#Bastard Boy was mostly upset about the door being closed last night rather than our visitor

[sharkneto]

My friend's cat is unexpectedly staying with me due to the cat boarding situation falling through while he goes on vacation - I'm supposed to drop the cat off at the boarding place tomorrow.

But like... What if I don't 👀

He's a sweet little goober of a cat, only thing that's stopping me from just saying fuck it and having the cat stay with me for the couple weeks is the Bastard Boy. I'll think about it while I'm at work tomorrow, the logistics of it (mostly around food, BB has a special old man diet) and how fair it will be to my Bastard

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART IV - This is just some more Lucien and Eris. Eris is pretty ooc, idk, I just imagine that Lucien and Eris got along at some point. I hope you enjoy it :)

yesssss im so here for lucien and eris being brothers <3 

Prince of Ashes. Part IV.

masterlist.

Eris had read the same business proposal three times. With a small, useless snarl, he threw the sheets of paper onto his desk and frustratedly rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He took a deep breath. His father had been demanding more from him, a strange thing Eris couldn’t understand considering how quickly his father had shoved him out of The Forest House after the War.

Eris had also managed to get into another fight with Cato, which, while a very common occurrence, still managed to leave him in a terrible mood. Blowing at a strand of blood-red hair that had fallen into his face, Eris lifted the proposal once more, hoping that this time the words would make some semblance of sense. When he became High Lord, Eris decided he was going to make his brothers answer all of his correspondence so that he wouldn’t have to.

Eris almost growled when the heavy oak door to his study slowly creaked open, but he opted to ignore whoever thought it would be a good idea to interrupt him. Perhaps they would just leave, Eris hoped, eyes scanning the document in front of him. With a scowl, Eris raised his head to snap at what was most likely a new servant, but when he saw no one at the door, Eris paused. He carefully placed the proposal off to the side, the fireplace on the other side of the small room flaring.

Just when Eris was about to stand, a small face peaked up at him from the opposite end of his desk. Eris frowned, “Lucien?” He asked it in a soft tone, one that he reserved for only three people in his life. Mother, Rufus, Lucien. Eris didn’t know what it was about them that put to sleep the dark thing inside him, but for whatever reason, he felt at peace in their presence.

“I knew you had come,” his youngest brother must have been on the tips of his toes to look over the desk at Eris. He didn’t look too pleased. 

The frown did not leave Eris’s face, “I am not to stay long, but I have much to do.” 

“You couldn’t be bothered to come say hello?” Lucien lifted his chin, the loose curls of his short hair shifting with the movement. Eris had not realised how upset Lucien was, his little face red in the cheeks with what Eris supposed was anger.

“Our father has given me a task, I can’t be spending the day with you,” too harsh for a child that had yet to reach half a decade, but Eris always had a hard time with softness. 

Lucien didn’t back down, with a small shake of his head he spoke, “You could have said hello.” 

“Go pester Rufus, Lucien,” Eris mumbled, lifting the paper and taking his eyes away from the sad gaze of his brother. Eris waved his other hand in the door’s direction, “Or go back to the lessons I know you should be in.”

Eris heard Lucien’s frustrated sigh and his small steps as he scrambled out of the room. While Eris knew that Beron paid very little attention to the whereabouts of Lucien, Eris had gotten plenty of beatings for missing a lesson. Noticing that Lucien had not closed the door but feeling much too lazy to do it himself, Eris settled once more into his cushioned chair. Grabbing a pen, Eris began to write out a lengthy response to the proposal.

He almost snorted when he got to the bottom of the page and signed it with his father’s name. As if Beron had such lovely writing, Eris thought rather arrogantly. His father hadn’t learned to do anything other than fight for the crown of the Autumn Court. He’d slaughtered five brothers for it. It was not hard to imagine how ruthless Beron must have been in his youth, but Eris also couldn’t believe how his father had killed his own brothers and slept at night.

Eris had always been thankful for having been firstborn. If being the eldest was good for nothing else, Eris was glad he wouldn’t be the one killing any siblings for a centuries old scrap of metal. 

Eris almost fell out of his seat when he heard the loud clang of the plate that landed on the desk, knocking him out of his miserable thoughts. Eris peered over the top of his desk, scowling. Red hair that was the same as his own was all he could see.

“Old Sae says you haven’t eaten,” Lucien made his way to Eris’s side, a small sneer on his face. Eris thought Lucien had never looked more like a Vanserra, like one of them — stubborn and determined, his chin tilted up and his nose lifted in a snobbish sort of way. 

“Lucien,” Eris began, but stopped to help his younger brother as he climbed onto the arm of the chair. “Fox, what in the hells are you doing?”

Lucien didn’t bother answering him — something that he did quite often — as he settled onto Eris’s lap, curling his small body up against his oldest brother. 

“Lucien,” Eris sighed, “I’m busy.” 

“I know,” Lucien said, looking up at Eris, russet eyes pleading, his mouth set in a pout, “I swear it, Eris, I swear that I won’t ask you to read to me or give me riddles or play chess with me, I swear.”

It was true that Lucien was always looking to Eris for attention, but he found it strangely calming to sit around with Lucien and do such ordinary things. Eris had thought about what he would do if he’d been born ordinary — if hadn’t been the Autumn Court’s heir — much more than he’d like to admit. 

