#& yet i can hear it going ninety downstairs.

[iam93percentstardust]

Electric Touch

I finally wrote something for @lightsonparkave! Written for this prompt, you can find this fic on ao3 here (and a brief preview below)

~

Breakups are hard enough on their own, but they’re even worse when your best friend won’t let you cope in your preferred way.

“Bucky, I don’t want a vacation,” Steve says, trying to sound patient and not like he’s growling.

Bucky nods like he understands, which he clearly doesn’t or they wouldn’t still be having this conversation two months after he first brought it up. “I know you keep saying that, and I hear ya, I really do. But I think you’re not hearing me, pal. I’m not saying you want a vacation, I’m saying you need one.”

Steve loses the battle with his growl. “Bucky—”

“Steve. Listen to me. When’s the last time you went out on a Friday night? Forget going to the bar or anywhere you might meet someone—when’s the last time you went to the movies? Or out to Coney Island? For that matter, when’s the last time you left this office? I know you’ve got a bed in that private office back there, and Natasha tells me you’re still here when she leaves every night and here when she gets here in the morning. Steve, she’s one of the first people in the office, so what are you doing getting here so early? Are you sleeping in there? That’s it exactly, isn’t it? You’re sleeping inside your office, and that’s just another whole level of sad.”

“I’m not sleeping in my office,” Steve snarls, but he is and Bucky absolutely knows it going by his judgmental scowl.

“Really? So if I went downstairs and pulled the security logs…”

“Fine! So I’m sleeping here. Who cares?”

“I care, Steve. It’s been six months since Peggy left, and you’re a fucking wreck!”

“Star Designs has had its most successful quarter since—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the company. I care about you. You might have the board fooled with your expensive suits and fancy hair, but I see right past that to the kid from Brooklyn, and I’m telling you, you’re floundering. What’s going on?”

“What do you think?” Steve snaps, dropping heavily into the ergonomic chair behind his desk. He doesn’t drop his head into his hands but that’s only because that seems a little too melodramatic. He’s the CEO and founder of the biggest advertisement and marketing company in the country. He is not a high schooler experiencing their first breakup on prom night.

“She hasn’t been by to pick her stuff up yet,” he says quieter. And I can’t bear to go back home and see her sheet music and clothes and programs from her concerts, he doesn’t add.

Bucky blinks at him. “So?”

“What do you mean so?”

“So text her, tell her she’s got another week to pick up her shit, and then hire a moving company, but stop letting her push you out of your own goddamn apartment.”

“I can’t do that! Most of those are from her shows. They mean something to her.”

“Well, they can’t mean that much if she’s left them there for the last six months,” Bucky points out reasonably. But the idea of just throwing them out makes him want to shudder. His dad used to throw his mom’s things out every time she did something he didn’t like. Eventually she stopped doing them, but by that point, she wasn’t really Steve’s mom anymore, just an empty husk.

Maybe Bucky remembers that because his face softens just a touch. “Look, take the week off. Take the vacation that Natasha booked for you. I’ll handle getting Peggy’s things out of the apartment, and when you come back, promise me you’ll stop sleeping in your office. You’re thirty-two years old Steve. Stop acting like you’re ninety.”

Steve sighs. He still doesn’t want to, but maybe Bucky is right. Maybe he’s been pushing everyone—and himself especially—too hard so that he doesn’t have to think about Peggy. It’s been hard enough trying to get used to sleeping alone again, but maybe he should stop trying in his cold office and get used to the warm sunlight on his face waking him up in the morning in his east-facing apartment instead of his alarm in his windowless private office.

“Fine,” he agrees.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaims, pumping his fist in the air. He’s not even a little bit subtle about it, and Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.

“But only for a week,” Steve adds.

[t-horn-n]

— wake up call

PAIRING: kaz brekker x reader (female)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

SUMMARY: you’re not a morning person.  who can blame you?

Another morning, another hour, another day for money to be made.  The sun had not yet completed its daily trek up the horizon, only the first sleek strands of its golden rays peeked between Ketterdam’s everlasting blanket of grey smog.  

Kaz and his murder crowded his desk.  Dirtyhands was as alert and observant as always, despite the early hour; Jesper was only awake for the addictive prospect of battle during the job they were going over at that very moment; the Wraith kept her quiet, mellow presence quiet on Kaz’s windowsill; Wylan was shifting between yawning and fiddling with some metallic object that strongly resembled a bomb; Nina was munching on waffles--a gift from Inej who had the foresight to bring them; and Matthias, being the soldier he was, was standing at attention behind Nina’s chair.  That left you, who, despite living in Ketterdam your whole life, philosophized that if you did not have to get up you would not.  

Both of Kaz’s hands rested atop his golden crow’s head.  He was impatient to start the pre-mission briefing but it was inevitably stalled by your absence.  He sighed, pressing gloved fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “Someone go wake Y/N.” 

Before Kaz could utter ‘go,’ Nina was already out the door and half way down the stairs with Matthias in tow.  “Matthias, I saw more waffles downstairs, didn’t you?”  

“No, I do-”  

Inej had vanished from her perch before Kaz could even look at her and Kaz knew that Wylan would be too timid to do anything more than poke you once.  

“Go on Jesper,” Jesper nearly shivered as Kaz’s black coffee eyes landed on him.  He only got half way out of his chair.  

“I did it last time,” he protested.  

“Jesper.” 

“Fine!”  He threw his hands up.  “You all owe me,” he grumbled.  Despite his complaining, Jesper skipped down the stairs to the third floor and barged into your room with no abandon.  It could only have been ninety seconds before he came running back into Kaz’s office with his tail between his legs.  

“Kaz, you have to save me!” 

The aforementioned man glanced up from the papers he was sifting through for only a moment.  “I don’t see Y/N.”  

“She’s going to kill me!” 

“I’m going to kill you unless you get her up.” 

“That’s better than what she has planned for me!  You didn’t hear what she said!” 

“What did she say?”

“It’s too terrifying to repeat,” Jesper said solemnly.  

Kaz thought it was too early to be getting a headache.

He pressed the papers into a neat pile that lined up with the right angle of his makeshift desk.  He limped down the stairs as his cane punctuated each of his crooked steps.  Kaz’s frame blocked out the light from the hallway as he stood in the doorway but you had heard him long before that.  

Unlike Inej, your room had no windows and only thin slivers of light pricked in the boards of the run-down walls.  Until Jesper had thrown open the door, you were bathed in glorious darkness.  You were on your stomach, your blanket had been wound multiple times in your legs and half of your pillow hung off of the cot.  

“Y/N.” 

He received no reply nor did he expect to.  “Get up, time for the briefing,” he said, jabbing your ankle with his cane, although some selfish part of him wanted to keep watching you, disheveled and peaceful.  

“I already know what happens: we go somewhere, Inej climbs a wall, Jesper shoots, Wylan explodes, you do whatever you do.  You know, the usual,” your voice was thick with sleep.  

“Get up.” 

You rolled over.  The floorboards creaked in protest.  With your eyes still closed, you threw Kaz a lazy smile.  To his slight horror, the corners of Kaz’s mouth quirked up.  “Don’t be so grouchy.  I would say you could join me but you’d take up all the room,” you teased.  

“Inej got Nina waffles.” 

“Really now?”  One eye peeked open.  “Are there any left?”  

“You’d have to get up to find out.” 

“That’s cruel, Brekker,” the floorboards groaned once more when you rolled off your cot.  Your fingers caught in the knots in your hair.  

Nina, Matthias, and Inej had been returned to their previous posts in Kaz’s office by the time you had hauled your tired butt up there.  There were no more waffles, much to your bitter dismay.  Kaz pretended he didn’t see your glare.  

And by the fifth time Kaz was interrupted by a record setting yawn, he pushed the cup of coffee Rotty had brought him towards you.  You had taken it happily but nearly spit it back out when you took a sip.  “Of course it’s black.”  You sniffed the cup.  “And dark roast.” 

“Drink it anyways, we don’t need you falling asleep on your feet.” 

“I’ve done that before,” you said and took a sip anyway.  

You had only gotten forty-five minutes of a break for lunch.  You had stopped at the Crow Club and, true to your previous claim, you fell asleep leaning against the wall.  You only woke up when a passerby bumped into you.  

Jesper leaned back in his chair and laughed loudly.  “You really can fall asleep on your feet!” 

You flashed him a grin that sent spiders crawling on his neck.  “Remember what I said earlier.”  You swear you heard him audibly gulp.  

The moon had marched a quarter of the way up the sky by the time all of your tasks for the day were finished.  Without saying anything to your fellow crows you climbed three flights of stairs and crashed right onto your cot.  

The next morning you had woken surprisingly early to the wonderful, sugary smell of powdered sugar and gluten creeping up the stairs.  But instead of going to investigate the wonderful scent, you crept up the steps to the attic, hoping the notorious Kaz Brekker was still asleep.

His door didn’t creak as you inched it open and to your delight, Kaz was indeed still and breathing evenly in his room.  

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”  Kaz woke instantly but you only felt mildly remorseful for interrupting his slumber.  The haze in his eyes cleared quickly.  

“Y/N?  You’re awake before me, the world must be ending.” 

You sniffed and sat at the foot of his bed, narrowly missing his feet.  “I smelled waffles.” 

“Ah, well that explains it.” 

“You should be honoured, I climbed all the way here to see you over waffles.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t need to say anything, just enjoy my holy presence,” you flopped backwards.   

When Inej and Nina crept into Kaz’s room two hours later to go over upcoming heists, Inej had to cover Nina’s mouth to keep her from screeching in delight.  

Both of you were laying slanted across his cot, legs and arms falling off the sides.  His fingertips barely brushed your shoulder.  Inej and Nina shuffled backwards out of the room and back down the stairs.  

“If you say anything, I will shove your cane down your throat,” you said.  “Just go back to sleep.”

— m. list

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Rizzles for 2

Ok this was just me being thirsty 😂 "things you said through your teeth"

Maura pokes her head into the main bedroom of the fixer-upper in Dorchester that belongs to her only sister. Hope had bought it for Cailin as an investment, a house that she could pay rent on while she attended undergrad and medical school, and that would become her own once she graduates. To start one’s life with property is truly a privilege indeed, Maura had told Cailin when Cailin complained about the work that had to be done on it. Maura thought not of herself, who had started her life owning several homes, all because of the prosperity of her mother and father, but of Jane, who fought and clawed to finally own her own condo at the age of 35 after her childhood home had been lost to her father’s financial woes.

In fact, it is Jane whom Maura looks at now, in a Tyvek suit and with a painting respirator over her face. She wears goggles and nitrile gloves alike, and holds a commercial paint spray gun. She turns when she hears Maura approaching, crunching plastic tarp under her flats as she weaves around covered furniture in the middle of the room to get to Jane. 

Jane puts down the gun on the nearest surface and pushes her goggles up. “Hey,” she says, and it’s all distorted by the mask. “You takin’ off?”

“We’re going to go look at light fixtures for this room and the guest room,” Maura explains. “And I came in here to kiss you goodbye, but…”

Jane chuckles. “Sorry, I just suited up,” she explains. Maura knows, too, the hassle it would take to remove the respirator for one kiss goodbye, only to have to go through the ordeal of refitting it properly. 

“No no, it’s alright,” Maura assures Jane. “Come here.” 

Jane obeys, and Maura pulls her head down until she can move the goggles and place a kiss on Jane’s already sweaty brow. “Thanks,” says Jane, and Maura can see the blush even on the limited visible real estate of her cheeks. 

“No problem,” replies Maura. “You were able to get the sprayer,” she says, pointing to the tool. “That will save a lot of time.”

“Oh yeah, Tommy came through. I guess he’s gonna come by and help me when he gets off his shift, which is good because we wasted an hour at breakfast and I wanna get most of the rooms up here done today,” explains Jane. 

Maura shakes her head. “I think she was at a party last night. Getting her up was… a chore,” she says. Jane laughs again. “Has she thanked you yet? For doing all this for free, for her?”

“No, and she doesn’t have to. I’m doin’ it for you, not for her,” Jane answers. “And cut her some slack, would ya? I remember bein’ the sleepy teenager when a Rizzoli handyman came a-knockin’ on my bedroom door at seven am with donuts and a laundry list of chores.”

“Slack is being cut,” Maura says. She puts her hands up in her own defense. “I for one am shocked that Hope left the continent just a week after dumping all of this in her lap, but what do I know?”

“Yeah that was kinda fucked up. I mean, what does she know about owning a home?”

“Or fixing it up?” Maura counters. Jane agrees by shrugging. “Oh well. I promised I’d help her get it ready, at least for her to live in comfortably, before the school year starts. And I appreciate your support on that because it’s saving her a lot of money.”

“I also know what it’s like to be twenty and broke,” says Jane. “So it’s not a problem. Gotta take the helping hands where you can get ‘em.”

Maura is moving to leave and Cailin is calling from downstairs that she is finally ready, so Jane hugs her quickly from the side. “Try not to overheat. It’s supposed to be ninety-two today and we haven’t got the air installed yet,” calls Maura on her way out after returning the hug.

“No promises,” Jane snarks, pulling her goggles over her eyes and plugging in her gun.

“If you’re good, I’ll return with food!” Maura yells from halfway down the stairwell, and Jane grins under the heavy plastic of her respirator. She can’t promise that either. She turns the nozzle, and blasts the first wall with Cailin’s chosen shade of blue. 

___

Maura and Cailin arrive much later than she had expected, closer to two pm than the noon she’d originally texted Jane. Maura is jittery, nervous, because she’d gotten Jane’s exact order, but now she wonders if she should have picked something up for Tommy at the sub shop since he would be off work in a half hour and then on his way. To make matters worse, Jane hadn’t replied when Maura asked about it, so she’d refrained from purchasing him anything, and now the guilt begins to wear on her. 

Cailin is bubbly and full of positive energy when she carries the light fixtures they’d purchased at the hardware store to the front door, balancing the boxes on her knee as she fishes her key out of her bag and turns it in the lock. “Oh my god, it’s hot,” she groans when she walks in with Maura carrying food not far behind, "and I’m starving.”

Maura decides to leave the front door open to get a breeze going through the lower level of the house, and she can only imagine how ugly it is upstairs. Still, she is annoyed that Jane has said nothing to her in the last six hours. “Jane!” she calls out sharply, vaguely in the direction of the stairs. “Come eat!” 

She hears rustling, and then what sounds like the thud of boots hitting the hardwood. “Comin’!” Jane yells back, no longer airy and warbled. She must have removed her mask. There is trotting down the steps when Maura turns around, back to the kitchen counter to put sandwiches on paper plates they’d brought for dinner a few nights before. 

She organizes food, napkins, utensils, and peppercinis in a flurry, while Cailin clears the flimsy dining table she brought from her college apartment so that there’s at least enough room to wolf down a sub before continuing to work.

“Oh my god,” Cailin says under her breath, and Maura looks up, because her voice, quiet as it is, sounds shocked. She sees her sister’s face first, which is red and splotchy; her mouth is open.

This causes her to whip around where the mouth of the stairs empties into the dining area. Jane has emerged, that’s for sure: she’s got the top half of her Tyvek scrunched low around her waist, revealing from top to bottom her hastily pulled-back ponytail, an black Nike sports bra, a torso slathered in sweat from clavicle to defined abdominals, all the way to a black elastic waistband that spells out pro-fit under her navel just above a crumple of white.

Maura catalogs all the symptoms of a vasovagal incident while Jane brushes past her for the mini fridge they put on the counter. She pulls out a beer, and apparently Cailin can take no more, either. “I’m uh… I forgot something in the car; I’ll be back,” she says, and backtracks all the way out of the house.

“She ok?” Jane asks, turning to Maura, slamming her bottle against the lip of the countertop just right to get the cap off. It clatters to the floor, and Maura immediately goes to her knees.

She picks it up, rising slowly to make sure she gets as much of the musk and paint scent as she can before placing it on the counter and completely coincidentally stops inches from Jane’s face. 

Then Jane sees it. She smirks. “Right now? I smell. I look like I just jumped in the deep end of a community pool.” She slinks closer anyway, erasing the miniscule distance between them and pulling Maura close. She nips at Maura’s neck, from behind her ear to her shoulder, slowly. 

Maura hisses, sucking air up through clenched teeth. “Especially now,” she groans when Jane’s bites turn to kisses. She wraps her arms around Jane’s shoulders, but they slip in the perspiration there. That drives her crazier. "When you're sweaty and full of paint that got there from helping out my family. Did you have to... look like this in front of her though? Now she'll know exactly what we're up to."

“Well, there’s not exactly a private-”

“Ssh,” Maura says, with a finger to her lips. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. Hurry, before she comes back.”

Jane looks around for a moment, and then kisses Maura for thought. “Bathroom?” she whispers into Maura’s mouth.

“That’ll do,” Maura says, and lets herself be led to the nonfunctioning half-bath of the first floor, just off the kitchen. 

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 5

TW: Slight mention of violence

Words Count: 1.8k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 6

You wake up the next morning feeling slightly sore from having curled yourself up on the small couch. You find the bed’s already empty and when you enter the bathroom, the fresh smell of body wash still lingers which means he’s already showered and you assume he’s already gone to work by now.

You shower and make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. Once you’re done, you set yourself to clean the house though there isn’t much to do since Mrs. Lee always keeps it sparkly clean. You pass by Jimin’s study room but has no idea why your feet stops in front of it.

You’re very curious. You had been in the study room once but at the time you didn’t have the chance to look around or see the details because you’re busy being confronted by Jimin and Taehyung. But you’re told that the room is off limits and you can only enter if you’re called upon by Jimin so you just stood in front of the door.

When you tear your eyes away, your attention is taken by the painting beside the door you didn’t notice before. Most of the walls on the corridors and hallways in Jimin’s house are filled with arts and exclusive paintings. Sometimes you feel like you live in an art gallery. Jimin does have excellent taste in artworks though. He has a range of paintings from classic arts to modern contemporary paintings and you find yourself studying each of them.

You’ve always had a passion in art ever since you were young. You wanted to pursue it in a more professional way, dreaming to take a degree in it but never had the opportunity to nor the chance, giving the way you’ve been in financial burden since forever. You don’t have much happiness growing up, but you do remember keeping small money from your daily wages in your locker in classroom before you have to give the rest to your parents or stolen by your brother, gathering it little by little for you to buy an art book and then a set of brushes, and then water colours until your brother found out about it and didn’t waste another breath before burning it all away.

You smile sadly then look down at your hands, missing the way the brushes feel in your hands, ready to create anything that you want. Perhaps the only thing you have control over in your life. Arts are fascinating, you think. You love the way you can immerse yourself while doing it, taking your minds off anything. It’s almost therapeutic.

Suddenly, you straighten up. Perhaps now that you’re finally away from your abusive brother, from your old life, maybe you can start again with arts and paintings. You might not have a husband that loves you back, but at least he doesn’t beat you half dead everyday. You’re thankful enough for that blessing in your life so you make a small promise to repay him in any way you could. You smile, thinking that you finally have a control over your own life.

The excitement quickly dampens when you remember that you don’t have money. You can’t really ask from Jimin, do you..? You don’t even have anything that you own that can be sold off.

Jimin’s been keeping you in his house so much, we thought we’d never see you. Jin’s words suddenly echoes in your mind.

He’s right, you think. You can’t just stay cooped up in the house forever. You’re practically only leeching off Jimin. You have to go out and find some real job. It’s also about time to start paying his debt back off. Your head spins slightly, thinking how long until you’d be able to pay the debt back off. Taehyung did mention the debt is practically waived now. Still, you don’t think it’s right.

Taking a deep breath, you set off downstairs. There’s a small room which is more like a library due to the rows and rows of books on the shelves, filling the walls of the room at the end of the hallway which you remember seeing a computer placed on a table at the corner. You quickly went there, fires up the computer and begin your job hunting session.

You don’t realise it’s already evening when you hear the sound of the front door opening. Your heart drops, realising you haven’t made any preparation for Jimin’s dinner. You quickly rush off towards the front door and sees Jimin, looking handsome as always in his working attire.

Except something seems off with him.

His hair slightly disheveled, he looks like he put on his shirt after sweating with some parts sticking to his body, his plump lips looking thicker than usual as if he’d just finished a make out session and he smells.. like sex.

It suddenly dawns to you that he must’ve had sex with another woman behind your back. That hit you like a truck. You feel a stabbing pain in your chest and you struggle to fight the urge to clench your chest, wondering how an emotional feeling could give you a pain that feels so.. physical.

“I told you not to fucking keep on standing there and stares like a creep!” He snaps.

“Sorry.” You feel the tear dropping before you could even process it.

“Stop apologising and just do things right.” He says, irritated. “What’s wrong with you?!” He finally take notice your watering eyes.

What is wrong with you exactly? You wipe it with the back of your hand immediately. “N-nothing.” You clear your throat, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Do you want to eat? I made some kimchi jigae and other dishes.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and just regards you. “Let me shower first.” He says finally.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the kitchen and swiftly prepares for his meal. He comes down after a while, his hair slightly wet and you note how he smells so good. You notice he has this manly scent yet it’s still soft to your nose.

“You don’t really have to act the perfect wife. There’s no one here but us.” He says as he takes his seat.

“I’m so-“ You halt, his words telling you to stop apologising comes to your mind. “I- I want to do it.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and an uncomfortable silence fills the air.

“Won’t you sit down instead of just hovering around?! For fuck’s sake,” he barks and you jump. You take a seat immediately, not wanting to prolong his anger and watch him eat. You like watching people eat something that you cook, as creepy as it may sound.

Silence fills the air again and only the sound of his cutleries and the plate clinking are heard. For a moment, you consider telling him that you have a job interview tomorrow but then decided against it. He might not be interested to know about it.

“Have you eaten?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “Don’t feel like it.” You wanted to eat with him because it’s been so long since you’ve had company. Eating alone doesn’t give you much appetite. But now that you find out he’s been cheating, you suddenly don’t feel hungry anymore.

You sigh. Stop it, you scold yourself.

He doesn’t owe you fidelity. After all, everything’s just temporary.

“Sit down and eat. You’re skin and bones. And you need to eat to recover quickly.”

You really don’t feel like eating but you do know not to go against his words. So you quickly reach for a plate and fills it with very small portions of rice and dishes. Luckily he doesn’t comment on that.

“You don’t really have to cook all these side dishes. Are you even well enough to do all these?” He grunts.

“I-“

“Simple ones would do. You don’t really have to go overboard.”

“I’m sorry..” You say softly and when he gives you a look, you almost want to apologise again before stopping yourself, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He continues to eat in silence but then you notice him eating most of the dishes you made and you almost want to forgive him for sleeping with another woman.

“Why didn’t you sleep on the bed last night?” He asks, looking straight at you and you freeze.

You swallow, unable to find the right words to answer him.

“What? You’re afraid I might do something to you? Don’t worry.. I’ve no interest in terrified little lambs.” He smirks.

He’s a total psycho.

Yet you can’t help yourself. “No.. it’s not like that.. I know you’re not that type of person..” He frowns when you say that. “I- I just thought you might not like it. I don’t want to anger you.”

For a split second, you thought you saw his gaze softens slightly. “What kind of person do you think I am then?”

Huh? You blink rapidly several times, somehow taken off guard that he caught that part of your words. Inhaling deeply, you say, “I- I don’t know for sure.. but I know you’re not a bad person.”

At that, he suddenly stands, approaches you and before you know it his fingers grip your chin roughly, making you whimper in pain. “No babe.. That means you don’t know me well enough.. yet.” He smiles, a very sinister smile that sends shiver running down your spine.

He leaves before you could process anything, leaving nothing but lingering pain and your heart pounding fiercely.

When you enter your bedroom that, you expect to see Jimin inside but he wasn’t so he must’ve been in his study room. You’re already feeling sleepy yet you have no idea why but you feel like you have to wait for him.

Just to make sure he’s really okay with you sleeping here. He might not strangle you yesterday but.. there’s no telling so you don’t want to take the risk.

But your eyes are already giving out on you and you feel like you’re going to pass out into oblivion soon. You fell asleep like that then, curled up on the edge of the bed.

You woke up the next morning and the bed’s already empty but you don’t wonder about that. Instead, you vaguely remember falling asleep when you lay on the bed waiting for Jimin but you’re now properly tucked in the bed. Your heartbeat quickens at the possibility that Jimin had moved you.

You quickly put the images away from your mind though. You probably tuck yourself in somewhere in the middle of the night while half asleep. Though, you’re more than ninety percent sure Jimin slept in the same bed as you as his side of the bed wasn’t made. You don’t want to dwell in that thought.

Link to Chapter 6

Posted on 210405 9:00PM

[miraclesabound]

Four Uses For A Baby Monitor

Summary: You and Ben figure out that a baby monitor has multiple uses as you go through your pregnancy and the first year of your daughter’s life.

