the back.

Riylli Aliapoh grumbled again, but couldn't really argue back. "...Thanks." She muttered, not exactly enthused about all this back-patting she was receiving

Cravendy Hound had earlier given Rising a notepad with names written in it. One of them, hopefully, belonged to the person who was harassing the kid. Her heels clicking on the docks, Cravs would eventually lead the little crew to a dusty corner of Limsa where the kid (B) was presently practicing his form with the ax.

Cravendy Hound - The heavy ax is far too big for the kid. Every swing pulls him comically forward with the weapon. He stops his 'practice' and looks up at the approaching trio with a wide smile. "I remember you two! You helped me with that monster the other day."

(Cravendy Hound) more back pats )) (Cravendy Hound) i demand more )) (Rising Lotus) I feel like Riylli and Rising would have back pats that would eventually devolve into a hitting contest)) (Cravendy Hound) actually cravs and rising would have to squat down to pat Riylli's back ahah - otherwise it'd be a head pat )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Cravs and Rising know it's too dangerous to headpat Riylli, they'd probably get bit (Cravendy Hound) sometimes my tall friends would use my head as an arm rest.....annoyed me, and yet I can see Cravs doing that to Riylli lmao )) (Rising Lotus) I've done that to my shorter friends before xD))

Riylli Aliapoh perked up as she got recognized by the kid, offering him a friendly wave. "Hey! How are you holdin' up after all them needles?"

Rising Lotus watches the boy fling himself with his strikes, smirking with every swing.  "Aye that was us." she eyed up his weapon for a few moments. "You ought to get somethin' a bit lighter by the way, gonna leave yourself open if you take too long liftin' your weapon."

Cravendy Hound - The kid bashfully itches the tip of his nose. "I'm doing fine, thanks to you all...Woke up on the softest bed I've ever been on in my life, healing expenses all covered." Baldur's eyes drift over to Cravs, and then back to Riylli and Rising. "Oh, I plan to! I'm just using this old thing because it was the only thing I could afford. Once I earn enough, I'll buy a better one...after everything else, haha."

Cravendy Hound turns away, avoiding eye contact. It's overkill given that she's wearing a mask.

Rising Lotus eyed Cravendy, she had to pay for the needle removal out of her pocket. "...well I'm sure them healers were excited for the chance to de-needle someone. Don't see many cactuar over here after all, bit strange." she nodded as he brought up upgrading his armor and weapon. "A good set of armor is jus' as important as a good weapon, smart thinkin'."

Riylli Aliapoh nudged Rising with her foot to try and bring her back to the task at hand, snatching the list out of her hands. "Hey, so... Were kinda lookin' into something, think you might be able to help us out? You know any of the names on this list?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur nods enthusiastically, dreads bouncing on top of his head. Admiration for Rising and Riylli is practically gushing from every inch of the kid. "So that was a cactaur? I've never seen one before."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur snaps into attention. "Oh, right away! I'd be thrilled to help you two out. Let's see..." He takes the list and scans it. "Only this last one. Mindred Rot. She's who I go to if I need a loan."

Rising Lotus "Aye, I grew up 'round them, used to hit them with sticks then ru-" she glanced at Riylli as she bumped her and had the list snatched away.

(Cravendy Hound) dfsd hit them with sticks and run???? chaos child )) (Rising Lotus) She didn (Rising Lotus) didn't have toys or anything xD Played with bugs and lizards and cactuars))

Riylli Aliapoh raised her eyebrow at the name. "...'Mindred Rot'? Well that's a bad guy name if I've ever heard one." She said, nodding along until she remembered Cravs' full name. "Er... Right, anyroad, what's she like? If she lends you money she can't be that bad, right?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Poor riylli about to learn the horrors of capitalism)

Cravendy Hound - Baldur smiles as he hands the list back to Riylli. "Oh, yeah, her name's pretty rotten. But in some ways...she looks after me. No one else'll give my family loans."

Rising Lotus "You need to get out of the woods more..." she shook her head at Riylli's comment. She hummed at Baldur's words about the woman. "Hmm, how generous of her."

Riylli Aliapoh wrinkled her nose. "Honestly I'd rather get out of the woods less... How in the world do you lot handle that salt in the air?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's gaze wanders to Rising's axe, and then to Riylli's staff. "So, you two must be adventurers, huh? You think you could teach me a thing or two? Punch better, smarter, harder? Oh, and! I didn't mean to be rude." He turns to Cravs. "Who's your friend?"

Rising Lotus Grinned, giving him a nod. "Aye! Do a lot of guard an' merc work. Takin' me all over, mostly back an' forth between Idyllshire an' places though. This one is still gettin' her footin' for it though." she snickered a bit as she eyed Riylli. "Oh, an' that's Singin' Gull. She's uh...a great singer an' has to save her voice most the time. We're guardin' her on her...singing journey?"

Riylli Aliapoh puffed her chest out. "Yup! Name's Riylli, Warrior of Earth!" she declared proudly, possibly forgetting Cravs and Rising were in earshot. "I'm a master of earth magic, but I'm sure I could give you some tips! Oh, and this is..." She trails off, staring at Cravs as her mind blanks on what her alias was. Thankfully Rising was there to have her back, though the Roegadyn still earned herself a glare from her little comment

Cravendy Hound 's frown twitches slightly. Singing Gull the Singer. Really? But she goes along with it anyway.

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's mouth forms an 'o' in awe. "Idyllshire? Never even heard of the place. Sounds cool though...And magic? How would I even start?" He turns back for a second to rest his rusty axe against a crate, and then hops right back into the conversation. "Like, just think really hard and magic happens? Hrrrghhhh.."

Riylli Aliapoh shook her head at the kid. "Nah, it aint that simple. It's more like... Y'know how you can move your fingers with your mind? You basically do that, but you move your aether about instead, and get THAT aether to move the aether OUTSIDE of you, and... Honestly I might not remember all the lessons, it's kinda just a reflex at this point. But you shouldn't be wastin' your talents on magic anyroad! You're a highlander right? You're gonna have plenty of muscle when you grow up, you should use-

Riylli Aliapoh -that instead!"

Rising Lotus could talk for hours about Idyllshire, but she resisted and tried to steer the conversation back on topic, which of course meant giving Riylli a light smack to the arm to get her to focus up. "Anyway, you know were we could find this Rot lady? Gull here is lookin' for gil for her next performance an' were hopin' to find some donations."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur is trying so hard to follow Riylli's explanation, but it leaves the poor kid's brain all tangled. "Huh, what? Huh? Uhh, oh, you want to meet Miss Rot? She's usually really busy so I have to schedule in advance. But I can ask if she's free to meet you all next time."

Riylli Aliapoh sighs. "Y'mean we gotta come all the way out here again..? Fine, I guess... Not like we can just go kick the doors down and demand to talk to her after all..." She muttered, offering a small glare to Cravs out of the corner of her eye

Rising Lotus cleared her throat, glaring at Riylli as she glared at Cravs "We'd appreciate that, jus' say that..uh..an up an' comin' singer is lookin' for fundin'. " she gave Baldur a nod, hoping that selling Cravs like that would make her the perfect target for a loan shark.

Cravendy Hound looks similarly annoyed, but shakes her head no to Riylli. It's not like they could go in there with wild accusations anyway - seemed worth strategizing over first.

Cravendy Hound - With the night fast approaching, Cravs motions with her hand to signal her intention to head home. Without bothering to wave goodbye to Baldur, she walks on ahead.

Rising Lotus watches Crav hurry away. "Uh sorry..." she put her hand to her mouth to muffle her words "Sort of a diva that one. Good luck out there lad!" she gave him a thumbs up before hurrying after 'Singing Gull'.

Riylli Aliapoh sighed once for not being allowed to rampage mindlessly, then once more as Cravs walked away without saying bye to the kid. She offers Baldur a wave. "You keep practicin' okay? We'll come by and see you again later, and maybe I'll share some of my adventurin' secrets with you!"

Cravendy Hound is a good distance ahead. As she passes by a stranger, there's some kind of odd collision that ends up tripping Cravs. Her mask drops off and rolls a few ilms forward as the stranger awkwardly, but quickly, makes their escape without even a sorry.

Cravendy Hound scrambles to recover the headware and fasten it back on. By the time Riylli and Rising have caught up, she's still kneeled over on the floor, troubled.

Riylli Aliapoh pretty much has to run to keep up with Cravs' long-legged walking, blinking in confusion as she notices her state. "H-Hey, you alright?"

Rising Lotus hurries to catch up to Cravs, quickly stepping in front of her to shield her face as she glanced around. "Aye..did you know that man or somethin'?"

Cravendy Hound: "I'm fine. Rattled is all." She whispers as she wobbles back up and takes a deep breath. ".....no, I didn't recognize them."

Rising Lotus looked around at the few bystanders eyeing the scene. "Maybe it'd be best to get out of here...before there's a chance to cause more of a scene." she said the last part in a whisper. Last thing they needed was the yellow jackets upon them.

Riylli Aliapoh raises her arm up seemingly to try to comfort her, only to hesitate and lower it back down. "...Let's talk outside of the city, all this salt is starting to make me sick..." She says, awkwardly attempting to give Cravs an out

Cravendy Hound: "...Right. No point in worrying about it now. Let's just get out of 'ere." She mutters.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterFour

Read on AO3 (EN) ///// Ler no AO3 (PT)

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit violence

Words so far: +19,998k (did not include this chapter)

Marks: @mionemymind​

When you return to the campfire, you laugh at the image of Bucky trying to learn to play guitar with Maria. He sounds like a disaster, squeezing the strings hard, or following the instructions in a way that is completely contrary to what she tells him. Maria however seems to be a very patient teacher, and when you sit around the campfire, you both exchange a knowledgeable look, where you were thanking her for the time with Carol

Nat hands you a beer, and remembering the three glasses of whiskey you had earlier, you grimace at her, saying that any more and you would be tripping. She laughs and says that your drunk version could entertain the party.

You spend several minutes talking and laughing, Pietro joins you shortly afterwards, bringing dominoes. He tries to hint that you should borrow your new set of cards, but you just signal that he was forbidden to mention poker to you indefinitely. Nat wins two games in a row, laughing when you and Pietro let out a grumble of dissatisfaction, and then Pietro hints that she was cheating, which makes her angry enough to try to hit him with the board. You get up to get more beer, laughing lightly as you leave your bickering friends behind.

You should be used to the habit of your gaze always searching for Wanda when she's not in your line of sight, but you always mentally reprimand yourself for doing so. You imagine that you used to disguise it better, seeing the look of malice that Thor casts when he sees you clearly looking for something. You think about disguising it, pretending that you had dropped something, but honestly, what's the point of pretending. He raises his glass in one direction, signaling the corner near Steve's tent, and you finally find it. Wanda and Monica are working together to set up Bucky's old radio, you realize as you watch them carry a small table with the piece of equipment on top.

Taking a long sip of your beer, you allow yourself to admire Wanda for the seconds it takes you to reach her. You remember how beautiful she looked in her dress, but you can't help thinking how irresistible she looks in her usual clothes, work pants and standard shirt, the suspenders hanging loosely against her waist, while the spurs attached to her boot scuff lightly on the grass as she walks. You don't think much about it, but you notice the open buttons of her shirt, her collarbone exposed. You imagine that she might have felt hot after searching for the radio in the warehouse wagon, and you know that if she needs it, you will offer her your coat.

Wanda smiles at you when she sees you coming close, you shyly reciprocate.

- We thought we might dance a bit. - She says as soon as you reach her. Monica approaches with batteries in her hands.

- I'll be happy to look. - You joke, and Wanda looks at you with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.

- No way, the birthday girl dances with everyone. - She warns, raising a finger at you. You laugh, and feeling very confident after all that drinking, you don't think much and start letting the words flow out of your mouth.

- I just wanted to dance with you. - You confess amidst a smile, Wanda looks surprised, but smiles with a slightly flushed face. The sound of the radio catches both of your attention, breaking the moment.

The sound attracts other members of the gang, and before long they are almost all - with the exception of Maria and Thor, who seem engaged in a very heated debate about the best breeds of horse - together in the area of Steve's stall.

- Does anyone have a choice of music? - Monica asks as she fiddles with the buttons on the radio, turning up the volume, the sound is pleasantly loud in the room

- Anything that you can dance to. - Pietro suggested, and when the first sounds of the chosen melody began, he excitedly took Nat by the hand. She laughed, pushing him lightly by the shoulders.

- It's not polite to pull a lady along, boy! - You heard her say. - Ask if I want to dance first.

- Would you like to dance with me, Natasha? - Pietro asked, bowing dramatically, as if he were making a reference. Nat laughed.

- Of course not, go bother the other ladies. - She denied this humorously, and Pietro pretended to be offended. He walked towards Monica and held out his hand, repeating the invitation in a gentler manner. The woman smiled before accepting, and as their dance began, others soon joined in. You watched fondly as Bucky pushed his shoulder against Steve's slightly, an amused expression on his face. Steve put the beer on the counter and extended his hand to his friend, who accepted, and they began to dance. Peggy invited Potts, and they joined the group. Nat walked over to you and Wanda, a mischievous smile on her face. You were about to offer to dance with her, but she was quick to say.

- I'll take this. - She said as she grabbed the beer you were carrying.

- Are you sure you don't want to...

- You know very well that I don't dance. - She interrupts you. - Besides, you're both dying to dance together.

Nat winked at you before walking away, and you felt your face heat up. Turning to Wanda, you found her already looking at you. You smiled and she offered her hand to you, inviting you to dance. You shifted your weight between your feet before accepting.

- I can't dance, Wands. - You whisper as you come closer. Wanda just smiles at you tenderly.

-Follow my lead then. - She answers in the same tone, interlacing your hands. With her other hand, she grabs your free forearm, bringing it up to her own shoulder, showing you where to place it. You begin to look down at your own feet in anticipation, and Wanda places a finger on your chin, slowly lifting your face to make you look into her eyes. - You must look into your partner's eyes.

- But what if I step on your feet? - you ask half breathless at the intensity of her gaze.

- Don't worry, darling. Just breathe. - She assures you, and you feel her hand around your waist. 

And then her body moves, and you focus on following. You count your steps mentally, and try to focus on not stepping on Wanda's feet. It is very hard to concentrate on anything with emerald eyes staring at you with intensity, and the smell of Wanda that seems to overpower all your senses. You are nervous, and your body is tense. You feel guilty as you notice Wanda's frown due to your posture.

- Relax, Y/N. - She whispers tenderly. - It's just me.

You smile, but find it difficult to obey as you look at her. So you lean your face against your hand on Wanda's shoulder. You miss seeing her face, but the position is also very good. She brings your bodies a little closer together, and you get used to the warmth of having her so close with ease. You stay like this, rocking together in an almost hug, your hands intertwined as the hand on your back goes down a little, and you let your gaze wander around.

If you thought you were dancing too close together, those thoughts vanish the moment you see Steve and Bucky, so tightly glued together that there is no space between their bodies. Monica and Pietro seem to be the only ones who are dancing further apart, yet they are very close. As the melody comes to an end, you hear the other members laughing, and Pietro goes towards the radio to change the music while you slowly separate from Wanda. She doesn't let go of your hand, however, and nods for you to follow her. You let yourself be pulled in the opposite direction from the hut area, to a more secluded corner among the trees. As you exit, Nat gives you a mischievous look that makes you blush.

When you were completely hidden from the rest of the camp, Wanda stopped, she looked nervous, shifting her weight between her feet as she let go of your hand. You looked at her curiously.

- I wanted to give you your present. - Wanda said, looking around as if searching for something. She bent down quickly to grab something behind a broken log.

She walked over to you with a mischievous expression. She handed over the package, and maybe it was the alcohol, but you found her fingers lingering on yours as she did so.

A dark wooden box was placed in your hands, and you frowned curiously, wondering what was inside. In fact, the box was so beautiful that you would be very pleased if it were empty.

You opened the clasp, holding your breath in surprise as you noticed the contents. A revolver gleamed against your eyes. You knew very well what kind. It was the Lemat revolver you had wanted to buy on your one and only trip to Saint Denis with Wanda and Pietro. You joked that one day you would have enough money for weapons like that, without having to steal, as your gaze lingered on the item. You never imagined that Wanda would remember this. 

With the tips of your finger, you touched the details that were drawn into the metal of the gun, smiling as you noticed the figure of a wolf carved into the tip. The lone wolf was your nickname as a child, Steve used to call you that whenever you were angry and you needed to travel, you always walked several meters ahead of him, like "a lone wolf".

Feeling your emotions too close to overpowering you, you swallowed the urge to cry as you felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, how much attention Wanda had on you to think about the present. The redhead seemed anxious to know if you had enjoyed it, but you kept your face impassive as you looked at her. 

You stowed the gun back in its case, and held it in one hand while reaching down with the other for your old revolver hanging from your waistband. Removing the gun from its holster, you checked that it was properly locked before throwing it on the grass. Wanda watched you intently, frowning slightly in confusion, but you didn't speak. 

In no hurry, you removed your new gun from the box, taking one last look at it before putting it in its holster. Getting used to the weight as you closed your eyes for a moment.

Then you bent down quietly, and put the box down, finally looking at Wanda. She blinked at you in anticipation, and you bit your lip as you ran your gaze across her face. Your mind racing on so many possibilities of how you could return the gift. The thoughts were innocent at first, but you would blame the alcohol for the direction they took next.

- Did you like it? - She asked without holding back, and you sighed without answering, which seemed to make her insecure.

- I'm thinking about how to repay something like that. - You answered mysteriously, and Wanda let out a nervous laugh, clearly affected by the intensity of your eyes.

- You don't have to. - She says, but you only disagree with a nod, and then she holds her breath as you approach. 

- I want to. - You speak in a low tone, and when your faces are inches apart, you can only stare at her mouth. - Good girls should be rewarded.

You almost stumble with shock when Pietro's voice interrupts the moment. He mumbles apologies as you turn away from Wanda, but then you really begin to understand what he said:

- He's here. Stephen is back! - He cheerfully affirms by waving for you two to go back to the camp. He runs towards the tents, and you turn to Wanda, but she just looks at you intensely, coming up to you and giving you a quick kiss on the corner of your cheek, very close to your mouth, before running after her brother.

You rush to grab the box and the pistol at your feet before running after them.

With Stephen's sudden return to the gang, everyone's mood seemed to improve considerably. And you felt much better knowing that he would treat Bruce, since he had always been the camp doctor.

It has been three days since you almost kissed Wanda in the forest in thanks for the gun you got as a gift. Every time you remember it you feel a wave of shame fill your body, and maybe a little guilt, for having been careless enough to drink to the point of ignoring the minimum of common sense. With this feeling, you had spent the last few days accepting all sorts of camp tasks, to keep yourself busy and unavailable as much as possible to talk about what had occurred. At every moment when your gaze met Wanda's, whether it was between carrying hay to the horse area, or during meals, you made sure to look away while you found a way to escape somewhere else.

As the date approached for the bank heist to take place, you could almost touch in the air the anxiety of those who would participate. Fortunately Thor was back in business and insisted that he would participate in the ambush. Bucky had already secured all the necessary weaponry, and Peggy confirmed that she was working with the final tweaks of the plan. Pietro and Nat went to Valentine the day before and discovered that the workers from the oil plant were all already in town, which seemed to be the last missing piece of the plan. Things seemed to be conspiring in your favor when it came to avoiding Wanda, since she had been as busy as you are, and had not even returned from the buffalo hunt she went on together with Thor and Stephen. 