Eris shook his head, but he was finding it very hard to say no. So much for not getting attached to the little runt, “I’m busy,” he repeated.

Lucien frowned, settling against Eris’s side and facing the desk, “So you be busy, and I’ll stay here and watch.” 

Eris felt something spark in his usually hollow chest. He sighed, leaning his chin onto the top of his brother’s head, hoping that Lucien understood how much Eris appreciated him in that moment. Lucien was a creature that gave love so freely, Eris prayed to the Mother that he would always be this way. “Alright,” Eris scooted the chair closer to the desk, “But I have a lot to do.”

Lucien hummed, knowing very well that he’d managed to do something great. Lucien had gotten very good at getting Rufus and their mother to do whatever he wanted, Eris was a bit more of a challenge. Small fingers lifting an apple slice from the plate he’d dropped onto the desk, Lucien handed it to Eris before he took a slice for himself and bit into it. Eris ruffled Lucien’s red locks, biting into his own apple slice with a small smile.

And so that was how Eris would spend the rest of his day. With Lucien sat quietly on his lap as he did the brunt of his father’s paperwork. Lucien had stayed true to his word and hadn’t asked Eris for anything. The sun had set by the time Eris was on the last letter, some marriage request for a young female in the aristocracy. The lord was hoping for a beneficial union between his daughter and one of the Vanserras.

Eris guessed that no harm would come from throwing that particular letter in the fire. It would be just his luck that Beron would choose another potential bride for him, assuming the old bastard had forgotten what a disaster it’d been the last time he had tried to marry Eris off to the first available female. With a knock on the door to his study, Eris wrapped an arm around little Lucien, who’d fallen asleep against his side. The door was thrown open, Priam walking inside with silent steps.

“Father knows Lucien missed his lessons and wants to speak with you,” he sounded calm and unbothered, but the embers flaring in his russett eyes gave away the fact that some emotion was brewing behind that cold façade. 

Brilliant, Eris thought, handing the sleeping Lucien to Priam, “Find Rufus,” Eris said, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He often had to remind himself that none of his brothers were at fault for whatever Beron was about to do, but he often got angry at them instead.

Priam didn’t give Eris a response, and as soon as Lucien was settled in Priam’s arms, they winnowed away, hopefully to Rufus. Rufus loved being around children, Eris wasn’t surprised. Rufus had always been the kindest of them, the most understanding and most loving. Eris had kept Rufus far away from their father, and while their mother had mostly ignored little Rufus, he didn’t seem to hold it against her. Eris supposed he should ask Rufus how he did it the next time he had a chance.

Only moments after Priam and Lucien had left, Eris felt the heavy, choking presence of his father’s magic, the smoking scent of it. He could only wait for whatever punishment his father had in store. Eris didn’t bother standing as his father walked into the study, his short brown hair brushed back and away from his face, his crown nowhere to be seen.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court slowly walked to Eris’s desk, his hand absently picked up a book that Eris had lying there. Eris wondered if Beron would throw it at him. 

Beron’s beringed fingers flipped through the pages of the book, his eyes scanning the words as he spoke. “I don’t pay those tutors for nothing, boy.” 

Eris swallowed, licked his lips, “I wasn't aware they were being paid.” Eris watched as his father huffed a humourless laugh.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that your behaviour has been unacceptable as of late.” Beron elegantly set the heavy book down, his voice calm. 

He’d been told countless times by his father to stop spoiling Lucien. Eris found that even without a vow to protect Lucien, he would have done it just to keep the smile on his youngest brother’s face. Mother above, Eris was a real idiot for thinking he could love someone in this court and not have it be a weakness.

Eris set his jaw, opting to act like a fool, “What behaviour?” 

The back-handed blow to the face he’d earned for that would surely bruise. Quick as an adder so that he hadn’t seen the hit coming, but Eris knew he wouldn’t have moved out of the way even if he had. 

“Don’t play the idiot with me, Eris, I have no patience for it,” Beron growled, his hand snapping up to hold Eris’s face in a tight, uncomfortable grip. Beron leaned over the desk, “I don’t think I need to teach you another lesson?”

Eris shook his head, his father’s grip on his chin still too tight, “No, High Lord,” he ground out. Eris had been beaten bloody less than a fortnight ago for taking Lucien and Rufus to the city for a day trip, but Beron’s lessons had always taught Eris absolutely nothing, and that one had been no different. Not only that, but Eris found he was very good at repeating his long list of stupid mistakes that managed to make his father absolutely livid.

Beron practically threw Eris’s face to the side, “Be careful, boy, I have six other sons to take my place. I have no use for an heir who can hardly obey a simple order.” 

The sudden urge for Eris to bark that Beron only had five was overwhelming, but he settled for glaring at his father’s back as he stalked out of the study. Eris would gladly give one of his brother’s the throne, he’d never fucking wanted it anyway.

Eris slumped back in his seat as his father left the room, the control on his own magic slipping so that golden flames flickered in his eyes. Eris wanted to flip the desk in his anger, but he hated making a mess of things, so he took a deep breath instead, cooling the fire in his veins. Eris raised a pale hand, wiping some blood from his split lip with the pad of his thumb. It would heal by morning, Eris thought, and all would be as if it had never happened.