Pairing: Modern Ben Solo x Female Reader

Rating: M for language and some violence

Warnings: Language, Pregnancy, Descriptions of a Home Invasion, Ben Being Scary When He Has Something to Defend

Tag List:  @clydesducktape,  @daydreamsofren, @direnightshade, @finn-ray-nal-beads, @morby, @safarigirlsp, @candycanes19,  @desiraypark, @trelaney, @formerly-anonhamster, @thepilotanon, @mariesackler, @sacklerscumrag, @clumsycopy, @contesa-lui-alucard, @safarigirlsp, @millenialcatlady, @jynzandtonic, @clydesfavoritegirl, @sacklersdoll, @barbers-glimmerin-darlin, @roanniom, @glassbxttless, @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather

Number One - Pranking the Wife

Maybe it’s because he now has more to protect, but ever since the two of you found out you were expecting, Ben has made it his mission to turn your marital home into a paragon of security. There are now cameras in every hallway, an alarm is now attached to each outer door, and Ben has turned the basement into his own security office. As such, when you buy the baby monitor for little Lana’s room about four weeks before her arrival, you get one that’s compatible with the existing system. Makes sense, right? Besides, you keep your alarms silent anyway, routing the alerts to your phones and forwarding them to the police if necessary. Lana won’t get woken up if something accidentally gets tripped. There are two microphones, one for your room, one for the basement, and the camera for the nursery.

However, that doesn’t stop you from nearly having a heart attack when Ben decides to have a little fun at your expense. You’re up in Lana’s room, checking something on the changing table, when Ben’s voice comes crackling through – “Well, hey there, gorgeous.” He laughs when he sees you jump, but his tone is immediately apologetic when you turn around with a murderous look in your eyes. “Shit, honey, I’m sorry. I’m testing the range from the basement. Am I coming through ok?”

“Loud and clear,” you answer. Waddling over to the camera, you pick it up so that he can see your face. “But if you scare me like that again, you just might send me into early labor, and I’ll never forgive you. Got it?”

“Got it.”

--

Number Two - Pranking the Husband

It’s a week later, and you happen to be downstairs when you see that Ben left the door to the basement open. You haven’t been in there recently, so you scoot inside, and you marvel once again at how much Ben has done to get the house secured. There are several different screens, and you smile to see the one now set up for Lana’s room. In black and white, you see Ben up there in the nursery, hanging some clothes, and a wicked thought crosses your mind. Turnabout is fair play, after all. Picking up the microphone, you press the talk button. “Benjamin Solo, this is the voice of your conscience!”

“HOLY SHIT!” Ben yells so loudly that you can almost hear him from upstairs without the monitor. To his credit, he doesn’t drop the bundle of clothes he’s carrying, but as he turns around, he’s wild-eyed. “No wonder you got spooked when I was messing around last week!” he says. “Maybe it’s the signal filter, but you just don’t quite sound like yourself.”

“I was playing it up a touch,” you admit. “I couldn’t resist the opportunity, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you got me fair and square.” His expression is already calming down, and you can tell from his smile that you’re already about ninety percent forgiven.

--

Number Three - Soothing the Baby

Lana’s birth is blessedly straightforward, but she’s not an easy sleeper just yet. Of course, in those early weeks, she’s in her bassinet in your and Ben’s room. It’s the safest option, but you can tell that you and your husband are both getting a little strained from the exhaustion. As such, on one particularly difficult night, when you pick Lana up from her bassinet, you say to Ben, who’s about half-awake, “I’ll just take her into the other room.” He nods sleepily, and you kiss Lana’s forehead as you walk with her down the hall to the nursery. “It’s ok, sweetie,” you say in the most soothing voice you can manage. “We’re just gonna have a change of scenery and we’ll both feel better.”

She does seem to calm down as you step into the nursery – you keep a small fan running in there to avoid a stale smell, and the fresh air seems to perk her up. Walking over to the arm chair you have set up in the corner, you sit down, turning on a small lamp on the nearby side table. “Is that it, Lana-bug?” you ask. “Did you just need to get out of the room for a bit?”

Ben’s voice comes through, and this time, you don’t jump. “How are my girls doing?” he asks.

Looking towards the camera, you summon your best smile. “I think we’re ok, love – you can go back to sleep.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You can hear the exhaustion in his voice, but you appreciate him being a good sport. “How about this – you two stay comfy over there, I’ll dig out something to read?” You hear some fumbling, and then he comes back to the mic. “Think she’s too young for the first chapter of calculus?”

You let out a weak laugh. “Well, as long as you read it slowly. I know I could use a refresher.” Sure enough, with Ben’s voice floating pleasantly through, Lana is back to an easy sleep on your shoulder within about fifteen minutes. From then on, monitor readings and lullabies become a bit of a family tradition.

--

Number Four - Clearing the House

“Honey, take the baby and go out the back door onto our deck, please.”

You’re in the nursery with Lana, now eight months old, and Ben is working downstairs. Looking up at the camera, you can only muster a vague sense of confusion. “What? Why? It’s so cold out.”

“Please just trust me – I’ll come get you two in a minute,” he says. Something in his tone makes you uneasy, and you scoop your daughter into your arms, quickly grabbing her a hat. Realizing you left your phone in the bedroom anyway, you pick it up as you walk by. Your eyes widen when you see a text alert from the security company: “Unauthorized entry, please send verification code.”

“Why wouldn’t Ben have sent…” you start to ask yourself, but then it sinks in. If Ben hasn’t sent the code, that means the alert had to go to the police. If Ben is in the house and the police alert still went out, that means… 

“Oh no…” you whisper, trying not to panic. Someone’s broken in, and Ben was telling you to get out because the intruder is still inside.

Lana doesn’t pick up on your distress; instead she babbles happily in your ear. Part of you wants to tell her to hush, but you know she won’t entirely understand, so you say as calmly as possible, “Isn’t it nice out here, honey? Didn’t Daddy have the right idea suggesting we get some – ”

You’re cut off by a loud crash from inside, and Lana whines into your shoulder. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” you tell her, but you know you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. Who or what caused that crash? Is Ben safe? Does the intruder know you’re out here? Even when you hear a police car pull up, you don’t dare move.

Your heart jumps into your throat when the door to the deck opens about two minutes later, but it almost immediately settles when you see that it’s Ben, accompanied by a young female police officer with short black hair. You can see in his eyes that Ben wants to pull you and Lana into a hug, but he steps back as the policewoman takes charge of the scene.

“Mrs. Solo, I’m Sgt. Rose Tico with Precinct Seven – my partner and I got the alarm response. Are you and the baby ok?”

You nod as best as you can with Lana clinging tightly to the fabric of your shirt. “We’re fine, Sergeant – we were up in her room and my husband used the monitor to have us evacuate.” You can’t see downstairs from your angle, so you ask, “I heard a crash, can you tell me what happened?”

Ben looks a bit sheepish as he admits, “I…may have gotten the drop on the guy with the baseball bat I keep downstairs.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “You WHAT.”

Officer Tico sees the shock on your face, and she cuts in with an explanation. “Ma’am, the suspect appears to have been armed with a large knife and a club of his own. Your husband mentioned the security system he has; we’ll review the footage, but I’m sure any decent judge will know that this was self-defense.”

You see the lights of the ambulance as it approaches the house, and while you know it’s mainly for the robber, you don’t argue when the paramedic team checks all of you over. Ben ends up needing a small bandage for his hand, but otherwise you’re good – and Lana seems actually rather entranced with all the excitement. She’s back to her usual smiling self, and when you meet Officer Tico’s partner, an older cop with the last name Dameron, you happily let him hold her for a minute while Officer Tico finishes getting your statements.  By the time everything’s done, it’s nearly sunset. The rest of the evening is pretty quiet, and when Ben suggests that maybe the two of you should pull some blankets into the nursery so you can both sleep near Lana that night, you don’t argue.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch60: Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart.

Intro: Katie bids an emotional farewell to her brother, as the rest of the world pays their respects.

Warnings: “Language!”  Major angst- get the tissues ready.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So we’re almost there! One chapter after this plus the epilogue. I can’t thank @angrybirdcr​ enough for her edits!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 59

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 “Hey.” A deep voice roused Katie from her thoughts and she looked up to see Bucky walk into the kitchen wearing a pair of black sweats and a red Henley. “I would ask if you were okay but it’s a stupid question.” “I appreciate the sentiment.” She smiled at him. “Coffee is fresh, just don’t tell Steve I’ve been drinking it. He’ll only bitch and moan about caffeine being bad for the baby.” Bucky smiled. “My lips are sealed.” He moved further into the room, helping himself to a mug from the cupboard before he made himself a drink. He sat down opposite his best friend’s wife and just took her in for a moment. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she looked pale and tired. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her and just how much she was going through. Finding out you’re pregnant again, with a baby you lost whilst having to come to terms with the death of your brother, the brother you had long since thought of as a father, couldn’t be easy for anyone.

He took a sip of his drink and leaned forward slightly. “So how are you really feeling?”

She looked at him for a moment before she took a deep breath. “If I’m honest, lost.” She sniffed slightly as her eyes filled with tears. “All my life Tony has been there and the thought now that he’s not, and never will be again.” She wiped at her face, “You know Buck, for the last week I’ve felt like I’ve been in a bad dream but yesterday, getting that message and today, it just makes it so real, so final you know?” Bucky smiled softly and reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “You’ll get through this. I know all things considered we haven’t really known each other that long but I do know you’re made of strong stuff.” “I don’t feel like it at the moment.” “You have to be to put up with Stevie.” He joked, making her give a watery chuckle. “Just remember you’re not on your own.”  "I know,” Katie smiled, her eyes brimming with tears, “and Steve’s been amazing, he really has. You all have.” “Yeah, he ain’t bad for a punk.” Bucky smiled making her chuckle slightly as he let go of her hand. “Talking about me again?” Steve’s warm voice hit their ears and Katie glanced up, smiling at him as he leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, the fact he was dressed almost identically to his friend only with a blue Henley made her smile. “Yes.” Bucky nodded. Steve rolled his eyes and pushed off the frame. He crossed the room and dropped a kiss to Katie’s head before his hand gently brushed her face. “It’s early, Doll.” He gently tipped her face to look up at him. “You were so tired last night.” “Yeah I woke about an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Steve looked at her for a second, he’d much rather she’d have lay in for an extra hour or so, all things considered but he knew she would be stressing about today so there wasn’t any point in dwelling on it.

“You want any breakfast?” He asked her, dropping his hand back to his hip. “Not really but yes, before you say it I know I have to eat.” “French toast?” He asked and she pondered for a moment. He knew that was her favourite breakfast. And she knew that he knew. “We got any strawberries?” She asked eventually, with a faint smile.

He nodded. ”What’s French toast without the fruit?” “Wait,” Bucky pointed at Steve, “you’re cooking?”

“And?” Steve looked at him.

“The last time I remember you trying to do that you nearly burnt your apartment down and my mom banned you from ever trying again.” He snorted as he looked at Katie. “She insisted on making him food parcels!" 

"He’s actually pretty good.” Katie shrugged and Steve preened a little at her praise, flipping Bucky off with a smug grin. “He makes a wicked carbonara but breakfasts are his speciality. Jamie loves his pancakes, says they’re better than mine”

“I had a good teacher.” Steve gave her a wink before he crossed to the cupboard and pulled out the brioche.

“Think I’ll go grab a shower before the kids wake up.” Katie pushed back from the table, her hand falling to her stomach. ”And before this little peanut realises I’m awake and makes me puke my guts up again.”

Steve watched her go before he sighed and moved to the fridge to grab the eggs.

“She’ll be okay, pal.” Bucky assured him “Today’s gonna be hard but she’s got everyone around her.”

“She should be taking it easy.” Steve shook his head. “She had a rough time with sickness and tiredness when she was pregnant with Jamie up until the six month mark and this stress can’t be good for either of them.”

He trailed off as Emmy walked into the kitchen, yawning, pulling her long brown hair into a braid. “Morning, Sweetie, you want some French toast?” Steve asked as she moved to give her dad a hug, still half asleep. She nodded and made an appreciative noise before she turned to grab the orange juice from behind him in the fridge. Pouring a glass she sat at the table and said good morning to Bucky before she picked up the remote.

The three of them instantly looked at the screen when a familiar voice hit their ears. “Tony Stark was a good man.” Secretary Ross was speaking to the journalist “I had the privilege to know him well. He had th-” At that Emmy turned the channel over. “Dick.” She mumbled under her breath. Bucky caught Steve’s eye, the pair of them sharing a grin, Steve choosing not to chastise her for her language.

“Good morning to you too!” Sam grinned as he walked into the kitchen. Emmy looked at him before she chuckled.

“Not you, Ross.” “Ah. Well, no arguments from me there” Sam shrugged, heading to the coffee pot.

“Katie punched him you know.” Steve decided to interject a little bit of light heartedness into the morning. All three of them turned to face him as Sam let out a snort.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile. 

“Well, come on Pops, tell us!” Emmy urged.

“It was just after the snap. Katie went with Rhodey to give President Ellis a briefing. She had a disagreement with Ross, and then as she was leaving he made some snarky comment so she gave him a right hook, a pretty good one too according to Rhodey.” Sam and Bucky both exchanged a look, Sam nodding in approval, a grin split across his face. “Nice.”

“You know,” Bucky looked at him, “the more I hear and see of your Missus, the more I think I’m in love with her myself.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started to whisk the obscene number of eggs he had placed in the bowl. By the time he had finished making everyone breakfast, Katie was back at the table in a towel robe, hair damp, having brought Jamie down. No sooner had Steve placed her plate of food in front of her, she was up again, running to the downstairs bathroom to throw up.

“Is Momma sick?” Jamie asked, looking at Steve who smiled at him.

“She’s fine pal, the new baby is just making her feel a little funny, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Jamie looked back at the door his mom had disappeared through before he picked up his fork and began to dig into the chopped up French toast and fruit that was on his plate.

Katie wandered back in a few minutes later and sat back at the table, pinching the bridge of her nose. Steve watched as she pushed her food around her plate for a bit, before she took a few bites. Satisfied that she was eating something he tucked into his own.

Once breakfast was done the house was a flurry of activity as people got ready. Katie, having already showered, simply had to fix her hair and make-up. She set Jamie’s outfit out for him and Emmy offered to help him dress to give her chance to get herself sorted, which she was grateful for. “Stevie?” Katie asked him as he stood in front of the mirror, doing his tie and he caught her eye in the reflection. “Can you zip me up please?”

She turned round and Steve moved, his fingers softly pulling up the zipper of her black dress before he dropped a kiss to her neck as his arms wrapped around her waist, hands flattening on her stomach.

“No bump yet.” He muttered softly and she smiled.

“I’ll be fat again soon enough.” Her hands fell over his, her fingers lightly tracing over the cool metal of his wedding band.

“I can’t wait.” He grinned as she snorted.

“I swear you have some kind of breeding kink.” “Not as such, I just love you and love the fact my baby is in there.” He pulled her back so she was pressed into him slightly. “I loved the changes I saw last time.” “You’re only hoping my boobs get bigger again.” She teased and he smiled, arching an eyebrow.

“Can you blame me?”

“Captain Bad Ass is a pervert, who knew?” She chuckled before she turned in his arms and straightened the knot on his tie slightly, smoothing her hands down his chest. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I’m scared, Steve.”

Instantly understanding he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her back “Don’t be. I’ll be right there okay? It’ll be over soon enough.”

“The funeral might be.” Katie sighed. “But I’m not sure losing him will ever be over.” “You’re right it won’t” Steve agreed, and she looked at him “It’s almost ninety years since my ma died. Okay, granted most of them I was on ice for but she died when I was eighteen. There’s still not a day goes past where I don’t think about her or miss her.”

He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun out of her face and smiled softly. “But it does get easier. I promise you will one day be able to look back on your memories of Tony and be happy that he was your brother and such a big part of your life.”

He placed a gentle kiss onto her lips before a loud shout from the hallway told them the car had arrived. They made their way downstairs and Katie smiled at Jamie who was dressed in a black suit almost identical to Steve’s.

“Look at my handsome, little man.” Katie beamed at him, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Here.” Steve tossed the keys to his Audi to Bucky, who caught them effortlessly in his right hand.

“See you there.” Bucky nodded to Steve who smiled at his friends as they left.  

*****

It was busy outside the Cathedral. The surrounding street and road had been shut off and the sidewalks around the temporary barriers were packed with members of the public and press as they all clamoured round. Katie found the whole thing hideous, and her hand tightened on Steve’s as the car pulled to a stop just outside the building.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She whispered and Steve turned to look at her. She was chewing her lip and shaking slightly. He glanced back at Emmy who was on the row behind.

“Em, take Jamie in okay. We’ll be there in a second.” She nodded. “Come on short stuff.” She smiled at her brother as someone opened the door for them. Jamie looked at his dad for a moment but Steve nodded and he followed Emmy, slipping his hand into hers as they headed into the building, Bucky and Sam both meeting them by the door.

“Give us a second.” Steve spoke to the man who had opened their door and he nodded, gently closing it.

“Look at me.” Steve turned to his wife and she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. “I know this is daunting, but you just gotta get through this bit. As soon as this is over, then it’s back to the lake house and there’ll be none of this or them around.” He waved his hand gesturing outside.

“I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” His voice was soft, but stern, he knew he had to be to keep her calm. “Baby, you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re not on your own, I got you. If it starts getting too much in there you just let me know and I’ll get you out, I promise, okay?”

Katie took a deep breath and looked at her husband as he gently cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She had to do this, she had to. And she knew Steve would look after her. With a deep breath she nodded and he dropped a soft kiss to her lips before he turned and opened the door.

The minute she was out of the cars the cameras started flashing and she gripped Steve’s hand even tighter. He moved so his arm was around her, pulling her close, almost shielding her from the attention as he walked purposefully into the Cathedral Grounds, his eyes not once looking round. In a few seconds they were through the gates and mostly out of the way of the public and he felt Katie relax a little as she let out the breath she had been holding when Jamie ran to her, wrapping his arms round her legs.

“Momma, I just met the Priest. He says his name is James too!” “Wow!” Katie smiled down at her son. “Only the best people are called James.” “So that’s me, Uncle Bucky and the Priest!” Jamie ticked them off on his small fingers, beaming at her. She gave a soft chuckle as he slipped his little hand into hers. It wasn’t long before the funeral party arrived, Pepper and Morgan climbing out of the first car with Happy, the Hearst behind carried her Brother’s coffin. Katie smiled as she saw it was adorned with a wreath of greenery and country wild flowers which, in the centre, boasted the first Arc Reactor he had developed, which Pepper had framed for him all those years ago. ‘Proof Tony Stark has a heart’ was engraved on the metal halo surrounding it. It had been Pepper’s idea of a joke at the time, but Tony had insisted on keeping it by his desk ever since she gave it to him.

As Steve, Rhodey, Clint and Happy all stepped forward to take a corner of the coffin each, Bruce moved behind them, one large hand resting on the back. Katie took hold of Emmy’s hand in her spare one, and the three of them followed on behind Pepper and Morgan, heading into the Cathedral as the familiar sounds of ‘Drops of Jupiter’ by Train hit their ears.

Steve’s eyes were already misting over by the time he was halfway down the aisle. Saying goodbye to people you loved never got any easier. And he had loved Tony, as a friend and a brother. He hadn’t been perfect, none of them were, and at times he had really tested Steve’s patience. But he had been a good man. Always doing right by the people he cared about. As they placed the coffin down, he heard Rhodey give a little chuckle and he glanced over at him, puzzled. Rhodey gestured to the picture of Tony that was on the table and as Steve looked at it he couldn’t help but laugh. It was a picture of Tony, giving the thumbs up to someone in what looked like a court room, Rhodey in the back ground, looking utterly exasperated.

 “It was a senate hearing.” Rhodey whispered. “He had just goaded Stern into telling him to go eff himself.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Steve smiled, as he moved to stand in the space next to Katie, who had Jamie settled on her hip, Emmy at her other side. He gave her a gentle squeeze around the shoulder and then they were told to sit down.

Katie couldn’t tell you what hymns were sung, despite the fact she had a hand in picking them, or what readings Rhodey and Banner read out. She was in a daze, until the time came (far too soon for her liking) for her to give the Eulogy.

Steve took Jamie off her knee and leaned over “You got this.” He whispered gently, kissing her cheek as she stood up and made her way, chin raised with as much dignity as she could manage, up the four steps to the pulpit.

“You know,” she coughed and cleared her throat, “I agonised for days over what to say here, stood in front of you all, and not to mention the many, many people watching outside. I trashed about fifty different sheets of paper because not one speech I wrote could ever do Tony justice. So, in the end I decided to go with the Stark favoured tradition, the one he started, and wing it.” She took a deep breath as  few chuckles rose from the large atrium, and looked out at the heaving Cathedral before she turned her attention to the front three rows which contained the people she loved and knew.

“From the day our Parents died, Tony took on the role of being my brother, my father and my mother, which for a twenty-one year old party animal is no mean feat. Not to mention the fact he had to get to grips with running a company as well. But he did it. And he did it well, I think. I mean I turned out okay, although my kids and husband might have something to say about that.” More chuckles rang out over the congregation and she paused, waiting for them to die down.

“I never wanted for anything as a child. I was incredibly lucky, I had so many opportunities others could only dream of. But if there was one thing Tony taught me, it was that I had to earn it. Ironic, yes given that we had more money than even he knew what to do with, but he made me understand that hard work pays off. And that’s something that has stuck with me always. Everything is earned, bar love. My brother loved me unconditionally, and I him. Even though he was a pain in the proverbial to live with at times.”

Pepper smiled at this and looked down at her hand which was wrapped around Morgan’s. To her right sat Happy who was also smiling. On the row behind them Steve sat with Jamie on his knee and Emmy to his right. He smiled up at his wife encouragingly, his chest bursting with pride at how well she was conducting herself.

“There was no Boarding School for me. After spending most of his Childhood in one, Tony vowed never to do the same to me or any of his kids, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.” Katie said sincerely, and she was. “I grew up in an unconventional, yet oh so loving environment. Yes, Tony was a party animal, I mean I lost track of the amount of times Pepper had to ‘take out the trash’…”

At that Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all laughed out loud at the little inside joke.

“But he was on the most discreet, until I got a little older that is and it became a running joke between us all. I can’t actually remember him ever introducing me to a serious girlfriend bar Pepper so congratulations Pep, you truly did tame Tony Stark.”

Katie bit her lip slightly as she felt herself wobble at the next set of words that formed in her mind.

“When I was a Kid, to me Tony was fun. He used to wrestle monsters under my bed with the Monster Killing machine, aka the Vacuum. He used to build ridiculous forts in the living room that would remain there for days during school holidays where we would hide out, eat pizza, junk and play games. He took me to Disney Land, to the Beach, to Aquariums, on holidays that were ridiculously elaborate. I was an extremely lucky little girl.  But then, when I got older, he stopped simply being my fun bigger brother and became my friend as well. When I passed my driving test we would regularly just go for drives to a Starbucks that was like ten miles away, just so we could spend time on the open road and sing like idiots as loud as we could. He held my hair back whilst I puked up after my first Keg Party aged seventeen. At twenty-one he took me to Vegas for the first time when I had graduated,” another pause and a deep breath, “but then I got older still, and he morphed from being this friend and big brother person into a true father figure and I knew one day he would make a spectacular dad. Something which was proven more recently when he welcomed his own daughter, Morgan into the world”

Steve watched as Katie rubbed her temple with her right hand, her left shifting down to her stomach, and she gave a sharp intake of breath before she looked at him and gave him a soft smile. Jamie waved at her and she wiggled her fingers back before she looked back up and over at the congregation.

“It breaks my heart when I think that he will never see Morgan start school or graduate from college. He’ll never have the chance to embarrass her awfully in-front of her friends in the many, many ways he could. He’ll never be sat, waiting with an Iron Man suit when the first boyfriend makes an appearance. He’ll never walk her down the aisle. All the things he did for me in his role as my father and I feel so guilty to have experienced those moments with him, whilst Morgan will never get the chance. We’ll all do our best to keep his memories alive but, as I know from experience, there’s only so much memories can do.”

And now she was beginning to break, and Steve could see the tears shining in her eyes, even before the first one fell. Her voice was thick when she spoke again.

“What has happened over the past five years in particular just serves as a reminder to us all that life is fragile. The time we have on this Earth is already short and we can’t lose sight of what matters the most. Friends, family, those who know us inside out and still love us all the same.” She paused, swallowing a little as she sniffed. “You know, Steve said something to me before that really struck a chord. Everyone says that time is a great healer, but it isn’t. You just learn to live with the new normal. It doesn’t stop you hurting, doesn’t stop you yearning for the ones you miss, the ones you love. And as long as you still love them, you’ll always grieve for them.”

She wiped at her face with both hands and took a shaky breath, and Steve willed her with everything he had to keep it together, just for the last few words she had to say.

“And we lost two people in our bid to bring everyone back. My brother and Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. One of the bravest, most loyal, kind and beautiful people, inside and out that I had the honour of knowing. And now I urge you all do something with your second chances so that their decision to give their lives so you could have yours wasn’t in vain. Make the most of the time you have been given, the people that have been returned to you. Grab the opportunities you can, with the people you love. Go on those trips, have that wine, eat that cheeseburger.”