In the late afternoon, you returned to your tent feeling exhausted from having spent all day organizing the ammunition wagon, as one of your punishments for the Limpany shooting. Bucky was kind enough to sit next to you while he cleaned some weapons, and when he was done, he practiced a bit of guitar playing.

You threw yourself on the bed, groaning against the pillow. Fortunately, your shoulder was practically healed by now, and you didn't need any more bandages. You heard someone huffing in the doorway, so you opened one of your eyes lazily, and caught sight of Nat standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a suggestive look on her face.

- You know, I'm surprised at how well you're holding up. - She says, and you close your eyes, too tired to puzzle. Seeing your lack of interest, she gives you a wry smile, thinking how stubborn you are when you want to be. - I thought you would only last a day.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Your voice was muffled against the pillow, but you kept your eyes closed and your face against the fabric. It was so soft.

- In fact, Pietro and I bet that you wouldn't go two days without talking to each other. I'm only bringing this up because I'm losing the bet. - You felt your stomach turn when you finally understood what she said. But not wanting to give her the taste of being right, you just let out an impatient grunt against the pillow, which made Nat laugh instead of pushing her away. - Pietro bet that you would be stubborn enough to hold out until Wanda pushed you off your horse, but I thought you wouldn't go two days without talking to the redhead. You know I don't like to lose.

- Nobody likes to lose. - You retorted. - That's the whole point of betting. 

She stood with her arms crossed as you lifted your face from the bed, and then you adjusted yourself to sit up on the mattress. Seeing your tired expression, Nat assumed a worried look.

- What is happening to you?

You thought you were going to cry. But you only smoothed your hair and gave her a sad smile. She closed your tent and sat down beside you on the bed.

- I almost kissed her on my birthday. - You confess with a lost look in your eyes.

- Isn't that a good thing?

- I was drunk. - You retorted. - I can't believe I was going to grab her in the middle of the forest. That's so scary.

Nat watched you sink your face in your hands, and she began to play with your hair, trying to calm you down.

- You talk as if you were some unknown drunk who chased Wanda into the woods. - She says in an almost amused tone. - I really don't understand how your head comes to such conclusions.

- I just didn't want it to be like that. - You say, moving your fingers nervously. - I don't know what I really wanted. Maybe I wanted it to be special.

- My God, you are so corny. - Nat sneered, but there was no malice in her tone. She braided your hair loosely, and then held out your hand. - I really think that you two are made for each other. And that no matter where it happens or how, Wanda will enjoy your first kiss. 

- And you say that I'm the one who's corny. - You joke, and Nat nudges your shoulder lightly, laughing softly. 

- Oh, but you are indeed. - She replies. - I always thought that you've been secretly dating for years.

You groaned uncomfortably, Nat laughed at your expression.

- I brought something for you. - She says after a moment of silence. Only then you notice that she was carrying something in her pants pocket, and she moves on the bed to pick it up. She hands you a holster. - I hear you have two revolvers now. You can have my extra case.

You smiled, thanking her. Nat whispered a " Don't mention it" before kissing you on the forehead and leaving. Without getting out of bed, you reached for your belt hanging from the chair on your desk and slipped the holster you had earned onto the front of the bed. You were happy to know that you could carry two weapons now. 

Putting your belt back on the chair, you yawned, deciding to get some sleep.

It seemed like a weekend, you thought as you took a sip of coffee, which you almost spit out when you tasted the bitterness. Saloons weren't exactly the best place to get drinks like this, and since you were avoiding alcohol, it was either bitter coffee or water. You began to think that water was the better option.

Steve had sent you to Valentine to get uniforms from the factory, or more accurately, steal uniforms. Peggy had made one last adjustment to the plan, and you found out that you would need to infiltrate the factory if you wanted information about the safe where the money was going to be. Pietro would be the one to infiltrate the place, and since he was the fastest rider, he would have to get out of there as fast as he could to let Peggy know which was the correct safe. You weren't going to start any unnecessary gunfire, so anything that could be done in silence, would be.

You had been waiting for the two clearly inebriated men to finish playing to follow them, and that had been for about two hours. You sighed without patience, and then walked over to the table, trying to sound as friendly as possible when you joined the game. 

If you bankrupted them in the game, they would have no choice but to leave the table, you thought as you received your cards from the dealer. 

You played carefully but objectively, remembering all the tactics that Fury taught you. In less than an hour of play, you had already defeated one of them. But because you were too focused on the game, you didn't notice the threatening posture the loser assumed. 

When you finally defeated the second one, the men were not the slightest bit pleased. You stumbled backwards when one of them pushed you against the counter. 

- I don't like being robbed, girl. - Said the brown-haired man, he had a threatening expression on his face, and you felt quite intimate as he had a knife pressed to your throat.

-A bad loser I see. - You sneer, and he blinks angrily. But then there is a gun pointed at the man's forehead and the grip of the knife on your throat loosens. The bartender doesn't seem willing to witness a murder in his bar. You know his name is Tom, and you thank him softly when he asks the men to leave the bar. But your relief is short-lived, for as you walk out, they are waiting for you outside.

- I want my money back, whore! - One of them shouts and you take a few steps back, your boots clattering in the mud of the road.

- Come on fellas, I won fair and square. - You try to argue, and then you see the man draw his knife at you again. Impatient, you lower your hand to the holster, and the other man imitates the movement. You had no intention of ending up in a duel when you woke up this morning, but here you were.

The man with the knife stepped aside, clearing the shooting area for his friend. You let out a sigh, your hand gripping the revolver. Your gaze focused on the man in front of you, a few steps away. It was a risky duel, and you hoped he was as bad at aiming as he was at poker. 

A moment passed, and then you grabbed your gun and fired. Fortunately, faster than your opponent, who fell to the ground with a thud. The other man was in a state of shock as you stood there, smoke billowing from the tip of your revolver. You barely had time to normalize your breathing when the other man lunged at you with knife in hand. You fired twice, and watched the expression of pure shock as he staggered back, and then fell over dead. You felt a slight burning sensation on your cheek, indicating that he had cut you, but you barely had time to process the two murders when you felt yourself being pulled away. 

Valentine's sheriff seemed more interested in showing service than actually helping anyone, and he didn't believe or care that it might have been self-defense when he threw you into one of the jail cells, which was only a few yards from the saloon.

There was only one other man in the jail, locked up in the cell across from yours. An arrogant-looking lady called the sheriff through the back doors, and he left you two alone. You tried to see where your guns were kept, but could not.

- He keeps them inside that cabinet, on the top shelf. - The man said, and you turned your face toward him. - And the key to the cells is near the door.

- Steve is going to kill me. - You grumble before sitting down on the floor, your legs stretched out on the ground.

You both remain silent for several moments, until the sheriff returns. He has a lipstick stain on his shirt, and you roll your eyes.

- Wilson, great news for you. - says the sheriff walking to the cell opposite yours. The prisoner has a serious look on his face. - I finally got a carriage for Sisika, they will pick you up tomorrow morning.

Wilson ducked his head and clenched his fists, while the sheriff let out a wicked chuckle. 

- If I'm lucky, they'll take you too, cutie. - Said the sheriff looking at you, but you didn't bother to answer.

You tried not to panic at the thought of a federal penitentiary. You hated having to depend on anyone, but you really hoped that your friends would notice your absence and come to your aid.

Looking at your fellow prisoner, you avoided feeling sorry for the downcast expression he acquired, after all you didn't know what he had done to be here. Still, you sympathized with him; it wasn't easy to receive news like that.

Trying to get some idea of what to do, you closed your eyes, burying your head in your knees. But in the end, you just fell asleep.

You dreamed of long red hair, and woke in a jolt, banging your head against the small shelf that held the cell bed. Massaging the spot, you looked forward, surprised to see Wilson signaling you to be quiet.

You ran your gaze around and widened your eyes as you noticed the figure of Monica, silently stealing the key to the cell. The sheriff was too distracted by her cleavage to notice, and you really hated this man with each passing second. Monica pretended to laugh, holding the sheriff's arm, and finally grabbing the key. She asked the officer to go somewhere more private, that she would like to show him something, and when he took her to the backdoors, she handed the cell key to you through the bars.

Quickly freeing yourself, you ran to the weapons locker, looking for your holster. Duly armed, you turned toward Wilson's cell.

- I hope I don't regret this. - You grumble as you release him. He nods in thanks, shaking your hand. And then he runs to the gun cabinet and grabs what you believe to be his.

You hear a noise and both of you turn toward the back door. Through the window you can see Monica struggling with the sheriff, who seems to want to force a kiss. You feel your chest bubbling with anger and rush outside. Before you can do anything, someone shoots the sheriff, who falls to the ground.

You walk over to Monica, who assures you that she is fine, just a little out of shape from being out of a fight for so long. You hug her in thanks before you run away from the scene, she points out where the horses are, and you are surprised to notice that Wilson is still with you.

- My name is Sam. - The man says. - I have nowhere to go.

You and Monica exchange a look, and then she offers her hand to help him get on her own horse. 

- Steve will take care of this. - She says before you ride out of town. 

When you arrive, you let out an exclamation that makes Monica and Sam look at you curiously.

- I didn't get the fucking uniform. - You say, and Monica looks at you with a mischievous smile. She reaches into her own horse's saddlebag and pulls out the folded uniform set. 

- It's easier to steal when they're dead. - She comments, and you look at her with a mixture of pride and surprise. You think that she and Pietro really are made for each other, blessed sticky fingers.

As they enter, you assure the others that you were fine, and you discover that Monica just told them that you had had complications and needed some help. She tells you that she overheard two merchants leaving Valentine commenting on the shooting while she was hunting rabbits, and when she told the rest of the camp, she didn't mention that you might have been shot. 

When the others see Sam, they seem apprehensive about having a stranger in camp, but Steve asks to talk to him privately in his tent. You knew that he would invite Sam to join you as soon as he knew that he helped Monica.

You walk back to your tent, immediately wanting to take a shower. Then your exit is blocked by Wanda looking quite annoyed. You take a step back, shocked by the sudden presence.

- You are avoiding me. - she accuses, looking hurt. Honestly, you don't feel much like having this conversation right now, and considering that you almost died a few hours ago, you just want to take a shower.

- I've just been busy. - You retort, holding her gaze.

- Why are you lying?

You bite your tongue hard to avoid smiling. Wanda is ridiculously beautiful, it's so unfair that you can't get annoyed with her. Completely oblivious to your internal conflict, she has an accusing expression, but the glint in her eyes shows that she is upset, hurt that you are lying to her so blatantly.

- Look, I almost died twice today and was arrested, I would like to take a shower before embarking on another conflict.

Her expression changed to concern.

- What do you mean you almost died? - She questioned and her gaze ran over your face, and when she noticed the dried wound upon your cheek, she raised her hand quickly, her touch electrifying your whole body at the same speed that made you relax more than any hot bath. - What happened?

- I won at poker. - You joked, fighting the urge to close your eyes at her touch. Wanda frowned and lowered her hands. - It was a misunderstanding. Monica saved my ass and now I'm here. 

- You don't seem to be telling me anything anymore. - She said with a serious look on her face, and you swallowed hard, guilt clutching your stomach. And you spent too long thinking about what to say, that you miss your chance. Wanda gave you one last hurt look, before saying, "Have a nice bath," and left your tent. You kept staring for minutes at where you saw her last.

You were very angry when you returned to your room, mumbling disconnected words as you threw yourself on your bed, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. You had the choice of getting up and apologizing, explaining to Wanda that you just felt insecure, or staying in your bed and whining, so of course you didn't get up.

Refusing to cry, you tried to look for something to do that would get the image of Wanda's hurt look out of your head. You thought about cleaning your weapons, but then you remembered that one of them was the revolver you had received as a gift, so you gave up the idea.

Running your eyes around the room, you tried to find something else, your eyes lingered on your bedside table, a picture of you, Wanda, Pietro, Monica and Nat, when you were younger, and Steve insisted that he would like to have a picture of the camp kids. You must have been about ten years old, and you were dressed in your best clothes, a bandage on your forehead covering up a fight wound.Pietro had one arm on your shoulders and one on Wanda's, he had a toothless smile on his face, his front baby teeth had fallen out shortly before that photo.  Nat and Monica were the tallest, and stood one at each end. Even though it was black and white, you remembered the blue jacket that you yourself had stolen as a present for Nat. 

You looked away from the photo quickly, letting out an impatient sigh. Even trying, you couldn't stop thinking about Wanda, the marks of her presence all over your life. You decided it was best to look for something to do outside your tent.

You noticed Doctor Stephen coming out of Bruce's tent when you left yours. He looked happy, and you felt your chest fill with hope that Bruce was better.

Walking over to Stephen, you greeted him. 

- Ah, look at you, Y/N. - He replied as he put away his medical equipment inside his own tent. - You're growing up fast.

You looked down at the ground blankly.

- I guess so. 

Stephen finished arranging his own things, and when he turned to you, he signaled for you to accompany him to the campfire area.

- You seem to want to ask me something. - He says as he sits down, pouring himself a coffee pen, which was always available at the campfire.

- I just wanted to see how Bruce was doing. 

- Much better. - he says. - Soon he will return to his duties and I will go back to Saint Denis.

You nodded, slightly disappointed that Stephen was leaving, but glad that Bruce was better. They shared the role of camp doctor, but Stephen hardly ever stayed with you, saying he had business of his own to attend to in Saint Denis. You, Wanda and Pietro were the only ones who knew that he had a family waiting for him there.

- But I feel that's not what you want to talk about. - He says after a moment, and you frown. At your expression, he lets out a giggle, and puts his mug down, turning to you with a gentle expression. - You can ask me about Wanda.

You blink, looking away. Stephen was like a mentor to Wanda, and you imagined it would be awkward, to say the least, to talk to him about it. But knowing that he had just returned from a hunt with her and Thor, he had probably noticed something in her behavior, being the observer that he is.

- I think I might have hurt her. - You say, and he nods slightly.

- I thought she looked more angry than hurt. - He says almost in a mocking tone, and you run your hands through your hair.

- Hurt or angry, I fucked up. 

- That is true.

Stephen's tone is playful, and you smile while rolling your eyes. He had always been more relaxed about this kind of subject than you are. 

- Wanda has mentioned that you are avoiding her. - he says after a moment. - She was... distracted during the hunt.

- Yeah, I was running away. - You grumble, looking down at the ground feeling embarrassed. He lets out a sigh, and reaches his hand out to your knee.

- I know how much you care about her, child. - he says. - Ever since you were little, you've been inseparable. So I don't understand your hesitation.

You let out a sad sigh, trying to smile at Stephen.

- I don't think I am what she deserves. - You confess and he frowns. You keep talking, believing that if you don't say things now, you won't say them anymore. - I just... She's so incredible. She' s so strong and so smart, and so so good. She deserves someone who can give her more than a tent on the ground or a campfire. 

Stephen raises his hand to lift your face, making you look at him.

- Do you really believe that? - He asks seriously, but his eyes are tender. He doesn't wait for you to answer. - Listen to me for a moment, will you? I won't speak for Wanda, I never could. What I can assure you is that you are an extraordinary young woman. You are brave and admirably loyal. And most important, is the way you love Wanda with vehemence and devotion. There is no one who deserves her more than you.

You nodded, feeling the tears streaming down your face. Stephen smiled, and wiped them away, moving closer to place a kiss on your forehead. 

- I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself, okay? - He asks in a serious tone, and waits for you to agree. 

- I promise I won't. - You say, and he nudges you lightly on the nose, making you laugh before turning away, going back to drinking his coffee. He takes a sip, and you are silent for a moment, before he holds up his finger as if he has an idea, and turns to you, with an expression somewhere between humorous and serious.

- Now try to apologize to Wanda. She gets very annoyed when she is mad at you.

You laugh lightly, but then realize that he is telling you to do this now. He continues to stare at you, and you sigh before standing up. Stephen lifts his pen lightly wishing you good luck and you turn toward Wanda's tent.

But your steps are interrupted by Nat, who has a concerned expression on her face. You frown, but she just signals for you to follow her towards Steve's tent.

- We have a problem. - Steve announces as soon as you arrive, he is leaning both hands against the center table, a map stretched out in front of him. 

- What's wrong? - you ask, and then feel nervous as you notice Wanda standing at the other end of the tent next to Pietro. You look away quickly.

- The O'Driscolls are drunk idiots, that's the problem. - Steve replied, looking stressed. He apologized a second later for his harsh manner, and then he straightened his posture. - Peggy just got back from town, she found out that some O'Driscolls were killed at the oil plant, trying to steal masonry titles. One of them was drunk enough to tell them that they were planning to steal the money from the land purchase.

- Oh, shit. - You grumbled. - Any chance this won't get to Stark?

- Unfortunately it already has. - Steve replied with his arms crossed. - The mess happened two days ago. And the local guards sent a carriage to Saint Denis the same day. Peggy spoke to our contact at the bank, and Stark cancelled the deposit.

- Will he no longer buy the land? - you asked.

- Oh, he is. Only the money will be transferred by train. - Steve clarified, and then he took a pen and started to draw a route on the map on the table. - Which means that we are going to change the route completely.

- At least now we are not going to break into a bank. - Nat remarked softly to you, and you smiled at her. 

- We will have two chances to access the money. - Steve explained as he finished scratching out the map. You notice that he also circles two points. - Stark will bring the money in a carriage that will leave his estate somewhere in the Cumberland Forest, but no one knows from where exactly. Besides, he has his own personal guard, and even if we could find out where his house is, it would still be a pain in the ass to get in there. 

- I imagine that this carriage will be extremely well protected too. - Pietro commented, and Steve just nodded in agreement.

- Our first option is a bit risky, but it might work if we were fast enough. - Steve said. - When Stark negotiates the purchase, he will need to show the money to the real estate agents, and the safe will either be inside one of the carriages for the seller to confirm the amount, or the safe will be carried to one of the factory rooms for counting. 

- If we try to steal the safe from inside the factory, we will face twice as many guns. - Said Nat with crossed arms, Steve nodded in agreement.

- Exactly, Natasha. Our only advantage would be for Pietro to infiltrate as an employee and get us inside quietly.

- Not a chance! - You say, and Steve frowns. - You won't send Pietro alone. One mistake and he would have more than a hundred guns pointed at him. It's too dangerous.

Pietro stared at you in slight surprise, looking embarrassed that you had stood up to Steve for him. Wanda had a look in her eyes that you couldn't decipher.

- Yes, you're right. - Steve said after a moment. - We only have one other option left then. We'll steal the money when it's transferred to the train.

- Train? - asks Maria from the other corner of the tent. - But there are no stations in the area.

- Ah, yes. But everything works for those who have money. - Bucky said with irony. Steve smiled before explaining: 

- Stark has asked that the checkpoint in the Heartlands area be reactivated. It's near the factories, and they're going to take the safe by carriage there. - He marked on the map the location. - The train will only stop here and then go straight to Saint Denis.

- We always end up stealing a train. - You whispered to Nat, who smiled with amusement.