[welcometoyournewhell]

Return of the Tickle Wolf

A/N: I notice most animals pick up certain parts of words rather than truly knowing a word. Like if I call Ellie, both her and Gremmy look up because of the "E" in the pronunciation. For those of you who don't have pets or your animals don't do this, that's why Kosmo picks up on "ick" in the word "tickle".

__

Adam blinked a few times as he looked at the source to the blinding light that had just enclosed his room only moments ago. Rubbing his working eye he looked back to where he thought he'd saw something, only to see nothing. He shook his head figuring it was from the lack of true light and fresh air causing him mind to malfunction slightly.

That was until he felt a puff of air on his arm. He jumped slightly before looking to the right of his hospital bed. Big puppy eyes we're looking up at him as the large wolf he'd met earlier bowed so that his head was on the mattress. "Geez, you scared me," he sighed with a soft chuckle. Still slightly weary of his grandson (mainly for what Coran said about being taken to another reality), he wanted to take all precautions.

But Kosmo ignored the sniff as he knew who Adam was and muzzled into the warm food giving mechanism. His tail wagged happily as the professor picked up on the lovins giving. "Aw, your so soft," the human cooed. Eyes widened as he reached the mane. "And so fluffy!"

It was a rare moment where the boring, serious, down to earth Adam left to let the slightly childish one out. But who could blame him? This wolf was so sweet, soft, fluffy, and cuddly! Something he was finding out now as Kosmo climbed on his bed, awkwardly curling up for snuggles.

The knew weight made the frame of the bed creek but it was metal, real metal. It should be okay. The only other pain like sound was from Adam as the big boy laid on him. His wounds were mostly healed but still sore. But the pain slowly morphed into a more saddle burning like sensation as the babe settled down and curled into him.

The healed hand went back to work as fingers parted through the long, thick fur. "So, where's your daddy and grand parents, huh?" Yellow eyes peered up at him as if to say "Don't care, keep petting". But in reality Keith was busy with Shiro and a soilder that would be joining them on the Atlas.

They were checking our the ship, Keith still trying to coax his brother to bring Adam along. As for Krolia and Kolivan.... he had no clue. But Kosmo wanted to see this new person more! He'd slept with him a few times already. Granted his daddy pushed the empty bed not far from Adam's next to Adam's so that they could all fit.

But it was still sleeping with him just.... pinning Keith against the man. But the chin scratches Kosmo was receiving made him think he should have sprawled out on them. "Such a good boy," the professor cooed as he really dove into the world of chin scratching.

It had been a while since he'd pet an animal. While Shiro was in space their cat had passed. She was a senior cat they adopted so the Adam understood but.... it still hurt. Her name was Abby, he had her ashes and a clay mold of her paw print back in his room. Shiro was crushed to hear about it, Adam could tell he was still upset even a week later.

He couldn't talk as he balled his eyes out for over a month, even now the thought of her made him cry. Which could be why a soft tongue was licking his face. "Sorry boy, just my mind went somewhere." He continued to pet the kissing wolf, until the kissing turned to sniffing. Something smelt.... different?

The cool, wet nose moved to the side somewhat, sniffing the unharmed ear. Eyes widened once more as a scarred hand slapped over Adam's mouth. "K-Kosmo," he whispered slightly as he moved the alendage away from soft lips.

His grandson ignored him as he continued to sniff, unaware of what the other was feeling. "Hehehy! That tickles!" The healed hand tried to gently move the babes head, only to gain his attention. Laughter, smile, squinting eyes, ick? He had heard the sound before. Last time he heard ick he got his daddy to be happy! Oh, maybe he could make his grandpa happy too?!

He gave Adam a kiss before s offing around his ear again, warning muffled laughs and a head shake. Pulling his hand back again, Adam laid back more. "K-Kosmo plehhease! Thahat really tickles!" His ears were one of his worst spots if not the worst. He continued to giggle and gently push at the head as sniffs continued.

Starting to sniff behind the ear, whiskers began to dance about. Arms wrapped around the babe as the professor shrieked and let his head fall back, adorable face following. Kosmo strained and squirmed with big eyes to get back to what he was doing.

"Oh crhahap! Kosmo, nhahaho, bahahaby, stop," the grandfather pleaded as the anticipation set in. Well that and it was so funny and cute so see the excited wolf try to tickle him again. He didn't believe when Keith said he'd been attacked by this little (big) tickle monster, but now he knew what he meant.

"Raow! Rrmmmrow!" The hell kind of noises was that? Adam looked over to see the babe pouring and flailing his legs about. He was having fun! He was having a tantrum and the other's eye watered from the cuteness as he giggled himself. "Your so cute," he cooed. Being pulled into a hug and receiving kisses the baby's tantrum was passified.... for now.

He let out a whine of teenagerness before falling limo into the other's arms. If he had to take the loving, he would. "Kosmo, there you are!" The two looked over to see Keith in the door way. The wolf snuffed at him before curling back into Adam, faking a grudge from lack of attention given for the day.

Unfortunately, his tail wag clearly gave away his excitement to see his daddy. Adam chuckled as he pulled his legs up more.... or as much as he could. It didn't hurt or tickle but his feet were getting whipped by the massive limb. "Well, at least he was keeping you company." That voice. Adam's smile dropped as his eyes narrowed.