She was now crying freely as she stole herself for her last line, looking at Steve who was handing Jamie over to Emmy and rising to his feet, ready to help her down as he knew she’d be shaky. “Iron Man wasn’t a hero.” Katie shook her head as she looked out over the large Cathedral, her vision blurred from her tears. “It was the man behind the mask. My brother. Anthony Edward Stark- Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist. Husband, Father, Brother, Friend.”

She stepped back from the podium, taking Steve’s hand shakily as he offered it to her, helping her down the steps.

 “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered softly in her ear, his own voice cracking with emotion as he kissed her temple, steering her back towards their seats. Jamie crawled onto her lap and kissed her cheek and she held her son tight, pressing her face into his soft, blonde hair as she desperately tried to quell the damn of sobs inside her that was threatening to burst out of her chest.

She made it through the rest of the ceremony, her hand tightly gripped round Steve’s but was beyond pleased when it was over. As the sounds of AC/DC ‘Back in Black’  rang around the Cathedral, those who knew Tony exchanged a grin, Jamie even doing a little jig in his dad’s arms as they headed outside.

“That was a beautiful speech.” Pepper smiled to Katie as they reached the courtyard, Steve taking Jamie over to speak to the priest as they boy was insisting. “He’d be so proud, you know that?”

“Thanks.” Katie nodded as she glanced at Morgan who was clinging to her mother’s leg. She had a sudden flashback to how she had done the same to Tony, hung on to him for dear life at their Parents’ funeral. Katie crouched down in front of her niece.

“Hey Moo, how are you feeling?”

“I miss Dad.” She whispered, her eyes watering up.

Katie tried desperately to keep her face from screwing up into a sob. “I miss him too, sweetie, I miss him a lot but you know something?” Morgan shook her head. “He’ll always be with you, with me, in here.” She tapped the spot over Morgan’s heart. “And we’ll have our special memories of how brave he was, how funny he was, how silly he was and how much he loved us all, okay?”

Morgan nodded softly before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her Auntie’s neck.

"But he’s not here.” Morgan whispered and at that Katie did start to cry again as she held Morgan close, looking up and making eye contact with Pepper who was watching the two with a look of pure sadness on her face, her own tears coursing down her cheeks.

No,” Katie took a shaky breath, “he isn’t, and that, well, it just sucks. No one can replace your dad but your mom is here, so am I, Uncle Spangles, Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy. So many people are gonna look after you and love you and keep you safe, I promise you that from the bottom of my heart.”

******

They left the Cathedral and the Media Circus behind, heading upstate to Tony’s lake house home arriving little under an hour or so later. Now, the remaining Avengers plus Rhodey, Happy, Pepper and Morgan were sat in Tony’s living room, as instructed, whilst everyone waited outside for the final part of the day’s ceremony whereby Pepper was going to release the wreath containing the arc reactor onto the lake, only this one would be attended by friends, family and those who had worked with Tony only. No public, no press.

A few people in the room knew what was coming when the helmet’s eye slits glowed with a bright white light, some didn’t. But no one jumped, they were that used to Tony’s theatrics that it didn’t come as a surprise.

A holographic Tony was pictured, sitting the wrong way around on a chair, elbows resting over the back of it and Katie realised he was wearing the same suit he had been wearing in the message he had left for her and Steve.

“So, err, hey!” Tony spoke, a smile flashing on his face. “I’m gonna keep this short, as we all know I don’t really like attention.” At that quiet laughter rang round the room and Steve dropped a hand onto Katie’s shoulder where she was sat on the couch, Jamie sat next to her, his hand wrapped around Morgan’ s.

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored.”

Katie reached up and took hold of Steve’s hand where it rest on her shoulder and he gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“If there ever was such a thing.” Tony continued, scratching his chin. “God, what a world. Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone, you know, to this extent,” he shook his head, “I mean, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, you know? The epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play.”

Even in the hologram Steve could see the glint in Tony’s eyes, almost portraying the innocent wonder of a child that had discovered something exciting for the first time. “And, for better or worse, that’s the reality Morgan and her cousins are gonna have to find a way to grow up in.”

Tony stilled slightly and his hand wiped over his mouth as he took a deep breath.

“So I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting… In the case of an untimely death,” Tony gestured outwardly with his hand, “ on my part. I mean, not that, death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's– it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing.” Tony’s hand rest against his mouth for a moment, the way it always had when he had been contemplating something before he shrugged and continued. “Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end.”

At that Katie took a shuddering breath and her fingers tightened around Steve’s as Tony got up off his chair and walked towards the camera. 

“What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” He leaned forward, hands on his knees and smiled, and then somehow his hologram looked directly at her. “To the stars and back.” Before it turned and looked straight at Morgan. “I love you three-thousand.”

The hologram faded, the eye sockets of the helmet died down, and for a horrible moment Katie was reminded of seeing the light of the Arc Reactor going out in Tony’s chest on the battle field, when she had seen the life drain from his eyes. She took a shaky breath and Steve dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“He always said he’d be the VIP at his own funeral.” Katie broke the silence as she wiped her tears, laughter breaking through the sniffing as the people in the room wiped their eyes.  

“I err,” Pepper cleared her throat, “let’s set the wreath on the lake. Then we can all have a few drinks and make Tony the centre of attention at a party, just how he liked it.”

They made their way outside, Pepper, carrying the wreath in one hand, heading up the line with Morgan followed by Rhodey and Happy, then Katie, Steve and their kids.

They reached the end of the jetty, and Pepper crouched besides Morgan and then she turned to look at Katie. Katie nodded to her, her eyes misting over, before she watched her sister-in-law and niece drop the wreath onto the lake. It landed with a soft splash and began to gently drift away in the wind. Steve stood with his arm round Katie, Jamie balancing on his other hip as he watched the wreath float across the water. Katie lay her head against Steve’s shoulders, allowing her silent tears to fall.

After a moment or two she raised her head slightly to glance at the people stood around, all saying their final good byes. Peter Parker, May Parker, Thor, Bruce Banner, Doctor Strange, Wong, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Janet Van Dyne, Hank Pym, Peter Quill, Nebula, Rocket, Groot, Drax, Mantis, T'Challa, Okoye, Shuri, Clint Barton & his family, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, and Harley Keener who Katie had met in Tennessee. Her eyes narrowed a little as she saw Secretary Ross next but then she instantly felt herself smiling again as she saw Maria Hill, Carol Danvers, and finally Nick Fury.

All people who had in some way or other loved, lived, laughed or fought alongside her brother, and seeing them today made her feel warm, just like she had at Natasha’s service. 

Katie smiled as she realised they were the real proof that Tony Stark had a heart. Them, and billions of other people who had been brought back to life thanks to his bravery. 

Eventually, in their own time, everyone drifted from the jetty but the Rogers-Stark family remained put a little longer, until the wreath had practically hit the middle of the lake when Jamie announced he was hungry. With a chuckle they all turned back towards the house and where the food was laid out, people already tucking in. 

Katie couldn’t tell you how long passed. But she found herself alone, simply watching Morgan and Jamie as they sat with Happy on the porch. She caught the words cheeseburgers and smiled to herself before a deep voice drew her attention.

“Little Stark.” Katie turned and Thor pulled her forward into a strong yet gentle hug “I am so very sorry I couldn’t…” “Stop.” Katie shook her head “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This was his choice.”

“I just wish I could have stopped him that day in Wakanda. Then we wouldn’t-” “Don’t torture yourself Thor.” Katie shook her head, “We’ve all done enough of that for the past five years.”

He sniffed and nodded, before looking out over the lake “I’m going travelling again.” He informed her “Back to space.” “Yeah?” She smiled.

He nodded, “with the Guardians. We can be the-” he paused before he laughed “-the Asgardians of the Galaxy. Yes, I think I will suggest that to them.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it!” Katie grinned.

“I’m going to leave Valkyrie in charge of New Asgard. She doesn’t know it yet but she’s the natural one for the job” He concluded, nodding.

“I’m all for women in positions of power.” Katie smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be great.” “You’ll have to keep in touch with her, take the Captain and the Little Rogers, including the one you have on the way.” Thor looked at her, knowingly.

“How did you-” she began but he cut her off with a chuckle.

“I’m the god of Thunder.” He shrugged simply “Some things are beyond your Earthly senses, but not mine.”

Katie smiled, her eyes flicking down to her stomach. “Bruce brought it back. But we just didn’t think it was right telling everyone, not until the funerals were out of the way.”

Thor nodded. “I understand. Your secret is safe with me.” He gave her another hug before she pulled back, tears in her eyes knowing this was a goodbye.

“You will stay in touch this time, right?” “Of course.” Thor smiled, gently touching the side of her neck in a sign of affection. “Always, Little Stark.”

And with that he turned and headed over the grass to the group of Guardians. Katie turned back to find her kids, but suddenly a wave of nausea overtook her and she sprinted back into the house and into the bathroom.

Meanwhile Steve was stood with Bruce. Neither of them had meant to get into the discussion they were having at the moment but, well, it was inevitable really.

“We have to take them back.” Bruce sighed. “It’s been weighing on my mind for a while now…” “I know.” Steve said, his eyes straying to where Emmy was stood talking to Peter Parker. He turned back to the man and looked up at him. “How long do you think it will be before you can get it running?” “Well, now Hank Pym is back, Scott doesn’t think it will be a problem. A week or so, maybe. They have a Quantum Tunnel we can extrapolate and plenty of particles so, we can even do it in a few different trips if needs be.”

Steve nodded. “Well do what you need to do, once it’s up and running we’ll formulate a proper plan.” Bruce nodded, and was about to speak again until a loud yell caught Steve’s attention.

“Daddy!” Jamie stood up, pointing to the house. “The baby made momma sick again.”

There was a pause as pretty much everyone on the lawn turned to look at Steve who hung his head giving a groan that their three year old had effectively outed them to the entire funeral party.

“Baby?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “You mean, the snap? It…” Steve nodded. “We didn’t want anyone to know, not yet, the funerals.” He sighed “Guess that ship just sailed.” Bruce’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m glad…I concentrated so hard on everything…” “I know.” Steve layed his hand on his arm. “And thank you…but I gotta…” he jerked his thumb towards the house and strode across the lawn, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting. As he did so his son’s face changed from one full of concern to worry.

“Daddy are you mad? Did I do something wrong?”

Steve cursed himself at being so easy to read. “No, buddy, you didn’t.” He crouched down.

“Momma’s sick.” Jamie urged him.

“I know, I’m gonna go find her and make sure she’s okay.” Steve assured him. “You stay here with Happy.”

He headed into the house and up to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door.

“Sweetheart?”

She opened the door and he looked at her, her face was streaked with tears and he sighed. “C’mere.” He opened his arms and she fell into them, his large hands rubbing at her back.

“I wanna go home.” She sniffled. “I’ve had enough, I’m so tired.” “Then we’ll go.” Steve nodded, pulling away slightly to look at her. “And you can sleep as long as you want.”

She sniffed. “Best say goodbye to everyone.” “Oh erm, yeah, you should know, erm, Jamie just told everyone about the baby. He didn’t mean it, but…” Katie let out a soft groan that almost turned into a chuckle as she pressed her forehead against Steve’s collar bone. “To be honest I’m surprised he kept it quiet for so long.” She mumbled and Steve chuckled. “It’s probably my fault” Steve said as she wrapped her arms round his waist. “I told him this morning when you were being sick that it was just the baby doing it so when he saw you run off before he just shouted to me that the baby had made you sick again.” “Well he’s not wrong.” She mumbled, pulling back. She looked up at her husband who smiled at her, his blue eyes soft. “Take me home, Soldier.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He smiled back, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

***** Later that night, the house was quiet. Bucky and Sam had headed off to some bar with Happy and Rhodey. Steve had turned the invite down, he wanted to be at home with his family. They lay in bed, Katie’s head resting on his chest, his hand gently carding through her hair.

“I’ve decided something.” Steve said, kissing Katie’s head.

“What?” She asked with a yawn.

“After the battle, I spoke to Fury. Told him I was quitting, that I didn’t want to be Captain America anymore, and he said that the world still needs Cap and I guess he’s right, it’s an important symbol to America and the world.” “So, you are gonna carry on?” Katie asked, moving so she could look up at him.

“No.” Steve shook his head firmly “I’m done. I’m gonna pass the shield down.”

“Not Bucky” Katie stated instantly and Steve frowned.

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s been fighting for so long.” Katie shrugged. “And you know he’d do anything for you. He’d take that shield if you asked, but that doesn’t mean that he wants it. I just, I dunno, I think he needs to find his own way for a while.” Steve contemplated what she was saying, she was right, of course. She always was. And, if he was honest, he’d gone through the same thought process himself. Other than Sam, Bucky didn’t really know the other Avengers (or what’s left of them) so how could he truly lead them? As Steve knew only too well, trust has to be earned, plus they all knew about his past, as did the public. Even if they were all willing to overlook and forgive it, he wasn’t sure Bucky himself was.

And, to be honest, Steve wasn’t sure his best friend ever would.

“Well that leaves one obvious candidate.” He stated, looking down at Katie. “Sam.”

Katie smiled “Sammy deserves it. He had non self-serving reason to let us in that time we showed up in DC, although he probably had a few second thoughts when a metal arm ripped through his car roof and tore out the steering wheel.” Steve gave a snort as she took a deep breath. “But he never left us. Even after Leipzig. He’s loyal to a fault, a good man and…” “He’s human. Not enhanced.” Steve finished, following her train of thought.

“Exactly. After everything that’s happened I think the American public could use a little ‘normality’, well as far as they can. People will relate to Sam. He’s a natural born leader.”

“And proof that anyone can be a hero.” Steve mused.

“So are you.” Katie looked up at him. “Remember, you’re just a kid from Brooklyn.” Steve smiled at her, and dropped a kiss to her lips before she settled down again. “There is one tiny problem…” 

“What?” “Your shield bit the dust, big time.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, although he already had a perfectly good plan forming in his mind about where he could get another.

“Mind you, sure T'Challa will be happy to provide enough Vibranium to make him a new one” Katie gave another yawn. “Bruce can sort it in the lab.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s hand began once more running through her hair. He hated lying to her, but he had absolutely no intention of correcting her, or telling her what he was actually planning to do.

He couldn’t, it would kill her. 

Steve lay there in his own thoughts, long after Katie had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her body warm against his. He had watched her today. So brave, so strong. She was stronger than he could ever be and it scared Steve just how lost he would be without her, which, as he realised at the Cathedral before, was a reality he was going to have to face at some point.

Seeing Pepper say her goodbyes to Tony had made him suddenly think about what Katie had been saying regarding him not growing old as fast as she did. And there, sat on that wooden bench besides her, surrounded by other mourners, he had realised in a fit of horror that one way or another that he would be in Pepper’s position someday. He would outlast Katie, the serum would see to that. The sudden understanding had hit him like a tonne of bricks, almost making him sick.

And now, after speaking to Bruce before about the next step, his mind was finally made up. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t lose her like that.

What he was going to do instead would kill him, but it was a small price to pay to stave off the heartache he would feel later in life. Captain America was going to take that final mission, to put the stones back where they came from.

And he wouldn’t be returning, for a very long time.

 **** Chapter 61

**Original Posting**

[penguintransporter]

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part I

Here it is my ladies and gents! I hope you like it, and I apologise if it’s too long, but I got carried away. Please let me know if you like it because I am always up to work on my writing, so don’t hesitate to write me DM or send in an ask (I promise, I am the friendliest person out there). This one is dedicated to @bitchforaesthetics. Anyway, read, enjoy because part II is coming out very soon...

P.S. There is no covid-19 in this story :D

_____

If one asked anyone at the Arsenal Training Centre to describe Aida - the young brunette behind the reception desk, nine out of ten times one would hear the same answer:

Bundle of positive energy. 

It didn’t matter if one was a know or less-known footballer, coach, manager, medical staff or just a random fan touring the grounds - Aida, with her smile and positive energy, could chase away whatever dark cloud was looming above one's head. Yet, despite her contagious smile that was just loud enough and genuine curiosity, as any other human being, Aida wasn’t able to chase away the real dark clouds that seemed to clutch Hertfordshire sky in a tight embrace on that Monday morning. 

Seated behind the desk and waiting for her laptop to turn on, Aida observed the gloominess outside the building and all she saw was heavy blots of grey that seemed to carry all the weight accumulated during the month of December. 

Her last month at Arsenal FC, doing the job she enjoyed more than anything.

If it only had snowed; just a little.

 She would be lying if she said she liked freezing cold, and if anyone, she would be the absolute winner of “the worst balance on icy pavements” competition - if there was one - but Christmas had a different feel to it when everything was covered in fluffy and pillow white cover. And even if she wasn’t religious or celebrated Christmas as the majority of the people, she was a firm believer that snowy Christmas made that cup of hot cocoa, as she sat in her tiny studio under her favorite blanket, just a tiny bit better. 

Aida glanced at the small card that sat next to her laptop - red and golden swirls decorating the backside of it, and with a sigh she averted her gaze back at the laptop screen that had already turned on and was humming quietly - red Arsenal FC logo staring back at her. The large and Christmas decorated lobby was still quiet, but not for too long. In just a few minutes, most of the footballers and some other employees will start pouring into the building, either for training or for their 9/5 job, and with that the building will start buzzing with contagious energy. 

All except Sead. He was late on most of the days.

Aida looked at the clock in the corner of her screen before looking up expectantly at the door, and as if on cue, Alexandre Lacazette walked in through the door, talking to his fellow countryman Thomas who worked as a medical assistant. Both Aida and Thomas, along with some others were shortlisted for the layoff, but in the end it was Aida who pulled out the shorter straw. 

She shook her head, refusing to create unnecessary tension.

 Aida knew that she gained nothing from sulking and sadness. She still had to sit behind the reception desk for another few weeks, smiling and giving the best first impression to everyone who came in. So, with a deep breath, Aida lifted her chin high and looked at the two men in front of her. 

“Bonjour lads,” she grinned - the dark thoughts disappearing as soon as she spoke, leaning on the till in front of her. “Lovely weather outside, no?”

“Good morning indeed, sunshine,” Alexandre responded while still walking across the lobby, “I am actually wearing my bikini on underneath this outfit, what about you?” he added as he disappeared through the hallway that led to the changing rooms while Aida only laughed after him.  

“What a ridiculous man,” Thomas commented, stepping in front of Aida’s desk, smiling at her. “It is so cold outside. How did you travel?”

Aida sighed defeatedly. “Clio took four tries and a bottle of warm water to start this morning, despite the lack of snow and ice. I was really chuffed for this winter, but so far it has only been disappointing.” 

Her soon-to-be ex-colleague nodded, agreeing with her words before his eyes landed on the shiny invitation on Aida’s desk. “Oooh,” he mused, running a hand through his ginger curls. “Who’s date are you? Is it David? Please say it’s not him?”

“Nope!” Aida replied, giggling. There was nothing wrong with David Luiz - he was in fact a genuine sweetheart, but also notorious around the building for his charm and flirting action. Whether it was Aida at the reception desk when he needed an excuse for being late for the training or if it was Simone in the kitchen when he wanted another round of hash browns - he didn’t pick his victim nor his weapon. “Actually,” Aida started, “it was Finn from HR. He thought it would be a nice gesture since I do not get to stay here.”

“I don’t have to tell you again how sorry I am that you have to leave,” Thomas mumbled and Aida shrugged, hiding the disappointment. 

“Oh well,” she trailed off as few of the other players walked into the building and she made sure that she smiled at each one of them. She also made sure to high-five Calum Chambers as she did every morning for more than a year. “There is nothing that you can do really… Post?” she asked, trying to change the subject, and Thomas nodded, leaning over the till to grab the signing pad that rested on Aida’s desk while she shuffled some envelopes before pulling out a big, mustard yellow one. “There is something from Miami. I am assuming it is for Michael,” Aida spoke, exchanging the signing pad for the envelope. “Just tell me if there—  ,”

They were cut off by  the upstairs’ doors slamming shut with a force. Both her and Thomas looked up, watching Mikel Arteta walk downstairs with a risky speed - phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in a very quick and heavily accented English. Thomas quickly cast his eyes downwards, but Aida kept her eyes locked at the dark-haired man, waiting for the manager to notice her. When he finally did, she gave him a bright smile - ignoring the fact that he looked as if he was angry with the whole world - including Aida.

To Thomas’ surprise, Arteta returned Aida’s gesture with a friendly grin and a small wink before putting his agitated face expression back, walking away towards the training pitches.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” Aida’s colleague muttered, and she responded with a childish giggle. 

She was about to add something sarcastic, but the main entrance doors opened, letting the gust of cold wind trail in with force as Héctor Bellerín walked in with confidence that he mastered so well. He was dressed in clothes that resembled every outfit of Aida’s dad in the family photographs from the nineties, looking the only way Héctor Bellerín could -  both ridiculous and extremely cool at the same time.

“Want to watch me how I fail?” she whispered before clearing her throat a little, following their vice-captain with her green eyes. “Good morning, Héctor!” she called out, raising her voice so he could hear her perfectly. “Bollocks weather, innit?”

Nothing.

Not an eye-contact, a simple shrug, or any kind of motion or face expression that showed a tiniest bit of interest. 

Aida was aware that her friendliness sometimes caused people to recoil and shy away from her, and that her behavior could be overbearing at times, and she often wondered if people in the modern world, including Héctor, forgot how to be friendly and appreciate an honest smile. Aida was confused and a slightly bit hurt because it has been more than a year since she started working  for the club, and they only spoke two times - morning of her first day, and that time when they accidentally slammed into one another as they crossed their paths in the medicals. 

She wasn’t sure if she was doing something wrong because to Aida, he seemed like a nice and down to earth lad, and occasionally when she would observe him interact with his teammates and other staff members, she felt a pang of jealousy because she never got more than a cold stare across the room or occasional roll of his eyes.

“Maybe he’s just not a morning person,” Thomas commented, breaking Aida’s train of thoughts. He placed the envelope under his arm as he stuck his woolly hat inside the pocket of his puffer. “Anyway, I have to go. I have meeting in ten minutes. I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, good luck with your day,” Aida responded, watching Thomas walk towards his office on the ground floor. 

She sat back in her comfy chair with an itch of confusion mixed with some foreign feeling of sadness that started to tickle her. She couldn’t pinpoint what she was doing wrong when it came to Héctor Bellerín. They barely interacted, and yet he wasn’t giving her a chance. It didn’t help either that out of all people that Aida interacted with on a daily basis, he was the only one who made her heart both flutter and break at the same time. 

Her eyes glanced at the small calendar taped on the inside of her desk before resting on the party invitation again - her heart soaring with that familiar feeling.

**

Aida nodded, forcing a smile at some of the guests who passed her by. She wasn’t sure who they are or what their names were, but judging by their expensive clothes and blinding jewelry and watches, she figured out they must be very important people with lots of money.

The evening of the charity party has arrived quicker than she expected; quicker than she wanted, and even if the party was for a good cause, and she was meant to have a good time, she couldn’t shake off the tension that slowly accumulated over the past few weeks - her last weeks as the club’s employee. She didn’t want to leave, but despite talking with the HR department once again, there was nothing that she could do. Official answer was that the previous season was really bad for the club both, in terms of injury and finances, and that they had to cut the cost when it came to everything, including staffing. 

“Ada!” a boy’s scream rang out over the classical music they played, making Aida look up from where she was standing, and observing her pointy loafers and tiny specks of water residue from the drizzle of rain she caught on the way from the parking lot to the party.

Aida’s eyes connected with the small boy, dressed in a mini version of the official Arsenal FC suit as he ran towards her - his curly and unruly hair giving him a few extra inches in height. Despite feeling anxious and a bit sad, Aida smiled greatly at him, crouching down to his level before catching him in a tight embrace. Over his shoulder, she noticed his mother Alysha giving her an apologetic smile, but with a small nod, Aida reassured her that it was okay. She spent a lot of time with the boy on more than one occasion - in fact,  whenever Pierre-Emerick brought him to the centre, Pierre Jr. spent half of his time, sitting behind Aida’s desk as he talked in delight about his favorite cartoons and toys. 

“My God, look at you! You are so handsome tonight,” Aida mused and the boy giggled, embracing her once again, silently asking her to lift him up, and Aida obliged. Letting out a puff of air, she straightened up with the boy in her arms - it always surprised her to learn that he was heavier than he looked. With a smirk, she pulled at this red tie jokingly. “Has your daddy helped you with your tie?” she asked, tickling his stomach.

Pierre Jr. let out a loud cackle, squirming in her arms. “No, it was mamie. She also tied daddy’s.” Aida smiled at the boy’s mix of using French and English words, but as soon as the boy started telling her something about minions, Aida, as much as she hated to admit, stopped listening. 

The fact that she was going to be without a job occupied her brain and wasn’t something she was able to push away easily. Where did it go wrong? Obviously, like everyone else, she had her fair share of personal problems over the year, but she managed to keep them away from work - being nothing but professional and friendly the entire time. Aida always tried to give her best, treating everyone with nothing but respect, and even ran a couple of successful campaigns with the fans touring the grounds, but it was all in vain. 