- We don't know how many guards will board the train, however, the number will be smaller than if we take on all the guards at the factory plus Stark's guards.

- Let's go over the final arrangement of the plan then. - Peggy announced. - We're going to need more people to stay on board, especially now that we're going to jump on a moving train. - Peggy explained with a light irony that drew laughter from everyone. She took a small notebook from her jacket, where you guessed she had organized the names and functions, before speaking again. - Steve and I ride together to the meeting point in the negotiation area, where we will be able to see Stark's carriage on its way. Thor and Bucky stand further away, each in a different direction, to signal if there is another guard formation. Meanwhile, Nat and Monica stand guard at the location where we will board the train. Y/N, Pietro and Wanda wait a little ahead, to signal when the train is coming and you find the ideal spot to jump off without being seen by the guards. We will ride to you as soon as the train leaves.

- Does anyone have any questions? - said Steve looking at everyone. You were going over the plan mentally so you didn't say anything.

- When we get on the train, who will take care of our horses? - asked Nat, leaning slightly against you.

- Actually, I suggest you split up the mounts. It will be faster to call the horses back if you have fewer. We can have them follow the train as well.  - Peggy said, and then she pointed her fingers around the gang members, as if she were counting. - Let's see, me, Bucky, Steve and Thor will be on our own horses. Nat and Monica can ride together, and so can the twins. 

- I guess that's all. - Steve announced. - Rest, and avoid alcohol tonight. We'll ride tomorrow.

You began to feel slightly anxious as soon as you left the tent. Changing plans on the eve of a strike was a very dangerous thing. Nat put an arm around your shoulders, while you walked outside.

- Ready to rob a train, old friend? - she said in a playful and ironic tone, you laughed.

- Always. - You replied in the same tone. Nat waved you goodnight before leaving towards her tent, and you were walking towards yours, but then you bit your lip and turned on your heel, heading towards Pietro and Wanda's tent.

Pietro had just come in when you arrived, and Wanda was already sitting on her bed. He smiled at you.

- Honey, have you come to wish me good luck? - He teased, throwing his arms around you. You pushed him away, making him laugh.

- I wanted to...

- Oh, I know just what you wanted. - He interrupted, pretending to be hurt as he raised a hand to his chest, dramatizing. - I am so dedicated to this friendship and you don't even come to see me or say good night!

You frown with mock amusement, watching Pietro pretend to have a crying face. He pushes you slightly to get out of the tent.

- I want a divorce, Y/N. - He announces dramatically. - You may have Wanda, but the house is mine!

You hold back a laugh as you nudge him in the chest. He just laughs and turns around, walking toward the fire.

A smile plays on Wanda's lips as you turn around, you take a deep breath before entering the tent, and then you sit down on Pietro's bed, facing the redhead. She looks down at the floor, and you let your gaze wander over her face.

It takes a moment, but Wanda finally looks into your eyes, and you hold her gaze. As you look at each other, you feel your heart race, but you don't mind.

- Hi. - You sigh breathlessly after a moment. Wanda's gaze wavers.

- Hi. - She says without smiling, her gaze falls back to the ground.

You bite the inside of your cheek, but before you can think of what to say next, Wanda speaks again, her expression serious.

- Thank you for standing up for Pietro. - You blink in confusion, but Wanda continues. - About the situation at the factory.

- No problem. - Your voice comes out a little hoarse, and you cough before you speak again. - I don't think they'd make him go by himself anyway.

- Still, thank you. - she says, and you nod. Wanda moves her hands nervously. - Do you want anything, I'm going to sleep already…

- I want to apologize. - You interrupt her, and she looks at you quickly. You look away for a second, feeling embarrassed. But knowing that apologies should be made with an eye to the eye, you take a deep breath and face her. - Wanda, I'm sorry I avoided you these days.

- You really admitted it. - She grumbled, looking surprised and hurt. You swallowed hard.

- I was afraid. - You confessed, and she looked at you with confusion. - I thought I had crossed a line with you. But I'm not afraid anymore. Well, I'm still scared, because this is new, but okay, it's a good feeling…

You started to ramble and Wanda let out a giggle, and then she lunged at you, hugging you, and shutting you up. In your shock, you fell off the bed on your knees, but you kept hugging each other.

- Please don't keep things from me. - She asked in a low tone, mumbling against your hair. You nodded in agreement, squeezing her in your arms before you pulled away. - Will you tell me why you were avoiding me? - She asked looking at you curiously, and even a little defiantly, as if checking to see if you would keep hiding things from her. You bit your lower lip, blushing, and bowed your head in agreement.

- I thought I was crossing a line with you that day in the forest. - You mumbled without looking at her. Wanda frowned, blushing slightly.

- You were going to kiss me, right? - she asked in a whisper. Your heart raced, but you nodded in agreement. Wanda looked down at the floor, a shy smile on her lips. - I would have liked that.

You felt your face heat up at the confession, but smiled, looking at Wanda. It took a moment for her to meet your gaze, her face flushed, but when she did, you felt your stomach turn with nervousness.

- Look, I hate to interrupt the couple's reconciliation, but I have a train to rob tomorrow. - Pietro's voice broke the moment completely, and you almost fell back in astonishment when you noticed Pietro standing at the entrance of the tent, with a mischievous smile. 

- Perfect timing as always. - You grumbled as you got up from the floor, reaching out to help Wanda. Pietro came into the room next, pushing you lightly as he threw himself on his own bed. You let out a grumble of dissatisfaction.

- I told you I'd keep the house. - He teased last, and you tugged on his pillow, causing him to let out an indignant exclamation, but you were quick to throw the object against his face with mock amusement.

- Good night, sweetheart. - You retorted, quickly pulling away to keep him from hitting you with the pillow. You laughed as you left the room. Wanda hurried after you and you were surprised to see her following you out. 

Outside, at the entrance to her cabin, Wanda waited until you turned toward her, and then she stepped closer to you, putting her hands on your neck, and pulling your face toward her. She met your lips in a firm but soft kiss. 

You staggered back in surprise, closing your eyes. Your whole body throbbed, but before you could respond, she pulled away. 

- Goodnight. - she whispered in a husky tone, before turning back to her own cabin.

You stood there for a few seconds, unable to process exactly what had happened, the sensation of Wanda's lips against yours tingling in your mouth. A good few minutes passed before you returned to your own tent, a foolish smile on your lips.

[secretshinigami]

All Noble Things

Author: @kiranatrix For: @resilicns Pairings/Characters: Near and Gevanni Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Near reflecting on his relationship with Wammy’s and L’s reputation Author’s notes: In How to Read, it says that Gevanni’s hobby is building ships in a bottle. So I imagined a scene where Near is observing Gevanni, now in the role of Watari, building a special ship. The time period is flexible but I imagined it after the C-Kira case and before the case with Minoru. This is a loose interpretation of your prompt but I hope you enjoy it!

—

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gevanni.” Near didn’t look up as he carefully laid out another domino on the floor, perfectly spaced from its neighbor and approximately two centimeters from chaos. Pinched fingers pulled back carefully and twisted around a strand of white hair. “Two things, really.”

Gevanni looked up from his workbench as the long but comfortable silence between them was broken. Since Roger had died and he’d taken on the role of Watari, he was usually the question-asker. Would you like lunch now? Have you heard back about this or that piece of evidence? Did you have another nightmare last night? 

He’d gotten used to it, to Near. To being the bedrock that an island could rest upon. “Two questions?”

No, he was more of a species imported to Near’s world and being gradually altered by the isolation, evolving to fill his niche. But he had no complaints–it was a quiet, stable life and Near paid him well. He didn’t mind the solitude. “You’re exceeding your daily allotment. I’ll have to demand a raise if this keeps up.”

“I believe I gave you a raise just three months ago. If these demands keep up, I’ll have to find another Watari.” Near deadpanned it but his eyes flicked up briefly, and Rester knew he was joking. Another domino clinked against the terrazzo floors, this one with hand-carved scrimshaw detailing a breaching whale.

Gevanni snorted and turned back to the ship in a bottle he was working on. “Good luck finding someone else to source those pajamas with the specific blend of Pima cotton you prefer. I’ve kept that a secret. Iron-clad job security.” He grinned as he carefully reached a long wire into the bottle to pat down blue and white putty mimicking ocean waves. “So, what’s question number one?”

“Can you tie back my hair? It keeps getting in the way.” Near flicked a long strand over his shoulder but it fell again, dangling dangerously close to his creation. “Mind the–”

“Dominos? Yeah, I’m practically a ninja at this point.” Gevanni pushed his loupe glasses to the top of his head before carefully making his way over spiraling lines of set-up dominos to Near at the center. He knelt and pulled a hair-tie from his pocket, holding it between his teeth as he gathered up all the silvery strands. “Holf spill,” he murmured around the band. Near was stone-still as he made a quick and slightly messy ponytail, leaving some loose hair around the face for twirling. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Near very briefly made eye contact as Gevanni went back to his workbench before looking back to his pile of dominos. He sorted through them for another scrimshaw piece. Gevanni had made a special set for him on his last birthday but he always saved them for the end. 

“Mmhm.” Gevanni slid back into his chair and picked up the little ship, a model of a 19th-century whaler. “So what was the second question?” 

“I was curious what you were working on.” Near let a domino tumble across his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve never spent that much time on just one ship before.” He caught the domino with his thumb and placed it next in line. 

“Oh, so you noticed?” Gevanni held up the little whaler on his palm, clearly proud of the highly detailed craftsmanship. All the masts were down and tied with an array of strings that could be pulled up once it was in the bottle to raise them. “I guess this one’s special since it doesn’t really exist. Thought I’d challenge myself. It’s…well, it’s how I imagine the Pequod to look, the whaling ship in–“

“Moby Dick?” Near stared at the miniature vessel, head slightly cocked as he smoothed a loose strand of hair. “The ship Captain Ahab used to chase his white whale.”

Gevanni smiled. “That’s right. It’s one of my favorite books. Have you read it?” 

“Years ago. I remember not liking it very much. The whale killed him in the end.” Near placed the last couple of dominos and let out a long sigh. The moments before flicking the first piece were the ones he both cherished and dreaded. The satisfaction of creation could be drawn out like a  monotone note, but when it was finished, the spectacular destruction was often over too soon. So, he hesitated and stood up instead, padding to Gevanni’s workbench to watch more creation. 

“I bet you’d like the book more these days. Single-minded obsession to defeat a power past human control? Throwing all caution and sense of self-preservation to the wind? The thrill of the chase?” Gevanni arched a brow. “Can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Near frowned slightly and hunched in on himself. “I suppose you mean L. Or do you characterize me as so foolish?”

“You’re L now.” Gevanni disliked that he had to remind Near of that even now, years after the first L had died. “But yes, it reminds me of what Matsuda told us about your predecessor’s obsession with Kira. I never met the first L, but maybe I can understand him, in a way.” He quoted Melville, "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.’ You’re L but you’re not him, and I’m glad for it.”

Near wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not. So many times over the years he’d compared himself to that avatar and wondered if he could measure up. Drily, “I guess that makes me Ishmael." 

"You survived, didn’t you? Lived to tell the tale and learn what he couldn’t." 

Gevanni turned back to the little ship, carefully threading another string through the rear-most mast. He worked quietly for a while, cognizant of Near’s focused attention and feeling sorry for bringing up the Kira case. It wasn’t often that Near took such an interest in his own projects, or perhaps the man was merely thinking about what he’d said. “Sit down, if you want to. I’m about to get to the exciting part.”

Near pulled a chair closer and slinked into it, one leg pulled tight to his chest and the other dangling off the end. “Which is the exciting part? Stuffing it into the bottle?”

“That’s part of it. The thrilling part for me is raising the masts and sails inside the bottle.” Gevanni pointed to the flat masts and the multiple lines of string leading from them. “If anything goes wrong or a string gets tangled…or some bit of glue doesn’t hold, well–”

“You’re screwed.” Near smiled faintly and rested his chin on his knee. “Hours of planning for one moment of glory. Or disaster.” It also sounded familiar, so familiar.

“Exactly.” Gevanni chuckled and looked over at Near, pleased to see that small, rare smile. That in itself was the product of so much patience, of hours spent in understanding and the slow building of confidence and trust. “Once I get the ship in, would you like to raise the sails?”

Near’s eyes widened and he rocked slightly in the chair. That was Gevanni’s moment of glory and he deserved it after so much time and hard work. The inlaid wood, the meticulous paint, the delicately carved and articulated ship’s wheel capped in brass. The hand-sewn sails and gold script that read Pequod on the ship’s side. Each detail was evidence that someone else had built this and he would only be stealing the best part, swooping in for the end of the trick.

“You built it so you should do it.” It didn’t help that he was worried about making a mistake and ruining it at the last moment. How would it even fit? Despite the masts lying flat, it seemed impossible that the ship would make it inside the bottle. “I don’t know how.”

Gevanni sensed Near’s hesitation and uncertainty, recognizing the subtle tics of anxiety. “I can show you. You’re great at stuff like this.” He motioned to the vast lines and towers of dominos filling the room. “Plus, I trust you.” 

When Near didn’t answer, he turned back to the ship, placing a small line of glue at the bottom and oh-so-carefully maneuvering it into the narrow mouth of the glass bottle and onto the ‘waves’ of translucent blue putty. It was a very tight fit and when it stuck down in the right position, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Not bad, huh?” The strings dangled from the bottle’s mouth as he held it up to show Near. “Offer still stands.”

Near wanted to do it, to try. Honestly, he wanted to ask Gevanni to show him how to build one of his own, how to trump the rigid enclosure and build something impossible inside. To raise it up not by magic but by human ingenuity and patience. A creation not to destroy but to keep.

“Alright.” His fingers moved from his hair to tentatively touch the white strings hanging from the bottle’s mouth. “All of them?”

“Just these.” Gevanni pointed out several lines connected to the three masts. “Don’t yank, just pull slowly until you feel resistance and I’ll tape them up.”

“If it works.”

Gevanni laughed quietly. “It’ll work. Stop stalling.”

Near mumbled, “I’m not stalling,” but stalled a moment more before gently tugging the strings. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when all three masts raised in unison, perfectly aligned and straight. He smiled as Gevanni secured the strings, then slid off the chair to gaze at the bottle from the side. This floating world, this impossible thing that’s bottled the sea. “I can see why you like these so much.” 

“It passes the time.” Gevanni felt warm inside since it was rare that they connected like this, despite all the time spent in each other’s company. He glued the strings to the ship with a long wire and then cut them, leaving no trace of how it had really been made. Setting it on the bench to dry, he said, “Would you like to have it? I have about a dozen. I mean, if you want it.”

“As a warning against white whales?” Near smirked and climbed back into the chair. He fingered the hem of his specially-ordered Pima cotton pajamas, the exact blend he preferred. “Or for the memory of Ahab?”

“Neither? Or…maybe both.” Gevanni knew that so much had changed for Near when Kira died. Monster or not, that moment of destruction had ultimately felt unsatisfying. He knew Near struggled with assuming the name and reputation of L, a legacy that had become so confused in the mind of a world that would never know two L’s had died and a third now had to make peace with that. It was easier to bottle ships than emotions.

Mildly, “Or maybe just because it’s something we built together.” It was odd, but somehow it would mean a lot to him for Near to have it. “How about it?” 

Near found a loose string at the hem of his pants and yanked it, snapping the thread. He got up and crouched beside the winding, spiraling rows of dominos and pressed a slender finger against the first one. That catalyst set off the reaction, the staccato clack clack clack! that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. It was over in seconds and silence crept in again. 

“I’d like that.”

-End-

[The title comes from a quote in Moby Dick: "A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that.” It reminded me of  Gevanni’s rather solitary hobby as well as the occupation of solving cases as L.]

[solari-writes-things]

This request I got through my DMs on discord by @tsumethedrifter​!

Prompt - Soulmate 14:  “I didn’t think I could find someone as perfectly matched as you.”

Chibs x Reader

gif not mine, credited underneath

tag list: @crimsonheart01​ @thebookishfeminist​ @supervalcsi​ @sazafraz​ (if you want to be included in the tag list, please message me or comment below!!)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Everybody out.

It’s all you could remember of the fateful night.

The fire, the ear-shattering noise, the screaming. All of that seemed to be a blur as you watched your second home go up in a monochromatic flame that would make Thomas A. Sweatt proud. 

It had been hard to sleep soundly recently, with your Old Man’s promotion to Vice President. He was included in a line of duty that would have him come home late, with blood soaked in his clothes and a must in his leather kutte to match. However, you never expected this.

The clubhouse explosion. Everyone had been in the vicinity that night, since the problem regarding Galen O’Shay hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. Chibs had warned you to keep your wits about you, just in case they ever tried to do anything to you personally.

Instead, the Irish Kings decided to take things up an octave, and almost slaughtered families. Wives, kids, even the entire club.

If he and Jax hadn’t noticed the clover pen, you all would’ve...

No use thinking about what could have happened. This wasn’t the time to scare yourself away. This was the time to embrace Filip, and the choices that he and the club had decided to make. To assure him that you were an unstoppable force, here to support him and everything he did to protect you. To protect his family that dawned the same kutte.

Today was the day of new beginnings. You were donning something simple and flexible: a pair of leggings, a solid black hoodie, and some ratty sneakers that you wore when you would go out for some quick grocery runs. You had borrowed a pair of gloves from Chibs, after he had ensured that they were cleaned and ready to be used for your task at hand. 

Cleaning up the remains of the clubhouse, moving to the new front that Jax had purchased through Jacob Hale.

Signs, the church table, little things that didn’t get burnt by the roaring flames ended up in the back of a moving van lent out by Unser Trucking. Luckily, with most of the boys there and your extra set of hands, it only took you all about two and a half hours to get what you needed out.

You look up at Chibs, who joins your side as Happy closes up the back of the truck. He slings a soot-powdered arm of your shoulders, pulling you by your shoulders to give you a kiss to your temple.

“Thank ya for helpin’, lovey,” he says, his lips still pressed against your hair.

You turn in his arm, placing your hands firmly on his chest and smiling up at him as best as you could. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, sifting through the disaster that was the clubhouse left you in a bit of a harrowing mood.

You wouldn’t dare let it bleed into the inevitable guilt that he was feeling. “Of course. You know I’m always glad to help, Filip.”

You knew that he was feeling very... off, since the clubhouse met it’s unfortunate end. Not that you could fault him, he left Belfast to try to avoid things like this. It wasn’t his fault that Galen couldn’t take SAMCRO’s proposition due to his own racial opinions. However, he felt some sort of responsibility since you were only seconds away from ending up among the rubble.

“That’s why I can’t live without ya, darlin’,” he grins at you. You could tell he was trying to be genuine, and you couldn’t blame him for putting on a bit of a front for you at this time. The wreckage, the thought there could have been bodies among the ash piles, it left everyone with a hole in their heart.

“Come on, babe,” you say as you adjust yourself so his arm rested at his side, wrapping your arms around his bicep. “Let’s get to Scoops. The sooner we get your church in order, the better. Yeah?”

“Aye,” he agrees, turning the both of you toward his bike. You walked in tandem with each other, as you leaned your head against his arm. Once you approached the vehicle in uncomfortable silence, you reluctantly let go and clutched the black helmet he handed you in between your palms.