"Surprised you came back here." Keith sighed before elbowing his brother. Everything was just happy! The older rolled his eyes before sitting at the foot of the bed, back facing Adam. "Well I still love you. Just because we had another fight doesn't mean anything." But he had the spiteful tone that most men got when they fought, that most humans got actually.

Keith felt tears coming up as he crossed his arm and walked over. "Come on Kosmo, they need to talk." But Kosmo wasn't budging. He melmed at his daddy before wagging his tail again, whipping both Adam and Shiro. The cute charm was lost as the only thing the professor could focus on was the anger in his heart that had resurfaced from another fight.

"You won't face me though," he stated softly. "So either I was granted, or your upset. But I'm guessing your upset that I was granted permission to go." Keith kissed his boy's head before leaving. He didn't want to hear this. Kosmo however, didn't seem to care in the least. He snuggled into Adam more, receiving pets for it.

"I'm.... just scared about loosing you again. Space is a fucking nightmare Adam, I don't.... a lot has happened. I don't want you to get kidnapped, to face the same fears of death even within the main ship. You nearly died once already, I lost you twice now." There was a silence as Shiro let his hands catch his face.

Kosmo nosed at Adam for a reaction, but the man didn't budge. Shiro had told him of the horrors in space their first night together, as had Keith. He knew the danger, the horror, but this was his family. Shiro yelled as a toe started to poke at him. "No shit, dumbass! So what's let you take Keith back up there and risk never seeing you two again?! If we're dying, we're dying as a family!" There was a soft whimper that had both their attention. "Not you sweetie, your okay, " the man quickly soothed as he pulled Kosmo closer to hug him. "Your daddy's okay, sshhhh, shhhh." He bit his lip as to not laugh from the nose nuzzling into his neck.

Shiro had turned to face Adam, surprised by the unprofessional way of speaking. But seeing him crumble at the touch of Kosmo was rather calming. Looking over, he smirked. "Khahaosmo," the damn burst. "Baby, come on. Yhahaour ticklingg mehhee." A sudden yell escaped the male's mouth as fingers brushed up his soles. That bastard wasn't.

Oh but a smirk looking back at him said other wise. "Don't you dAH!" Too late. Once more, brown locks spread across the white, paper like pillow case as the professor laughed his heart out. Squirming and screaming, he held onto the wolf who decided that the professor's neck smelt so good!

"Sthahahop it! Sthahaop! T-Thahhakashi!" The former fiancee poked at his husband again as he tried to free his feet. The other squeaked as he felt his own tickle mood coming on. This closeness was something he wanted more than anything to have again with the other. "Gehehet ahahaway fhrom mahay toes! AH! Shahahit, nhohot thahat one!"

This was fun, a fun both missed over the years of tension and absence. The hiccups snorts escaping were so charming to the new captain that he moved to the socked pinky toes. That's when Adam started to go berserk, well that and Kosmo was starting to move up to his ear again.

"Chahan't, nahahaho! Khahashi!" The small giggle, whimper that escaped qued the other in to stop. Adam was at an overload. Looking back, he could see why. Kosmo kept going from the hypersensitive ear to under the chin. It was a killing combination. "Hey buddy, no more. He needs to breathe, alright?"

Shiro had moved up more to get the wolf babe's attention. Eyes looked back at Adam's painting form before looking up at Shiro and back again. "Yes, he needs a break. You wanna cuddle that's fine, but no more tickles." And the babe flopped with his tongue out again. Man he was so cute. Shiro chuckled before rubbing his tummy a little and earn it some leg kicks.

"Well, " the breathless male sighed as he mostly calmed down. "If your not here to fight, grab that bed. I know your not resting enough." Shiro was a bit stunned but honestly couldn't bring himself to protest. Sleeping beside Adam again, the memories of how pushy the other got for all the right reasons.

He did as told before securing the posts together. Undressing a bit, he climbed into the other bed, moving on the crease between beds to steal a kiss. A kiss that quickly turned into a contest for air as memory, years of lacking touch, and love took over. If Kosmo want present and Adam wasn't still sore, the captain might try his luck to take it up a notch, but he wouldn't.

He needed to wait for that, to fall in love again. But the idea Adam stated of a familiar and old feeling wasn't that. Shiro knew this was love, fresh love. The kiss broke as he giggled softly, pulling back to cover his mouth. Adam landed, a smirk plastered on his face. He'd clawed at the other's ribs slightly and his hand was still formed. "Missed you too," the younger chuckled before squealing as the close found his thigh.

"Oh, I so missed this, " Adam teased before negotiating his release with his grandson. Kosmo agreed before flopping on the abandoned, warm mattress. Adam covered him before "wrestling" with his former love for an upper hand.

As night fell over the military compound, Keith began to look for his son as he grew worried. What he found was actually rather receiving. Like a child, the breakup affected him like a divorce would. No kid was ever okay when their parents split. But seeing Adam curled up in top of Shiro as the other holds him protectively.... he knew things were going to be okay.

Tucking Kosmo in with one of his hippo toys, he gave the babe a kiss before heading back to his own room. Maybe going back wouldn't be so bad after all.

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

I Got You (Tony/Rhodey secret service AU) Chapter 10

Warning for mentions of abuse of a minor. Again, nothing graphic, just an fyi.