Aida loved the club and being part of it. She loved the mornings when she would be one of the first to arrive, she loved that cup of coffee with Simone in the empty canteen, listening to all the anecdotes that happened since the older lady started working in the kitchen, fifteen years ago. Aida enjoyed the silly banter with footballers and the staff - heck, she even liked when Granit mispronounced her name and she had to correct him every day. She experienced so many nice moments during the past fourteen months and it felt so strange knowing that soon enough those moments will just be a nice memory.

“—so I told Curtys to stop hitting me with the pillow, but he didn’t. So I ate his hobnobs.”

Aida blinked quickly, reverting back to the reality from her thoughts and looked down at the little boy who was proudly explaining his hobnob revenge on his older brother. 

“Great job,” she answered, ruffling the boy’s hair before looking away from his glinting eyes and cheesy grin. Various groups of people mingled around her, and Aida moved her gaze across the room. Manager Arteta was talking to the club president while Claudia, the girl that was going to take her job along with being Arteta’s assistant was chatting excitedly with Naomi from PR. Everyone seemed to be in a better mood than she was, and Aida hated it. 

“Papa!” Pierre Jr. cried out happily and Aida followed his gaze. She spotted Pierre-Emerick, surrounded with some of the teammates and their significant others. 

“Do you want to go there?” Aida asked softly. Pierre Jr. nodded rapidly, and Aida craddled him before making her way through the well-dressed crowd.

**

Héctor Bellerín wasn’t exactly a man of few words, and everyone who knew him privately, knew that fact. The young Spaniard with an extraordinary London cockney accent loved to talk, appreciated a silly joke and banter, but also enjoyed discussing serious subjects and matters at any given opportunity. He was no stranger to a good book or a documentary, but also loved playing CoD with his teammates and just chill around his house. 

He considered himself polite, trying to treat everyone with respect, and most of the time he kept his cool - except that one time with Richarlison, but the lad deserved it. Yet, despite it all, the behavior of the girl behind the reception desk, for some reason, annoyed the shit out of him.

Héctor found her behavior tiring and utterly insincere. Ever since she started working, she would greet him with that smile that couldn’t have been a real one, asking him about the weather - day in and day out. It tired him to the point that he just decided to ignore her. 

On the other hand, he didn’t think that there was something wrong with her - moreover, he did agree with some of his teammates the first week she started working that she was actually pretty, but after another few weeks, her “eager beaver” behavior became a huge turn off. To Héctor, she seemed to be a type of girl that had no rest nor knew how and when to keep it down, and in his head, he used to paint this picture of her where she is making cupcakes every day, talking to fluffy animals and farting rainbows.

So, when she approached their group at the party, wearing a teal-coloured dress that wasn’t really a proper fit for her height or body type, carrying Aubameyang’s son in her arms, he waited for that bubble of overbearing happiness to burst in front of them. 

But it never did.

Instead, she greeted everyone with a short “hello” before reaching the little boy back to his father. “I apologise for interrupting your fun, but the best dressed man in this room wanted to go back to his daddy.”

“Excuse me—” Calum started, clearing his throat loudly as he smoothed down his tie. “What about us? We look decent as well, no?” 

His hand went towards Héctor’s shoulder, brushing the invisible dust from Héctor’s suit. 

Héctor swatted his hand away. 

“You look good too,” she replied, followed by a brief silence as Héctor took a sip of water, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. 

Wasn’t she a walking chatterbox? 

Has she already asked about Calum’s mother's wellbeing?

“Only good?” Alexandre pressed, but she sighed in defeat. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy your evening…” she trailed off, breaking the banter that his teammates started. “I have to go back to—” she bit her lip, looking behind her shoulder, “—I have some stuff to do.”

Only a few seconds later, Héctor watched her walk away through the crowd of men dressed in black suits and red ties. 

Part II

[fruit-teeth]

Matters of Time and Fate (Chapter 21)

The clock up on the office wall ticked in a slow, repetitive rhythm as Joann’s heels tapped against the floor. As she stared at the door to the backroom, she could hear Phoenix Sage inside, no doubt making himself presentable.

Finally, the door opened, and he emerged: dressed in a clean suit, blonde hair combed back, and with the gold watch still hugging his slender wrist. Phoenix gave Joann a nod as he sat down at his desk, just a few feet across the room from where she stood.

Joann took a shaky breath, stepping closer. “Sir – can you tell me what’s going on? You said you were declaring war on Mann Co., but you’ve invited…” she shuddered. “You’ve invited those…bounty hunters here. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you had them here?”

Phoenix scoffed, laying out a few folders onto the desk. “Please. That situation was completely different. Now, they won’t kill our target, I only need her brought to me,”

“I’m not sure I trust them,” Joann advised. “Sir, you have to understand that—”

Before she could finish, the buzzer rang outside. Phoenix looked up, and he called out, “Come in!”

The door opened, and in they came, one by one: nine people, dressed in dark clothing, with symbols printed on their clothing. Their presence filled the office immediately, causing Joann to shrink back towards the wall.

Phoenix grinned at the sight of them, approaching with his hands clasped together. “My friends! How lovely it is to see you again!”

The leader of the group, a burly bearded man, crossed his arms and moved to meet Phoenix in the center of the room. “Sage: was there a reason you couldn’t just phone us this target? Explain to me how you had to call us out here at this time of night. With all due respect, we’re busy people.”

“Oh, Rust, Rust, my dear man,” Phoenix shook his head with a chuckle. “That’s because this is a different job. For this job, the target must be brought to me alive.”

Another man, this one skinny with bug-like eyes, piped up, “Alive!? Man, what do you think it is we do!?”

“Shut up, Grudge!” Rust snapped at the skinny man. He turned back to Phoenix and looked him up and down. “What’s the deal, then? You got a union organizer you want us to go after? Someone who needs to sign something?”

“Not quite,” Phoenix turned out, pulling out some photos from one of the folders. “Are you familiar with a man named ‘Gray Mann’?”

“Yeah,” a woman with shark-like teeth answered. “He died, right?”

“Yes,” Phoenix confirmed, and he held out the picture for them to see. “His daughter is still alive. I need you to find her and bring her to me – this is where she was last seen in public, at a shopping center. She was accompanied by men who are believed to be the mercenaries of Mann Co.”

As Rust took the picture to get a better look at it, Grudge asked, “A lil’ kid? Man, I don’t know about this…”

A short but muscular woman grunted, “Fuck them kids. How much are we getting paid?”

“How’s ninety grand sound to you?” Phoenix offered. “Reasonable?”

“Reasonable.” Rust agreed, glancing to each of his teammates’ faces for confirmation. “We will do our best to bring her back in one piece.”

“See to it that you do,” Phoenix nodded, passing the folders to Rust. “I never thought I would see myself turning to a ransom situation, but…when push comes to shove, you understand?”

As Phoenix briefed the bounty hunters with extra details, Joann stood towards the back, watching with discomfort in her eyes. Phoenix was in too deep, but she couldn’t stop him, now.

At the same time, in the attic bedroom of the townhouse, Olivia had gone to bed for the night. She laid there, curled up in the quilt with her stuffed cat cuddled beside her, yet it was in this state that she began to dream.

Olivia saw herself walking through the long, winding hallways of a strange building. Harsh lights flashed from above, but she tried not to look at them as she searched for some sort of way out.

Finally, she came upon a door. She tried the handle, finding that it was unlocked. Upon opening the door, however, the sight of something she hadn’t anticipated faced her.

In a slate-colored office room, seated at a dark wooden desk, was her father. When Olivia locked eyes with him, he stood up, holding his arms out to her.

“Olivia,” he sounded gentle in a way Olivia wasn’t used to. He moved from behind the desk, approaching her.

Olivia stood completely still for a moment, and something in her told her to run away. She pushed the feeling away, though, and went straight to her father’s arms.

The way he hugged her was very business-like, but she welcomed it all the same. She buried her face in his chest, holding him for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, and she felt him brush his hand through her hair.

A long moment of silence passed, but it dissipated when Gray began speaking. “You ran from me last time, Olivia.”

Olivia lifted her head to look at him, her eyes burning with tears. “What?”

He stepped back, breaking the embrace and putting her hands on his shoulders. “The last time I saw you, you ran away.”

“Oh,” Olivia remembered the dream she’d had about him before, and that she had, in fact, run away when she saw him. “I…I’m sorry, daddy, I won’t do it again…”

“No need to apologize,” he assured her, his hands retracting from her. “All I noticed is that you’re losing yourself.”

Olivia wiped at her eyes, sniffling. “What?”

Gray went on. “You’ve become so…passive. So afraid.”

The tears quickly turned to anger, though Olivia bit it back. “I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid of anything!”

“Oh, but you are,” Gray countered. “I can sense it in you, you know: you’re scared of the people who are coming to attack this place.”

“No…” Olivia knew he was right, but she still denied it. She didn’t want to feel small.

“Don’t lie to me,” he reprimanded, though his voice started to get quieter and further away. “Remember yourself.”

Olivia suddenly realized he was fading from her, and she desperately scrambled to try and cling to him. “Daddy!” she shrieked, though her hands only met air. “Daddy, I’m sorry! Come back!”

At that moment, the floor beneath her disappeared, and she tumbled downwards into nothingness. She felt unable to breathe, her gasps for air coming slower and slower, as if she were submerged in some sort of liquid.

The darkness split, revealing a pathway of light, and she struggled towards it, reaching both hands outwards.

Finally, she was out, and she coughed for air as she fell down upon something cold and hard. The darkness was gone, but now the bright light was oppressive, causing her to press her eyes shut.

A pair of big hands grasped her shoulders just as she got up, and she yelped in distress at the unexpected sensation.

“Olivia?”

Olivia could feel her hands shaking as her senses returned. She was in bed still, and the sun was just beginning to rise outside…had she really been dreaming?

She jolted again when someone touched her back, but when she looked up, she let her guard down. It was Medic, and he looked rather concerned.

“What happened?” he wanted to know. “You were shaking in your sleep, I walked by and you seemed so restless…”

“Oh,” Olivia sniffled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She hugged her arms, before admitting, “I had a bad dream…”

Medic sighed. “Oh, dear. It must have been the fact you ate right before going to sleep, that tends to happen,” he cleared his throat and stood up off the bed. “It’s still early, would you like to go back to sleep?”

Olivia blinked, just as a yawn stopped her from answering for a moment. “Um…” she rubbed her eye again. “Yeah…I’m still tired.”

“All right,” Medic nodded, going to the door. “We will see you in a few hours, then.”

As Medic left, Olivia settled back into bed. Despite her best attempts to tune them out, her father's words echoed in her ears as she clutched her stuffed cat close to her. She was strong, she knew she was…she’d always known it.

She fell asleep again at some point and dreamed another dream, though she didn’t remember this one. When she woke up again, she could hear the sound of the phone ringing downstairs.

Olivia sat up, rubbing her eyes as someone answered the phone. She got up when she heard speaking, and padded down the hallway and into the stairwell. From where she stood, she could see Miss Pauling standing by the wall, the phone’s receiver tucked beneath her chin.

“Hey, Hale,” Pauling greeted. “Yep, it’s me…no, no one’s come around yet. That might just mean Phoenix is biding his time, or that he can’t find us.”

Pauling paused, listening, and Olivia wondered what Saxton could be saying.

“Okay,” Pauling replied after a moment. “Yeah, we’ll call you for back up if anything goes wrong. Okay? Okay. Talk to you later.”

She hung up, and it was then that she noticed Olivia watching. “Oh!” Pauling straightened up, clearing her throat. “Hey, good morning.”

“Good morning.” Olivia greeted back, walking down the stairs. “Are those guys coming to the house?”

“I don’t know,” Pauling confessed. “We haven’t heard any signs of danger or anything yet. Maybe they can’t find this place, but I have no idea.”  

Olivia began to feel uneasy again, her mind going back to the possible danger looming over them. She took a step forward and rooted herself to Miss Pauling's skirt, where she remained for a moment.

Miss Pauling paused, looking down at her in surprise. “Uh…hi? Are you okay?”

Olivia released her grip, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “Um…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Pauling knelt beside her, watching her with concern.

Olivia shifted anxiously from foot to foot, before admitting, “I had a dream about my daddy.”

Miss Pauling took a long breath. “I see…was it a bad dream?”

“Yeah,” Olivia confessed, staring at her feet. She then looked back up at Pauling. “Am I weak?”

“What? No, of course you aren’t weak.” Pauling placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. “You’ve been really brave this whole time.”

“Have I?” Olivia smiled a little.

“Yeah – I mean, you’ve been through a lot for a kid your age,” Pauling went on. “I can’t even imagine how stressful it must be to just…” she trailed off, before clearing her throat again. “Anyway: come have breakfast, everyone else is in the dining room.”

As Olivia walked in, Scout was in the middle of telling everyone else in the dining room a very animated story.

“So, picture this, right?” Scout took a swig of orange juice before continuing. “My hand is totally stuck in there, my piano teacher is layin’ on the floor screaming, and my ma is knocking at the door like crazy!”

Olivia hoisted herself up on the chair, looking up at Scout, watching how amusing he was when he spoke.

“What then?” Soldier prompted from where he sat, intrigued.

Scout set his glass down. “Then, my teacher takes the vegan chili and wips it all around the kitchen! Floor, ceiling, everywhere – and then she points her bony finger at me and says I have no business playing the piano!”

Spy just rolled his eyes, while Demoman gasped in outrage. “Oh, lord!”

“I know, right!?” Scout shook his head, taking a big bite of eggs. “Anyway, never went back to her again! My brother Joey mailed dead slugs to her house like a week later. Funny stuff.”

Heavy grunted. “Americans. Hm.”

As Engineer noticed Olivia at the table, he passed her a plate of scrambled eggs. “Howdy, Olivia! We got eggs here, there’s potatoes too.”

“Okay,” Olivia accepted the plate, but then she spotted a television in the corner of the room that she hadn't seen before. “What’s that?”

“Oh – yeah, that’s a screen I’m gonna hook up to a new camera,” Engineer explained. “So, we don’t have to be on lookout constantly, we can see what’s going on outside from here.”

Olivia glanced back at the TV. The screen was black for now, but she imagined what it would be like when it was a working security camera. “Shouldn’t we have more cameras so we can see the whole yard?”

“One thing at a time, lass,” Demo assured her patiently. “Besides, Jane and I did a full lookout. No one’s been snooping around here!”

“For now, anyway.” Sniper commented from where he sat, before noticing the look on Olivia’s face. “I mean, uh – everything’s gonna be fine. Trust me, we know what we’re doing.”

Scout reached over, pushing a glass of orange juice in Olivia’s direction. “Yeah! We’ve been doing this for years, kid. Now drink some juice! Like my ma says, it keeps your bones strong, or whatever…” he paused, thinking. “Or was that milk?”

“Milk!” Soldier corrected him. “It’s why my bones are unbreakable!”

Olivia couldn’t help but giggle at the answer, while Medic huffed. “You have broken bones before! You – oh, never mind…”

At this point in the morning, everything seemed to be going all right.

After Olivia finished breakfast, she went upstairs to shower, only to find that someone else was in there. She lay against the shower door for a few moments, listening to the shower sounds and recalling the morning when she slept in the laundry basket while the shower ran. This time, though, something pulled her attention away from the door: down the hallway, she could see that Helen’s bedroom door was wide open.

Olivia pulled herself away from the bathroom door, realizing she hadn’t actually been in Helen’s room before. She checked to make sure no one was around, before slipping in the room quietly.

It was a very tidy room, with a neatly made bed, a well-organized makeup shelf, and old record player in the corner. However, there were a stack of boxes sitting in the corner, something that enticed Olivia’s curiosity right away.

She reached into the box on the top, rooting around until her hand hit something solid. When she pulled it out, she realized it was a very old, framed photograph of a horse. It was a huge, black horse with a white, diamond-shaped marking on the center of its head. A plaque with the name "BLACK IVORY" and other awards could be seen beside the horse. Olivia thought back to the bonfire the night before: Helen had mentioned this horse, how it had been shot for throwing her off. The thought made a nagging, dark pit form in Olivia’s stomach, and she had to put the picture back before the feeling grew worse.

She reached inside again, finding another framed picture. This time, it showed a young man with a beard and a scar on his forehead – something about him seemed very familiar to Olivia, but she couldn’t understand why. He had a very pleasant, gentle face, and she felt comforted just by looking at him. She felt something pinned to the back of the frame as she held it, so she flipped it over to investigate.

On the back sat a note. It was old, though it had been laminated to keep it safe. It read:

For Helen, my darling angelfish –

Always remember me and keep me in your heart. May the rivers of time never separate us, and just know that I will always love you.

With all of my heart,

Your father, Garrett.

Olivia read the note over again, blinking. Helen had a father? Well, she must have had one, obviously: everyone had a father. He called her ‘angelfish’…he really must have loved her, if she had a nickname as nice as that.

As Olivia stared at the portrait of Garrett, she tried to imagine Helen as a little girl. Did Garrett train her for work, too?

Olivia set the portrait back into the box, yet it was then she noticed the box sitting closest to the floor: her name was on it. She stared for a moment, confused – why would Helen have a box with her name?

Now intrigued, Olivia knelt down and reached for the box, beginning to move aside the other boxes so she could just –

“What are you doing!?”

Olivia jolted, head snapping up to see Helen looming above her. Helen had clearly just showered, as her hair was damp and she was in her bathrobe.

There was pause, before Helen repeated herself. “What are you doing? Is this what you do? You snoop around others’ belongings?”

“That box has my name!” Olivia pointed to it, indignant. “My name! See?”

Without warning, Helen scooped Olivia up, carrying her out of her room. “It’s not important! You are not allowed in this room!”

Olivia shrieked, squirming to get away from Helen’s grip. “Stop! Put me down!” When Helen did not comply right away, Olivia turned right around and hissed in her face like an animal.

Helen set her down on the floor, scolding her, “Do not hiss!”

“Do not hiss!” Olivia repeated back to her, mimicking Helen’s voice.

“Oh, you…!” Helen stopped herself, taking a long breath. “I’m going to get dressed, and you are going to calm down. Understood?”

Olivia crossed her arms, scowling. “You’re mean to me!”

Helen’s eye twitched, but she said nothing, rising and storming back into her bedroom. As the door slammed, Olivia stamped her foot in anger, her fists balled in rage. It wasn’t her fault Helen left the door open! If Helen didn’t want anyone in her room, she could have closed the door…Olivia then realized her own door was open, meaning that anyone could walk into her room as well. Maybe it was wrong to sneak in there, to some extent. In any case, she did not care for the way Helen spoke to her.

Right then, someone else walked up the stairs, and Olivia turned around to see Pyro approaching. They greeted her with a little wave, their energy as bouncy as always.

“Hi.” Olivia greeted back, still a little on edge from what had just occurred. She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe herself.

Pyro noticed right away, and they sat down on the floor beside her, tilting their head as if to ask what the matter was. Olivia stared up at their shiny, dark lenses, before clarifying, “I made Helen mad because I went into her room. She yelled at me, and now I’m mad too.”

Pyro took a moment to process this, then mumbled something sympathetically to her while ruffling her hair with affection. They then stood up, gesturing for her to follow them.

Perplexed but fascinated, Olivia followed them down the hallway and into what was obviously Pyro's bedroom. There were a few stuffed animals on the bed, as well as their weapons, such as the axe and a flamethrower. Olivia noticed that having stuffed animals and heavy-duty weapons on the same bed was quite a contrast, but she liked it for some reason.

Pyro opened a small box, retrieving a pad of paper and a handful of colored pencils, and they sat on the floor. Olivia sat beside them, and they gave her a sheet of paper as well as a few of the pencils.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she wanted to know, looking to Pyro for answers.

Pyro picked up a pencil, getting a paper out and drawing a frowny face. They then scribbled a series of what seemed to be tiny hills next to it with a different colored pencil. Next to that, they drew a happy face.

Olivia thought for a moment, trying to decipher it. “Hills make people happy?”

Mumbling, Pyro shook their head and pointed to the frowny face. They then drew a picture of a little stick figure drawing, and then pointed to the happy face.

It then clicked for Olivia. “Oh! Drawing would help me feel happy?”

Pyro nodded, enthusiastic. They pointed to the colored pencils, and then at Olivia, as if prompting her to draw.

“Okay…I can try.” Olivia picked up a pink colored pencil, beginning to draw. She drew a little flower, and then next to it, her toy cat and rubber duck. Feeling bold, she then drew herself, not really caring what it looked like.

She found that it helped her feel better – something about it was relaxing to her. She added more flowers, feeling herself smile.

Olivia glanced over, seeing that Pyro was still drawing as well. They had drawn two little stick figures side by side, one with a mask on its head, similar to their own, and the other with a bow drawn on its head, much to her delight.

“Is that me?” Olivia asked, pointing to the drawing.

Pyro nodded, adding a skirt to the figure as well. Olivia couldn’t stop herself from grinning, and she looked back at her own drawing.

Beside herself, she drew Pyro, paying attention to their mask and making sure it was accurate. Once she’d drawn Pyro there, she got bold, beginning to sketch out a few of the others as well.

Pyro paused what they were doing, leaning over Olivia’s shoulder to watch her draw. Olivia noticed, but she didn’t stop. She sketched out the rest of Scout’s leg, before moving on to Demoman. She wondered if she could fit everyone onto the notepad, but the only way she’d know was to try it.

At the same time, Helen got dressed for the day, the interaction with Olivia still on her mind. She felt…regret, for yelling at her. She knew she had every right to be angry about the girl looking through her belongings, but as she reflected on the situation, she realized she should have handled it better.

Her mind wandering, she glanced back over at the box, reaching inside. She pulled out the framed portrait of her father, taking a moment to just observe. His calm gray eyes returned her stare, and a flame in her heart rekindled as she recalled all the days those gentle eyes had looked at her with patience and love.

Helen couldn’t help but ask softly, “What would you have done?”

Of course, he did not answer. She tucked the portrait back into the box, and she pushed the feeling of longing yet again. The present was what she needed to focus on, not the past.

Unbeknownst to her and the rest of the others, this quiet would not last long.

The bounty hunters from the group SHDW (what this acronym stands for is unclear) had narrowed down the location of the townhouse by gaining access to surveillance cameras from stores and traffic lights. Miles away and deep in the woods, they stood on a hill and looked out, seeing the shape of the house beyond the thicket.

“You’re sure this is the place?” the small and muscular woman questioned as she approached Rust.

Rust lowered his binoculars, staring out at the house. “This has gotta be it. Only big place for miles.” He gestured to the woman. “Go get the others, Shell. We’re gonna break in.”

[charlthotte]

Breaking Through The Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 10

Arising on the Saturday morning, the atmosphere rang out with the sounds of the late morning. I never really awoke at such a late time, but at that moment my body and mind were in a rather large need of energy, as I had been worrying about our match - which on that day, was less than ninety-six hours away. I must had slept for at least ten hours, a far contrast to the miniscule amount of sleep I usually got.

After making my way to the dining table, my dad greeted me with a warm and welcoming smile, my mother nowhere to be seen. Once again, it wasn't surprising, just disheartening. "Good morning, (Y/N)." He declared, sipping on his mug of coffee.

"Morning, Dad." I said unenthusiastically.

"What's the matter? You never wake up this late." He looked me in the eyes, genuine concern laced in his face.

"I guess I'm just a bit nervous about going to Tokyo." I suspired, hanging my head in my hands.

"(Y/N)... You'll be completely fine - you're only spending one night there." He reached out and patted me on the head, something he had been doing since I was a toddler.

"I guess so... Thanks, Dad."

Soon after that, my dad started droning on about how he'd been getting a large influx of customers in the last few days, he seemed so excited that his business was finally going somewhere. It was quite a nice sight seeing him in such a purely happy mood. Quite quickly, I grew uninterested in his chattering, so when the opportunity struck, I sneaked away from the dining table and rapidly trundled up the stairs towards my room. I didn't really feel like making an effort with my outfit so I just threw on the first items of clothing I could find. They weren't exactly the most fashionable combination, but at that moment in time - I wasn't in the right frame of mind to care. I studied for a while, rerunning over the topics that I wasn't one-hundred percent confident in.

Once the clock hit half-past three, I decided to end up my studying portion of the day. My throat was rather dry at that point, so the most logical thing to do was to head downstairs for a glass of water, so I did just that. However, when I opened my bedroom door - a little piece of paper fluttered down from it. It had obviously been written by my dad, my eyes flicked across the paper; smiling at the little message he had left for me.

'I've just left for work a little early, but I didn't want to disturb you. See you later.                                                                                                                   P.S. Have a good time with Aone today. :)' 

As always, he had left a small smiley face at the end of his message - it was kind of a signature for him. But of course, he had to mention Aone, just like he did in nearly every conversation we had. He seemed quite supportive of our friendship, but just sometimes, his supportiveness was a little too over zealous. 