As you stared at the matte black helmet, you nearly thought about how little of this you could take before you needed to have a conversation with Filip. Just as quickly, you mentally slapped yourself on the back of your head.

None of this was his fault. Chibs was the perfect man, caught in such a volatile situation that was completely out of his control. You remember the tangents that he would go on, coming home from a task he had to peform alongside Jax, venting about how the SAMCRO president would do things behind his back. That Jax didn’t ask him about a topic that Chibs was obviously the most versed in. Jackson could have very well asked Filip about how deep the color hatred ran with the Irish, but he refused.

Going behind Chib’s back was the reason this domino effect even went into play.

So you slip on your helmet with that newfound contempt in your mind, strapping it underneath your chin as you climb onto the back of the bike. Your arms wrapped snugly around Chibs as you pressed against his back, listening to the engine roar with life. He rode out with Jax at his front left and Happy at his immediate left, in formation as the moving vehicle that Rat was driving followed close behind.

-

Luckily, with Scoops being on the main strip, it didn’t take long for you to get to the location.

10 minutes, tops.

Chibs had you get off of his bike in the front of the location, and you immediately took off your helmet to quickly look over the front of the shop. It was quaint, easy on the eyes with its 50s appearance both inside and out. Something small so the boys could safely gather and discuss your next order of business.

You could only hope that this one didn’t end up in flames as well as you pushed through the front of the building once the Mayor had unlocked it, making your way to the back where Rat had put the moving truck.

A couple of the boys followed you through, Happy being the one to help Rat open the back of the truck and lower the slide.

You felt a palm rest on the small of your back, quickly looking up to see Chibs smiling down at you. “Ready to go, darlin’?”

You nod your head, slipping on the gloves that you had tucked into your hoodie pockets and making your way with your old man to the truck.

They were already beginning to pull the table out from the moving vehicle, Chibs jogging himself up to the van so he could help Hap take some of the weight of the large surface.

Slowly, sluggishly, they move the table off of the truck and stare at the staircase that led to the upstairs room their new church was going to be located in. Hap, Chibs, and Rat all heaved the table up so they could carefully make their way up the metal staircase.

You carefully scaled the slide of the moving truck, picking up a couple of signs that you deemed fit for the trek up the stairs, grabbing the bags of nails and a hammer to go along with it.

While the boys did the heavy lifting, you would take prompts from Bobby as to where to hang the decor. As far as you know, he already had a rough idea as to where he wanted to put everything.

You tuck the decorations under your arm and shove the bagged nails into your pocket, moving up the stairs quickly to the door that was propped open for everyone. When you walk in, your eyes are greeted with brick walls and a congregation of patched men all moving the church table to the center of the room.

You feel yourself smile. Sure, this wasn’t the clubhouse. But the hopeful look on their faces made it already feel like a home. A couple of the men walk out to grab more things, and you make your way further inside and put the wall decor somewhere out of the way.

You pull the nails out of your pockets, tossing them on the now settled church table and brandishing your hammer. You pick up one of the wall decorations that lived, dusting off some of the remaining soot on it before extending your arms to scale it around the room.

“Opinion?” you heard your Old Man ask, making you turn around. 

“Yeah, hit me,” you tell him, smiling.

“I think that look perfect right there,” he says, pointing to a section of brown-orange wall over by the door that they would come in at.

You turn to the spot that was pointed out, humming a bit in thought. He had a point. It would be centered perfect, in view for everyone to see when they would sit at church. They would see it when exiting the premises as well.

“Fair enough, Telford,” you joke, grinning at him. “Can you get me a nail?”

He quickly reaches into the bag to bring out a nail for you, following you to the spot so he could help you put up the frame. You took notice, though, as he joined your side that he seemed dismayed while looking at you.

So you peer your head over your shoulders, seeing that the other men were distracted with their own tasks, before returning your attention to him. “Filip, what’s going on?”

He seems to change tune. “Nothin’, lovey.”

You exhale as you straighten the frame on the wall, to make it seem that you were keeping busy. So wandering eyes wouldn’t intrude on your conversation. “Chibs. We’ve been together for awhile, I think I know you. What’s going on?”

He purses his lips as he hands you the nail that he had grabbed for you, knowing that you were continuing with your task so the boys wouldn’t grow curious. “I’m... just feelin’ guilty, [Y/N].”

“About?” you ask as you trade with him, pressing the nail against the section of wall that you were about to hammer into.

“You almost dyin’. Everyone almost dyin’,” he says simply. “The thing that happened at the clubhouse has been eating me alive, sweetheart.”

“Why is that?” you ask simply, your tone just a bit harsh to get your point across. “To be fair, that wasn’t your doing.”

Bang, bang. The hammer hits the nail and its secured into the plaster.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he inquires. “You’re the love of my life. I didn’t think I could find someone as perfectly matched as you, but I almost lost you in two minutes.”

You sigh heavily, hanging up the decoration and attempting to center it. However, before you finish, you turn to Chibs. After surveying the room, and seeing that you had a moment of clearance, you grip the front of his leather jacket and pull him in a bit roughly for a kiss.

The couple seconds of electrified silence earned a pull of your waist, your bodies flush against each other. You pull away, gazing up into his soft brown eyes. “You didn’t lose me. I’m here, helping you set up your new church. I don’t care what happened Filip, as long as I didn’t lose you. We ride this out together. Always.”

[bisexualsforprompto]

Maribat March Three- “Mission”

This was originally a lot angstier, but I started to be in a fluffier mood, so consider yourself spared.

@maribat-march2020

“This is just a reconnaissance mission, do not engage, I repeat do not engage.” Batman ordered gruffly over the comms.

“We heard you the first ten times Father.” Damian said sarcastically. Marinette snickered under her breath at the boy next to her, she practically adopted him as her little brother, and he was becoming a lot more comfortable around her. Although, in his words he still didn’t know why she stayed with an imbecile such as Todd. She responded with a classic ‘you'll understand when you're older.’ Which earned her a frustrated huff from Damian.

Jason, who was standing next to her in the updated red helmet she made for him, was silently watching the entrance of the warehouse.

“Fine.” Batman said and let out a huff that Marinette would call the ‘remind-me-why-I-had-kids sigh,’ “Robin stick to me, we’ll go to the back, Red Hood and Nightingale will cover the front.”

At the use of her new hero name Marinette fiddled with the edges of her new costume, she felt odd without Tikki still, even though she had been a no-powers vigilante for almost a full month.

Her new suit was all black, perfect for stealth missions, which she wasn’t used to as Ladybug, and it had hints of red at the tops of her fingertips with a red bat like Jason’s on her chest. It took some getting used to, sure it was styled more to Marinette’s liking and it was much more practical, but it was certainly not comfortable, breathable spandex.

But what she mostly had to get used to was the Kevlar. She had it stitched into her top, and it felt awfully heavy on her. The bottom of her suit was the same fabric used for Dick’s costume, and it had little padding, not that there was much room for any. She did her hair in a ponytail and wore the same black domino mask as Robin and Nightwing.

“I think I see something.” Jason whispered, pulling Marinette down next to him to kneel on the rooftop, their line of vision being straight across from the entrance.

“One of the dealers has arrived Batman.” Marinette spoke into her comms.

Batman came over with some slight static, “Good- go bac- Batcave.”

Marinette understood enough and she and Jason stood up to return to the Batcave. Marinette felt a soft breeze behind her and spun around.

“Don’t move.” Hissed a man pointing a gun at her. He wore a black motorcycle helmet protecting his anonymity. His costume on the outside looked messy, but Marinette knew that whoever designed the costume designed it to appear that way. The man had armor on every inch of his body and he had an emblem Marinette didn’t recognize engraved into the right breast of his armor.

“Woah now,” Red Hood said pulling out his own gun, “You don’t want to do that.”

“Really?” He chuckled. Red Hood was hyper focused on the man pointing the gun, but something felt off to Marinette. She slowly turned around, and saw a woman dressed in the same way as the motorcycle helmet man who was preparing to shoot Jason from behind.

“Hood look out!” Marinette yelled as the woman lined up her shot. Jason didn’t turn in time. In a flash of pure adrenaline on Marinette’s part she pushed him out of the way and felt her skin get pierced twice.

The bastards knew that she was barely protected in her legs and shot there.

She fell to her knees quickly, struggling to bare with the pain. She heard two thuds and saw Jason rush to her side. She wasn’t quite sure how he took them out so quickly, but she didn’t have time to ask.

He scooped her up quickly and muttered over the comms, “Nightingale has been shot, I’m going to get her medical attention, prepare for an ambush.”

Batman huffed gruffly, but Marinette heard the concern in his voice, “Where was she shot?”

“Her legs, one of them must’ve hit a central artery because she fell down immediately.”

Batman was quiet for awhile but then only said one thing, “Hurry.”

And Jason did. In a flash Marinette was in the medbay with Alfred tending to her.

“This may sting a little Miss Marinette.” He said.

It stung a lot.

Marinette sucked in a breath counting down seconds and squeezing Jason’s hand til it was done.

“Rest now Miss Marinette. I’ll put you on painkillers, but you’ll likely need the rest of the night and tomorrow to recover.”

“But-“

“No buts.” Alfred said firmly, “It's a miracle you got here this soon, or it’d be a lot worse.”

Marinette huffed, but ultimately knew Alfred was right.

She lay in the medical bed for awhile until feeling her eyelids droop and felt herself drift into sleep.

She heard Jason muttering softly to herself when she drifted back into consciousness.

“My fault, my fault, my fault.” He was chanting it quietly like a mantra.

“Jay.” Marinette breathed.

“Hey doll. You’re awake.” He said with a small smile.

“It’s not your fault.” Marinette said.

Jason didn’t look at her, “You took those bullets for me, so yeah, it kinda is.”

“You’re so-“ Marinette winced as she tried to sit up, “Stubborn. I chose to do that. I probably could have found another way, but there are missions that go wrong. Neither of us were expecting that.”

“I still should’ve protected you.” Jason whispered quietly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Jason I was a superhero for six years. I’m not fragile. Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean you’re responsible for things that are out of your control.”

Jason huffed, “Why are you so good at arguments?”

“Because I’m your girlfriend.” Marinette teased, “And I’m always right.”

She laid back down on the bed and beckoned Jason closer to her. He laid down next to her and she cuddled next to him as she drifted into sleep once more with a content smile on your face.

“Yeah…you are.”

•~•~•~•~•

Maribat Taglist:

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@kawaiigiantjudgefish

@corabeth11

[aye-write]

Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex​

*****

Chapter Two

The kitchen was teeming with heat when Isla walked in. Everyone’s eyes flickered towards her, leaving her feeling very much like a prized Miltank on show. Heat crept into her cheeks. She glanced around, trying to find somewhere to let her gaze settle. Skye and Blair were working through plates of pancakes. Kenneth leaned against the countertop sipping black coffee. Rhona had her sleeves rolled up and was tending to something on the stove. Anxiety spiked in her chest. Discounting Nana Morag, she was the last one up.

“Good morning!” Isla said, trying to inject cheer into her voice.

Rhona turned around to face her. “Good morning, chick!”

She was smiling. Good. At least Isla knew she hadn’t committed some unspeakable faux pas before it even turned ten in the morning.

“Have a seat,” Rhona continued. “Do you want tea? Breakfast? It’s just pancakes today, so I hope you like them.”

What kind of world did she live in where home-made pancakes were “just pancakes”? Rhona obviously didn’t get enough appreciation. “I love them! And tea would be grand, thank you.”

“Help yourself, there’s some in the pot.”

A fat teapot sat in the middle of the table with a brown tea cosy pulled around it. Fixed with a pair of floppy wings and a crocheted head, the Pokemon it was supposed to represent looked like a fatter, happier version of Rhona’s Ruchter. Isla sploshed milk into her tea from a jug that looked suspiciously like a Miltank and loaded it with sugar, the first sip sending a pleasant, energising warmth through her.

The tea worked its magic on Isla, but everyone else looked pale and withdrawn, like they’d woken up on low battery. Isla sipped her tea and battled between two impulses that both felt equally rude.

Eventually, she settled on, “Is there anything I can help you with today? Like around the croft or… or anything?”

Blair leant back into his chair and stretched. “It’s all done,” he said. Something in his back popped, the noise like a gun going off.

Isla blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. We start at six.”

“In the morning?”

Everyone stopped. Kenneth’s eyes found Isla’s over the rim of his coffee mug.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I just didn’t… hear anything.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to help out with anything,” Rhona said kindly. “And we didn’t want to wake you either. Especially with last night’s storm. We’re used to it here, but it can be quite distracting for folks not local.”

Isla had almost forgotten about the storm. The mention sent the image of the child from last night flashing into her head like the sear of a lightbulb. Her fingers tightened around her mug of tea. “Yeah,” she heard her voice waver. “The thunder and lightning were something else.”

Rhona’s eyebrows creased. “Thunder and lightning?”

“Yeah,” Isla said. Then she saw everyone else’s expression. “You guys didn’t hear it? It was like… It was like the world was coming to an end out there.”

They all returned blank looks.

“Well, did you guys notice the power going off?” Isla tried. “About 3am, I think it was.”

“I was asleep,” Skye said, spearing her pancakes and oozing sauce all over the table.

“So was I,” Rhona said, and Kenneth nodded his agreement. Isla was beginning to wonder if that man ever spoke.

Everyone looked at Blair, who bristled under their stares.

“I don’t remember the power going off,” he said, swilling the liquid in his mug. It smelled bitter and strong. Black coffee. No wonder.

“Then you didn’t see the—” Isla stopped herself. What would they think if she told them what she saw? She wasn’t even sure she knew what it was. Something deep inside her told her to hang onto it. At least for now. At least until she could do some further research.

Luckily, her trailing off went unnoticed as Rhona put a plate of pancakes down in front of her. She busied herself adding sugar and a squeeze of lemon as conversation slowly resumed around the kitchen table.

“So what’s on your agenda today, Isla?” Rhona asked, sitting down heavily in the spare chair.

“I’d like to get started on my research,” Isla replied, her mouth full of soft, fluffy pancake. “I brought some books and copies of old script with me, so I’d like to start organising my thoughts and think about what I’d like to tackle first.”

The others nodded politely as Isla explained her plans. Kenneth was the first to leave, dumping his coffee mug in the sink and ducking outside. Isla saw him lumbering towards the field of Wooloo in the distance a few moments later. After that, the rest of the family moved off like falling dominoes, until it was only Rhona and Isla left at the table.

“You’ll need the Wi-Fi password,” Rhona said, tearing off a strip of paper. “You might have a couple of wee connection issues since you’re a bit far away from the router, but you can always come down and work in the living room if you need to. Here,” she handed Isla the paper with the code. “We’ll try keep out of your way. We’ll be out working on the croft for a bit. Skye’s got some work to do in her room, but she should give you peace. Oh, and help yourself to anything you like from the fridge. Lunch will be about 1 o’clock. I’ll shout you down or I can take something up to you if you like?”

“It’s okay, Rhona,” Isla interrupted gently. “You’re doing so much for me at as it is. I’ll come down for lunch. I’ll probably need the distraction,” she paused. “Thank you, Rhona. I mean it.”

“It’s okay, chick. We’re family. That’s what we do.”

With that, Rhona headed out, leaving Isla standing in the kitchen, fighting a lump the size of a walnut in her throat. A minute to compose herself and she turned with renewed determination towards the stairs.

Back in her room, with the door shut against the world, she let out a long, slow sigh. The bedroom wasn’t the best as far as study spaces went. It was pretty small for a start. And like everything else in the house, it was cluttered and claustrophobic. But it was welcomely cool after the humid heat of the kitchen and after taking ten minutes to straighten up her things and clear the desk of all the tat and mess, she was starting to see its potential as a working space.

Isla unearthed her laptop from under a pile of clothes and plugged it in. As it chuntered into life, she released Soba, who curled herself up into a tight ball on the rumpled bedclothes. The WiFi was a bit dodgy as Rhona had fretted, but it was serviceable. As long as it didn’t drop entirely whenever she’d have to have a video call with the university department, she’d be fine.  

For the first ten minutes, she picked between a handful of internet tabs tuned to information she’d found vaguely useful in the initial research stage. Now that she was supposed to actually make sense of it all and turn it into something halfway presentable, it was like her brain had stalled entirely.

No, she told herself. She wouldn’t be beaten. She clicked open a new Word document and started to type.

To Do For Thesis:

Get translations for Kildonian Chessmen texts

Interview locals about legends

Find, research, and visit rumoured Chessmen resting places

Research divide in Kildonian population (Vitalities?)

 She paused, then added in:

Find out what was in the garden on the night of the storm.

**

A knock at the bedroom door startled her. Soba’s ears pricked up as Isla dragged herself back to reality. What was the time? She glanced at the clock. Nearly midday. Almost three hours had gone by no quicker than a blink as she clicked through research articles and flicked through books.

Scrambling to her feet, she answered the door to Nana Morag’s lined face. She was smiling, in a sort of mischievous way, one side of the mouth curved more upwards than the other.

“Heard you had a little powercut last night,” she said, conspiringly.

“Yeah,” Isla rubbed the back of her neck. “I think it must have skipped the rest of the house though. Or… or maybe it was just my imagination.”

“You think so?”

“I mean, it could have been,” Isla said, half-wondering why she was trying to rationalise it. “I was pretty tired. My mind could have been playing tricks on me.”

“Hm,” Nana Morag didn’t sound convinced. She glanced back down the hallway, before taking a step closer. “Isla, have you heard of Basinish Island?” When Isla shook her head, Nana Morag’s whole face illuminated. “Basinish Island is a small, abandoned island off the coast of Port Glen. About three or four miles…. that direction,” she pointed over Isla’s shoulder, past the window and towards the tracing-paper grey sky. “Legend has it that you can walk there and back from Port Glen on days when the tide goes out. Of course, no-one ever tries. It’s very dangerous.”

“Okay,” Isla said, wondering exactly what Nana Morag was getting at. “What does this have to do with—”

“There’s rumours that Voltean – the Electric Vitality – lives out that way. Of course, it’s never been proven,” she said, in an off-hand way like she was telling Isla the brands of cereal in the cupboards. “But I thought you might like to read about them in this.”

Nana Morag pressed a thick hardback book into Isla’s hands.

“This is an old text,” Nana Morag continued. “There are some newer edits now, but I think you still might find it relevant. Especially for your research. It’s translated, so it might read a little funny. But there should be plenty there to keep you occupied.”

Isla looked through the book in awe. Pages of intricate illustrations and small, looped writing teased her from within. She could barely get her words out to thank Nana Morag. Soba purred and chirruped from the bed in appreciation.

“Nana Morag, thank you so much. I’ll take really good care of it. I promise.”

“Not to worry, Isla. You seem to have your head screwed on tight. If there’s anything in there you need some help with decoding, you let me know and I’ll try and help.”

“That would be wonderful. I was actually wondering if I could ask another favour of you,” Isla said, feeling opportunity shoulder its way in. “I have some old translations about the Kildonian Chessmen and I need some help translating them. Could you help?”

“I can do one better,” Nana Morag said. “Come along to my class this afternoon. I teach the young ones how to read and write the old language. I find there’s so much more meaning in having done the work myself. Don’t you agree?”