Links to chapter 1, chapter 9

Tagging @jamesrhodey  @supernaturalyloki @chanderefk @aimeeroot21 @markedplaces @mostly-marvel-stuffs @matre-dee @le-ephemere @lo-anlurui @savedbyholmes @kimmycup @typicalcampbell @natty-ts70 @damnhiatus @pubzie @giulisetta @goose-danvers  @donttellanyoneitsmebabe @bookwermthings @tonystark5ever  @polygamoussquamous @swanheart69 @schalabi422

Chapter 10

She’s in the middle of changing the dressing on Tony’s wound when the door to her bedroom is pushed open and James walks in.  He watches her in silence for a few moments, hovering awkwardly by the far wall, before stepping further into the room.

 “How is he?”

 She shrugs, one-shouldered, picks up a roll of gauze to place over the dressing.  “The bleeding has slowed down quite a bit,” she allows, carefully smoothing out the gauze.  Lingers, her fingers resting lightly on the strip of the tanned skin turned pale with blood loss.  It feels warm under her touch.  A little too warm.  She tells James as much.  

 “Infection?”

 There’s an unmistakable note of worry in his voice, a reflection of her own, and she bites her lip against it.  Sighs, pulling the blanket back up to cover Tony’s shoulders.  

 “I’ll be keeping an eye on it,” she says.  “There’s a pharmacist I know next town over.  I can get antibiotics from him, if need be.”

And, hopefully, there won’t be, she thinks.  Because, Tony’s strong.  He’s gonna beat this.  She has to believe it, she has to.  

She scans the slack features before her, her chest tight with concern.  “You made me a promise, Mr. Stark,” she reminds him silently, smoothing her fingers over a furrow of pain that creases Tony’s forehead even in the unconsciousness of sleep.  “Don’t you dare break it now.”

 She hears James hum distractedly in response, hears the floorboards creak as the man approaches the bed, hesitating to a stop a couple steps away.

 “Something on your mind?” She raises an eyebrow at him, waits him out as he stands there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as if unsure how to begin.

 He sighs, long and heavy. Runs his palm over his short buzz of hair.  “Is it true? About Howard?” he blurts out finally, his eyes a bit desperate, a bit wild.

 “What about Howard?” She sees James flinch at her tone. Knows she sounds cold, hostile even, but she can’t help it – the mere mention of that man sets her teeth on edge. Especially now, when Tony lies here, unconscious; when it’s only been hours since she cleaned his blood off her hands; when she can’t help but remember the last time she’d seen him like this….  

 To James’s credit, he doesn’t back down.  Holds his ground even under her scorching glare.  “I didn’t know Howard personally,” he begins, cautious but determined, “but his reputation–”

 “I know all about his reputation,” she spits, her lips pursing in disgust.

 “He was a well-respected figure in Washington,” he objects weakly, like it’s an obligation he feels somehow to defend Howard’s name, and she grits her teeth sharply to keep herself from snapping at him once again.  

He’s got more to say, she can see it.  So she’ll let him talk and then she’ll decide if what he says justifies her committing murder.

 James chews his lip again, blows out another breath.  “Look, I misjudged him.  Tony. Badly.  I… everything I’ve learned today, it’s…” He shakes his head, looking weary all of a sudden, drained.  “Tony said something in the car on the way here.  I don’t think he meant to say it and I, well, frankly, I wasn’t even sure I understood him right, but…”  He flicks an oddly distressed, uneasy glance at Tony before meeting her eyes once more. “Did Howard really…” He makes an aborted gesture in Tony’s direction.  “Was Tony…”

 “Abused?”

 He winces at her bluntness. Nods, crossing his arms on his chest as if to protect himself somehow from the ugly truth of it.  

The absurdity of the gesture almost makes her laugh.

 “I met Tony when I was in fourth grade.  Our principal, Mr. Wolfe, came in to our classroom one day almost halfway through the first semester with this scrawny 7-year-old.  Said the kid was gonna be joining our class.”  He reminded her of a cornered wolf cub then the way he stood there, staring defiantly at the classroom full of much bigger, older kids – frightened and beaten but ready to fight.  

 “Fourth grade at 7 years old?” James whistles in surprise.

 “Yeah,” she chuckles grimly, remembering the angry looks, the jealous rumors, the taunts that were thrown Tony’s way.  “It didn’t go over well with the rest of us, as you can imagine.  Everyone saw him as a spoiled rich brat whose daddy probably paid off the principal to get him placed in a higher grade (never mind that he was smarter than everyone there).  Who was too good to talk to any of us or to sit with us at lunch.  Too good to ride the bus, so he had his butler take him to and from school.”

 She runs her hand absently down the blanket, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.  Stops when she reaches Tony’s hand, her fingers twitching slightly in indecision before she carefully picks it up to cradle in her own.

 “Took me months to realize that that butler, Jarvis, was the only person in Tony’s house who actually gave a damn about him,” she admits, her voice thick with self-loathing.  Runs her fingers with soothing apology over the bruised, scraped knuckles.  “Tony would disappear every so often.  Wouldn’t show up to school for days at a time.  Everyone thought he was probably tanning on some exotic beach in the Caribbean or something.  Only…. only he would come back and he’d be paler than before and he’d walk funny and flinch as if he were in pain whenever people bumped into him in the hallway.”  She looks up at James, her lips twisting bitterly. “You don’t get concussions and broken bones while lounging on the beach.”