Since I had nothing else to do, I turned the television on with a swift flick of the remote, however - there didn't seem to be any programs that interested me. Most of them were generic, run of the mill shows - most of which had been previously aired. I continued channel surfing until I came across a history documentary about Isabella, the 'she-wolf' of France. History was always rather interesting to me - as every little thing in the past had lead to the exact circumstances of the present day. I always imagined that if one thing in the past had gone down a different path, everything as we knew it today could have been completely different.

It only took a few minutes for me to become fully engrossed in the television, I couldn't notice or become distracted by seemingly anything. I barely even took notice of the ringing of my doorbell, possibly it rang around three separate times before I snapped out of my trance. Immediately, I sprang towards the doorway, almost rushing the twist the keys in the lock - somehow dropping them in the process. I was even close to slamming the door open, trying to greet the visitor as quickly as possible. I knew who the visitors would be, after all - they did come here everyday, my walks with Aone and Shiro were definitely the highlights of my week.

But today, there was only one visitor waiting for me to open the door. Only Aone stood there, his face almost wiped over with the slightest hint of melancholy. I almost crouched down expecting one of Shiro's ecstatic greetings - but all that was next to Aone was a void, completely devoid of Shiro's presence. 

"I'm sorry for taking so long, but where's Shiro?" I asked, almost out of breath from my quick dash to open the door.

Aone's eyes almost seemed to prick with the flash of hurt, staying completely silent for nearly a minute - his body tensed up the the point that he looked as if he could snap in half. Every single hair on his head stood on end - perfectly vertical. Something was very blatantly wrong. Right before she whispered, his body shivered - presumably from the cold, but probably from what he was feeling. "...The …Vet..."

My heart skipped a beat upon hearing that, "Oh, Aone... I'm so sorry. Come inside and I'll make you some tea." He quickly obliged himself to my command, dragging his feet behind him, his head hanging low. Almost seeming like an empty vessel as he slumped down into the sofa, letting his entire mass sink into the cushions - he barely moved after that, almost as if he had been petrified.

As I stirred his tea, my hands were almost quivering. The sheer amount of nerves that were tweaking inside of me were indescribable, even though the dog wasn't even my own. Even while I handed the beverage over to him, the liquid swirled around in the mug - threatening to crash over the sides of its confinements. As he took the tea from my hands, the mug began shaking even more. I could see in his eyes just how terrified he was, my mind urged to know the full story. However, I couldn't dare question Aone about him, I was terrified of putting him under more stress - his expression was already pained to a point where it genuinely hurt me.

For what felt like an eternity, I stood inert - at a loss with what to do with myself. Without even giving it a thought, I plummeted down beside Aone, my hands grasping onto his shoulders - the same way he'd comfort me, our eyes deadbolted onto each other. 

Giving his shoulders tiny little squeezes, I endeavoured to solace him with my voice, "Aone, I'm confident that Shiro will be absolutely fine, he can get over anything."

Silence was returned to me, he didn't speak nor make any gesture to reply.

"Shiro wouldn't want you to feel like this, he'd want you to feel happy no matter what."

Silence.

"I'm sure you'll be fine - it won't be long until you can see him again - all happy and healthy."

Silence.

"Aone... I'm here if you need anything..."

Everything was silent once again, the air stagnant and melancholy... Until Aone just let his head fall, fall onto my shoulder - feeling tiny little wet patches drop from where his eyes rested. The tiniest sound escaped from his mouth, the most heart breaking sob I had I ever listened to. I just knew that he was trying to conceal the noise, but all to no avail. Almost immediately, my arms wrapped themselves around his broad back, drawing little circles into the cotton of his shirt.

Straight after that, he unmasked all of his pain - tears began cascading from his eyes - the sound of his sobs rising in a rapid crescendo. His whole stoic persona has crashed onto the ground and shattered into millions of pieces, now he was the embodiment of a child whimpering in my arms. The vibrations of his lamentation shook my body to the same rhythm as him. Almost in an instant he wrapped his arms around me, as if he was searching for a way to curtail his pain, he was close to crushing me with his strength - but that wasn’t a problem at that moment in time.

My whole body froze, making me as solid as a diamond. But also flushed with an immense flash of heat, my interior temperature surpassing that of molten lava, wiping the slate of my brain clean. Almost as if I had short circuited right on the spot - the whole world passed us by, leaving me like a stone statue - as if Medusa had just stared at me straight into my eyes. 

What seemed like hours flew by, with Aone still a crumpled heap in my arms. His whole weeping session must have exhausted him, gradually his tears grew close to a halt - calming down - if you could describe it as that. It took me a while to realise that he'd fallen asleep with his head still on my shoulder. Yet, his arms still remained wrapped around me, not an inch of strength was lost from his awoken state.

I couldn't move. I knew that if he woke up; he'd snap straight back into his lamentation. Even though I wasn't situated in a comfortable position at all, not once did I shift from that placement.

Several programs ran across the television, with each one passing, the sky grew slightly darker. Not once did Aone stir. As he slept, he almost seemed peaceful. No longer were tears streaming from his eyes, no longer was his breathing at an erratic pace. Once or twice, he even nuzzled his face further into my shoulder - his head almost resting in the crook of my neck, just like a baby. Little by little, signs of being in a dreamlike state exerted themselves from him - he began twitching, along with the movements of his dreams. One twitch in particular was rather violent, jerking him awake. Almost as if he had just been thrust out of the grasps of a nightmare.

He suddenly lurched upright, his eyes wide and worried. They almost had an element of shock in them, as if he was somehow confused about his current situation, after that he quickly shot up to stand on his feet - his flushed with an intense reddish hue. Almost immediately, he edged away from the sofa.

"What's the matter?" I inquired.

Rather than answering my question, he dodged straight around it - only to reply with something completely unrelated... "I'm sorry..." He darted his eyes away from me, trying to find some other object to focus on.

"Hey..." I sighed, moving myself into his line of sight, "There's nothing to be sorry about, you're just worried about Shiro."

Once again, he shifted his eyes away from me - folding his arms over his chest, as if to try and comfort himself. Hearing Shiro's name must have let a painful pang ricochet through him. Obviously uncomfortable, he swivelled around - trying to escape my company.

"Aone... You're not going anywhere without me going with you. You shouldn't be left alone right now." I attempted to keep up with him, eventually making it to the doorway before he could escape. I couldn't let him leave by himself.

He almost pouted as I blocked his exit, along with huffing out like an annoyed child. We stood in silence again, both of us unsure of what to do next, and after what felt like an age - Aone nodded - giving in to me. But after that, the atmosphere grew awkward with the stagnant silence. Desperately, I tried to break it. "...So... Would now be a good time for us to go see him?" I didn't mention Shiro's name in trepidation of upsetting Aone.

Aone stuttered, "I-I think s-so." His words were broken, mimicking the state of his mind. Without saying a word, I acknowledged his statement, grabbing my shoes and jacket - readying myself for the outside world, Aone too.

Somehow I could sense both of our anxiousness, I tried to ameliorate my mental state by taking a deep, deep breath. And with that, we stepped over the threshold to the outside world - ready for any news that could be thrown upon us. But even though we were ready... It didn't mean that the news couldn't break us.

[mylittleterror]

Spike Tries Digital Art

Twilight Sparkle gifted a tablet to Spike on his birthday. Spike was exited to have been given one. He always wanted something to replace the paper lists that Twilight always had. A tablet would be much more practical and no trees would be cut. But lately, Spike has been interested in art, digital art. Spike was a creative dragon from the start. He liked to draw, play games and just dream. So why not give digital art a shot?

“Alright! Art. Art art art...” he said to himself as he searched the tablet for an app that was a painting app. After searching for a while, Spike decided to use Notes app. On that app, as all of us know, there is a drawing/doodling section. It’s very primitive, but useful nonetheless.

Spike looked at the colors given on the color palette and saw that there were only the colors of the rainbow with their different tones. He frowned and rolled his eyes. “Just like crayons.” he mumbled. And with that, Spike began to draw.

Getting used to the tablet was a bit hard, especially drawing on it. The first thing that he drew was Rarity, his forever crush. This was one of the many times that he drew her, but this looked much more clean and clear. This made him happy, drawing Rarity and all. He soon added himself as well. He drew himself some big wings too! Spike smiled as he would start to draw-.

“What’cha drawing?” Twilight asked Spake and looked over his shoulder. Spike panicked and quickly turned off the tablet. “Nothing! Just ehhh... Looking at the list for tomorrow!” he said and made an embarrassed smile. Twilight let out a laugh and smiled as well. “Of course. We have a party tonight! I’m very glad that Pinkie helped me a bit with the cake recipe, so we are going to bake now!” sh said and pulled Spike to her. Spike let go of the tablet and went to the kitchen part of the library.

The day passed by quickly and it soon became nighttime. The Mane Six and Spike gathered around the table that was in the middle of the library. The table was decorated with candles, delicious pastries and the grand cake. “Wowee! The cake is delicious!” Pinkie Pie said in an excited tune, as always. Applejack and Fluttershy nodded in unison, because their mouths were full. “Awesome! I didn’t know that Twilight could bake.” Rainbow Dash said and looked at Twilight.

“Well, Spike helped me as well, so don’t forget to thank him as well.” Twilight smiled. Rarity looked at Spike, “So that’s why it is fabulous.” she said to him. These words made Spike’s heart flutter. He blushed and looked down at his empty plate. “I uhh... I’ll get you all some more punch.” he said and stood up. Spike left the ponies alone and made his way to the kitchen. “Does anyone taste something odd?” Applejack noted before everything went black for everypony.

Rarity groaned and inhaled the dusty air. She let out two coughs and opened her eyes. The room looked familiar yet not at the same time. “Oh! You’re awake?” a voice said from across the room.

“Spike? Spike, where am I?” Rarity asked when she recognized the male voice. Rarity’s body was quite weak. She slowly stood up, but collapsed a second later. “Gosh, that thing is very strong. You need another minute to rest.” Spike said to Rarity. “I... Where are you...? Where am I...?” she asked him. She heard footsteps come her way. The silhouette of a small being became more and more clear. Spike appeared before Rarity and knelt down to pet her head. “Shh... Everything will be alright. Just rest a bit, okay?” he said to her. Rarity’s eyelids became heavier and soon she found herself asleep yet again.

A loud sound woke Rarity up. She quickly got on her hooves and looked around. The place looked like a dark basement. The walls were made out of wood and the floor was made out of stone. An odd smell of metal filled the air. “Spike? Spike?!” Rarity screamed out. The light in the middle of the basement turned on and spike appeared at the top of the stairs. This was Twilight’s basement.

Spike made his way downstairs and to Rarity. “Spike? What is happening?” Rarity said and tried to move. She tried to pull her back-right leg forward, but was unsuccessful. Her back hooves, front hooves and neck were chained to the floor. “Hmm... Looks like the potion still has their effects. Zecora wasn’t lying.” Spike said as he stood there. Rarity then tried to use her magic, but was unsuccessful as well. “Your horn is bound with an unbreakable spell, Rarity! You will need some extra help to get it off.” Spike said and walked away from her.

Rarity began to scan the room. The basement had a large table in the middle of it that had sewing scissors, leather, big buttons, needles and some colorful threads. Near the curved staircase was something big, covered by a bed sheet. Rarity looked around some anypony else, but she was alone with Spike. 

Spike walked over to the table and sat down on a metal chair. He grabbed some leather, a needle with a thread already in it and began to sew the two leather pieces together. “You’ve been asleep for the past five days. It’s a wonder that you didn’t die of thirst.” Spike said as he worked on the leather. There was silence between them for a few seconds. Then, it clicked in Rarity’s head. She proceeded to scream.

“Help! Twilight!! Heeelp!!” she screamed. “No one can hear you, Rarity.” Spice calmly said. He stood up and got something from under the table. It was a small bowl of food and a cup of water. He grabbed them and walked over to Rarity. She stared at him with disbelief and fear. “Y-You can’t be... Spike...” she said, her makeup running down her face as she began to cry. Spike put down the plate with food and the cup of water down. Sitting down, his dragon eyes stared at her pony eyes. “Please, eat. I will explain everything.” Spike said to her.

Rarity stared at the food and the water. Her head slowly rose up to meet Spike’s eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she screamed and threw the water with the food at Spike. They landed on him, making him covered in it. Spike stood up and shook off the food. “Guess you’re not hungry.” he said to her and walked to the table. “Why?! What are you doing?!” Rarity cried out. Spike stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder.

“What I’m doing can be explained with one simple word: Love.” he said and snapped his claws. More lights turned on, making the dimly-lit basement more clear. Rarity soon noticed that there were some computer, tablet and TV screens scattered all over the walls. All of them showed one of the drawings of Rarity and Spike. “I drew you exactly two hundred and ninety five times and in all of them you look stunning.” Spike said.

He looked at the screens with a smile on his face. His eyes glimmered with happiness. “You see, since the moment I met you, I’ve always imagined us being together.” Spike said and walked to the nearest screen. He put his hand on the screen and swiped from right to left, making the drawings change from oldest to the newest drawing. “Get me out you maniac!!” Rarity screamed out, which made Spike cringe. He wasn’t expecting her to scream yet again. “And this is not all, dear Rarity...” he said and walked over to the big object that was under the bed sheet. Spike grabbed the bed sheet and quickly pulled it away, revealing a horrific sight.

The Main Six, all except from Rarity, stood in various poses. They looked alive, yet dead. Their eyes were replaced by big and colorful buttons. If you looked closer, you could see the sewn parts and some cotton sticking out of their bodies. “I had to do something about it eventually. But I needed them to be alive as well. So, stuffing them was the only option.” Spike said, “Just look at their faces! They look so happy to see us being together.” he soon added and looked at Twilight. The stuffed bodies of Spike’s friends did look happy, but nothing about this situation made Rarity joyful.

Rarity threw up at the sight of her friends. She backed away and began to weep. Her makeup was entirely gone now, but it was the least of her cares at the moment. Spike looked at her and his smile dropped. “No no no! Rarity! Please don’t cry!” he said and rushed to her. “Please don’t cry. You’re with me, okay? I’ll make you happy, okay?” he said to her and attempted to hug her. Rarity kicked him away with her front hooves when she noticed that he was getting closer. “Get away from me, you maniac!! You’re a murderer!! A psychopath!!” she screamed as she continued to cry.

Furious, Spike got up and spit out one of his back fangs into his hand. “Fine! Stay here. You will feel my love eventually.” he growled and went to the staircase. Halfway to the top, he looked down at weeping Rarity and couldn’t help but to frown. It broke Spike’s heart to see her so miserable. But he needed her to calm down. Spike walked to the door that was on top of the staircase, opened the door and left. He locked the door behind him, leaving Rarity alone.

[the-coffee-story]

Coffee - The Story of a Tragedy

Chapter 9 - Replacement for a mentally unstable Detective

"Walther, can I talk to you for a second?"

They glanced up from the can of ice tea they were trying to open. "Sure."

Evans looked around nervously. The Doctor smirked from the other side of the room. "Whatever it is, I am not telling a soul."

Evans sighed. "Okay. Walther, I need to talk to you."

"Hm?" Their can of ice tea popped and they grinned triumphantly like they'd just won a war. "Yeah?"

"I want to keep Coffee out of this case. I don't think he's rational enough for it," Evans confessed. The Doctor snickered. Walther nodded and took a sip like that was the most obvious fact in the world because it was. "Yeah, so?"

"So, today we are going to interrogate Diego Muñoz. I had Coffee sort files downstairs to keep him occupated. Violet is busy hunting the Faceless Man from her window. I want you to come to Graytown prison with us and interrogate Muñoz."

Walther's eyes were shining. "Sick."

"And Doctor..." Evans turned to the fearsome Doc. "... you're coming too. A guard was knocked out cold backstage, they need you there."

Doc Tilch nodded. "Aye."

"And please...try not to scare the living hell out of Gary Fox again."

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my fault he gets freaked out by an explanation of why taxiderming yourself will most likely not work."

Evans sighed.

"I still don't get it!", Walther exclaimed. "What's so difficult about it?"

"You start with your eyes, that's difficult!"

"Aw man."

Evans groaned. "Let's go. Doc, your car or mine?"

"We'll take the Bentley."

***

Walther was turning the knobs of the radio. "There's got to be something playing decent music here..." They were interrupted by Peter Murphy announcing that Bela Lugosi was dead and a smirk spread on their face. "Fuck yeah."

"What on earth is that?!", the Doctor asked, visibly shook. He stared at the radio like a snake had just crawled out of it.

"Bauhaus. Stop acting like you're too old to know them, Stringbean."

Doc Tilch sighed. "I like the image."

"Dude, you're thirty-nine, not ninety-nine." Suddenly they giggled. "Look at Evans."

They glanced into the rearview mirror to see him bopping his head with his eyes closed.

"The music stays," Walther declared and Doc Tilch sighed.

Suddenly he seemed to remember something. "Oh, by the way, were they good?"

"Hm?"

"You're wearing a different choker than usually. This one's wider. Meaning you're hiding something on your neck. Since vampires are rather uncommon here I can safely assume that it's a bruise from heavily making out."

Walther laughed. "Heck! Why are you still not a detective, Sherlock?"

"Because I prefer the peace of my lab, and not action and violence."

Walther smirked. "Okay, Flagpole. Oh, to answer your question: He was."

"Can we expect to hear more of him in the next weeks?"

"Hmmmm... unsure yet. He was nice." Walther grinned. "I'm not even gonna ask you. You're married to two-hundred-fourty-six taxidermed animals."

"Two-hundred-fourty-seven."

"Whatever."

"We're there."

Evans opened his eyes and yawned like a hippopotamus. He'd fallen asleep. Walther peeked outside. "Damn! That's one high fence!"

"It's not that high," the Doctor replied.

"You can laugh, you sentient tree! You're...how tall again...?"

"Six foot eight."

"Whaaaaaaa-"

[regolithheart]

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Five

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

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

CHAPTER FIVE:

Cassian shuffled through his dresser to find clothes to change into. It would be so easy to throw on a pair of clean sweats, but he didn’t want to resort to that. It was only day two of their self-isolation and if he wasn’t careful, it would be a slippery slope. Besides, he could just imagine the look of distain on Nesta’s face to see him walking around in pajamas in the middle of the day. 

His phone buzzed on the bed behind him and picking it up, he saw Rhys was on the other line. Cassian grinned as he accepted the FaceTime call.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning!” He heard Mor’s voice calling back although out of view from the camera and distant but cheerful.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s 4:30pm here.”

Leaning back against his headboard, Cassian shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not on Parisian-time. Seeing as I’m in Sonoma right now with a woman who hates my guts. Have I thanked you recently for that?”

Rhys gave him a wry smile. “You can take your grievances up with France and the U.S. government. Do you want Macron’s number?”

Cassian snorted. “Yeah, text it to me.” He wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhys really did have the French President’s personal number.

There was a moment of silence before Cassian raised an eyebrow.

“So….to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

The corner of Rhys’ mouth quirked up, but there was no amusement on his face. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Cassian held up a hand to stop him.

“No. If you’re going to give me bad news, I want it from one of the girls or Az. At least then I can take comfort from their beautiful faces. “

Rhys rolled his eyes, but again, he was interrupted. 

Cassian watched the phone shuffle between hands and caught a glimpse of the ceiling of Rhys and Feyre’s pied-à-terre and the blue Parisian sky beyond. Soon, he was looking at Feyre.

“Hey.” Her smile was too sweet and she had drawn out her vowels for too long. 

Cassian’s reply was cautious. “Feyre. What’s up?”

Her eyes flickered to someone off screen before smiling even wider at Cassian. “So listen. I just got off the phone with Elain and she and Graysen are actually staying in L.A. for the time being.”

Cassian dragged his free hand down the length of his face, groaning. 

If there had been any saving grace in his current predicament, it was that Elain and her boyfriend were on there way up. At least then Nesta would have been appeased and he’d have more people to talk to. It was hard to strike up a conversation with someone who only answered in single word sentences or told him to eat shit half of the time. 

He had even been prepared to make friends with Graysen—who was maybe the most boring person Cassian had ever met. 

Graysen. Was that his name? Why did he think it was Gregory?

Cassian shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Feyre. You guys are really screwing me over, here.”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice was pleading. “If there was any other way—“ 

“I know, I know. It’s fine.” He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but it still didn’t stop the bubble of irritation that was building in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell Rhys that he better be prepared to sell this house at half it’s market value because there’s a good chance your sister is going to murder me in my sleep. I’m leaving all of my records to Az.”

“Hey!” He heard Mor object in the background. 

“You can also tell your fiancé that he has surrendered his entire booze collection and I remember seeing a bottle of McCallan 1926 the last time I checked.” Cassian was starting to feel better just thinking about the prospect.

Rhys shoved his face into view. “Cassian, don’t you dare.”

“What? I can’t hear you over my emotional distress. Gotta go drown my sorrows in a fancy bottle of whiskey.”

“Cassian,” Rhys threatened again. 

But Feyre had elbowed him out of the frame and looked at Cassian one more time. “There’s one more thing.”

Cassian raised his eyebrow.

“Elain is giving Nesta the news any minute now and you might want to avoid her for a little while.”

“This is why I’m not going to feel bad for drinking the McCallan.” 

“I’m sorry, Cass.” Feyre’s smile was weak.

“Yeah. I gotta go find a hiding spot now. If I don’t make it out alive, it was nice knowing ya.”

He saw various arms waving at him and a received a chorus of goodbyes before he hung up. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Abandoning the idea of a shower, Cassian tip-toed out of his room and threw a glance down the hallway. Nesta’s bedroom door was closed and he didn’t hear her angry voice coming from the other side. Quickly, he snuck downstairs and headed towards the gym. 

He figured he’d be safe in there.

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

After ninety minutes in the gym and sauna, Cassian decided it was safe to come out. He had heard Nesta’s angry footfalls on the stairs fifteen minutes earlier, but it had been quiet after that.

As he passed the door to the office, he heard the scrape of a chair against the wooden floors, a thud, and Nesta cursing.

“Damnit!”

Cassian was all too happy to ignore the commotion, but before he got to the stairs, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground with a thud and Nesta’s long, defeated sigh. 

Running a hand through his hair, he sent a silent apology to his future self and turned around to knock on the office door.

“What?” Nesta’s answer was curt. 

He opened the door slowly, allowing himself a peak into the room in case Nesta felt like throwing something at him. He still remembered the day Pictionary was banned. 

“Do you need some help?”

Nesta was on her knees. Her work bag was laying on its side, it’s contents scattered across the floor.

Cassian picked up a highlighter that had rolled to his feet. He began picking up random pens and markers on his way closer to her. She took them silently from him and stuffed them into her work bag, not sparing a glance his way. 

“I can’t find the wifi password.”

He was amused for a moment until he realized he didn’t know what the password was either. They had set up the lake house’s internet years ago and everyone had saved it on their devices and promptly forgot it. Come to think of it, he really should update the password and run a security check on the house’s connections. He made a mental note to himself.

“Did you check the back of the router?” He had warned Rhys not to leave the password taped there, but wouldn’t have been surprised if his friend ignored his advice.

“Of course I did.”

“And?”

“And I wouldn’t be talking to you if it had worked, would I?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest.

Cassian ignored her scowl and marched over to the desk to take a look himself. Sure enough, there was a sticker with the default password stuck behind the router. They couldn’t have been that lazy, could they?

“May I?” Cassian asked, gesturing to Nesta’s laptop opened on the desk.

“Sure. Go ahead and waste my time.”

Cassian ignored that too and punched in the password. A error ping sounded followed closely by a snort from Nesta behind him.

Drumming his fingers against the wooden desk, he searched his memory, trying to recall if they had ever written the password down. He began pulling out the desk drawers and shuffling through its contents. Not that there was much to look through. He would have been surprised if Rhys did any actual work in that room. 

In the drawers Cassian found a stack of business cards, a letter opener, an empty leather bound notebook with gold gilded pages, a cigar trimmer and two cigars still in their plastic sleeves, but no sign of a wifi password. 

He could image Nesta rolling her eyes at him, but when he looked up, he found that she wasn’t paying him any attention at all. Instead, she was on the other side of the room, looking at the framed pictures on the bookshelves and running a delicate finger across one of the photos, lost in her thoughts. 

And that’s when Cassian finally remembered. 

He reached over to the black and white photo of a woman and teenage girl, both with thick dark hair and  matching brilliant smiles. The silver frame was heavy and well-polished. Turning it over, Cassian unlatched the back and revealed a yellow sticky note with Rhys’ tiny, yet neat handwriting. 

“All set,” Cassian said, setting the photo back in it’s place on the desk.

“Who’s that?” Nesta asked as she watched him. 

He hesitated. “Rhys’ mother and sister.”

Nesta was silent. Feyre must have told her what happened six years ago and he was glad he didn’t have to. It still made his heart ache just thinking about it.

Cassian cleared his throat and stood up to leave. Before closing the door behind him, he heard Nesta say, “Thank you.”

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

Nesta splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and the smudges under her eyes showed just how tired she really was. Sighing, she redid her braid and pinned it back in its usual crown, smoothing the flyaways down with her damp fingertips. 