The expectation trickled down Isla’s back like a sliver of ice. Would she have the time to learn for something like that? Surely it would only take a couple of hours, tops, for someone to translate the documents rather than possible weeks to learn even the basics of an entire ancient language? It didn’t seem like a good trade off. But Nana Morag had already been so kind to her. And there was no telling how she’d react if she refused. Maybe if she showed willing now, Nana Morag would be more flexible later.

Isla clutched the book to her chest. “When does it start?”

“I’ll be leaving now,” Nana Morag said, her eyes gleaming.

“Alright,” Isla nodded. “I’m with you.”

**

Nana Morag lead Isla towards a small community centre, off a narrow lane from the high street. The whole area was residential, cluttered with redbrick terraces and full of people going around their daily business even with the biting wind and the overhanging threat of rain. Nana Morag was stopped nearly a dozen times by passers-by, each one making the same guarded enquiries about Isla, wondering who she “belonged to”. Isla couldn’t tell if they were pleased or not when Nana Morag explained they were family.

The classroom was perfect for children, bright, colourful, and visually appealing, but its cheery theme did little to soften the sharp edges of anxiety in Isla’s stomach. It spiked even more when she sat down, on a too-small chair that creaked every time she even considered moving.

Nana Morag didn’t call attention to Isla when the children came in for her class, which she was eternally grateful for. Along with the rest of the children, she was given an easy-reader book in Old Kildonian, a language heavy with vowels and punctuated with strange looping symbols. There was also a sheet of paper, typed in large print, with what looked like an alphabet and a few short words paired with an English equivalent. Isla stared at them until her eyes went blurry. She couldn’t even figure out how to make her mouth contort itself to make those noises. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The words were simple. Too simple. Words for “Mum”, “Dad”, “good”, “nice”, “friend”, and other twee phrases ran through her head. Not even a full sentence. Not even “Mum is nice”, “my friend is good”, just words, scattered over the page as if they were plucked from the ether. How would this help her? How could she translate complicated archaic documents with these basics?

The class hadn’t even started yet. Nana Morag was still talking to a parent while the children shouted and ran around the tables, obviously too overstimulated even before the lesson began. And Isla was spiralling. She could feel it percolating within her. As her breath raced out, she tried to clear her head.

This wouldn’t do. It couldn’t. Even if she attended one of these classes every day for a month, she’d be nowhere near ready to decode the Chessmen documents herself. She didn’t have that time to waste. The exhibition in Hydrogate opened in three weeks and she still had most of the region to see. Places to go. People to interview. Legends to find. She just couldn’t do it.

A blip pinged her phone, making her jump. While Nana Morag’s back was turned, still in conversation, Isla slid it out of her pocket and looked at it under the table.

Isla,

The Anthropology Department is concerned that you have not yet been in touch to update on your project. As such, we are writing to inform you that we have arranged a video conference with you at 1pm Johto Standard Time in two days’ time. Please follow the link below to attend your slot.

The department would like you to prepare a short presentation to highlight your progress as part of the video conference.

Please also remember you must submit proof of your passage to the Kildo region as evidence.

Regards,

           Prof F. S. Gardener

Isla could only stare numbly at the email for the first few minutes. Slowly, heat crept into her face. Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach. How dare they? How dare they talk to her like that? The condescending attitude dripped off the words like hot grease from a searing grill. They wanted a presentation? In two days? It couldn’t be done.

At least, not while she allowed her time to be wasted.

**

Nana Morag looked disappointed, but said she understood when Isla explained that something had come up that meant she had to leave early. It didn’t make her feel better.

Outside the community centre, she sat on the nearest bench and took large lungfuls of crisp, cool air until the anger and anxiety gurgling in her stomach finally ebbed away. She cast a guilty look back at the door. Hopefully Nana Morag would forgive her.

It would take nearly half an hour to walk back to the house. Plenty of time to think about what direction to take the presentation. Even as she thought about it, her mind unspooled ideas. She could look through the book Nana Morag gave her, cite the conversation they’d had about the Vitalities, maybe ask Rhona and the family for any other stories they had. She could do this. She could pull this together. She’d show that professor exactly what she was made of.

Just as she pushed herself to her feet, something thudded to the ground. Isla froze, her concentration shattered. Her hand sought the familiar Pokeball hanging at her waist and she rolled her fingertips across its keenly smoothed surface. Something crept into the corner of her peripheral vision. A dull, murky, red-brown shape, a rusted stain on the greenery encroaching the community centre. Her stomach tightened. Nausea crept up her throat and she had to fight a sudden, violent urge to vomit.

When the nausea passed, and the world faded back in, a noise trembled through the earth under her feet. A low rumbling whinny followed by the steady, echoing beat of hooves.

 Isla called Soba out. It was an unwelcome return to reality. She was in a new region with strange new Pokemon and she hadn’t even taken five minutes to look at the kinds of creatures that lived in the area. If there was something there that could hurt her, then she was playing a dangerous game. Could she even defend herself?

She should ignore it, she reasoned. Ignore it and head back to the croft. Wild Pokemon attacks on humans weren’t common, especially in fairly urban areas, but something still spurred her into action. Sweat stood out on her brow as she circled the Community Centre, Soba in pursuit.

There was nothing there. No people. No Pokemon. The only thing that stood out was a patch of disturbed grass by the window that looked into Nana Morag’s classroom. A line of hoofprints sunk into the long, leafy fronds, each one fringed with thin purple liquid. .

Soba coughed and retched.

“Easy, girl,” Isla returned Soba to her Pokeball. The last thing she needed was for her only Pokemon to become unwell. That would just be the rotten cherry on the top of the already disgusting cake.

She took one last cautionary glance around the area. Leaves trembled in the trees. Cars sloped down the road. Children played in a park down the street, their voices carrying over a thin, brisk wind.

When she looked down at the prints again, the strange liquid was gone.

**

Back at home, Isla shut herself back in the tiny room, opened her laptop, and focused. Hours fell away. Daylight morphed into darkness. All Isla knew was the tapping of keys and the pages of books stiff with bookmarks and post-it notes.

She was turning over into a new chapter – The Shifting Traditions – when her stomach gurgled, lifting her out of her study induced stupor. What time was it? It had gotten dark without her even noticing. She groped for the desk light and clicked it on, the room touched by a jaundiced yellow light.

The clock flashed back; 18:47.

She didn’t want to seem presumptuous. Running a croft with only a few family members must have been tough. She could imagine it was the kind of work that never had a clear end goal, that there was always something that needed done. And she’d only been here a full day. She didn’t know their routines yet. Maybe they were a late dinner type of family. And she definitely didn’t want to pressure anyone. But it was very late now. She hadn’t eaten any lunch. And there hadn’t been any noises in the house for hours.

Downstairs, every room was draped in darkness. Isla felt around for the light switches, but the unfamiliar walls wouldn’t give up their secrets, and she clattering through the house like a particularly ungraceful Hippopotas. It confirmed one thing. There was nobody home.

Panic rose in her chest as she picked her way towards the windows, hoping that she could let some light in via the curtains. I

With a bang, the door opened, bounced off the wall, and light spilled into the room. Rhona stood in the hallway, shelling herself from a puffy jacket.

“Rhona?” Isla squeaked.

“Oh, gosh! Isla!” Rhona’s hand flew to her chest, her skin translucent. “Chick, why were you standing there in the dark?”

“I couldn’t find the light switch,” she said lamely. “I’d been upstairs, and I got a bit worried I hadn’t heard anything down here for a while.”

“Oh, God. You didn’t get the message?”

“What message?”

“Kenneth sent Drambark to the house with it,” Rhona said, hanging up her coat.

Isla wasn’t sure exactly what a Drambark was, but she didn’t think now was the right time to ask. “I didn’t get anything, sorry. What’s happened?”

“It’s Nana Morag, chick. She came over very ill just before she finished her class. She was taken to hospital.”

“Hospital?!” Isla gasped.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, but she’s okay, she’s stable and responsive. They’re keeping her in overnight, but I think it’s just as a precaution.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“They don’t know yet. They were running tests when I left.”

“I’m sorry, I…” Isla stammered. “I should have stayed with her.”

The look in Rhona’s eyes became sharp and probing. “Yes, why did you leave? I thought you wanted to learn about the language.”

“I do, but…” Isla heaved a sigh. “I got an email from my course supervisor when I was in the class telling me I have to do a presentation for them. In two days. About the progress I’ve made in the project. And I haven’t… I haven’t had much progress yet because I’ve only just got here. So I panicked and came back here to start working on that immediately because… well, if I don’t jump through their hoops, they’ll pull approval on the project.”

Rhona nodded the whole time Isla spoke. “Och, chick, maybe it’s for the better that you didn’t stay.”

Isla frowned. “Why?”

“Because it wasn’t just Nana Morag who became ill. Everyone attending that class did.”

[whirlybirbs]

ok but like big dad hop cooking miss murphy a ‘romantic’ dinner n making the most Disastrous meal ever n freaking out big time hop style is my kink

summary: our favorite chief of police burns dinner but doesn’t ruin date night. pairing: hopper x teacher!reader, from my fic moonrise radio.a/n: disaster dad is jim hopper’s middle name, u know i’m right.     

“What are you going to make?”

Hopper’s already on edge. And the date isn’t for another twelve hours. He’s still got the whole day ahead of him -- and as he sips his coffee and sets aside some bacon onto El’s plate, he shrugs. 

“I, uh, I dunno -- what should I make?”

“Eggos.”

She’s smirking into her eggs. 

Jim barks a laugh, making his daughter snort softly. “Yea, kid, why not?”

“Romantic.”

“I dunno about that,” he says, settling in and digging into his cereal, “I’ll think of somethin’ though.”

“You got this.”

Yeah, yeah, he does.

Or so he thought. 

Until the universe decided to take a fat shit on his day.

It’s not even 10am when he’s dealing with a rabid fox on library’s property that successfully chased him (him of all people, not Callahan or Powell, him the biggest out of them all) up a swing-set in front of the crowded windows of the library where parents and children alike watched the whole thing play out.

By noon he’s throwing a cuffed Frank Dawn, the town drunk, in the back of his cruiser where he unceremoniously pukes everywhere. And Hop means everywhere. He’s sure there are chunks on the dash. Guys’s got good projection.

At roughly 4pm, Jim is dragged from Flo’s recipe book by a call about a ruptured sewage line downtown. For the following hour and a half, he’s stuck directing traffic, smelling literal shit, in the heat of the September sun. 

It’s not until 6pm that he finally gets out of the office, only to be stopped by sweet, old Mrs. Samson asking him about her missing cat for thirty minutes.

Safe to say he speeds to the grocery and does double the limit on the way home.

“Shit, shit shit shit shit shit --”

He throws the Blazer in park and leaps from the driver’s seat, hopping out of his boots the second he’s threw the door. He hauls ass, throwing his hat across the room and quickly pulling the meat from the freezer bag and starting a burner -- he’s stripping his uniform as he moves through the cabin, trying his best to straighten up as the 7pm nears. 

And then he smells himself.

“Oh god --”

Shower curtain pulls. Water on. He’s in. Something’s burning. He’s out. Shower curtain pulled. 

“Oh, Christ.”

He’s got the towel around his hips, water dripping on the floor, as he pushes the hamburger around in the pan and starts browning the other side. Hopper tosses the spatula beside the oven on the counter, moving fast into his bedroom and leaping into a pair of jeans. He’s swearing as he buttons up another brightly colored shirt, pushing his hair back as he muscles on a pair of kicks and skids into the kitchen to get to work on dicing the vegetables. 

In the fray, he manages to put a record on, pour wine, and regain some semblance of composure.

And then there’s a knock at the door.

He freezes completely.

You got this. 

He pulls open the door so fast, your hair flies.

His composure is out the window the second he sees you.

You’re grinning, face bright with an amused expression as he bawks and blinks and swallows and tries to remember what words are. 

(He’s distracted by your own bright sweater / black denim mini-skirt combo -- your legs look longer than usual, black heeled boots giving you some height and stopping right below your knees. It’s not the look of a science teacher. It’s the look of a woman who could kick his ass and he’d say thank you.)

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you parrot, laughing a little, “You alright?”

“Yeah -- yeah, I’m great, you... you look great --”

“I mean, I figured if it was a date...”

God, he’s dead. He’s dead and this is heaven and his bones are jello. 

“Come on in -- I, uh, I thought I’d make tacos -- it’s Flo’s recipe so it should be good.”

You grin and follow him in. Dropping your purse on the small table by the door, you take in the cozy space with a wide smile. Jim moves across the room, into the kitchen, and prods at the meat in the skillet before double taking back at you. His gaze is stuck like glue as you poke around, smiling sweetly at some of the art on the walls.

“Tacos sound really good.”

You look right at him when you say it.

He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. 

In the background, an old Derek & the Dominos record spins out the tune of the song “Layla” and Hopper realizes no song could really be more fitting.

“Does wine sound good, too?”

You laugh, arms crossed. “I think so, yeah.”

And then it happens.

He moves, a little too quick and never realizing how big he really is in a space so small, a space he’s called home for nearly two years now, and unceremoniously elbows his own glass of wine as he offers you some and over the glass goes, right onto the gas burner and FWOOSH!

“SHIT!”

“Oh my god --”

He’s swatting at the fire with a dish towel now, coughing as smoke billows from mini explosion that’s left the meat charred and the wallpaper behind the stove blackened. Hopper is quick to chuck a glass of water on the charred embers of the meal before dropping his hands to his knees and taking a long exhale.

You’ve got your hands over your mouth when the fire alarm starts.

Hopper is cursing when he moves through the cabin, storming towards the little alarm in question and decidedly yanking it out of the wall.

You bite your lip and hold back a laugh.

And then Hopper starts laughing.

But, not a good laugh -- no, this is the laugh of a man who was nearly bitten by a rabid fox, puked on by the town drunk, directing shit traffic; a man who just royally fucked up dinner and whose heart rate hasn’t dropped below 140 since he’s been home.

“Ohhhh, man.”

“Hop,” you says slowly, worry on your face, “You’ve got the crazy eyes --”

“I just fucked up our date -- okay, I... This is just the icing on the cake, y’know? I told El, I said, I’ve got this and I jinxed it. i jinxed myself.”

You chew your lip as he moves to chuck the pan in the sink.

“Rough day?”

He plants his hands on the sink.

“You have no idea.”

Taking a step forward, you move to put both your hands on his back. You give his shoulders a little rub, face soft as he sighs and hangs his head. 

“Hey,” you offer slowly, “Why don’t we order a pizza and you can tell me all about it?”

There’s a pause.

“You... -- really?”

You swat at Hop’s arm as he turns, eyeing you with a skeptical look. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious.”

“And so am I. Pizza, wine, some Chips re-runs...” you offer slowly, patting his chest and smoothing down the collar of his button down, “Sounds like a pretty good date to me. I’ll even drive us to Hawkins House of Pizza because I doubt they’ll deliver to your little cabin in the woods, Chief.”

His hands fall along your arms, sweeping in slow circles as a smile cracks and it’s like the sun parting through the clouds. He ducks his head. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, holding lingering on your arms as you move to grab your purse and keys, “But I’m paying.”

“Fat chance.”

His brows raise as you skirt out the door leaving him to follow -- and he does; long strides carry him into the late, fall air and into the cab of your old Camaro. You’re a real sight to see in the driver’s seat, all heeled boots and miniskirt, as you back out and peel onto the main road towards the lone pizza shop in town. 

“Sorry I burned dinner,” he says with a smile, finally starting to relax.

You laugh loudly. “Burned? Hop, you cremated it.”

He snorts, digging out a cigarette and lighting it. In the light of the dashboard, he looks handsome -- not that that’s new. He’s always handsome. But, right now, he looks like a dream. He cranks the window down and exhales, leaning to eye you.

“Guess that’s what I get for tryna impress a pretty girl like you.”

He’s got that voice he puts on -- low and slow and a rumble that you’re sure has worked on plenty of other women before you. You spare him a roll of your eyes as you pull into the parking lot of the bustling Hawkins House of Pizza and throw the car in park. 

You walk a little closer to him than usual.

You sure don’t complain when he throws an arm over your shoulder in the close quarters of the bustling pizza shop. 

(Hop is sweating as he does it -- the bold gesture of affection is received well, though, and his gut turns to butterflies when you wrap your arm around his middle and lean into him.)

You order two large pies, an order of fries and a brownie to split -- and proceed to battle out for paying at the register.

The teenager, who’s unimpressed and un-enthused as you swat at Hopper’s hand and drop your own twenty dollar bill, just rolls his eyes when you squeeze Hop’s side and urge: “You bought the fire starters -- I mean, dinner --”

Jim blinks down at you, shaking your shoulders in retaliation as he resigns and let it happen. “Fine, fine! Fine. Whatever. I get the next one though.”

You perk up at the prospect of another date. 

“The next one, huh?” you ask as you carry the pizzas out, “There’s gonna be a next one?”

“I’d like a next one -- I dunno about you,” he says as he grunts and folds his long legs up against the dashboard as he settles into the Camaro, “Where maybe we scale it up a bit? Not a couch date?”

“What, like Enzo’s?”

You grin at him, flicking his arm as he muscles the pizzas into his lap.

Hopper tilts his head and shrugs as you start back towards his cabin. “I like Enzo’s.”

“Okay,” you smile, “Enzo’s.”

“You free Saturday?”

You peel into a sort of laughter that makes Hop glow. 

“So soon?”

“For the last three and a half weeks,” he begins, “I didn’t think -- that this was... y’know, I didn’t think you were into me. So, yea, so soon, because I am makin’ up for lost time.”

He’s got you wrapped around his finger. 

Without even thinking, you ask: “So, how about 8pm?”

“You wanna come back to my place after and watch some more Chips re-runs?”

His smile is warm.

How could you say no?

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 23

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 2.6k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

“I don’t know if I can do this.” 

Phil rubs the inside of his eyes with his fingers and lets out a long, drawn out sigh. 

“It’ll be okay, Phil.” Dan says, his voice gentle on the other end of the line. “I’ve talked with Marianne and she’s working on getting all stories surrounding us pulled from news sites and TV news. I also am working closely with my publicist who is telling me that you shouldn’t post our videos we filmed together on YouTube right now until this all moves on.” 

Phil groans and rubs his hand over his face, tugging at the skin. “Is this going to be a mess?” 

Dan sighs, his voice crackling a bit through the receiver. “Probably a bit but…we’ll get it sorted.” 

“I hope so.” 

“I know that it’s hard right now but just…please don’t go on social media. My publicist wants me to issue a statement so I’m going to but I won’t say anything about us. I promise.” 

Phil’s heart picks up its beating and he feels like he’s going to sick all over the floor. Spike takes note of his sudden tension and climbs onto the couch, fitting into his lap and curling into a ball on his thighs. He reaches down and runs his fingers through his fur, comforting himself. 

“What are you going to say?” Phil asks, feeling his voice crack a bit. 

“I’m just going to ask for privacy and I’m going to ask for the media to basically stop.” 

“Is that going to work?” Phil asks. He can’t help but have doubts. 

“Hopefully.” Dan says. “I know what you feel though…I’m pretty upset by all of this too.” 

“We should have expected it.” Phil says and he’s not sure who he’s even saying it to: Dan or himself. 

“Of course but that doesn’t make it easier.” 