 James runs a shaking hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horrified disbelief.  “And nobody… nobody knew?”

 “Some people did,” she acknowledges, the old familiar pang of guilt thrumming deep in her heart, making her chest twinge with it.  “But nobody could do anything.  Howard had the whole town bought and paid for.  His staff, the school administrators, the teachers, the doctors – if any of them so much as thought about going to the authorities, Howard’s lawyers would have… these people would have been out of the job.  He’s done it, too.  It wasn’t an empty threat.”  She drops her gaze down to where her thumb continues to trace gentle, absentminded circles along the skin of Tony’s hand.  “And Tony knew.  That’s why he never complained to anyone.  Lied whenever someone would ask him how he got hurt.  He’d say he fell off a bike, or tripped walking down the stairs, or ran into a door, or some other ridiculous excuse like that.”  

 A harsh angry bark of laughter scrapes its way out of her throat, and she clamps her mouth shut against it, clenches her free hand into a fist.  Because those lies? She fell for them, too, at first.  She fell for them, too.  And she never did forgive herself for it.

 “He didn’t want people losing their jobs because of him.  Didn’t think he was worth it,” she whispers, feeling the shocked horror of that realization gnaw at her heart even now, decades later.  “Can you imagine that?  The kind of life he had as a kid that would make him believe something like this?”

 James swallows thickly, looking vaguely sick.  Works his mouth for a moment, the words seeming to flounder in their attempt to break past his lips.  “And his mother?” he manages finally in a breathy whisper.

 “His mother…” She huffs out a tired, rueful breath.  Maria loved Tony, Pepper’s sure of it.  Tried her best to protect him from Howard’s drunken rages when she could muster enough courage to do so. Which wasn’t often enough.  Not nearly often enough.  But she did try.    

 In the end, it was what got her killed.

 “Tony got sick one time over the winter.  The flu.”  Her lips twitch with mild amusement when she sees the way James frowns at her, confused at the apparent non sequitur.  But her smile dims all too quickly as her mind flashes back to that night she visited Tony at the hospital, to the way he sat there, slumped in Jarvis’s cautious embrace, still so frighteningly pale and with that heartachingly lost, broken look in his eyes.

 “Howard didn’t believe in being sick,” she spits out, her voice dripping with venom.  “His favorite mantra was ‘Stark men are made of iron’. Been drilling it into Tony’s head from the day he was born.  Imagine how disappointed he was when he found out that Maria kept Tony home from school because of some flu.  So the bastard made Tony stand outside for 3 hours in his pj’s in 20 degree weather.  To toughen him up.” She raises one hand in the air, her fingers snapping out air quotes. Drags in a breath, struggling to maintain her rapidly slipping composure.   “Tony ended up in the hospital with pneumonia.  Jarvis told me his fever got so high, they were afraid they were going to lose him.  And Maria, she didn’t take it well.  It…uh… it was the first time that Tony actually came close to dying at Howard’s hand and, I guess, it rattled her.  Enough so that she confronted Howard.”

 “What…uh… what happened?” There’s a hesitancy in James’s question, almost as if he’s asking it against his will, as if he would really rather not know.  Not that she can blame him, really.

 She doesn’t know all that happened, though.  Jarvis wouldn’t even tell Tony all of it, trying to spare the boy (not that it helped any).  

She tells James what she does know.  That there was an argument, a bad one.  That, for a long time after, there was a faded bloodstain on the floor of the Stark mansion next to a broken piece of railing at the bottom of the staircase that led from the upstairs floor down to the foyer.  That Tony got so upset when Jarvis broke the news to him that a nurse had to sedate him to keep him from hurting himself.  And that Tony believes his mother’s death was his fault because, in his mind, he was the reason for that argument and because he was stuck in the hospital and wasn’t there to keep Howard’s fury away from her.

 Tony had vowed then that he wouldn’t let anyone else he loved get hurt because of him.  He hasn’t broken that vow since.

 Beside her James sinks down heavily into a nearby chair, moves his head from side to side with a wide-eyed, shell-shocked look.  “Was that when… You said before that Jarvis was Tony’s guardian.  Did he take custody of him then?”

 She shakes her head, presses her lips together hard enough to feel the ache shoot all the way up to the joints of her jaw.  “About a year later,” she replies, reaching for the blanket again to pull it down from where it’s covering Tony’s chest.  “After this.” She points to a small round patch of scarred skin slightly to the left of Tony’s breastbone, faded over time.   Hears a sharp intake of breath beside her that lets her know James recognizes it for what it is.

 “H-how?” is all he manages, his voice sounding dangerously strained, as though it physically pained him to say it.

 She raises Tony’s hand to her lips, turns it gently to press a light kiss into his palm.  Lays it against her cheek, letting herself burrow into its familiar calloused warmth, drawing strength from the contact.  She’s gonna need it if she has any hope of getting through that particular story without breaking down completely.

 “It was the anniversary of Maria’s death.  Tony was…,” she closes her eyes briefly, wincing at the memory, “he wasn’t handling it well.  Couldn’t really concentrate in school.  The teachers were understanding, of course.  They knew.” She huffs, resentful.  “It was hard not to, what with the news coverage slobbering all over the tearjerker story of the poor grieving widower Howard Stark and his son.”  She finds it hard not to gag as she says it out loud now.  Back then she felt like scratching out the eyes of every news anchor that waxed poetic about the elder Stark on that ‘difficult anniversary of his wife’s untimely death’.