There. It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement. 

She had escaped to her room for a moment after getting off a two-and-a-half hour conference call where the majority of it was taken up by Devlon and their client’s anecdotes about their second day of self-isolation and lamenting the fact that they were going to be missing a lot of golf. She had gritted her teeth through the whole thing, but remained silent. 

Her only saving grace was the little satisfaction of knowing she was billing the client for this meeting and the more he droned on about the eighth hole at Pebble Beach, the more he was being charged. 

She took a deep breath and began making her way back downstairs, to the long list of unread emails she had ignored all day. 

Cassian’s bedroom door was ajar again.

God, did he ever close it?

Slowing down, she chanced a peak inside. His laptop sat open on the otherwise orderly bed, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

When Nesta got back to the office, she crossed her arms and looked suspiciously around the room. 

Next to her laptop, sitting on a coaster was a gin and tonic. 

She glanced down at her watch. It was 5 o’lock on the dot and she wondered if Cassian had been waiting to hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. She didn’t see him in the living room or hear him in the kitchen and that annoyed her. 

Pushing the drink away, she was even more annoyed when she saw that it was exactly how she liked—with a twist of lemon and an extra slice for good measure. She didn’t want to think about what it meant that Cassian knew her favorite drink, or how he knew it. 

Instead, she focused on her mountain of emails. Half of them were office-wide emails, reminding everyone to be safe and to reach out to their clients to let them of their new Work From Home procedures and all of the additional spreadsheets and reports that they needed to keep up to date now that people were no longer in the office. It was exhausting to shift through. But then an email from Devlon made her pound her fist on the desk.

The ice from the gin and tonic tinkled.

She dialed Devlon’s number, nostrils flaring at every ring. He picked up on the fourth one.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Devlon’s voice was even-toned. “I had no choice.”

“But, Eris? I said anyone but him!”

“You do remember that I’m your boss, right?”

Nesta didn’t reply, just seethed. 

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal. I wouldn’t have put him on the Carver project at all but…” he sighed. 

“Tamlin put a hold on Rose Hall and I’m in a staffing bind.”

“Can’t you shift some other people around?”

Devlon was not amused. “I need to find projects for eight people.”

“I’ll take Amren.”

“Good. Then you have to take Eris, too. He’s the only one on the viz team that’s available and can do the work.”

Nesta huffed. “Fine. But he needs to be reminded that I’m the Project Architect and he answers to me.”

“Don’t we all?”

Nesta hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, still annoyed. She was glad Amren was now on her team, but she wasn’t looking forward to babysitting Eris. 

Looking up, she saw the photo of Rhys’ mother and sister smiling at her. She averted her eyes. 

She hated that room.

For an office, it was surprisingly lacking. She had only been able to find one single pen in the whole entire room and it was a Mont Blanc fountain pen. Judging by the weight, no doubt it was made of platinum.

The rest of the room was more of a treasure chest of knick-knacks, travel paraphernalia, and photos. So many framed photos. 

She had perused them earlier that day when Cassian was looking for the wi-fi password and her eyes had snagged on a photo sitting in a simple wood frame. It was all of them: Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Feyre. 

Nesta had not been able to tell where the photo had been taken. Judging from what they were wearing, they could have been anywhere at any time. To anyone else it would have just been a typical photo of a group of friends, but it had struck Nesta to see how happy they all were, especially Feyre. Rhys’ arm was around her waist, but Feyre’s head was leaning on Mor’s shoulder. And her sister’s arm was stretched behind the blonde, her hand clasping Cassian’s.

Nesta couldn’t recall if she, Elain, and Feyre had ever a photo similar to that one. Maybe they did before, but certainly not after their mother…

She snapped her laptop shut, revealing the gin and tonic she had nudged aside earlier. The ice had began to melt, but she finished it in three gulps.

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

Nesta found Cassian in the kitchen. Not that she had been looking for him.

She was returning her glass and he just happened to be there, pulling items from the fridge. The sound of ice clinking against the tumbler made him look up. 

He raised his eyebrow, but his smile was soft.

“Looks like you could use another.”

Given the day that Nesta had, she agreed.

Cassian held out his hand and Nesta placed the glass into his awaiting palm. 

She was surprised when he put the dirty glass into the sink and watched as he deftly prepared her a new drink in a clean one. She was even impressed when he managed to carve the perfect sliver of lemon peel with the large chef’s knife in his hand and gave it a delicate twist before nestling it into the ice and handing her the drink. 

Nesta took a sip. It was perfect.

“Thank you.”

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. “So are you going to be eating dinner tonight?” His tone was casual and he didn’t look up at her as he organized the food on the counter.

She hesitated, but he was being nice so she could at least try to be civil. “What are you making?”

He finally looked up at her, his grin wide, canines gleaming as he held up a parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Steaks!”

“Isn’t that a little extravagant?” 

“You’ve never heard of steak night Wednesday?” He grinned at his own joke. “We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

There was that grin again and Nesta blamed the heat rising in her chest on the two gin and tonics she’d had. 

“We’re celebrating the fact that I just broke into Rhys’ prized whiskey collection.” He nodded to a bottle that other than the color of the liquid—a deep, dark caramel—and the label that said Years 60 Old, didn’t look like anything special to Nesta. 

Cassian could tell she was unimpressed. “That is a $75,000 bottle of Scotch.”

Nesta laughed. “You’re shitting me!”

“I would never joke about McCallan.”

Nesta picked up the bottle to examine it further. It was heavier than she had expected it to be. The label was thick and had a beautiful texture that was imprinted with a gold border, but she still couldn’t believe that she was holding a bottle of alcohol that was worth a year’s salary.

“So what do you say, Nesta Archeron? Have dinner with me tonight.”

She looked at him. At the checkered button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair which was half pulled back in a knot. His smile was easy and the light from the setting sun streaming into the kitchen made his eyes glow amber.

He cleaned up nice. It wasn’t the first time Nesta had noticed, but it always took her by surprise. 

“Okay,” she said and took a sip of her drink—an excuse to avert her eyes. 

“Great! You can start on the potatoes.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“The potatoes.” Cassian repeated, pointing to a bag of small yellow potatoes. 

Nesta started backing away from the island. “No. No one said I had to cook.”

“Boiling potatoes isn’t exactly rocket science.” Cassian looked amused. “Just grab those potatoes, wash them, fill that pot with water, and wait.” 

Nesta eyed the potatoes. “How many?” 

Cassian shrugged. “Ten? Eleven?”

Nesta grabbed the bag and pulled out twelve golf-sized potatoes. 

Eleven. What kind of maniac was he?

When the pot was on the stove, Cassian tossed in two healthy pinches of salt into the water. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“That’s it? How long until they’re done?”

Cassian looked at her incredulous. “Have you really never boiled potatoes before?”

Nesta didn’t answer. It wasn’t as though she had never boiled potatoes before, but the few times she deigned to cook, she always followed a step-by-step recipe to the tee. 

“When the water starts boiling, poke them with a fork. If they’re soft, they’re done and if not give them a couple more minutes.”

She nodded.

“In the meantime, turn the oven on to 400 and relax.”

Nesta let her shoulders drop. She hadn’t realized how tense she was. 

When the potatoes were done, Cassian strained them and dumped them all onto a sheet tray. 

“Now here’s the fun part,” he said, grabbing a wooden spoon. “Take this spoon and press it into the potatoes like this. Really smash it.”

He demonstrated and Nesta watched as the potato flattened under the pressure of the spoon, it’s edges splitting into craggy fissures. 

“Your turn.”

Nesta took the wooden spoon from Cassian and tried to mimic his technique. 

“Come on, Archeron. You can do better than that. Really smash it. Pretend it’s my face you’re crushing.”

Nesta hid her smirk, and pressed hard. It was oddly satisfying.

When she was done, Cassian tossed in some herbs, a couple of crushed garlic cloves, a few glugs of olive oil and told Nesta to mix it up with her hands. She did as she was instructed, but cringed the whole entire time. As soon as the contents of the tray were mixed, she rushed to the sink to wash her hands. 

That was one of the reasons why she didn’t cook. But aside from getting gross oil fingers, thirty minutes later they were sitting at the dining table with the most amazing smelling dinner in front of them, and Nesta decided it hadn’t been too bad. 

 Cassian held up the bottle of McCallen 1926. “Can I tempt you?”

She wasn’t a whiskey drinker in the least, but she was curious to see. When she nodded, he poured her two fingers’ worth.

Nesta twirled the liquid in her glass, trying to determine if she could spot how special it was just by looking at it. It looked pretty ordinary to her. She glanced at Cassian before taking a sip. 

It was much more sweet than she had expected it to be. There were hints of dried fruit—figs, maybe. And as the liquid rolled over her tongue she picked up a bit of vanilla and something warm and nutty. Cinnamon? It was definitely familiar. When she finally swallowed, the aroma hit her. Christmas. This tasted like Christmas. Warm and comforting and…special.

She cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”

Cassian simply shook his head, torn between amusement and disbelief. He took his own sip and Nesta watched his face closely. It was subtle—almost imperceivable—but she saw his discovery mirror her own. 

When he opened his eyes, his voice was awed. “It’s incredible.” He grinned. “I am never drinking anything else, ever again.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes and he winked.

“Well, lets eat!”

Everything tasted as amazing as it looked and Nesta felt a flash of pride at how wonderful the potatoes were. They had baked them in the oven and the edges were crispy and fragrant. If that was all Nesta was allowed to eat for the rest of her life, she’d be happy. 

“These potatoes are incredible.” 

Cassian grinned. “They’re the easiest thing.” 

“I never learned how to cook.” The words slipped out of Nesta’s mouth before she could stop them. 

Cassian looked up, surprised. “Really? Then who taught Feyre? I thought…” He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. 

Nesta looked away. She hated how he became quiet. Probably because he knew the truth about what happened all those years ago. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, like at that very moment, it felt all too fresh.

She cleared her throat and straightened. When she turned back to him, her face was neutral, calm. 

“How did you learn to cook?”

Taking her cue, Cassian’s smile came easily. “I used to be a line cook,” he answered, popping a piece of steak into his mouth.

For the rest of the dinner, Cassian told Nesta of all the jobs he had had growing up. First as a dishwasher, then a line cook. There was the summer in high school when he was a life guard at the public pool but had to quit because all the moms were hitting on him. 

Nesta rolled her eyes at that story, but then laughed when he told her about his stint as a dog walker. She almost choked when he told her about the time he baby-sat a nine-year-old. 

“You were a manny?!” 

“Yeah.” His grin turned into a scowl. “But then I was fired because the kid was failing math! I was only supposed to pick him up from school and made sure he didn’t break his neck until his parents got home. I didn’t sign up to teach long division.”

Nesta had to brush a tear of laughter from her eyes as Cassian cleared away the dirty dishes. 

She smoothed her hair back and saw Cassian leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her. 

“Wanna watch a movie?”

She sobered quickly. “I…um…no. I have to get back to work.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s 8pm.”

She stood up. “I have a lot of emails to get to.”

They held each other’s stare long enough for Nesta to feel uncomfortable, but then Cassian shrugged his shoulder and moved towards the sink.

“Another time then.”

Nesta watched him for three more seconds, then turned and left. 

[lailannajacobs]

Want To Be Yours

Pairing: Loki X Reader 

Request: can you pretty please w a cherry on top write a loki one shot where reader and loki like each other but they each think the other likes someone else? it ends in a screaming match between the two of them where loki interrupts the reader by kissing them🤩🥰 i really hope that makes sense LMAO

Warnings: Mostly Fluff! 

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: thank you so much @moodymcu for this wonderful request!! I had a blast writing it! It was a bit of a crazy week so I apologize ahead of time if there are typos! Let me know what you think! <3 

You pushed yourself up, stair after stair, the soles of your shoes squelching with each step. If there had been a perfect day to forget an umbrella, well, this hadn’t been it. The rain hadn’t let up on the fifteen-minute walk from work to the grocery store and had gotten even worse from the grocery store to your apartment. The water kept dripping into your eyes, and your clothes were soaked through less than a third of the way home.

It had been sunny when you had left. That was your only excuse.

The weight of the plastic made your fingertips burn, and your legs trembled as they pushed you up the last three steps onto the fifth floor. Maintenance had picked a stellar day to repair the elevator. Although, according to the two laughing guys downstairs, if you had just come in five minutes later, they would have been done.

Your panting only began to slow when both your feet came to a rest on your bright little welcome mat, the mud from your shoes pooling into the material like the storm clouds had over this morning’s blue skies.

You glanced over at 5B, wondering if he was home yet. You hoped not. You could only imagine how great you must look right now, rain soaked and out of breath like you had just run a marathon rather than having brought your grocery bags up five flights. In your defense, you had three full bags and there was a milk jug in one hand, and amongst other vegetables, a three-pound sack of potatoes in the other. But even if he was there, you knew it didn’t matter what you looked like. He was never going to look at you like that. Not when you knew he was interested in someone else. How could he not be? You were you, which wasn’t a bad thing, but was quite ordinary when your neighbor was surrounded by so many incredible people at the Stark Compound. And technically he wasn’t even from the same planet as you were, but that was a minor detail, right?

Five Years Ago

You were going to be late. Absolutely, they-were-going-to-fire-you, was-it-even-worth-going-in-at-this-point late. Running out the door, you repeatedly slammed on the elevator button, desperately needing it to rush up the five floors as if you were the only tenant it waited for .It didn’t matter that the average age of the tenants in this building was nearly seventy and the odds of anything rushing around here were slim to none. You still had hope that today it wouldn’t take an eternity to reach you. Just as you were about to take the stairs, you realized you had forgotten your work key card on your kitchen table.

You swore.

Jamming the key in the lock, you realized you had forgotten to lock the door in your frantic rush out, so you left the keys in the lock and ran in to get your pass. The only sound as you quickly glanced around the room to make sure you didn’t forget anything else was your heart pounding in your ears, loud against the early morning silence. With a satisfied nod, you ran back out of your apartment.

“(y/n),” a shrill, old voice shouted, “you left your keys in the door!”

You tried to hold back your irritation, knowing if you had properly set your alarm the night before then you wouldn’t have felt the need to snap at your ninety-year-old neighbor. She was only confused, trying to help and shouting because she was going deaf. “Thank you, Mrs. Abella, but I had to run in quickly to get my key.”

“But they were in the door sweetie. You know when I started forgetting things like that, they told me they were going to put me in a home.” You were glad your back was turned as you locked the door so that she couldn’t see your face. “You should be eating your vegetables more. You’re much too young for a home.”

“I think they probably meant their work key Mrs. Abella.” A smooth voice replied, one that was distinctly young and male, and one you definitely would have remembered hearing before.

You whirled around to get a look at the man the voice belonged too. The fact that you were late still hadn’t slipped your mind so you glanced over the tall, handsome man, guessing he was probably a relative of hers you would never see again and therefore, not worth any of the little time you didn’t have to spare. With a quick, polite nod, you stepped toward the elevator.

“Although, Mrs. Abella,” He drawled, “it would seem that they have actually forgotten the keys in the door this time.”

You turned to find an amused smirk on his face, one that was so disarmingly handsome it took you a second too long to realize what you had just heard.

“Oh,” you mumbled awkwardly when the words sunk in.

It only made the corners of his mouth quirk even higher.

With a few quick steps, you pulled your keys out of the door as quickly as you could and kept your head down, only glancing up with a tight smile on your lips as you went to press for the elevator. If you were lucky, it would still be on this floor. But at this point, you were so late and frantic with nervous energy, it may have been better to take the stairs.

“Oh sweetie,” despite the rough start to the morning, you couldn’t help but smile at the nickname Mrs. Abella gave everyone under the age fifty, “You can’t rush off just yet. Don’t you want to meet our new neighbour?”

Her words seemed to quiet every jittery nerve inside you, and the world stilled. You slowly spun to face them. The elevator dinged behind you, but you barely noticed.

At first glance you had thought the man was handsome, but you now realized the word didn’t do him justice. His shoulder length ink hair wasn’t conventional to the men you usually found attractive, but it seemed to accentuate his sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes, making him undeniably striking. His dark suit fit well across his chest, the top two buttons of the shirt underneath unbuttoned as if it was still too early for a proper work look. He was leaning back on his heels with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets, radiating a cockiness that, damn it, you knew you shouldn’t be attracted to but couldn’t seem to resist.

“Isn’t he just devilishly handsome?” Mrs. Abella asked, “Makes me wish I was your age again…or at least ten years younger.” she winked in his direction with a sly grin that would have made any sane person want to run for the hills.

You had taken the city bus with Mrs. Abella more than once. It was remarkable how many young men she hit on in the span of ten miles.

“You don’t look a day over forty.” he said with a grin matching hers, making you think that he was more than capable of taking on the daily flirting he risked while living next to the ninety-year-old lady.

He took a step towards you, “And you were the last thing I was expecting when Mrs. Abella told me our neighbor would be ‘only a smidge younger than her’, but I can’t say I’m not pleasantly surprised” He extended his hand, “Loki Laufeyson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your heart began to thud against your chest again but this time not because you were late - although you still very much were but couldn’t seem to leave just yet - and you gripped his hand for a strong handshake. You had trouble believing that the infamous prince of mischief had decided he would take up residence in a building inhabited by so many old people and considered for a moment that maybe it wasn’t actually him.

But you knew that it was.

The beautiful bright green eyes couldn’t be described as anything human.

With one of your best smiles you said, “Nice to meet you Loki. I’m (y/n). Maybe I’ll run into you again when I’m not rushing off to work.”

“I’m sure we will.” He replied, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly in a way that suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

And maybe he did. You didn’t know for sure. All you knew for sure was that you were already in deep trouble, especially when he looked at you like that, so you took off and flew down the stairs, afraid that if you didn’t leave now, you’d offer to help him move in instead of going to work.

Your keys. Where the hell were your keys? The thought repeated itself over and over, faster and faster until you could barely think straight, patting yourself down like a frenzied security agent. You dropped your bags to search your backpack, only to remember that you had bought eggs. You prayed the eggs were fine but didn’t check. The keys were your first priority. You were going to be screwed if you lost them. There was nothing you could do about the eggs now anyways.

Your landlord was away until tomorrow morning and he was the only one with a spare key. Throwing things around in your backpack, you swore. They weren’t there. Maybe you dropped them in the stairwell? You crept down the five flights, scouring every inch until you walked out into the lobby, defeated. If they weren’t here that only meant…you looked out the doors and into the pouring rain now slamming down against the windows. If anything, the weather had gotten worse in the time it had taken you to go up and down the stairs. With a groan you dropped your head into your hands. Why, why, why today? All you wanted to do was collapse into your bed and take a three-hour nap.

“(y/n) I’ve only been gone for three days, I can’t imagine you’re this distraught about it.”

You peeked up from your hands at the god of mischief and felt yourself smile, despite the rainy, exhausting afternoon.

You weren’t too sure how it happened, but somehow over the years, the two of you had become friends. Good friends. He knew where everything was in your apartment like it was his and you had made dinner in his kitchen almost as often as you had in yours. Logically, with all the time you spent in each other’s apartments, you should have given him a spare key. The thing was, you had never done it because you were sure by doing so, he would guess that deep down, you wanted to give him a key so that it would mean your apartment would be the one he came home to every night. Now you were starting to regret not having taken that risk.

“Your absence pains me more and more each day you’re away Loki.” You mocked, watching him brush the wet hair from his face as he walked towards you.

You wished you could have done that yourself, but you kept your hands planted firmly at your side.

“If only that were true,” he said with a small smirk you couldn’t quite get a proper read on. “What seems to be the matter then?”

“My keys,” you groaned, “I can’t find them, so they have to be somewhere between here and work. If they’re not, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I need to go out and find them.”

He glanced back at the main entrance. “How did you get into the building?”

“The maintenance guys let me in, so I didn’t notice.” You tried to take in a deep breath, telling yourself that panicking wouldn’t help you in any way.

“All right then,” He walked to the door, “let’s go.”

“You’re coming with me?”

The corner of his lips curved up slightly. “I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”

You held onto his forearm to stop him. “Thank you, Loki, I mean it.”

Those green eyes were alight, brewing with something as intense as the storm outside, and you found it hard to look away. If you were being honest, you didn’t want to, but that wasn’t how friends behaved. You had gotten good at pretending that the only thing you wanted was to be friends and had recently discovered that to remind yourself of that little fact, all you had to do was just that.

You smiled, “You’re an amazing friend.”

He nodded tersely and turned away, leaving you to follow him outside. The wind immediately whipped his hair around his face, and you felt yourself stumble back, the assault of drops whipping against your skin.

“Can’t you do something about this?” You joked.

He shook his head, his look darkening as he snarled, “I’m not Thor.”

You knew his brother was a touchy subject, but he seemed more uptight than usual. It didn’t seem to matter that you had been friends and neighbors with him for a few years now, there was still some things you couldn’t quite figure out about him.

“I know, but I thought you were a witch though and that maybe you could do something about it anyways.”

He was about to snap at you again, but before he could, he found your teasing smile through the downpour. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Let’s finds those keys, shall we?”

“We shall,” you gave him a playful shove despite how drenched you were, “before you melt away like your sister in the west.”

His brows furrowed and you laughed, mentally adding The Wizard of Oz to the list of movies you were making him watch. You had started the list the first time you had referenced Top Gun and he had looked at you in the same way he was now, trying to piece together a puzzle even if he knew he was missing a piece.

It was getting harder and harder to see now, the water pouring from your head and into your eyes, but you did your best to search your half of the sidewalk.

It didn’t seem to matter that you were missing your keys and that the odds of finding them again were probably nonexistent, you were in a much better mood retracing your steps than you had been walking back with your groceries. Being with Loki always seemed to improve your mood drastically and you were honestly glad he was here with you.  

You were halfway to the grocery store when Loki shouted your name, the sound barely reaching you over the rain and wind. Jangling in his hands were your keys and you let out a sigh of relief you hadn’t realized you had been holding in. His face was lit up with a proud grin and you beamed back at him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You gushed, wrapping your arms around him without realizing what you were doing.

Before you could pull away, his arms tightened around you, shielding you from the rain. The warmth of his body seemed to envelop you in a little bubble of comfort, and you shivered from the heat.

He pulled you back and held you at arm’s length, inspecting you face. You tried your hardest to hide the disappointment in your face.

“You’re cold?” He asked.

You shook your head and tried to push a wet strand of hair from his eyes, but your shaking hand betrayed you.

He stopped your hand, holding it in his warm one. “You’re freezing.”

You shook your head and when he let go, you shivered again. He shrugged out of his jacket, revealing the black fitting tee under it, and wrapped the coat around your shoulders. It was soaked through, like his tee was soon to be, but the weight of it was comforting all the same. His hands were still on your shoulders, your keys balled up in one of his hands, and he looked you over once again, green eyes bright in the grey surroundings.

It was impossible to look away, especially when his eyes found yours and stayed there, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, “Better?”

You could only nod.

“Good.” He whispered so softly you weren’t sure you heard it.

He dipped his head slightly, inching closer without ever taking his eyes off of you. You felt yourself do the same, magnetically drawn in despite everything you had ever been telling yourself since you had met him. He paused. You were so close, both of your breathing fogged up the space between you then your phone rang, startling you from your trance.

You broke away and pulled the phone out of your pocket and saw the picture of you and your coworker Brett with his arm around you at the office Christmas party. Although you assumed he was only calling to give you updates about that handsome cop he had started seeing last week, you were both working on an important case and you couldn’t risk sending his call to voicemail if he had important details about it, no matter how much you wanted to turn all your attention on the mischievous god in front of you.

You lifted the phone and turned away from Loki, “Hello?”

“Bad news.”

“Tell me this is about the cop and nothing else.”

He proceeded to tell you about how your latest witness just turned up dead and that you were basically down to square one in your case. You told him you’d call him back once you got to your apartment and hung up.

When you looked around for Loki, you realized he had already started walking back to your building. Annoyed with him for clearly being annoyed, you followed, stomping through puddles and not caring any more. It was turning out to be a pretty shitty day and you were soaked through anyways. Who cared if you got a little more mud on you? The only date you had was with your shower as soon as you walked into your apartment.

When you caught up with him, he was waiting to let you in.  

“Thanks for waiting.” You said sarcastically.

His eyes were a cool green, void of any warmth or emotion. You never liked when he got like this, usually wanting to talk to him to get him to open up and get him to tell you what was wrong, but now you were too tired for his mood swings. It didn’t matter that he had helped you with your keys, you were too pissed off about work and this overall day to feel any ounce of sympathy.

He tossed your keys in the air without notice, giving you just enough time to catch them. The jagged metal was jarring against your frozen hands.

“I thought I’d give you privacy for your phone call.”

You ignored him and waited for the elevator in silence. Your only hope was that you didn’t run into Mrs. Abella, knowing you didn’t have much social grace left in you at the moment. You’d hate it if you were rude to her.

When it dinged its arrival, you both walked in and stood, staring straight ahead, him with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and you clutching your keys like your life depended on them.