“I know.” 

Dan sighs. “I’m gonna be honest, Phil. I’m not sure what to do.” 

“Me either.” 

“I’ve spoken to every possible person on my side and the only thing we can do at this point is release some statements or try and keep quiet.” 

“I know.” 

“Fuck.” Dan exclaimed, followed by the sound of something heavy falling in the background. “Oh my god!” 

“Dan?” Phil asked, his voice suddenly rising. Spike whimpered on his lap and he ran his hands through his fur to calm him down. “What’s going on?” 

“This is actually unbelievable!” 

“What is?” 

“Phil, I just got word that I’ve been casted as Christopher Robin in a new live-action adaptation of Winnie the Pooh!” 

Phil felt his stomach fall to the ground. He doesn’t know why, but the news of that causes his stomach to knot even more. “That’s amazing!” 

“Phil, I literally―Oh my fucking god, this could not have come at a better timing! I needed something like this today. You have no idea. I auditioned for this role like four months ago and they gave me a call back and I went and I thought I totally fucked my chances but oh my God.” 

“I’m really glad that everything worked out.” Phil says. “I hope it all works out for us too…” 

“We’ll figure this out, Phil.” Dan says, his voice wavering a bit over the speaker. “Together.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to draft my statement and then have it be approved by Marianne. I’ll text you when I’m about to post it but if I were you, I’d delete social media for the foreseeable future.” 

Phil nodded his head. 

He said his goodbye’s to Dan not long after. Dan was coming to London soon anyway and hopefully when they’re together, they can get this figured out a bit more than it is right now. Because right now, Phil is feeling like this is going to be a disaster in waiting. 

He’d spoken to his mum about it some more but it didn’t end up helping in the long run when his mum just kept telling him they should hire him someone who can help. Phil didn’t want that. He just wanted the drama to be fixed. He wanted to be left alone but right now, he can’t even go to the park without being noticed. 

In his wildest dreams, he has thought about living a life like this. But for Phil, this life was because he was a famous YouTuber, not a famous movie star. However, after being around Dan for as long as he has, he’s realized pretty quickly he doesn’t want this. 

Phil doesn’t turn the TV back on that night, nor does he even pick up his laptop. He’s running behind on his assignments for the BBC and it’s quite sad for him to feel like he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t care if his assignments are late. He doesn’t care he if even finishes them at all. 

He just wants to be left alone. 

Sometime that night, his doorbell goes off. It scares him half to death but he climbs up from the couch and makes his way over, peering out the peephole. His brother is stood on the other side, holding a large pizza box in his hand. 

Phil opens the door slowly and steps aside so Martyn can come in. “Mum rung me like an other ago. She wanted me to make sure you’re okay so I brought some pizza from Dominos since I know you like to eat that when you’re stressed.” 

Phil feels his lips curl into a smile. “What kind did you get?” 

“Well,” Martyn says, walking past Phil to set the pizza down on his breakfast bar. “Dominos got rid of the sizzler so I ended up just getting pepperoni.” 

Phil opens the box and is immediately salivating over the smell of greasy pizza and plastic cheese. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t ate the entire day until he was suddenly reaching for a slice and nearly inhaling it down in the process. 

“So tell me what’s going on.” Martyn says. “Brother to brother. Friend to friend.” 

“Dan and I officially began our relationship when I was in the US.” Phil says. 

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” 

“Well, yeah, but it’s also not.” Phil says. “Because paparazzi are following us everywhere and we literally cannot go anywhere without be ambushed. Just this afternoon, I was met with a pap in the park with Spike, taking photos of me and yelling after me to tell him about Dan.” 

“What did you say?” Martyn asked, taking a bite of his slice. 

“I didn’t say anything to them.” Phil says. “I just ran off.” 

“Did you tell Dan about it?” Martyn presses. “Mum said she told you to contact him.” 

“I talked to him this afternoon.” 

“And what did Dan say about it?” 

“He’s working with his own team to clear everything up.” Phil says. “But it doesn’t matter because nothing will change.” 

“But isn’t that what you signed up for when you began to pursue Dan?” Martyn pressed. 

“Don’t start acting like mum.” 

“I’m not meaning to.” Martyn paused and Phil looked at his brother. “I just mean that you clearly decided that you wanted to be Dan so isn’t it not all that shocking that all of this is happening? Like, Dan’s name has been the source of headlines all over the world for the past three years.” 

“I know.” Phil says. He set’s down his pizza slice onto his plate and pushes it aside. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore, just sick and a bit greasy. “But Dan isn’t like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“He’s not that typical celebrity figure that everyone thinks he is. He hates being in the tabloids and he actively hides to try and get away. You should have seen how much he panicked even going out to get food. He normally gets his manager to pick him up something instead and bring it to his house. He also wears sunglasses and hoodies in public to try and hide but they always notice him. We went into a restaurant for a few moments and every person was staring at him. It made him so uncomfortable that he left and told me to order his food for him.” Phil feels winded when he’s done speaking. “Do you know what any of what I said means?” 

Martyn nods, but doesn’t say anything right away. 

Phil picks up his slice of pizza and takes another bite, willing himself to keep it down despite his body protesting a bit. Martyn continues to eat in silence as well and the tension in the air is pulled tight like a rubber band about to snap. Spike comes over sometime in the middle of this silence and Phil bends down and hands him a tiny bite of the pizza. 

“You’re really smitten with Dan, aren’t you?” 

Phil looks up at Martyn. “What do you mean?” 

“You seem to know so much about him and care about him more than you’ve cared about anyone else in a while. You’re quick to defend him and to state his story. You’re really gone for him.” 

Phil blushes because everything that Martyn says in true. “I know I am.” 

“Are we going to have a new Lester in the family one day?” 

Phil shrugs and refuses to answer. Martyn lets out a laugh and Phil chuckles as well. The tension in his stomach unknots and he feels a lot better now about everything. He finishes off two more slices of pizza and then he and Martyn watch some anime on his TV. 

***

Dan: I posted the statement

Dan: Marianne checked to make sure I didn’t have any typos 

Phil wakes up to those messages on his phone screen. It takes him a moment to adjust to being awake, grabbing his glasses in the meantime. He puts them on and reads the screen again and feels his heart pick up pace a little bit. 

He sees that Dan sent him a screenshot of his tweet with the statement and he looks it over, reading it carefully. 

“I don’t say this enough but I wanted to make it clear that I would like for my private life to remain private. It is hard to maintain a balance between being in public and also being in my private time. I ask that my privacy be respected in these times and I ask that news stations consult with me before running anything about me or the people I’m associated with. If my private life continues to be a source of news for many people, I will consider taking legal action. Thank you, Daniel” 

Phil doesn’t know what to think reading it over. Should he have a reaction? 

Phil throws his phone to the side. 

He gets up slowly and let’s Spike out for a bathroom break before he takes a shower and get’s ready for work. 

At the BBC, he keeps to himself the entire day. He doesn’t speak even with PJ. He finds it easier to just work on what he needs to and then leave at the time he’s supposed to. 

When he leaves the BBC after work is over, he’s met with paparazzi outside the building. Phil should have known that would happen. He keeps his head low and he fights his way through them until he reaches the other side and makes a beeline for his tube station. 

He stops and picks up food at the Sainsbury’s across the street from his flat and when he gets back to his flat, he lays down on his couch with Spike and cuddles him. His phone has a few messages on it from PJ, his mum, and a few from Dan. But he can’t bring himself up to actually answering any of them. He finds himself in a funk of not wanting to go through all of this. 

Phil opens his laptop up a few hours later. On his screen is a little window saying that his video was done exporting―the assumptions video that he filmed with Dan in LA. Dan told him that his publicist told him not to post the video, but something inside of himself tells him to post it anyway. 

Beside him, his phone begins to vibrate for a phone call and he looks down and sees Dan’s photo pop up the screen. It’s a photo Phil took of Dan in LA, when they were lying in bed one night. He looked so angelic, so peaceful. But yet, the smile on his voice showed happiness like Phil has never seen before. 

He picks up his phone and answers it, putting it on speaker. 

“You haven’t answered me all day,” Dan says, his voice wavering a bit. “Are you okay?” 

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Going to be honest, not really.” 

“I kind of figured,” Dan says. “I’m not either.” Dan pauses and silence fills the room once again. “I just wanted us to be able to have a normal relationship, ya know? Going on dates, having cute little adventures.” 

“We still can.” Phil says, feeling his voice waver and his eyes water. “I want to have all of that with you.” 

“Let’s run away together.” Dan says, his voice light. “Let’s just go off the radar and live together on some remote island.” 

“Honestly, do not tempt me.” 

“We could live in a little beach cottage with Spike and we could grow our own food and live off the land.” Dan continues. “Just you and me, forever.” 

“I love the sound of that.” Phil says, shutting his laptop and turning onto his side.

“Of what?” 

“Just you and me forever.” 

He can almost hear Dan’s smile through the speaker. “One day it will be.” Dan says. “But for right now. We just have to make it past all of this. We just have to keep fighting the tabloids and the paparazzi. You and I can do it. We’ll get past all of this.” 

“I know we will.” 

“Remember what we promised each other when we were in LA?” Dan asks, his voice having gone soft. “We promised that we’d never give up on each other.” 

“I still promise that.” 

“Me too.” Dan agrees. “Which is why I just wanted to remind you that we can do it. We can overcome all of this together.”

“I can’t wait to have you here with me again.” Phil says. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and never let you go.” 

“Just two more weeks. Two more weeks and I’ll be here for a film premiere.” 

“I can’t wait that long.” 

“Me either, but we have to.” Dan says, a chuckle ending his words. “I also can’t wait to see Spike.” 

At the mentions of his name, Spike’s head perks up and he lets out a surprised yelp. Phil chuckles and Dan does too. 

They talk for the rest of the night, just him and Dan. They talk about the future, and how they both want to eventually live somewhere secluded in a house with a fence around it. Dan wanted a dog for Spike to play with and they somehow came to the agreement about a Shiba Inu. Before the night was over, they were discussing kids. And although that thought would always scare Phil before, talking with Dan about how many kids they both wanted with oddly comforting. 

When Dan hung up because he needed to get ready for a party, Phil was nearly falling asleep. But he wouldn’t have had his evening any other way. He just has to make it these two more weeks and hopefully everything can get figured out. 

[rayewriting]

Being Enough

Fandom: Batman

Note: This fic is ignoring the crappy “Ric Grayson” plot line and Damian’s Teen Titans disaster. I did not like those ridiculous character developments at all so I’m blatantly throwing those out the window. So, Dick did die, was sent to Spyral, before going back to Bludhaven to see how his dumpster fire is holding out. Damian was resurrected, and has met Jon, Maya, and Suren (because they are my babies) but does not have a TT team. Damian is fifteen and Dick is twenty-*mumble mumble* in the first scene. I also tried to write it as if Damian was writing it from third person and I don't how it turned out so... yeah.

Did I mistype and write out “Might wing and Flame burg” for the prompt in my draft and laugh about it off and on for the better part of an hour? Yes, yes, I did.

Two sets of combat boots race across Bludhaven roof tops, both sets were similar in size, one just barely bigger than the other, “Okay, Flamebird, lets see take tonight easy, just a regular patrol, then on home, sound good?” the smooth, tenor voice is from the one wearing midnight black suit with a cobalt blue bird across the front extending to the tips of his fingers.

“Considering the arsonist from the last month’s fires has finally been arrested, that seems reasonable, Nightwing,” the other male agreed with a tenor-bass voice. He was wearing something similar, but his suit was wine red with a marigold bird across his chest, giving the impression of fire when he moves.

“Great, after all it’s your second anniversary, we have to celebrate!”

“I told you, Nightwing, I—”

“’Don’t want a party, and find it pointless’ but I think some people disagree and are waiting for your presence at home,” Nightwing replies with a smile gracing his face,

“TT,” let out Flamebird, but he did not complain as they began their track across the city.

When both vigilantes return home after a quiet patrol, Flamebird opens the fire escape window and upon entering sees a banner with “Happy 2nd Birthday!” and immediately releases a big groan, causing laughter from the others in the apartment. Titus runs over to the two and sniffs at them, then headbutts Damian for pets, Alfred the cat walks over to Dick walking between his legs, wanting attention.

“Go ahead and change, masters. Then the party shall begin,” Pennyworth instructs. Grayson thanks Pennyworth, throws his arm over Damian’s shoulders, and drags the teen down the hallway to change.

When both return to the living room in lounge clothes, the teasing begins, “So, how does it feel like being two, Demon?” Todd jeers at him from the couch.

“You should know, isn’t that how old you are, Todd?” Damian snarked back, sparking laughing in the room.

But Damian wasn’t paying attention to the room, his mind was roaming because Damian remembers the last time of wearing Robin’s colors.

Two and a half years ago on the rain-soaked roof across of Grayson’s Bludhaven apartment building, an equally soaked Damian picking out which apartment was Grayson’s, when he felt the presence of someone else on the roof, instantly alert. “Where are you supposed to be, Little Bird?” a familiar timber asked, instantly letting Damian release the tension from his muscles, he turned around to face his (brother? …father? …mentor?) mentor.

Grayson was in his Nightwing gear, a comforting sight compared the last time Damian saw him with his spy garb. Damian looked down and was reminded that he was not in his Robin uniform, he was sporting his black under armor long sleeve shirt, tights, thick green boots, and green domino mask.

Damian tried to explain, he really was, but he is still reeling from another (conversation? … lecture? … grilling?) conversation, “I—I have no place anymore.” He felt the burning behind his eyes, holding himself together with anger since leaving Gotham; however, his anger was fading, and Damian’s composure was wavering. “I am requesting shelter, Nightwing, I will be out by morning.” Damian requested, trying to pull himself together.

Damian knew Grayson was immediately picking apart his tense stance when touched the roof, “Why don’t we talk about what happened, huh? I was going to cut patrol short today anyway, slow night,” the vigilante gently answered. As Grayson was reaching for his grapple, he noticed Damian about to jump off the side of the building. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Little One, come here, we will discuss where your things are when we get home.” Damian shrugs and wraps his arms around his neck, legs around his waist, trusting him to swing them to the alley behind his apartment building to enter his apartment. “Okay, first things first- any injuries?” Grayson asks, taking off his mask waiting for Damian’s answer, which is a shrug, “Alright, go head and take a shower, okay? I’ll set some clothes out in front of the door, then we will patch you up,” he requested, knowing Damian needs to find his composure and demanding an explanation now will amount to nothing. Damian nods slowly and begins to head to the guest room and bath.

As Damian walked into the wash room he took of his final layer of armor and turns on the shower to his preferred temperature, he looks himself in the mirror. He has one black eye forming, a few bruises across his arms, and small cuts marring his olive skin, all things that can wait till he bathes to be dealt with. He is stepping into the shower when Grayson knocks on the door and speaks loudly, “I’m leaving the clothes right outside the door, okay, Little D?”

Damian gives a grunt of acknowledgement through the water streaming from the shower. He takes his time, making sure he was thoroughly clean and time to collect his thoughts for himself. When he exits the shower and opens the door, he spots a Cheese Viking sweatshirt, black lounge pants, socks, and undergarments piled on the clean floor. He pulls on the undergarments, bandages his cuts, puts on his socks, sweatshirt, and pants, then exits the wash room.

When Damian enters the living room, Grayson turns to survey his injuries, but he already treated himself and covered by bandages, defiantly not the worst he has gotten physically; however, his emerald eyes must show his pain and grief, because Grayson’s smile dims slightly. “Let’s go get some ice on that shiner, Dami, pick out what you want for dinner, then we can discuss what happened with B when it gets here, alright?” Grayson asks slowly getting up and guiding Damian to the kitchen, grabbing the first ice pack he sees and take-out menus from the freezer door, passing them to Damian, “I haven’t been able to go shopping this week with a gang war breaking out, so choose what you want to eat and I’ll call it in.”

Damian sits at the bar, looks through the menus while placing the compress to his face, wincing slightly. Pizza, Chinese, burgers, Vietnamese, Indian- he picks the Chinese and points out the vegetable fried rice for him to eat, passes the menus back to Grayson, and waits for the older man to make the phone call. “Anything to drink, Dami?” Grayson asks him, causing Damian to look up at the older man- still not speaking, causing Grayson to place his hand on Damian’s shoulder- “Juice, water, tea—” and Damian cuts Grayson off with a nod, “Okay, I have chamomile tea, and I remember how you like it- brown sugar, lemon, and a china cup. Which is perfect because I just bought a tea set…”

As Grayson walks around his kitchen, talking aimlessly, Damian relaxes slowly, the final bit tension draining from his shoulders. When he comes back with both of their tea and takes a seat next to him, Damian slowly move his hand till it rest near Grayson’s- not touching but absorbing the warmth and comfort from his brother.

Damian always knew wherever Grayson was, he had a safe place. Away from prying eyes. Away from extreme expectations. Away from the harmful things of the world. Grayson was Damian’s place of comfort. A place where he was free to feel, even if it was childish. A place where Damian could be Damian, not a Wayne or an Al-Ghul. Damian did not know how much he wanted (needed) that till he was resurrected and asked where Grayson was. Damian could not describe the feeling of being so overwhelmed that he shut down, did not sleep, eat, drink, anything for a week- just sat in his room with glassy eyes- till he walked into Grayson’s room and began to weep loudly, grasp the edges of Grayson’s blanket and tug and tug till the comforter was free, only for Damian to fall backwards onto the floor and wrap himself in the faint smell of Grayson and slept.

The doorbell interrupted Damian’s thoughts, prompting Grayson to get up, answer the door, and return to Damian’s side. “Okay, Little D, what happened?” Grayson prompted him.

Damian took in a deep calming breath, twirled his fork in his rice, and began slowly let the breath go. He went on to explain how Father had reacted to Damian ignoring his order to save a child from the Joker, “I saw things that Father did not. Father was dealing with Joker’s men, and I had a clear path to save him. So I did what I thought was right,” only for Bruce to rant when they got home, sparking a fight, eventually telling Damian that he has not changed since he arrived to Gotham, “I have proved over and over that I am different. I died for this—I died for him and his crusade for that city, yet it is clear that no matter how much I adapt my teaching and curb my upbringing, it is not enough—I am not enough…” Damian patters off, anger giving way for the hurt to set in, overwhelming the small boy for a couple of silent minutes and Grayson brought Damian into his arms, “Father made it clear that I am not welcome in Gotham for the foreseeable future. So, I came to the safest place I could think of… here.” Finishing his tale of woe, Damian felt his eyes burn again, but felt powerless to stop them, “Grayson, why am I not enough? Why am I never enough?” Finally, Damian’s tears spilt from his eyes, and Damian lost himself in his anguish, letting out sobs against the man’s chest.

“Oh, Dami, you are enough, you always have been enough. You deserve the world, and I am sorry that I can’t give it to you. You are alright…” Dick consoled the shaking teen, setting Damian on his lap, rubbing his hands in soothing motions on the teen’s back. After Damian’s tears slow and pulls back slowly, head bowed, Dick begins his plan, “You can stay here, okay? I keep Bruce from the apartment, away from this city if I have to. Damian held on to Dick the entire night, feeling peace for the first time he could remember.

Damian was shaken from his thoughts as Dick throws his arm around his shoulders, “Come on Little D, there is cake! Your favorite!”