 “They let him go home. I volunteered to drive him – the perks of being 3 years older.” A smile tugs at her lips unbidden as she remembers Tony pouting like a disgruntled toddler the day she got her learner’s permit. She, of course, made sure to milk the advantage fully for the next three years, rubbing it in her friend’s face any chance she had.  

 Except that day.

 “We heard a gunshot just as we pulled up, and Tony… he just ran inside – didn’t even wait for me to stop the car.”  

 She takes a breath, short and unsteady.  Feels it hitch uncomfortably in her chest.  She remembers running into the house, following the sounds of raised voices. Remembers finding them all in the kitchen: Howard, his eyes bloodshot with alcohol and anger, a half-sloshed-out drink in one hand and a gun in the other; Jarvis, pale but determined, his hands gripping the countertop as if he were trying to stop himself from lunging at his employer; and Tony, slowly inching closer to his father, his hands raised imploringly as he pleaded with him to put the gun down.

 “Howard was drunk,” she says, gripping Tony’s hand harder.  She can feel herself start to tremble, can feel her heart stammer wildly in her chest.  She doesn’t think she’s ever been as scared as she was that day.  

“He was drunk and he was angry, and he decided to take it out on Jarvis.  And Tony, he…  he couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else.  Especially not on that day.  There was already a smoking hole in the wall next to where Jarvis was standing, and Howard wasn’t calming down, he wasn’t even… I don’t think he even knew where he was or what he was doing.”

 There’s a watery veil in her eyes, and she raises her gaze to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. Beside her James sits still as a statue, she’s not even sure the man’s breathing, but she can feel his eyes on her, the shocked, troubled heaviness of his scrutiny.  

 She forces herself to keep talking.

 She tells him how Howard raised his gun again, and how Tony lunged at him, pushing him hard into the wall to get him away from Jarvis.  How Howard roared in a drunken rage and swung the weapon at his son, pistol-whipping the boy and sending him stumbling down onto the floor.  How his trigger finger jerked at the tail-end of that wild swing; how deafening the sound of the gunshot felt when she was standing so close.

 She blinks, letting the tears spill over, running unchecked down her cheeks.  Drops her gaze back down to the small pink scar on Tony’s chest, her free hand reaching for it without conscious thought, fingers ghosting over the puckered skin.  

 A memory washes over her, a nightmarish flood of images she knows she’ll never forget.  

 Jarvis rushing past Howard to get to Tony, who’s struggling weakly to pull himself up, looking dazed and scared.  There’s a small trickle of blood on Tony’s face from where the impact of the barrel broke the skin, and it runs in a thin steady line down his cheek, curving at his jawline to slip innocuously down his neck and stain the collar of his shirt.  Another, larger stain mars the front of it, spreading outwards from a small ragged hole in it center, growing and growing and growing.  Jarvis presses his hands over it – they tremble, Pepper notices.  And isn’t that odd? Jarvis’s hands never tremble, but here they are, shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind.  And Tony winces, trying to flinch away from Jarvis’s touch, his face scrunching up as if in pain, but Jarvis doesn’t relent.  Jarvis shouts at her, at Pepper, to call the ambulance, and he presses down on Tony’s chest harder and harder and harder.  And Tony cries out, Jarvis’s name falling from his lips – a gasped out plea chased with blood that stains them red and drips down his chin when he attempts to speak again.  And Jarvis’s face grows ashen with fear, something Pepper’s never seen before.  And then he’s lifting Tony up in his arms, and then they’re running, out the kitchen, down the hallway, outside, to Pepper’s car.  No ambulance, it’s gonna take too long….

 She takes a long, shuddering breath, pulling herself forcibly out of the haunting vision.  Glances at her suspiciously silent audience, sitting hunched over in his chair, his head buried in his hands.  

 “I’ve never seen Jarvis so angry.  He was… I honestly think that the only reason he didn’t shoot Howard right then and there was because Tony needed him more,” she muses quietly.  “And I think Howard realized that, too.  Jarvis told him after - once we knew that Tony was going to be okay – he told him he was taking Tony away.  He went back to the house, packed up all of his and Tony’s stuff right in front of Howard and told Howard that he was leaving and taking Tony with him, and that if Howard so much as thought about stopping him that he would rip him apart with his bare hands.  And Howard just… let him go.  Let them both go.  He didn’t fight it.  I think he was afraid to.”

 Gently, she lays Tony’s hand back down onto the sheets, tucks it under the blanket that she pulls back up to cover his chest.  “Very few people know about this.  Even here at the Foundation,” she warns, and James raises his head at that, gives her a slightly confused look.  “Tony doesn’t like to talk about being abused.  Thinks it makes him weak.”  She closes her eyes, pained, lifts one hand to wipe at the tears drying on her cheeks.  “Another one of Howard’s life lessons,” she adds, her lips twisting in disdain.  She’s glad Howard’s dead, but she still thinks he got off too easy.  One day, she thinks, she’s gonna drive out to New York to the ruins of the old Stark mansion and dance on the bastard’s grave.   Maybe drag Tony and Jarvis along, make it a party.