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor, the lights in the elevator snapped off, the abrupt stop sending you stumbling towards the doors. The only reason you didn’t hit your head was the steady arm around your waist.

“Thanks.” You grumbled, waiting for the lights to turn back on.

He grunted something unintelligible but didn’t let go. As pissed as you were with him, you didn’t tell him to let go. The fact that you didn’t only served to make you more pissed at yourself, but you didn’t care. It was dark and you were cold and wet. You could allow yourself this little comfort, no matter how much you hated yourself for not being able to get over this stupid crush.

When the lights flickered back on, he let go, but the elevator didn’t move. You gripped the emergency phone and called, only to be told that they didn’t know if it was a problem caused by the guys who were meant to fix the elevators or if it was part of the power outage caused by the storm. If it was the latter, it would be a few minutes until the backup generator turned on and if it wasn’t, well, all they had said was to sit tight.

You groaned. You hadn’t thought the day could get any worse but clearly you were wrong. Any other day you would have been elated at the thought of being stuck in the elevator with Loki but the tension in the air was thick and you didn’t feel like talking.

A few minutes later when the elevator still hadn’t moved you realized that the reason you were stuck here was probably the option that meant sitting tight. Of course it did.

You voiced your concerns to Loki, “I think we’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

He slid a bored glance your way, “Great.”

You shook your head, unable to hold your tongue, “What the hell is wrong Loki? You were fine in the lobby a half hour ago. What changed?”

“Nothing.” His answer was curt and clearly a lie.

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “If you’re mad about having gone out with me in the rain, you didn’t have to. I didn’t ask you to.”

“It’s not. And you didn’t have to ask, that’s what friends do, right?” He sneered.

You were about to ask what he meant by that tone, but your phone started ringing again. Brett’s face flashed across the screen, but you quickly sent it to voicemail, not needing any more bad news. You’d get to him later, whenever you finally stepped into your apartment. The sudden memory of your groceries left on your doorstep made you want to sink to the floor.

“Don’t you want to get that?” He practically snarled, the grip on his emotions slipping.  

Okay. That was it. You turned to face him head on and sized him up. Seeing your fury, he stepped forward to meet you, never one to back away from a fight.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” You demanded.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar.”

He took another step forward so that you were inches apart, “Careful.” He said, his voice low and gruff, filled with warning.

“What? What are you going to do?” Without realizing it, you took another step too. “Because if nothing’s wrong then you’re not actually going to do anything. I have nothing to be careful about.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Yeah,” You scoffed. “That’s what I thought.”

Your phone started ringing again.

He backed off a step and leaned back with an arrogant look on his face, “You should get that. Seems important.”

“You know what Loki, it probably is. But I’m not going to get it because I don’t need him to give me any crappier news about how terribly our case is going. I’ll deal with work after I’ve showered and had dinner.” A strange look crossed his face, but you weren’t done. “And is me prioritizing work over you a problem? Because what I do is important, and I can’t believe you’d be so petty as to want me to put work aside like that.”

“That isn’t-“

You cut him off not caring what he was about to say, “Then what is it Loki? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting like a jealous boyfriend. And I know that’s not the case because I’m obviously not in the same league as basically any superhero you spend your time with so I’m racking my brain here trying to figure out why. So what is-“

You were cut off by his lips crushing against yours, stealing the words from you with urgency as if he couldn’t stand to hear them anymore. It didn’t take you long to get over your surprise and you tangled your fingers in his damp hair, keys falling to the floor. You didn’t care. Not when his hands roamed from your cheek to your neck, down your back and around your waist to pull you even closer. He took two steps pushing you back into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. Your hands slid along his broad shoulders and down his hard chest, barely noticing that he was soaking. You felt him shiver when your hands slid along the bare skin where his shirt was riding up near his pants and you looped through your fingers through his belt loops to pull him even closer. He smiled through the kiss and bit your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan in response. His calloused fingers brushed against your collar bone as he pushed aside the jacket you had on, and you were about to tilt your head to the side to give him access to where you hoped he was about to kiss you when the elevator jerked and started moving again. He held back and rested his forehead against yours, as out of breath as you were.

“What was that all about?” You murmured, a little star struck.

“For saying something stupid like you’re not in my league.” He breathed, “And for not telling me sooner that Brian was just a colleague.”

“Well it wasn’t like you asked.” You pointed out, “It’s not my fault you assumed.”

“I won’t make that mistake again,” he practically growled, slamming the emergency stop button and pressing his lips to yours.

[meztliel]

Launchitz (Launch/Raditz).

Launch is sick and can't stop sneezing, and poor Raditz is the only one brave enough to take care of her.

***********

He can almost hear the sound of a thousand Saiyan antecessors laughing at him from the afterlife. A small part of Raditz wishes that the green man would have done his job right, that he’d given Raditz a swift warrior’s death so that he’d have been eventually spared the humiliation of playing caretaker to a puny human woman.

"Thanks, Radi. I really appreciate this. Mmm. Smells delicious."

Horrors seizes him as Launch, inhaling the vapor rising from the instant miso soup he prepared for her, twitches her nose. Hell. He knew he should've omitted the chilli peppers. He only added them because that fucking overgrown turtle said it would help with her congestion.

Raditz grudgingly waits for the inevitable to happen as he watches her sneeze.

"Achoo!"

Launch, now magically blonde, makes a revolted face and spits out the soup back into the bowl.

"That's disgusting! How can someone mess up instant miso?"

"I added some extra shit in there that's supposed to make you feel better. You're fucking welcome."

Launch is slightly thrown off by this, her anger subsiding just a titch. She frowns impetuously and sinks back into the pillows, the soup steaming on one of the bedside tables, next to a framed picture of her with a chubby kid Kakarot and a few other earthling fools.

"I can take care of myself."

Raditz narrows his eyes doubtfully at her, noting how clammy her forehead is and how pink her cheeks are. Her voice sounds like a hoard of cats has been scratching at her throat from the inside, and her normally lovely eyes are watery and droopy.

"That's bullshit and you know it. I don't know much about human ailments, but I can see that you must feel like absolute shit because you look like it."

He dodges the pillow flung at him, grinning. There's still some spunk in her.

"Why do ya care anyway? Thought you only liked me for my body."

Raditz scowls.

He's only helping her recover for his sake. The faster she recovers from this inconvenience the faster she's going to stop switching personalities every goddamn-

"Achoo!"

Two to ninety seconds. And the less personality switches she has per minute, the more his stay here is going to be a little less miserable.

"So you do care! Oh, Radi, I could give you a hug, even, maybe a little kiss," Blue Launch giggles into her hands and smiles shyly at him. "But I don't wanna get you sick."

Why is his face hot all of a sudden? Maybe his own immune system is compromised and he's coming down with whatever this freaky human disease is.

Launch looks at the bowl sitting on the bedside table, reaching for it.

"No don't!"

She retracts her hands immediately and looks at him with a mildly shocked look in her eyes from his sudden outburst.

"I'll, uh get you some tea and veggies or something. I don't think I can fuck that up."

Launch smiles sheepishly. "It wasn't that bad, really, and I do appreciate the extra mile you did in making it extra nutritious for me! You really do have a good heart."

Raditz feels his features contort into a grimace as she continues to smile sweetly at him.

"Whatever. I'll be right back."

He's preparing a pot of water when he hears her sneeze, then sneeze again. Then sneeze again a few more times in succession to the point he doesn't know which Launch he's going to get when he goes in.

"About fucking time."

Blonde Lunch.

"I could just throw this cup of tea at your tits."

"You'd like that wouldn't you. Damn perv. Give it here."

He'd be mad if she didn't look and sound so damn miserable, so he carefully hands it over to her.

Slowly, she takes a sip from the teacup, sighing in gratification when she takes a gulp. "Decent. You're catching on to our ways, Radish-boy."

"We had something similar to tea in Vegeta, but it was made out of different plant life, some of which gave us a significant boost of energy. Not like the weak shit here."

"You think everything from Earth is weak, and yet here you are. Serving me tea."

Raditz's tail twitches with the urge to wrap around her mouth and shut her up.

He could even kill her if he wanted to, but he has no desire to do that. Crazy bitch that she is, she reminds him a lot of the fiery, strong-willed women from his home planet. Even the soft side of her reminds him a little of the rare gem that was his mother, and Blue Launch is definitely easier to get along with when she's not sassing him back.

"Thanks. Not sure why you’re doing this, but if you weren’t taking care of me, nobody would. Tien is off who knows where the fuck where, I don't want Roshi anywhere near me, Yamcha is out getting whipped by Bulma. Turtle is a turtle. Goku is, well, Goku. And everyone else is too chicken shit to be around me like this, and I don’t blame ‘em. So thanks."

Raditz massages his neck, unable to keep his eyes locked with hers any longer

"Um sure."

The corner of her mouth briefly quirks up, then disappears as she opens her mouth and makes ominent noises, and he's already grabbed her tea to save it from spilling all over her and the sheets as she lets out another germy one.

Blue Launch sniffs, then lets out a soft chuckle. "You better go back downstairs before you catch what I have."

"Saiyans don't get infected with human ailments and diseases."

"You sure?"

He's not, but he'd rather she not know that.

"Well in that case…"

She lifts the bed sheets off her person in a flourish, a sudden surge of energy she didn't have before passing through her weakened body.

His mind has hardly any time to formulate a response as she props her knees up on the bed and angles her chin up to kiss him on his face, only a whisker's length away from the corner of his mouth.

She throws herself back on the bed, giggling as she hides herself under the blankets.

"I can't believe I did that!" She says with a thrill in her small, high voice.

He can't either. He's frozen still, heart jackhammering his ribcage when he hears that little dreaded sound come out her mouth again.

"I can't believe I did that!" A huskier voice calls out from under the sheets, and at that Raditz manages to get his feet moving forward, promptly escaping the premises, breathing hard as he slams the door, runs downstairs, and drinks a glass of water.

He's catching something. He must be catching something because this warm, dizzying sensation that’s shooting up his blood stream and filling up his head is unlike anything he's ever experienced before and it's sickening.

"Damn that woman. And her damn germs."

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {10/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Will my posting schedule ever make sense? Probably not. Anyways, thanks for reading, my pals! You guys are the best, and I love love love you all for loving this story and these two crazy people💜

Thank you to @captainsjedi for her love and support and artwork!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list:  @initiala @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @cssns

-/-

No part of her understands why their cable bill is mailed to her. They’re a cable company. They provide TV and internet and yet they’ve never heard of paperless online billing. It’s ridiculous. And yet the minute she’s late with her payment she gets an increasingly nasty series of emails that shows they obviously know how to use the internet. And since Storybrooke Cable is the only company that provides internet in a sixty-mile radius, it’s not like they don’t have the funds to set up a website. Hell, she’ll take a class and learn how to program the website for them if she has to.

Well, probably not. That’s all a little dramatic, but she really hates having to go down to the mailboxes in the basement to get her mail so that she can go upstairs and write a check and buy a stamp to mail the payment in. It’s not the biggest deal in the world, but she hates it.

She obviously would not have lasted in a world without internet.

The old stairs creak beneath her, a sound that she’s used to when she’s carrying her laundry downstairs (it’s how she knows when she’s on the unsteady step since usually she can’t see over the full height of her clothes which is what procrastination gets her), and she quickly descends downstairs to the row of mailboxes that rest against the wall in front of the washing machines and dryers that work at least ninety percent of the time.

She and Belle need to move to a nicer place. They can afford it, but then again, if Belle moves, it’ll probably be with Will. It’s a constant thought every time Emma thinks about it, so she never quite works up the courage to bring up moving somewhere else. This place is just fine, they’ve made it their home, and so what if she has to walk to a bit of a creepy place to get her mail to pay her cable bill. It’s not like anyone in this town is actually going to do something to her.

They’d have hell to pay.

The stairs could use a little work, though, maybe a few new light fixtures for the hallways too.

Pulling out her key, she twists it in her box, opening it and grabbing the few envelopes that lay flat against the metal. She closes the box, locking it back up, and as she walks up the stairs, she shuffles through the mail, tripping on a loose board as she sees neat black script inked across the white in the upper left corner.

Killian Jones.

What the hell?

What the hell is he doing sending her a letter? Even though her toe is still stinging from how she jammed it, the pain worse than some of her injuries she’s gotten on the job, she stops in the middle of the staircase and rips the letter open.

Dear Emma Swan,

You’ll have to forgive me because it’s been awhile since I’ve written a letter that’s not an e-mail. I’ve been told by a rather reliable source that it’s a bit old-fashioned to write like this, but I do like a bit of a challenge. So, Swan, I’m sitting at my desk writing you a letter on stationary that Ariel found me and with my very favorite pen. And while I don’t expect you to write back, I have included several stamps to encourage you. You wouldn’t want me to waste money, now would you?

Anyways, I find myself wondering about you because you intrigue me. There are things I’d like to know. For instance, how long have you been a secret nerd watching the History Channel and National Geographic? I, for one, have been a fan for years. It’s fascinating to learn about things that have happened in the past. What other interests do you have? Do you enjoy sports? Read any good books lately? What is your ultimate favorite baked good? Do you like cooking them yourself? Are you one of those people who have a favorite flower? I am partial to sunflowers over roses, preferring the brightness of yellow, but then again, there are yellow roses.

I’m simply but a curious man who enjoys knowing the answers to my questions, and in return, you can feel free to ask me anything you want. I’d even tell you what kind of underwear I wear since you seem to be averse to answering that particular question.

Sincerely,

Killian A. Jones

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, scanning over the words one more time before opening up the envelope to see several stamps with pictures of sailboats on them.

A part of her absolutely cannot believe that he wrote her a freaking letter, but then again, she’s not really shocked. That’s exactly something that he would do just to annoy her, and the fact that he included stamps is really over the top. She’s not going to complain. She needs stamps, but damn, the man is persistent.

But she’s not going to write him back.

Absolutely not.

She folds his letter back up and puts it in the envelope before walking up the rest of the stairs and turning in the stairwell so she can get back to her floor, quickly moving into her apartment to write a check so she can send off the cable bill before she gets to work this morning. Belle is still sleeping, so she tries to stay quiet as she grabs her purse and walks right back out the door, all of her mail in the front pocket of her purse.

All day she ignores the letter that seems to be burning a hole through the leather material of her purse that’s hidden under her desk, but it’s more of an attempt at ignoring it than actually ignoring it, because when David leaves to go question a fight that broke out down by the pier, she grabs a piece of paper out of the printer and starts writing something back.

Damn it. Has she lost control of her limbs?

Jones,

You’re ridiculous. Seriously. I can’t believe you took our texts as a challenge, but then again, it is you. I have no idea why I’m writing you back, but you did say that I could ask you any question I want, and, well, I simply can’t pass up that opportunity.

So tell me, what is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you? And spare no detail.

Sincerely,

Emma Swan.

PS: I am a mean ping pong player, and I agree with you about the roses. If you’re looking for a good book recommendation, though, I suggest Belle. She gives me all of mine.

Oh, and bear claws.

And I want to know what the A in your name stands for.

Quickly, she stuffs the paper in an envelope, seals it, writes his address on it, places a stamp in the corner, and puts it in the mailbox outside of the station so that she literally can’t take it back without tampering with federal law. She’ll bend a lot of rules, but she’s not going to break federal law over something as dumb as a letter.

Two days later, she gets a letter back. There’s no formal address this time, and she kind of likes that…not that she likes this.

Really went straight for the kill then, eh Swan? It took me a bit to remember what exactly my most embarrassing memory is, simply because I’m so suave that I don’t have many embarrassing moments.

However, when I was a young lad of twenty-three, I had the night off and left base to go out to a pub with a few of my mates. This was something we did often, something we’d done for our five years together, but on this particular night I indulged in a few too many glasses of rum. My tolerance wasn’t quite what it is now, even if I do wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck now, and while I don’t remember the night but in a few glances (particularly me telling the lasses that I was the Captain when I was not), I do remember waking up in the flat of a woman I didn’t know without my clothes anywhere in sight. Either she stole them, my mates somehow stole them, or something else happened, but my options to get home were either walking in the streets of Birkenhead in the nude or wearing this lass’s mother’s nightgown. It was this billowing, flowery thing, and while I fully believe I can wear anything I want, let’s just say my actual Captain did not take too kindly to me walking back onto base in something that was not approved. I was written up three times for one incident, and I’d just like you to imagine me having to explain why to my superiors why I was wearing a nightgown when I had no idea myself.

I have to say, though, nightgowns are quite comfortable. Lots of air to breathe. It’s likely a good thing that my mates thought it would be funny to buy me a nightgown when I was promoted. It was much more my taste. Silk is wonderful, though I don’t think I ever wore it. I much prefer my briefs.

So, there’s a story of one of the brightest moments of my youth, and while I’m sure you’ll somehow use it to torture me, it’s yours to know.

My middle name is, Andrew, by the way, and the lovely Belle has recommended me to The Guest Book as reading material. It’s rather good. Feel free to borrow my copy if you’d like. Speaking of Belle, I hear Mr. French makes rather delectable bear claws, but he’s in a fierce rivalry with Mrs. Lucas over who makes the best. Personally, I think they’re using pastries as a bit of foreplay, but that’s simply a theory from an observer.

Now, Swan, I’ve metaphorically shown you mine, so you should show me yours.

Have a good week,

Killian Andrew Jones.

Emma doesn’t realize it, but by the time she’s finished reading the letter, she’s got tears streaming down her face, just a few of them, from laughing at the thought of Killian running around in a nightgown. That’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but for some reason, she has no issue imagining him walking into base in a flowery nightgown that hits at his knees and shows off all of the hair on his legs with the shoulders being a little tight. It’s ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and she’s glad that Belle is still at the library so that she doesn’t ask what in the world Emma is laughing at.

It would be a little hard to explain.

Well, not really, but she doesn’t want to explain. Because her explaining any of this would make her have to explain other things, and since Belle already knows that Killian sent her the basket of baked goods months ago. So it would be too difficult to explain her...having to explain. This is kind of like some sort of bad inception.

But Belle’s not even here, so it definitely doesn’t matter.

While she’s still laughing, she gets up from the table and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass out of the cabinets and pouring her a glass of the wine that she and Belle didn’t finish drinking last night. If she’s going to spend her time writing letters to Killian, which is a ridiculous concept in and of itself, she should at least have some alcohol in her.

Not enough to make her have to wake up without clothes and have to borrow an ugly nightgown from the mother of the person she’d slept with but some alcohol all the same.

She doesn’t have any paper here, so she has to shuffle through some of the old notebooks Belle keeps on their bookshelves, and takes out a lined page from the back, settling down on the couch with her wine and paper and pin while Drain the Oceans plays on the TV.

Killian Andrew (Asshole) Jones,

I’ve added the “asshole” because I really did think that was your middle name. You did say you would respond to it, but I guess Andrew is okay. Is that a family name? Your father’s maybe? I don’t have a middle name, didn’t even have a last name, only my first, but I’ve always kind of thought it would be something classic since my first name is.

Shit. I just got wine on the paper. Oops.

So you and that rum, huh? You seem to be a fan of it. And also nightgowns. Are you sure you don’t sleep in one of those? Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? You scare them all away with your nightgown. I imagine it makes easy access to...things, so really, they should like it better than the briefs. It’s just a great mystery that may never be solved.

Granny’s bear claws are better than Mr. French’s hands down, but Mr. French has better pastries overall. Plus, he’s like my dad, so you implying that they have a thing going on is really kind of freaking me out. I bet Granny wears a nightgown, though, which makes my earlier joke about easy access so much creepier.

Some things simply shouldn’t be imagined. But if you’re going to, make sure to tell Ruby to scar her for life.

I haven’t read that book, but if Belle recommends it, it must be good. I’ll have to check it out. I’ve been very into historical romances lately, which isn’t really on par for me, but there’s simply something about Jane Austen, you know?

Thanks for telling me your most embarrassing story. You’re right. I’m totally going to use that against you, and no, I will not tell you my most embarrassing story. It involves karaoke, though, so it’s a good one.

Emma

If she hadn’t had the wine, she probably would have realized that she revealed a bit too much in her letter, but after she seals it that night and sends it off in the morning, still using the sailboat stamps Killian provided, she doesn’t think about it.

Not at all.

What she does think about is the fact that eight days go by without a new letter. She didn’t even realize that she wanted another letter, that she got a weird sense of excitement over them, until she wasn’t receiving one in her mailbox.

Who has she turned into that she’s checking her mailbox daily?

What decade is this?

But her week has gone by as normal, spending her days at work, reveling in the hour break she gets to eat lunch with David or Ariel, and her evenings at home, sometimes with Belle, sometimes not. On Saturday she, Ruby, Belle, Mary Margaret, and Ariel all spent the day at the beach, waking up early enough to beat all of the tourists there, and settled down with blankets and umbrellas with bags full of food and a cooler full of drinks. They didn’t bother moving, not unless to dip into the ocean to cool themselves off or to run up to the pier to use the restroom, and even if her eyes constantly trailed down to the pier to look at the fleet of ships and boats and what not resting outside of the Jones’ office.

And if her eyes kept checking her texts even if most everyone she spoke to was already there, no one had to know. Though she does think that Ruby noticed.

She wasn’t very subtle in her desperation.

But she didn’t see him, not that she wanted to, and she tried to push it all to the back of her mind to enjoy the day as the sun beat down on her skin so that she got the slightest bit of a tan that she hopes stays with her until the fall.

Okay, so she thinks about the lack of a letter a lot.

However, she wasn’t thinking about it when she was driving home from work, but now that she’s standing next to the door of her apartment with Will holding a stack of their mail, it’s all she can think about.

Shit.

Why didn’t it occur to her that she and Belle share a mailbox and that Belle could see one of these letters? How could she have missed that?

“Hey,” she cautiously greets, placing her keys down, the clanging loud in her ears, on the table and stepping further into the room, “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

“Belle and I are going to dinner. Why do you have a letter from Jones?”

“Huh?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady even though her heart is beating wildly in her chest, the sound louder than it has been in a long time. She can feel it all the way down to her toes. “I have a letter?”

Will raises his eyebrow, obviously not believing her, and as casually as she can, she steps forward and takes the letter from Will, stuffing it away in the back pocket of her jeans.

“So where are you guys going for dinner?” Emma asks to change the subject.

“Eric’s place. He gives me a discount.”

“Ah, yes, because everyone wants discount fish.”

“Oi, it’s not like he’s giving us the old fish.”

“So you think. If you guys die in a few days, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“We’ll be dead, and you’ll be bragging about it.”

“Exactly.” She steps around Will and sits down on the couch, reaching down to unlace her boots and kick them off. “I guess I’ll miss you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Emma,” Belle shouts, and Emma leans her head back to look down the hall to see Belle standing in the hallway, “can I borrow those teal heels that you wore last week?”

“Yeah, they’re in my bathroom.”

Belle doesn’t say anything back, but less than a minute she comes into their living room wearing the teal heels and a little black dress, fluffing out her hair over her shoulders while Will grabs his coat off the chair, stepping up to her and kissing her cheek, whispering something that Emma doesn’t pick up on, which is good. It’s private, and she doesn’t need to hear things about their private life.

Her hearing thing has been wonky lately anyways. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

“We probably won’t be back until late,” Belle tells her, and Emma reaches her hand up over the couch to let Belle grab onto it. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah, you two go have fun. Don’t do anything that I’ll have to investigate.”

“Well, that just takes all of the fun away.”

After the two of them leave, she leans up on the couch and pulls the later out of her back pocket, hoping that Will forgets about it and doesn’t mention it to Belle, and quickly opens the sealed envelope, her nerves running over every inch of her skin and making her fingers shake the slightest bit as she straightens the creases out of the paper.

Emma,

I apologize for my late reply, but you seem to have caught me at a bad time. I had a client call and request a refurbishment on his seafaring vessel (his words, not mine), and I’ve been consumed with it. I love this job. It’s a way to keep me connected to the ocean, a place where I spent so much of my life, but this is different. And it certainly didn’t help that my wrist decided to act up a bit this week. It’s the weather and all.

Regardless, I do wish you would have told me your most embarrassing story. I feel like it’s a real ice breaker, and I love karaoke....if I’m drunk. But then again, bad things seem to happen when I’m drunk. So wine? That’s your vice? I always took you more as a tequila or whiskey type, but then again, I’m learning that I know very little about you, love. Though, I like that it’s changing a bit, if I may be so bold.

Jane Austen is bloody brilliant, and it’s nice to hear of someone else appreciating her. Mr. Darcy and I have a lot in common, you know? I, too, screw up with strong-willed women and then have to realize the error of my ways to have them allow me back into their lives. Or, at least, I hope. Tell me, if you’re a fan of historical romances, how are you not a fan of letter writing when that is such a core piece of the story? Is it simply that you don’t like modern day letter writing because it, for practical reasons, doesn’t make any sense? We could have had this entire conversation in ten minutes, but it’s taken eight days. Yet, this is a bit more fun, even though talking to you does incite other kinds of fun.