“Red velvet and cream cheese frosting?”

“Exactly, Jason baked the cake and Alfred made the frosting, says his own secret recipe.”

After everyone said their hello and congratulations, Alfred sliced the cake, and began to pass them around- Damian getting the first slice. “Thank you, Pennyworth. I am appreciative of your presence tonight,” Damian spoke.

“Of course, Master Damian. I would not miss this for the world,” Alfred acknowledged, bringing his tea cup to his lips taking a small sip.

Damian took in all the guests that had shown. Wilkes, Kent, Darga, and Ducard were debating various team names that they thought could work. Todd, Drake, Brown, and Gordon were discussing a situation brewing from the docks of Gotham. Pennyworth and Grayson were sitting next to Damian in simple silence, soaking in the warmth of the small apartment, the peaceful atmosphere. Damian once again lost in his mind.

Two years ago in Grayson’s living room, sitting on the couch was both males, pouring over Damian’s sketch book, “Flamebird? A goddess?” Grayson asked.

Damian nods his head, “Based off the Kryptonian myths I have heard from Kent, yes. But this mantle does not depend on a person being male or female, like Superman or Wonder Woman. Also, the myths describe the entity as a destructive force, but for the betterment of life, such as farmers burning an old field before planting again the next year.”

“Okay, but what’s with the color scheme and no hood? It’s cool and all I’m just wondering, you loved the hood of your previous uniform.”

“The name is Flamebird, so black does not match with the name I am presenting, the color, wine, is dark enough to be concealed if need be. I have decided against black and a hood because I feel, perhaps… tired of being swallowed by shadows and darkness. Is that acceptable, Grayson?”

“Of course, it is, Dami. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not,” Grayson spoke softly, slowly wrapping his arms around the teen. Damian leaning slightly into the older man’s chest, nods his head, then slips out of the hold, and Grayson lets go. “We need to get these to Barbra, and you need to tell your friends about your name change, so they aren’t surprised next time you see them in uniform,” Grayson gently instructs, gathering the papers in his hand and phone up to his ear, “Hey Babs, I have a thing…”

Damian is suddenly jerking from his thoughts again as Grayson stands and announces, “Attention, attention, everyone near and far, I propose a toast! To Flamebird!”

“To Flamebird!” responds the small gathering, lifting their various beverages, smiles on their faces.

Then Grayson loudly says, “Speech! Speech!” thus sparks everyone as well, “Speech! Speech!” Damian looks at Alfred for help, but he just smiles and raises his cup.

Damian then rises from his seat, causing people to cheer, “I do not have anything planned, so this is the best I can do,” he begins turning to Alfred, “Pennyworth, you have taught me the value of tact and how manners are just as, if not more effective, than threats, but also the value of being a supporting person in someone’s life”, Alfred gave a quiet chuckle and grasps his hand in a quiet thanks, then Damian was twirling to his friends, “Wilkes and Kent, both of you have instilled in me the sense of friendship and how I can be even more effective and how I can rely on people if need be. Ducard showed me forgiveness, when no one else would look at me, you showed me how to be merciful in a world that is so cruel. Darga, you have been my example of perseverance, you and I have similar backgrounds with our families, but we have work on the same side of good.” After Damian’s speech Wilkes, Kent, and Ducard wraps him in a group hug, and Darga looks a little off put till Ducard grabs his arm and shoves him underneath her head, trapping him in the hug.

Damian’s cheeks turns red as he takes in a breath and walks towards his family, Gordon raising her eyebrow, “Gordon, you have given me many lessons, but the best one is you should never let others define your worth, so thank you. Todd, you have given me the best piece of advice from my time with my mother,” after Todd’s confused look Damian explained, “if you cannot beat them, give them hell,” at Damian’s words, Todd’s jaw drops.

“That was you! What the f—”

“Jason, shut up, it’s my turn!” Brown shouts and bounces on her feet.

Damian’s face began to turn even more red, “Brown, I have one lesson that you taught me that I treasure more than most, and that is your past does not define you, that you have a choice in how you act or react to a situation, that I always have a choice,” Brown wraps him in her arms and Damian feels a tear against his shirt, then she let him go, this gives Damian time to collect his thoughts. “Drake, I cannot explain how I feel when I think of our first year together, the things racing through my mind at the time we met, but I think you taught me something that will stick with me forever,” Drake looks uncomfortable, and Damian would agree, but this needed to be said, “I believe you taught me that it is acceptable to leave when someone is hurting you- that you should not have to accept someone’s behavior because they are ‘family’. And—” Damian sucks in another breath, “And I am sorry for the pain I caused and hope one day we can heal from the past, and slowly build a relationship- perhaps not brothers but—”

Drake grabs his arm, prompting Damian to look him in the eyes, seeing the tears swimming in his eyes, “I accept your apology, Damian, and I think—I think I would like to start over too,” the smaller man agrees quietly, looking down.

“Just hug each other already!” Brown shouts still wiping at her eyes, causing Damian and Drake to spring apart, both flushed out of embarrassment. The two looks at each other, reading the body language and eyes of the other, and slowly Damian reaches his hand out and letting a small grin on his face. Drake smiles and grasps the younger’s hand, giving it a small shake, and Damian feels a heavy weight drop off his shoulders. “You two are ridiculous…” Brown mumbles, and shoves Drake into Damian forcing Damian to catch the smaller man, “There, you are welcome.” Both males roll their eyes at Brown’s actions and Damian helps Drake up.

Finally, turning to face Grayson, Damian felt his face heat up to his ears as Grayson let a gigantic, dazzling smile. Damian takes a final fortifying breath and his voice was slightly rough with emotion, “Richard, you have let me have a childhood, when I had none to begin with. When I did not know how be a child, you taught me how, provided opportunities, and encouraged me to do so. You showed me care and affection from the start- even when I did not want it, but when I unknowingly needed it, and you took an interest for my wants and needs when no one else would or could. You provided for me when I could not for myself. You treated me with respect, but also did not let me hurt myself or others. You taught me I am enough just by being myself, that I did not need to adapt, but let myself grow up of that I am still doing. You gave me a safe place, a peaceful place, that I can express myself with no fear of pain, harshness, or disappointment. There are no words to describe how that kindness—no that love means to someone like me, someone that felt beyond repair, holding on to anger and pain, because that was all I knew, that was all I was taught. Until you, Richard John Grayson, gave me a chance to become something beyond myself, beyond my pain, hurt, and anger. So, thank you for being my Batman, my mentor, and my partner. Most of all, thank you for opening your arms and welcoming me as part of your family. I can honestly say, I would not be here today if not for you.” Grayson started crying somewhere early in the speech and has not stopped.

Damian looks at everyone in the room, “I appreciate and care for all of you and I only pray that all of you can continue let me be by your sides for as long as I can.” Most eyes were wet, causing Damian to feel uncomfortable and wanting to fidget, but his hands were still till Brown and Ducard pulls him into another hug, then Kent, Pennyworth, and Gordon.

Lastly Grayson pulls Damian into a hug so hard the younger falls and his partner shove his head into the Damian’s neck and Damian feels tears against his neck, “That was so beautiful, Dami, you always make me happy. You are the best, Dami.”

Damian wraps his arms around Grayson tightly, slightly burying his face, “We are the best, Richard.”

“Hey, we can’t help being great.”

[vitaevandal]

Brave New World

Category: Fan Fiction Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric/OFC Rating: PG-13 (language), eventually M Genres: Drama, romance, humor, angst, slow burn, some fluff Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

A/N: This is based on a request from and discussions with @frecklefaceb and @clublulu333. It was requested as a one-shot but I had an idea that a one-shot wouldn’t do justice, so this is shaping up to be a longer fic. Here goes.

Summary: When disaster strikes the City and leaves it in ruins, Eric, one of the few survivors, must evacuate Dauntless. He finds himself in the unknown world beyond the wall, which seems to have suffered the same fate. unsure of what has become of the City he called home. Everything Eric knows has been stripped away, and he is forced to forge surprising new relationships. Will Eric ever make it back home to Dauntless? Is there even a home to go back to?

Chapter 1 - Good Morning Sunshine

It had been two days, and Eric still wasn’t accustomed to being woken by harsh sunlight bleeding through his eyelids. He’d tried closing the blinds to darken the room, but he discovered that leaving the windows open to let in a breeze was the only way to alleviate the infernal morning heat. Beads of sweat had already formed on his face, as the temperature was drastically lower at night, requiring a layer of blankets that ended up suffocating him as the sun rose and began roasting him in the bedroom like a turkey in an oven. Not that he’d ever seen a turkey in person, Dauntless wasn’t exactly overrun by wildlife, but he’d learned about the absurd custom of Thanksgiving during his days in Erudite and seen enough pictures of the deformed birds to wonder why anyone would want to eat something that looked like it had a ballsack hanging off of its face. For the first time he realized how much he’d taken the climate-controlled caverns of Dauntless for granted.

But at least the walls of the still unfamiliar home provided some shade and insulation. When he first stepped out of the pod, he felt nearly blinded by what seemed like death rays from the sky. Following immediately was the dry, sweltering heat that literally took his breath away. Disorientation had taken hold of him as he had cracked his eyes open to slits, slowly adjusting to the brightness. The vast expanse of hard-packed, cracked earth and sparse dottings of queer plant life told him he had landed somewhere out west, according to his geography lessons. Everything looked...dead. As dead as he knew almost every living thing in his former home most likely was.

He turned slowly and was surprised to find himself facing a small collection of five closely set houses, all bland and identical save for their color. A subdivision, he believed this was called, though why anyone would choose this fucking wasteland as home baffled him. Every single one of them looked deserted, windows dark, vehicles absent from driveways, not a soul in sight. He supposed they could be holed up inside, but he thought it more likely that the occupants had had enough warning of the impending disaster to pack up their necessities and attempt to flee to safety. He wished Dauntless had had that much of a warning, though he wasn’t sure even that would’ve changed the outcome.

***

The blaring of the alarm was almost, but not quite, enough to drown out the panicked screams throughout the compound. He heard the distant thumps and crashes of various structures crumbling in the distance, getting closer by the second as he stood in the control room. The outer walls and ceilings, closest to the surface, were the first to go; everything else was falling like dominos in their wake. He was trying to assess the magnitude of the situation through the camera feeds, but they disappeared almost before he could catch a glimpse as they too fell victim to the destruction. Though he didn’t need to see to know it was pure chaos.

Of course there were disaster plans in place, but they encompassed things like earthquakes and attacks from the factionless; nothing like what was happening now. As drills had taught them, people scrambled to get inside doorways and to the armory, where the construction was more fortified, but even those were collapsing under the force of this unknown attack. Those that kept their cool and followed the action plan were ironically the first to go, having gathered in clusters to the supposedly more stable areas and subsequently buried en masse. Eric watched the rest of his faction scurry around in mindless terror like headless chickens, many of them flocking to the Pit seeking safety in numbers, and he had time to think, “So much for being brave and prepared.” He sneered in disgust, thinking that if these people were what his beloved faction were made up of, perhaps they deserved to die. He thought he chose only the best of the best for Dauntless, but clearly when the going really got tough, very few measured up.

Eric had the invaluable talent of keeping his cool in even the most calamitous of situations, an essential quality to being an effective Leader, so while he certainly didn’t lack the courage to run headlong into the melee and attempt to rescue his moronic faction members, logic always prevailed for him, and not only were there protocols in place he was trained to follow, he recognized immediately that any rescue attempts were futile. He had to put the faction at large first even if it cost lives. The sacrifice of the few for the survival of the many, unfortunately.

And so, the faction leaders and their lieutenants were the priority. If the City were to fall, the most qualified should be the ones to survive in order to rebuild. Therefore, these chosen few were the only ones aware of the outside world beyond the City walls, and provided the means to escape to it in the event of the annihilation of the City. He fled to the appointed evacuation point, knowing that despite its reinforcements even that would only hold for minutes, and stepped into his assigned pod. He didn’t know the science behind it, that was Erudite’s department - was it some kind of teleportation device, or form of air travel? - but he didn’t have time to question whether he would survive the journey. Nor would he have any way of knowing if the other faction leaders had escaped. There was no deliberation really - to remain here was certain death.

The moment he stepped inside, the steel door shut forcefully behind him. A female robotic voice intoned, “Evacuation initiated,” he felt a gentle lurch as the pod ascended through the pneumatic chamber, and the last Eric knew was total darkness.

***

Eric climbed out of bed and donned the same clothes he’d been wearing since his arrival in this hellhole: fitted black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. His nose immediately wrinkled at the distinct odor emanating from his unwashed clothes and sweat-grimed body, but thus far he had come across no clothes in the closets that would fit his large frame, so he was stuck with what he had. He trudged wearily downstairs, his desire for coffee so strong it was practically an ache, and began to consider his plan of action for the day.

He had spent the first day scouring the houses for any necessary supplies he could immediately think of: food, clothing, weapons, and, since he had quickly ascertained that the electricity and plumbing were no longer functioning, bottled water and batteries. He collected his findings in the center house he had chosen at random to take up residence in, knowing he would think of more potentially useful items but would make a list later; for the time being he was still slightly overwhelmed by shock. Today he thought he might try the remaining vehicles in the garages to see if any of them were running, hoping to further explore the surrounding terrain. But what if he couldn’t find the keys? Could he hotwire a car? The garage doors operated on electricity; could he figure out how to open them manually? There had always been generators in Dauntless. Eric was an intelligent guy, but it’s not like they taught Survival Skills for the Apocalypse in school. He took a deep breath and said to himself, “One step at a time.”

Eric jumped as he suddenly heard the sound of rustling coming from what he thought was the kitchen. He pulled his gun from his holster and descended the stairs carefully; bursting into the kitchen, he drew his gun, and yelled, “Don’t move!”

The sight of the girl standing in front of the open cabinet actually at first almost made him laugh. She wore an oversized, obnoxiously flowery sundress, floppy straw hat, and yellow galoshes, and a white stripe ran down the length of her nose. She looked like a drunken Amity refugee. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

For a moment she continued to rummage through the cabinet’s contents, seemingly unconcerned with the gun pointed at her head. Then she turned to face Eric and briefly eyed him up and down, taking in his attire and piercings. She snorted and said, “The end of the world hits and you decided to raid Hot Topic? Great, I’m sure you’ll be loads of help.”

Eric strode forward and grabbed her by the arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She had resumed her inventory of the cabinets, replying, “I’m checking the empty houses for supplies, what does it look like I’m doing?”

His mouth had fallen slightly open at her brazenness. “Well obviously this house isn’t fucking empty, so stop going through my shit!”

She turned to him again, hands on her hips, and retorted, “Technically this isn’t your shit, it belonged to the person that used to live here, so as far as I’m concerned it’s fair game.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he snarled. “More like every man for himself. I don’t care where you go, just get the fuck out of this house.”

She sighed, wriggling out of his grasp. “I don’t know how long you’ve been around here, but I’ve been out here for almost a week, and near as I can tell, we’re the only two living people for miles. Hell, we’re the last two living people on the planet for all I know. So either we work together, or we die.”

She grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically. “I’m Madeline, but I go by Maddy. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She smiled brightly. “I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends!”

Eric groaned and began to wonder if he wouldn’t be better off dead after all.

[shortiegardengnome]

Bus Station Tweet -  AmazingPhil Fic.

Quick Fic based around this Tweet from Phil Lester..

it was bloody cold today, I couldn’t even begin to believe how cold it was. I sat shivering on a seat undercover waiting for the rain to stop pouring down. Stupidly enough I decided this morning that I didn’t really need a jacket today; I was seriously regretting that decision now and I tried in vein to bring warmth to me body by rubbing my hands up and down my arms. Today hadn’t really been my day so far. I was late to a work meeting, grabbing the bare essentials on my way out of my apartment, hence my state of freezing, nearly run over by a car when I was crossing the road and some moron thought he had the right of way at a crossing, and now I was stuck in the middle of the city waiting out this rain. Knowing London weather I was sure to be here a while.

 I crossed my legs wishing I had thought to wear jeans today instead of a sensible dress, at least then my legs could be covered, or even better I could curl up in a ball. Heels haven’t been the best choice either if I was being a 100 percent honest, though there’s not much I could do now. This morning I could’ve; but my brain convinced me that today of all days I had to try and look professional for the meeting. See, usually I could wear whatever I wanted. I was a lecturer at the university in London, English being my forte. With students who really didn’t give two cents what I was wearing I could show up in pyjamas if I so pleased. I didn’t of course, but the option was still there. Today however, I didn’t have any lectures, they were stopped for the students to have sometime to study for the upcoming exams, a kindness I wish that I had experienced in my school years. In place of my usual lectures the Dean of the university had called for a large faculty meeting and since she was basically my boss I felt I should’ve dressed to impress. The meeting went well I have to admit, despite my tardiness I still managed to be eloquent and present. Too bad my personality would’ve only allowed that for only so long. As I was leaving the meeting I tripped on some stray projector cords and fell into a colleague which created a domino effect resulting in a gigantic pile of groaning people on the floor. What was worse is that everybody knew that I was the source. Damn my luck!

 I managed to make it out of the building without any more accidents, though there was a close call on the marble staircase. Only to come out to the sky being a dark grey, not the world’s greatest outlook for the weather. Still I soldiered on, my only thoughts were to get the heel out of that building before I made an even bigger idiot of myself. It was my concentrating on getting the hell away from there without twisting my ankle in these shoes that I managed to get lost in the city live only lived in for I don’t know…. TWO YEARS! Clearly I wasn’t destined to get a degree in geography and a strong sense of direction.

 I was pulled out of my wallowing in the disaster that was today by hurried footsteps heading my way. A figure quickly huddled into the shelter with me and sat down on the other side of the bench. The first thing I noticed about them was that they were dressed in a coat that was decorated with images of space. A pale hand emerged from the pocket of the coat and pushed back the hood to reveal an absolutely stunning man resided beneath the space coat. He had black hair swept to the side of his face, really pronounced cheek bones that gave him a slightly aristocratic look and beautiful blue, green eyes that just happened to be staring back at me. I jolted in my spot and hurriedly looked away. What was I? A fourteen-year-old girl who is caught staring at a boy she thinks is cute? I’m 27 for crying out loud. A blush swept through my cheeks anyway, what must he think of me? A woman with tangled blonde hair and tired green eyes with bags underneath, wet and shivering. I must look like a mess, and yet I had the gall to stare at him like some love struck teenager.

 I looked out of the corner of my eyes to see if he had left in light of my improper staring to find myself enraptured by him stretching out on the bench. He arched his back and stretched his arms above his head, his shirt and jacket riding up slightly to show off his stomach. And with that movement his legs extended out from their position beneath the bench to push out in front of him. Dear lord, he had legs going on for days. My breath stuttered in my throat and I ducked my head to stare at my own tiny legs. That was why I wore heels today, usually I barely reach 5ft 3. I felt self-conscious about being so tiny sometimes, and being completely honest with myself sitting here next to a giant of a man may not be helping the situation.

 I shifted uncomfortably and attempted to tuck myself further into the seat to escape the cold. Whilst watching the stranger did do wonders to distract my brain, it did little to ease to chill I felt seeping into my skin. It was at the point where I could feel my fingers and toes going numb. Good lord let this rain ease up soon. Giving up on any sense of propriety I curled up my legs onto the seat and tucked my feet beneath me, which made my state of near-freezing-to-death slightly better, though my companion was not faring as well; as when I was pulling my legs up onto the seat he was taking a long drink out of a bottle of Lucozade that he’d started drinking when I wasn’t paying attention, and he must have gotten an accidental eyeful as he started choking around the same time as I got comfortable.

 Swearing internally at my lack of consideration, I quickly slid over to his side and awkwardly began patting his back as he leaned over trying to gasp at any air he could.  I leaned down beside him and tried to get a good look at his face to see if he was turning purple.

 “Are you okay?” I asked quietly by his ear and he nodded before proceeding to start coughing up his lungs. “Are you sure?” I asked again continuing to rub his back “You don’t sound okay.” He didn’t answer, too busy coughing I suspect.

 We stayed like that a little longer me rubbing his back and him coughing, until he caught his breath. I leaned back to give him some room to sit up straight, keeping my hands up, palms facing him; either to show I didn’t mean him any harm with the awkward touching earlier or in case I needed to go back to helping him I wasn’t sure. He sat up slowly as if he was waiting for another coughing fit to return, he gave two more weak coughs which sound more like he was clearing his throat and wiped the water that had gathered around his eyes. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a tissue out of my purse and handed it to him, “Here.” I said gently and proffered the tissue.

 He took it gratefully and wiped away the tears in his eyes, that was when I noticed a barely visible line surrounding his iris. “You were contacts,” I said out loud without really thinking.  And as a result the what third blush of the day? Decided to grace my face. I truly am an idiot. I should never go out into public again and save the world a whole lot of trouble. Of course I couldn’t earn my way as I need to actually go to lectures to teach them, but one problem at a time.

 “Thanks,” the stranger turning back towards me once again jolted me out of my thoughts.

 “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s least that I can do since I’m the reason you’re in that state in the first place.” I smiled, trying not to let my embarrassment shine through, praying a collective prayer that he didn’t notice my slip up earlier.

 “No! No! No!” he waved his hands frantically, as afraid I may attack him –which was probably a real fear by now if we’re being completely honest, I did just rub the back of a total stranger-.  “That’s not why I was choking, the drink just-.“

 Crap. He thought that I was accusing him of being a pervert. “No! No! No!” Apparently I’m copying the man now. Great job.  “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, I promise!” my bag slipped to the ground and the contents spilled to the ground quite elegantly. I bent to the ground to retrieve my belongings and bashed my head into old blue eyes beside me, who had also bent down to retrieve my bag for me. Lord that hurt. I persevered despite the pain in my head and picked up everything off the ground and stuffed it back into my purse. I sat up to find the stranger mimicking me in rubbing his head.

 Now I’m not sure of the reason weather it was just too much bad things had happened today, or just the sheer awkwardness of the situation but I took one look at his face and broke out into hysterical giggles. Which he joined at some point during my mental breakdown. “We’re ridiculous,” I managed to gasp out at some point. He managed to nod along to my claim, we settled down eventually to the point where we were wheezing, our bodies still shaking with quiet laughter. We clamed down to the point where we were grinning stupidly at each other when the stranger gave himself a name.

 “I’m Phil.” He smiled at me and I like how it made me feel.

 “I’m Y/N” I smiled back at him and scooted closer to him, maybe trying to steal a little of his warmth as I was still freezing, but if it comes off as flirting all the more for me.

 It seems Phil only noticed my state at this moment as he suddenly really looked at me, as if taking in my outfit. “How on Earth are you not the colour of a Smurf?” His voice reached a higher pitch in worry, before he went to shrug off his jacket.

 “You really don’t have to do that,” I tried to dissuade him from making himself cold on my behalf, but it was undermined by a gigantic shiver wracking my body. Phil gave me a look that said, don’t even try playing the hero and draped his jacket over my shoulders. I felt a wave of warmth just seeping into my shoulders and some of the pressure that had built up in my shoulder eased. My teeth which I hadn’t noticed were chattering had stopped their moving. I sighed happily and smiled gratefully at Phil, and he responded by throwing his arm over my shoulder and tucking me into his side. “Thanks.” I said breathlessly and snuggled a little closer into his side.

 There we sat through the rest of the rain, spending the time snuggling up and learning all we could about each other. We were so immersed in each other that we barely noticed when the rain stopped. I left the seat eventually, having to actually get food and Phil had a meeting himself to get to, but we each walked away with the other’s number and a promise to meet up again sometime.

[rathertoofondofbooks]

Stacking the Shelves is a weekly meme hosted by Tynga’s Reviews, which is all about sharing the books that you’ve acquired in the past week!

  Today on my blog I’m stacking the shelves with all the books I’ve acquired since Christmas so this my three-week book haul and most of these books were included in my TBR update in my last weekly wrap-up so my TBR hasn’t got out of control!

  Here are the books that I’ve bought since the end of 2017:

The Standing Chandelier by Lionel Shriver

I’m a big fan of Lionel Shriver so when I spotted this novella on Amazon at the start of the month I couldn’t resist downloading it. I’m hoping to make time to read this soon, and with it being short it should be fairly easy to squeeze in between other books.

Synopsis:

When Weston Babansky receives an extravagant engagement present from his best friend (and old flame) Jillian Frisk, he doesn’t quite know what to make of it – or how to get it past his fiancée. Especially as it’s a massive, handmade, intensely personal sculpture that they’d have to live with forever.

As the argument rages about whether Jillian’s gift was an act of pure platonic generosity or something more insidious, battle lines are drawn…

Can men and women ever be friends? Just friends?

The Kill (Maeve Kerrigan 5) by Jane Casey

I already have the first four books in this series on my TBR and it was in my plan to start reading the series this year so when the other books in the series went on offer earlier this month I couldn’t resist snapping them up.

Synopsis:

When a police officer is found shot dead in his car, DC Maeve Kerrigan and DI Josh Derwent take on the investigation. But nothing about the case prepares them for what happens next: a second policeman dies . . . and then another . . .

The Metropolitan Police struggle to carry out their usual duties, but no one knows where or how this cop killer will strike again. While London disintegrates into lawlessness Maeve’s world starts to fall apart too. For if the police can’t keep themselves safe, how can they protect anyone else?

After the Fire (Maeve Kerrigan 6) by Jane Casey

Synopsis:

After a fire rips through a North London tower block, two bodies are found locked in an 11th floor flat. But is the third victim that ensures the presence of detective Maeve Kerrigan and the murder squad. It appears that controversial MP Geoff Armstrong, trapped by the fire, chose to jump to his death rather than wait for rescue. But what was such a right wing politician doing in the deprived, culturally diverse Maudling Estate?

As Maeve and her senior colleague, Derwent, pick through the wreckage, they uncover the secret world of the 11th floor, where everyone seems to have something to hide…

The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

I’ve seen lots of good reviews of this book on blogs that I enjoy so I couldn’t resist buying a copy. It does sound like such a compulsive read and I hope to get to it soon.

Synopsis:

When you read this book, you will make many assumptions. You will assume you are reading about a jealous wife and her obsession with her replacement. You will assume you are reading about a woman about to enter a new marriage with the man she loves. You will assume the first wife was a disaster and that the husband was well rid of her. You will assume you know the motives, the history, the anatomy of the relationships. Assume nothing.

  Here are the books that I’ve received for review since the end of 2017:

  Our House by Louise Candlish

I was super excited to receive a surprise copy of this book in the post just before Christmas as I’m a huge Louise Candlish fan! It’s a lovely proof and I’m really looking forward to reading this.

Synopsis:

When Fiona Lawson comes home to find strangers moving into her house, she’s sure there’s been a mistake. She and her estranged husband, Bram, have a modern co-parenting arrangement: bird’s nest custody, where each parent spends a few nights a week with their two sons at the prized family home to maintain stability for their children. But the system built to protect their family ends up putting them in terrible jeopardy. In a domino effect of crimes and misdemeanors, the nest comes tumbling down.

Now Bram has disappeared and so have Fiona’s children. As events spiral well beyond her control, Fiona will discover just how many lies her husband was weaving and how little they truly knew each other. But Bram’s not the only one with things to hide, and some secrets are best kept to oneself, safe as houses.

Trying by Emily Phillips

I requested this book on bookbridgr quite a while ago but had forgotten about it so it was a lovely suprise when this gorgeous finished copy arrived in the post over Christmas. I’m planning to read this book soon and will be reviewing it on my blog.

Synopsis:

A hugely funny, searingly honest comedy about to expect when you’re not expecting.

Olivia and Felix are trying for a baby. They even moved to the suburbs in anticipation of their future family. But despite approaching her cycle and their sex life with military precision, there’s still no sign of what felt like the sure next step, whilst friends’ broods seem to be growing by the week. Meanwhile, vying for a promotion at work under the (very attentive) watch of a new boss sends Olivia down a dangerous road of risking it all. Does a happy ever after, she starts to question, even have to include a baby?

The Old You by Louise Voss

This book was a lovely, and very kind, gift from the publisher and I was grateful beyond words as I love Louise Voss’ writing. I bought her first book, To Be Someone, when it was originally published and it remains one of my favourite books. I’ve been a fan ever since do I’m excited to read this one!

Synopsis:

Lynn Naismith gave up the job she loved when she married Ed, the love of her life, but it was worth it for the happy years they enjoyed together. Now, ten years on, Ed has been diagnosed with early-onset dementia, and things start to happen; things more sinister than missing keys and lost words. As some memories are forgotten, others, long buried, begin to surface… and Lynn’s perfect world begins to crumble. But is it Ed s mind playing tricks, or hers…?

Fault Lines by Doug Johnstone

This was lovely book post from Orenda books and I’m very much looking forward to reading this. I’ve enjoyed other books by the author and this one sounds like it could be his best yet!

Synopsis:

In a reimagined contemporary Edinburgh, in which a tectonic fault has opened up to produce a new volcano in the Firth of Forth, and where tremors are an everyday occurrence, volcanologist Surtsey makes a shocking discovery. On a clandestine trip to The Inch – the new volcanic island – to meet Tom, her lover and her boss, she finds his lifeless body. Surtsey’s life quickly spirals into a nightmare when someone makes contact – someone who claims to know what she’s done…

The Lido by Libby Page

This gorgeous book sounds amazing and I’m thrilled to have received a copy in the post last week. 

Synopsis:

Kate is a twenty-six-year-old riddled with anxiety and panic attacks who works for a local paper in Brixton, London, covering forgettably small stories. When she’s assigned to write about the closing of the local lido (an outdoor pool and recreation center), she meets Rosemary, an eighty-six-year-old widow who has swum at the lido daily since it opened its doors when she was a child. It was here Rosemary fell in love with her husband, George; here that she’s found communion during her marriage and since George’s death. The lido has been a cornerstone in nearly every part of Rosemary’s life.

But when a local developer attempts to buy the lido for a posh new apartment complex, Rosemary’s fond memories and sense of community are under threat.

As Kate dives deeper into the lido’s history—with the help of a charming photographer—she pieces together a portrait of the pool, and a portrait of a singular woman, Rosemary. What begins as a simple local interest story for Kate soon blossoms into a beautiful friendship that provides sustenance to both women as they galvanize the community to fight the lido’s closure. Meanwhile, Rosemary slowly, finally, begins to open up to Kate, transforming them both in ways they never knew possible.

The Cactus by Sarah Haywood

This book is so beautiful, my photo in no way does it any justice, and I was very happy to receive a surprise copy in the post last week. It sounds like it’s going to be right up my street and I’m looking forward to curling up one afternoon soon and devouring it!

Synopsis:

People aren’t sure what to make of Susan Green – a prickly independent woman, who has everything just the way she wants it and who certainly has no need for messy emotional relationships.

Family and colleagues find her stand-offish and hard to understand, but Susan makes perfect sense to herself, and that’s all she needs. At forty-five, she thinks her life is perfect, as long as she avoids her feckless brother, Edward – a safe distance away in Birmingham. She has a London flat which is ideal for one; a job that suits her passion for logic; and a personal arrangement providing cultural and other, more intimate, benefits. Yet suddenly faced with the loss of her mother and, implausibly, with the possibility of becoming a mother herself, Susan’s greatest fear is being realised: she is losing control. When she discovers that her mother’s will inexplicably favours her brother, Susan sets out to prove that Edward and his equally feckless friend Rob somehow coerced this dubious outcome. But when problems closer to home become increasingly hard to ignore, she finds help in the most unlikely of places.

The Word For Woman is Wilderness by Abi Andrews

This book was such a surprise when it arrived and I can’t even put into words how excited I was when I opened it. I’d already put this book on my wish list as it sounds amazing and I’m really looking forward to reading this.

Synopsis:

Erin is 19. She’s never really left England, but she has watched Bear Grylls and wonders why it’s always men who get to go on all the cool wilderness adventures. So Erin sets off on a voyage into the Alaskan wilderness, a one-woman challenge to the archetype of the rugged male explorer.

As Erin’s journey takes her through the Arctic Circle, across the entire breadth of the American continent and finally to a lonely cabin in the wilds of Denali, she explores subjects as diverse as the moon landings, the Gaia hypothesis, loneliness, nuclear war, shamanism and the pill.

Forgiveness is Really Strange by Masi Noor and Marina Cantacuzino

I’ve had this book on my wish list for ages but it was always unavailable for purchase so when I spotted it on NetGalley recently I immediately requested it. I’ve already read this one and it was a really powerful graphic non-fiction book. I’ll be reviewing this one soon but in the meantime I definitely recommend this.

Synopsis:

What is forgiveness? What enables people to forgive? Why do we even choose to forgive those who have harmed us? What can the latest psychological research tell us about the nature of forgiveness, its benefits and risks?

This imaginative comic explores the key aspects of forgiveness, asking what it means to forgive and to be forgiven. Witty and intelligent, it answers questions about the health benefits and restorative potential of forgiveness and explains, in easy-to-understand terms, what happens in our brains, bodies and communities when we choose to forgive.

Whistle in the Dark by Emma Healey

I enjoyed Elizabeth is Missing by this author and so when I saw she had a new book coming out I couldn’t resist requesting it on NetGalley. I was really happy to get approved for it and am looking forward to reading it a little bit nearer publication date.

Synopsis:

Jen’s fifteen-year-old daughter goes missing for four agonizing days.

When Lana is found, unharmed, in the middle of the desolate countryside, everyone thinks the worst is over. But Lana refuses to tell anyone what happened, and police draw a blank. The once-happy, loving family return to London where things start to fall apart. Lana begins acting strangely: making secretive phone calls, hiding books under her bed, sleeping with the light on.

As Lana stays stubbornly silent, Jen sets out to solve the mystery behind her daughter’s disappearance herself…

The Fear by C. L. Taylor

I’m a massive fan of C.L. Taylor so there was no way I could resist requesting this book! It sounds like such a great premise so I don’t think it’ll be long before I read this one.

Synopsis:

When Lou Wandsworth ran away to France with her teacher Mike Hughes, she thought he was the love of her life. But Mike wasn’t what he seemed and he left her life in pieces.

Now 32, Lou discovers that he is involved with teenager Chloe Meadows. Determined to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself, she returns home to confront him for the damage he’s caused.

But Mike is a predator of the worst kind, and as Lou tries to bring him to justice, it’s clear that she could once again become his prey…

The Neighbors by Hannah McKinnon

The lovely author contacted me to ask if I’d like to review this book and as the synopsis sounded so good I immediately said yes please. The book’s due out in March so I’m going to wait a little while longer before I start this one but I am really looking forward to it.

Synopsis:

After a night of fun, Abby was responsible for the car crash that killed her beloved brother. It is a sin she can never forgive herself for, so she pushes away the man she loves most, knowing that he would eventually hate her for what she’s done, the same way she hates herself.

Twenty years later, Abby’s husband, Nate, is also living with a deep sense of guilt. He was the driver who first came upon the scene of Abby’s accident, the man who pulled her to safety before the car erupted in flames, the man who could not save her brother in time. It’s this guilt, this regret that binds them together. They understand each other. Or so Nate believes.

In a strange twist of fate, Liam (her old lover—possibly her true soulmate) moves in with his own family next door, releasing a flood of memories that Abby has been trying to keep buried all these years. Abby and Liam, in a complicit agreement, pretend never to have met, yet cannot resist the pull of the past—nor the repercussions of the dark secrets they’ve both been carrying…

The Reunion by Samantha Hayes

I’ve really enjoyed previous novels by this author so I immediately went and downloaded it as soon as Bookouture tweeted that it was available. I’m certain that this won’t be on my TBR pile for very long!

Synopsis:

Then–In charge of her little sister at the beach, Claire allowed Eleanor to walk to the shop alone to buy an ice cream. Placing a coin into her hand, Claire told her to be quick, knowing how much she wanted the freedom. Eleanor never came back.

Now–The time has finally come to sell the family farm and Claire is organising a reunion of her dearest friends, the same friends who were present the day her sister went missing.

When another girl disappears, long-buried secrets begin to surface. One of the group hides the darkest secret of them all…

The Woman in the Window by A. J. Finn

I’ve been so keen to get my hands on a copy of this book and yet somehow missed that I’m auto-approved for the publisher on NetGalley and could have downloaded a copy ages ago! Ah well, I’m glad I’ve now spotted it and am going to be reading this very, very soon!

Synopsis:

What did she see?

It’s been ten long months since Anna Fox last left her home. Ten months during which she has haunted the rooms of her old New York house like a ghost, lost in her memories, too terrified to step outside.

Anna’s lifeline to the real world is her window, where she sits day after day, watching her neighbours. When the Russells move in, Anna is instantly drawn to them. A picture-perfect family of three, they are an echo of the life that was once hers.

But one evening, a frenzied scream rips across the silence, and Anna witnesses something no one was supposed to see. Now she must do everything she can to uncover the truth about what really happened. But even if she does, will anyone believe her? And can she even trust herself?

  And right before Christmas I won this fabulous signed book from The Pool:

Still Me by Jojo Moyes

Synopsis:

Louisa Clark arrives in New York ready to start a new life, confident that she can embrace this new adventure and keep her relationship with Ambulance Sam alive across several thousand miles. She is thrown into the world of the superrich Gopniks: Leonard and his much younger second wife, Agnes, and a never-ending array of household staff and hangers-on. Lou is determined to get the most out of the experience and throws herself into her job and New York life within this privileged world.

Before she knows what’s happening, Lou is mixing in New York high society, where she meets Joshua Ryan, a man who brings with him a whisper of her past. In Still Me, as Lou tries to keep the two sides of her world together, she finds herself carrying secrets–not all her own–that cause a catastrophic change in her circumstances. And when matters come to a head, she has to ask herself Who is Louisa Clark? And how do you reconcile a heart that lives in two places?

    So, that’s all of my new books from the past month (aside from my Christmas book haul, which you can find here if you’d like to see it). Have you bought any new books recently? Tell me all in the comments below, or if you have a stacking the shelves post on your blog feel free to post the link below too.

My weekly wrap up post will be on my blog tomorrow so please look out for that.

My latest #bookhaul… Stacking the Shelves (20 Jan)! Stacking the Shelves is a weekly meme hosted by Tynga’s Reviews, which is all about sharing the books that you’ve acquired in the past week!