As to my middle name, it’s my mother’s maiden name. My father’s name is Brennan, and the only thing I carry from him is the Jones name, which is likely a good thing. He wasn’t a good man. He was a drunk, and he abandoned us when I was ten. I’m proud to be a Jones because of my brother and my mum, so like you, I suspect that my last name carries a weight that most don’t.  

Anyways, that’s much too much information about me. Tell me, Swan, there’s a Summer Regatta coming up in two weeks. Do you think you’ll be at the festival? I know someone who can get you a free ride on a boat.

Killian.

He’s got a screwed up family too.

That’s what she gets out of all of that. It’s not that he loves the same books that she does, not that he correctly guessed her drinking vices, not that he practically invited her to be his date to the regatta in over Labor Day weekend. It’s the fact that he has a screwed up family, a drunk deadbeat dad and a dead mom. She knew his family life wasn’t great, if only because Elsa never mentions having to take the kids to go see Liam’s parents.

Huh.

She can kind of see it now, can see that he is a bit of an orphan too, and even though he had parents, it breaks her heart. No one should ever have to grow up without having people love them, and she’s thankful that Killian had Liam and their mom. That’s a nice thing for them to have a family, even if it’s not what most people would call complete.

Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the fact that she suddenly understands Killian in a way that she knows only a few people can, but she pulls out her phone and lets her fingers move without thinking about it too much.

Emma: So not a fan of karaoke then? Is your voice that bad?

The three dots pop up almost immediately after she presses send only for them to disappear, only coming back every few seconds. He’s either trying to think of what to say or realized that he’s texting back incredibly fast. It’s nice to know some things never change.

Killian: For someone who is incredibly attracted to my voice, that’s a bold thing for you to suggest.

Emma: Touché.

Emma: So it’s not bad then?

Killian: I’ve been told that it’s actually pretty good, but I find that karaoke does nothing but bring embarrassment unless you’ve been drinking all day.

Emma: Okay, but say you have…what’s your go-to song?

Kilian: Easy. Anything Elton John. He’s so easy to understand.

Emma: You’re kidding, right?

Killian: Nope.

He definitely has to be kidding.

Emma: I figured you’d be more of a Queen or Beatles guy. I’m pretty partial to Queen.

Killian: Well, I could do those too. Or pretty much anything from the eighties. I feel old, but I don’t know a lot of the new songs.

Emma: That’s because you are old.

Killian: Being older than you doesn’t make old. And as you can tell, I’ve retained my youthful glow.

Emma: Sure, we’ll call it that.

She takes another sip of her wine and turns the volume up a bit on the television so that she’s not simply staring at her phone waiting for him to text her back. That’d be pathetic. Then again, she’s sitting at home drinking wine and watching the History Channel while her roommate is out on a date. That could be considered pathetic. Or very, very smart depending on who is asked.

Killian: What are you up to tonight, love?

Emma: Watching Drain the Ocean, though I’ll be honest and say I have no idea what’s going on.

Emma: You?

Killian: The same, actually.

Emma: Creepy.

Killian: Believe it or not, I think we have similar taste in television shows.

Emma: Ugh, I know. I can’t believe I have so much in common with an old man.

Killian: If you keep flattering a man like this, he might get the impression that you like him.

Emma: Never.

Emma: At least we don’t like the same foods. Unless you secretly like junk food.

Killian: I enjoy certain kinds, but I don’t think I have the same propensity for grilled cheese, onion rings, and bear claws like you do.

Emma: I also like poptarts and brownies. Oooh and lots of icing.

Killian: You’re a child.

Emma: Oh, come on. You don’t like icing?

Killian: If there’s cake attached, yeah.

Emma: No, no. You’ve got this all wrong. Straight out of the can.

Killian: You also eat raw cookie dough, don’t you?

Emma: Duh.

Killian: I do like cookies, though. And mostly pastries that involve fruit. It makes it all feel a little healthier.

Emma: You’re in shape. I think you’ve got the healthy thing down.

Killian: I knew you liked staring at my ass.

Emma: I said nothing about your ass.

Killian: Just my general body then? The abs? The biceps? My collarbone? What about my left ankle? You’re into period romances. I bet the left ankle really does it for you.

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, putting her glass down on the coffee table and standing from the couch, smiling to herself as she reads the message and walks to the kitchen. He’s such an idiot.

Such an idiot.

And now she really wants something sweet to eat, so she presses up on her toes and gets a can of chocolate icing out of the pantry popping open the top and grabbing a spoon out of the drawer so she can at least be a little civilized about the whole thing. Without putting much thought into it, she holds the spoon full of icing up to her mouth and takes a quick picture, not checking to see what she looks like before sending it to Killian.

Emma: See? This is the way to eat sweets.

The three dots pop up before they disappear just like before, and she doesn’t really have time to think about it before the front door is swinging open and Belle is walking inside, an obviously bright red flush on her pale cheeks.

“I’m engaged,” she squeals, holding her left hand up as she walks into the apartment, a small diamond ring resting there.

“What?” Emma gasps, nearly choking on her icing before she puts the spoon and the container down, running her tongue over her teeth to wipe up all of the excess icing. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes! Will asked at dinner. Oh my gosh. You know, I always swore I wouldn’t be one of those girls, but I did the thing where I put my hands over my mouth when he got down on one knee.”

“Of course you did,” she laughs, reaching forward and wrapping Belle up in a hug, squeezing her as tightly as she can while she sees Will walk into the apartment, bags of takeout in his hands and a smile on his face that tells Emma he’s just as happy as Belle is. Good. They deserve all of the happiness. “I’m so damn happy for you. Both of you.”

“And you’ll be so much happier when you know that I brought you earplugs for tonight,” Will tells her when she hugs him.

“That is so gross.”

“I’m simply trying to be helpful.”

“Babe,” Belle laughs, walking over to the two of them and leaning into Will to press a kiss into his cheek, “stop grossing Emma out and give me five minutes to tell her what happened before we can let her put the earplugs into use.”

“Nope, nope, no,” she refuses, putting her hands in the air, “you guys just go. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Perfect.”

“Please ignore him.”

“I promise you I’m trying.”

Will and Belle go back to their room, and she takes the opportunity to grab her phone, her icing, and plant herself in front of the television, turning to volume up so that she doesn’t have to risk hearing anything else. Tonight will probably be the night that her weird hearing thing picks up again.

She is so damn happy for the two of them, a bit of a buzz of happiness spreading over her skin, but she can’t help the little voice in her head that wonders what’s next for her if the two of them are getting married.

She hates that she thinks that.

Her phone dings, and she looks down at it, forgetting that she was texting Killian before Belle and Will came home.

How long were they texting for her friends to get engaged during that time? That’s…a lot of time. Did it really all go by that quickly? She didn’t even notice.

Killian: I mean, there’s definitely something sweet in that picture that I’d like to eat.

Emma chuckles under her breath, unable to help herself, especially when accompanying the text is a picture of him holding a banana over half of his face, the scars on his wrist and the chain around his neck visible even in the dimness of his apartment. And damn it. This was not supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

She likes Killian Jones. 

[good-rwbyaus]

HellsingAbridged!AU Vampire Tyrian and Watts break into Hellsing's massion, where Alu!Mercury, Seras!Ruby, and SirIntegra!Emerald are. (Basically Ep. 2)

While we do have a no crossover policy going on...I can’t resist this because Mercury as Alucard is perfection because two of my favorite characters as one? Thank you! ~ Green

Yatsu: The following is a fan based parody. Hellsing Ultimate is owned by Kouta Hirano and Studio Madhouse, and licensed by Geneon, Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, and Funimation. Please support the official release... you protestant fuckbucket.

[on phone]

*on the phone*

Sir Emerald: Hello, Mercury. How was your mission in Japan?

Mercury: Eh... I'd say 99... *Switches to zombie at a gate of a high school from the anime, High School Of The Dead* ...point 9 percent done. 'Sup, bitch?

Sir Emerald: I need to talk to you about some important guests coming today.

Mercury: Are they hookers?

Sir Emerald: No.

Mercury: And like that, you've lost me.

Sir Emerald: They're our financial suppliers.

Mercury: Oh man, they have to hate us.

Sir Emerald: They do. That's why they canceled our budget.

Mercury: Oooh, that's bad. We need that, right? Ozpin, we need that right?

Ozpin: Yes, very important.

Mercury: Thank you, Ozpin.

Ozpin: Of course, sir.

Sir Emerald: Over the last couple of years we've had some... expensive claims.

Mercury: Like what?

Sir Emerald: First off, property damage.

*cut scene of an explosion and people running away from OVA 6*

Mercury: Good times.

Sir Emerald: Dozens of noise complaints...

*cut scene to Police Girl and Mercury blasting Nobody by Skindred* 

Mercury: Sorry! I can't hear you!

Sir Emerald: Killing at least a dozen innocent people...

Mercury: Oh, so did Anthony Hopkins, and he got a fucking Oscar for it!

Sir Emerald: And... all of the clothes stealing.

Mercury: ...I'm not apologizing.

Sir Emerald: Listen, I know this is asking a lot, but...

Mercury: But...

Sir Emerald: I want you to keep yourself locked in the basement until all of them are gone.

Mercury: ...I get the distinct impression you're embarrassed of me.

Sir Emerald: Mercury.

Mercury: I'm gonna go with no...

Sir Emerald: This is important, and I don't need you causing another scene.

Mercury: I don't have to take this. I'm going for a walk.

Sir Emerald: No you don't!

Mercury: Oh, what are you going to do? Grab that guy who can stop me? What was his name...? Michael McDoesn't-exist?

Sir Emerald: *Sigh* ...What do you want?

Mercury: What?

Sir Emerald: What.. do I need to give you.. to keep you down here for the evening?

Mercury: I'm going to need a new gun. Also, one for the police girl.

Ruby: But I already have a gun!

Mercury: Get that bitch a cannon; Bitches love cannons!

Sir Emerald: Anything else?

Mercury: A seventy-inch plasma widescreen tv.

Sir Emerald: Really?

Mercury: With Netflix.

Sir Emerald: Should it also be 3D?

Mercury: NO! That's a stupid fucking gimmick and everyone knows it!

*scene changes to the board meeting*

Sir Emerald: Hello, gentlemen. Thank you very much for accepting my invitation.

Sir Shelby Penwood Well, considering the direness of your financial security, we thought it was the least we could do.

Sir Emerald: Now before we begin, I was under the impression our budget was handled directly by the queen.

Sir Hugh Irons: Oh, it is, however, we're having a distinctly difficult time justifying some of these expenses.

Sir Shelby Penwood: Most of them under the name... 'Mercury'.

Sir Emerald: *inhale* Continue...

Sir Hugh Irons: For example, some of them were frankly labeled... "entertainment".

Sir Emerald: Entertainment?

Unknown Council Member 1: Quite. Like in my report; Twenty thousand for a... Candi?

Unknown Council Member 2: That's Candi with an 'i', by the way.

Sir Emerald: I see.

Sir Hugh Irons: Not to mention the priceless antique car... I believe the note on the claim was, "I thought I could paint it red, but I couldn't find enough goats, so I scrapped it".

Sir Emerald: So that's why we found my father's car covered in goat blood and rammed into a Dairy Queen.

Sir Shelby Penwood: Oh, yes, and then there's also the Dairy Queen. Sitting at about ninety-five thousand in damages. *rambling*

Sir Emerald: *thinking* I would do fucking anything right now to get out of this.

*cut scene to Tyrian and Watts walking towards gates of building*

Tyrian: And so halfway through kissin' me, the fuckin' escort OD's on heroin!

Watts: I really don't like discussing my ex-girlfriend with you.

Tyrian: I mean, I still finished, but what kind of shit is that?

Watts: For God's sakes, Tyrian, think of Salem!

Tyrian: ...I ain't jerkin' off right now.

Guard: Oi, You two! The grounds are currently closed.

Tyrian: Aw man, that totally sucks! And we came all the way out here with these foreign exchange students on a field trip through England!

Guard: Where from?

*countless machine gun barrels; MP5 Navy+Suppressor, to be exact, appear from the bus*

Tyrian: Texas! *Snaps fingers*

*Sub-Machine gun fire; guards killed*

Tyrian: Aw shit, looks like we need more prayer in schools.

Watts: If you're quite finished, ready the ghouls. I'm going to find Mercury. You overrun the rest of the mansion.

Tyrian: Alrighty! *ghouls begin filing off the bus* Attention all bitches! Off the bus and line up in order. *Readies dual custom P90s* I've got a class assignment for all of y'all!!

*cut scene back to the board meeting*

Unknown: And while the mime did survive, he'll never walk again.

*lights cut off*

Unknown 2: That's funny, we weren't cutting the power just yet.

Sir Emerald: Oh, shit...

*dials phone*

Sir Interga: Front desk report. What's going on?

Front Desk: Oh um yeah, hold on, just give me a second... whoa. Oh, yeah, it's ghouls. Definitely, definitely... *ghoul snarls* OH MY GOD!

*phone disconnects*

Sir Shelby Penwood: Sir Emerald, do something!

Sir Emerald: Calm down! We have over one hundred trained guards on the premises at all times. We have everything under control.

*explosion*

Unknown: What was that?

Sir Emerald: That was probably the escape chopper exploding. As I was saying, let me just contact communications and get an update.

*dials phone*

Sir Emerald: Communications, come in! We need a full report.

Man On Phone/Communications: *weeping*

Tyrian: Read the fucking paper.

Man On Phone: Hey there, Emerald,

Tyrian: Read it fucking RIGHT, cockhole!! *Clubs Communications just as he says Right!*

Man On Phone: Hey there... you... fat English trollop!

Tyrian: That's more like it, now keep goin'!

Man On Phone: Me.. and my big brother Watts... are killing... all of your men... and turning them into ghouls. So... I... hope... you've made peace... with yourself... 'cause when I find you... I'm gonna... oh god!

Tyrian: Keep reading, or I shoot the other testicle!!

Man On the Phone: Cause when I find you, I'm gonna sting every hole you've got! And then I'm gonna just keep making more holes to sting, until there's nothing left but your riddled corpse full of blood... and venom! Oh god, this is horrible!

Tyrian: You ain't finished yet!

Man On the Phone: So prepare your dried-up quim... for my huge vampire stinger. Now, pardon me, while I blow this bitch ass ginger's brains out -- OH GOD NO-!!!

*gunshot*

Tyrian: *laughing* His fucking face, man! Oh-ho ho ho fuck!! Oh, now that shit is priceless!

*hangs up phone*

Sir Emerald: Mercury, get up here now! I'm locked in with the committee on the third floor and...

Mercury: Listen, I'm going to have to stop you right there. You see, I'm under direct orders from my boss, who is a total bitch by the way *gives off an aroused grunt*, that I am not to leave this room until such time as the committee has left the building. I was even bribed. Imagine that...

Sir Emerald: Mercury, you vampiric asshole, I will --

Mercury: Sounds great, but I'm gonna have to go now, I've just queued up an episode of Adventure Time on Netflix. Bye~...

*Adventure Time sound clip, phone hanging up, Emerald snaps her cigar in utter anger*

Sir Emerald: Ozpin!

*cut scene to mansion; Watts slaughters four guards and picks up a phone call*

Watts: Hello, Tyrian.

Tyrian: So, how's my favorite big brother doing?

Watts: Oh, you know, just killed a group of guards...

Tyrian: Shit, bro, you too? What's your kill count at? Nah, don't tell me. *observes countless dead guards and the ghouls feasting upon them* I'm winnin'.

Watts: *Opens said passageway up* They were guarding a secret passageway downstairs. Not really keeping it a secret if you keep a bunch of armed guards standing around it.

Tyrian: Well, you have fun with that, bro. I'm gonna go skull-fuck that Hellsing bitch... And the old guys... Ah, fuck it. Skull-fuckin' for everyone!! Come here, ghoul!!

*ghoul moaning. Watts hangs up and smiles wryly*

Watts: Well, you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.

*cut back to board meeting*

Sir Emerald: Alright, Ozpin and his assistant should be here any second now..

Sir Shelby Penwood: But if there's no way to get upstairs, how are they going to -- aaaghh! aaghh!

*Ozpin and Police Girl fall from ceiling, accidentally knocking Shelby over.*

Ozpin: Tally ho!

Sir Emerald: Good to see you, Ozpin.

Ozpin: Of course, sir.

Sir Emerald: The first two floors have been entirely overrun. Communications with the outside have been cut off. We lost all of our men, and Mercury is being --

Ozpin: Mercury?

Sir Emerald: A total ass, yes. Now tell me, do you have any plans?

Ozpin: Of course, sir. I shall do exactly as the butler does, and tidy up.

*cut to mansion hall, Tyrian marching down it with his army of ghouls*

Tyrian: I don't give a shit, I don't give a fuck. I don't give a shit, I don't give a fuck. Though if I give a shit, I might just give a fuck, but I don't give a shit, so I don't give a...

(Ghouls are suddenly slaughtered.)

Tyrian: ...fuck was that?

Ozpin: Hello, my name is Ozpin C. Dornez. Ex-Vampire hunter and butler to the Hellsing organization. I answer the door, I clean up the estate, and I take out the trash. And I also kill self-entitled little twats like yourself.

Tyrian: Well ain't you just the textbook fuckin definition of classy, but guess what, Jeeves, that garrote wire won't do shit for dick against armor this thick. What's that, Alfred, how thick is it? Well, half as thick as my dick, so thick enough that you need a fucking anti-tank rifle to pierce it, and I don't even see a piece on your wrinkly old ass.

Ozpin: Police girl, if you may.

*Zoom cut to Police Girl with said anti-tank rifle at the other end of the hallway*

Ruby: BITCHES LOVE CANNONS! *Fires rifle and kills several ghouls*.

Tyrian: Oh fuck, that's an anti-tank rifle. OH FUCK, THAT'S AN ANTI-TANK RIFLE!!! *Gets shot*

*cuts to Mercury watching Adventure Time; Watts breaks through the wall, destroying the plasma TV*

Mercury: That was a seventy-inch... plasma screen TV. *inhales* So, how can I help you?

Watts: You must be the great Mercury.

Mercury: S'uuup?

Watts: I've heard quite a lot about you.

Mercury: Oh, really?

Watts: The night walker... who glides through oceans of blood. Beyond human, a monster whose power radiates with a darkness that casts a shadow on darkness itself --

Mercury: Oh, you dirty bitch, work the shaft!

Watts: Ex-cuse you..?

Mercury: Oh, I'm sorry, I like to dirty talk when someone's sucking my dick.

Watts: ...Perhaps I should just skip to my point. My name is Watts.

Mercury: And I'm Carmen Sandiego. Guess where I am!

Watts: I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you here...

Mercury: Oh, so am I, and I'm failing, and I'm sorry for that. It's just that I'm so agitated; because this blond little shit strolled into my room, destroyed my seventy-inch, plasma TV, and is trying to impress me like I'm his alcoholic father.

*Watts dashed towards Mercury, Watts’ modified M1 Garand and Mercury's Jackal Pistol pointed at each other's heads at the ready*

Mercury: Be a sport and grab daddy another beer, would you~?

*Watts fires at Mercury in the head*

*cut back to Tyrian, Ozpin, Police Girl, with the ghouls all defeated. Police Girl has Tyrian pinned to the ground in an arm bar hold.*

Ruby: Arm bars everywhere!

Tyrian: Let me go, you stupid bitch!

Ozpin: That's quite impressive, where did you learn that hold?

Ruby: Oh wow, it's almost like I'm a police girl or something!

Ozpin: Sarcasm is unbecoming of you.

Tyrian: Wow, gee willickers, mister, I sure am sorry for slaughterin' all your guards, and tearin' up your mansion. I promise I've learned my le- *Ozpin stomps on Tyrian's hand* Aw, fuck! Take a joke, asshole!

Ozpin: And everything you say just pisses me off! Now you're going to tell me everything I want to know.

Tyrian: Alright, alright... what you do, is you go down to the local pharmacy, ask for something called Viagra, and it will help you go fuck yourself!

*Ozpin loses his patience and prepares his wires, but then more ghouls appear and Tyrian breaks out of the submission hold*

Tyrian: And now, for the upcoming company picnic! *Presents an army of former Hellsing employees now turned into ghouls.* Unfortunately, all your douchebag co-workers are bringing is their own rotten flesh! Still better than potato salad, if you ask me. Now if'n you don't mind, *Jumps over the two of them* I'm-a go eat that Hellsing bitch!

Ozpin: I've got your arm! *Tears off Tyrian's right arm with his wire*

Tyrian: SO SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!!!

*Tyrian laughs maniacally as he busts opens the door, frowning as the Council members draw their guns*

Tyrian: Well, that's not fair at all.

Sir Emerald: I'm sorry, *Draws her Sig P226 as she quips* we don't give a fuck!

*Rapid gunfire tears Tyrian to shreds. Tyrian screams (and curses) in surprise and pain*

Tyrian: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... agh! Fuck! *Slumps against a wall* Where the fuck did my ghouls go??

Ozpin: Oh, they've been dealt with.

*Ruby, in a blood rage, slaughters ghouls; Dragula by Rob Zombie plays in the background*

Tyrian: Well, at least I'm gonna die with a raging boner...

Sir Emerald: All right, shit for brains, you're going to spill every single thing you know, or I'm going to have Ozpin here peel your dick like a banana!

Tyrian: *Laughing* I don't know what's fuckin' funnier; the fact that you think that your titless ass intimidates me, or that you think my boss would let me live if you did! *Is suddenly enveloped in blue fire, ala a Dr. Merlot; as he declares* AND NOW I'M ON FUCKING FIRE! SO NOW IT'S FREE GAME! The one who sent me... WAS... NAZIS!

*Tyrian burns to Ashes, leaving only his hand flipping the bird.*

Sir Emerald: I heard George Lucas. Who else heard George Lucas?

Ozpin: I heard Miami Heat.

Ruby: I heard the Motley Crue with my vampire hearing.

Sir Emerald: Wait a second... where's the big brother?

*Back at Mercury's room, Mercury is clearly outmatched by Watts(at least that's what he's making it look like).*

Watts: You can't touch me, I was hand-crafted to kill you. My speed, my stamina, my power all rival, nay, dwarf yours! In comparison to you, I am a demi-god!!

(A Brief silence, as our "hero" registers what was just said.)

Mercury: ...Really? Really.

Watts: Really.

Mercury: Really?

Watts: Really!

Mercury: *Excitedly* REALLY?!

Watts: Really!!

Mercury: Release Restraint, level one.

Watts: Level what? *As in the Cromwell seal restriction has been lifted to level one; Totally not Kaio-Ken, for obvious reasons.*

*Watts loses a leg, thanks to the "dwarfed" Mercury's Jackal, fired ala Baskerville the Big Black Dog. God of War theme plays.*

Watts: Aaagh, aagh, fuck!

Mercury: You know, they say that TV makes you violent, but I say that not having my TV is making me pretty fucking violent!!

*Mercury's shoots his Jackal Pistol at Luke's OTHER leg, blowing the said, right leg clean off.*

Watts: AAAAAOOOOUGH-!!! *thinking* I'm near the stairs! Gotta get to the stairs! If I could just get up the stairs, I... *Suddenly sees just how long said stairs really are, much to his dismay.* Aaaaaw, fuck...!

Mercury: Come on! You were talking all of that good shit a second ago, then I blew your fucking legs off!!

Watts: But, I... you... what the fuck?!

Mercury: What's wrong "demi-god"? Just grow back your legs! *As he SMASHES the leg in his hand* Summon up your demons! Hit me! FIGHT ME!!! ...Give me a hug~!

Watts: Really...? *Baskerville the AFOREMENTIONED Big Black Dog descends upon him as a certain soon-to-be bloody Valentine cries: * OH GOD NO-!!!

*Cut to conference room phone, as the committee members and Emerald listen to Watts being violently eaten alive. By the Big Black Dog. Emerald smiles wryly.*

Mercury (on speakerphone): We're here on Epic Meal Time!! I'm the sauce boss, and tonight, we're eating this blond little wannabe demi-god bitch!

Sir Shelby Penwood: Who... is that, exactly?

Sir Emerald: Oh, that's Mercury, the one we talked about earlier. This is what happens when he has to entertain himself. Oh, so what was that issue with our funding?

Sir Shelby Penwood: Issue?

Sir Hugh Irons: What issue?

Sir Shelby Penwood: I don't see an issue!

Sir Jacques Schnee: Shut up and take our money!!!

(Back at Emerald's room)

Mercury: Ah, and just like that, everything turned out alright in the end.

Sir Emerald: Yes, everything turned out just fine, except that ninety percent of our staff were killed, turned into ghouls, then killed again by the police girl in a blood rage.

Ruby: What's a blood rage, and why don't I remember anything?

Mercury: Oh, that reminds me, for whatever reason, did we ever find out who sent them? 

*Brief Pause once again.*

Mercury: It was the Nazis, wasn't it?

Sir Emerald: No!

Mercury: Bet you I'm right!

Sir Emerald: Bet you you're wrong!

Mercury: Bet you you're a skank~!

Sir Emerald: Bet you you're an asshole!

Mercury: BITCH, I EAT PEOPLE!