 “The only reason I told you,” she continues, stern, “is because Tony let some of that slip out in your company, and I could see you’ve already started making assumptions.  I didn’t want you to make the wrong ones.”

 “I understand,” James rasps out, subdued.  “I won’t say anything.”

 She nods, satisfied, rises stiffly to her feet.  “I’m gonna go check on the animals,” she says. “Gotta secure everything for the night.”  She still feels shaky and cold, her head swimming with the haunting memories of the past.  Some fresh air would do her good.

 James doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.  Looks at Tony with an expression of pensive worry and a watchful sort of protectiveness that loosens something in Pepper’s chest, fills it with warmth.  “I…uh… I think I’m gonna stay with him a bit, if that’s okay,” he murmurs, breaking his vigil for a moment to send a questioning look Pepper’s way.

 She dips her head in approval, leans in to plant a quick gentle kiss on Tony’s brow.  “Don’t stay up too late, though,” she warns, trying to pull off an easy smile but still falling far too short.  “This is a working farm, Mr. President, and we are all in the habit of rising early.  As a temporary resident here, you’ll be expected to pitch in.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the window that looks out onto the field and the barn behind the house.  “Them cows ain’t gonna milk themselves.”

[whitewitchdani]

Infinitely Different: Chapter 13

Read Chapter 12 Here

Word Count: 2,912

Pairing: Winchester!Sister Reader x ???

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence

A/N: I told you chapters would start coming out steadily again. :) I hope you guys enjoy chapter 13! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and please give me all the feedback on this series!

Infinitely Different Masterlist

“Well, you know all about my family, tell me about yours.”

Your head shot up from looking at the empty cup in your hands, “What? No. Trust me you do not want to delve into the mess that is the Winchester family.” 

You had been talking for a while and heard the full story of the Original vampires and the amazing lives Elijah and his siblings had led over the past 1000 years. You had countered with the story of how your brothers jumpstarted Judgment Day the first time. But to tell him the story of how you became a Winchester? That was one can of worms you would prefer remained tightly sealed.

“Nonsense, my family is an absolute train wreck. I doubt there is anything you could say that could make me think any less of you. After all, you can’t change your family.”

You sighed, “It’s not that I think you’ll think less of me, more that it’s kind of painful to talk about. And also after I tell you everything about my family, John should be happy he’s already dead. The last time I told anyone about my family was to Damon and he was dead set on kicking my dad’s ass afterwards,” you said with a dry laugh.

Elijah smirked, “If you don’t want to tell me that is quite alright, I understand. I just wish to know you better, understand you more. Perhaps knowing your background will give me insight into why you are the way that you are.”

You looked at the Original vampire in front of you and let out a long sigh. There was no reason for you to not tell him, you trusted him and well if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda liked him. NO, you can’t think about that right now. Until you were able to sit down and think you liked no one.

“Well, I don’t know how much you know about the Winchesters but we have an interesting story. Firstly, I am not Sam and Dean’s full sister.”

“I knew that already.” Elijah interrupted.

You looked at him confused, “What? How?”

“Your blood smells different to me than theirs. It’s obvious you only share one parent, father most likely.”

“Oh, well, yeah. John is the boys’ dad, and mine. I’m about two years younger than Sam. My mom was a hunter and met dad when he was still kind of a rookie, sort of saved his ass on a nasty vengeful spirit case outside Indianapolis. After that, there were drinks at a little hunter dive nearby and then... bada bing, bada boom. Nine months later, Y/N Winchester makes her appearance in the world.”

Elijah smiled at your colorful description, holding out his hand, “Would you like another cup?”

You looked down at the empty teacup and back to the vampire with a sheepish expression, “No offense, but if you want me to continue with the Winchester Sagas I’m gonna need something a little stronger than English Breakfast Blend,” you said with a sly smile.

Elijah smirked, taking your cups and leaving the room. When he returned he carried two crystal glasses and a decanter of amber liquid. He poured two generous portions into each glass and handed you one of them. When you took a sip you smiled. 

“Whiskey. Didn’t take the Mikaelson’s for whiskey drinkers,” you smirked as you took another drink.

“Not typically. But we have spent quite a bit of time in America and developed a taste for it. It was mostly a guess if you’d enjoy it, but hunters as a demographic tend to lean toward that type of liquor.”

You laughed, “I’m pretty sure we helped invent it and now keep most of the manufacturers in business.” 

He began to laugh with you until it died down into a somewhat uncomfortable silence; the only sound the fire crackling in front of you. You knew what came next in the story, and part of you didn’t want to tell it. Stefan didn’t even know. The only people who knew the full story about your mom and your childhood were the people who were there for it: Sam and Dean. You had told Damon bits and pieces during your late night drinking sessions, but never the full story. But here you were, about to spill your guts to someone you were supposed to kill on sight. Real smart, Y/N.

“In the first six years of my life, I only met John twice. The day I was born and the day I turned six, because apparently he was nearby. I really had no desire to meet him, Mom talked about him like he was a complete bastard and after I lived with him for a couple months I understood why,” you huffed a small laugh.  

“But John showed up the day I turned six and spent the day with me and after that I had this glowing view of my father. He was my hero. My dad saved people just like my mom and to me that was the best thing in the world. I wanted to be a hunter just like my parents. My mom never hid what she did from me, because she wanted me to be prepared for what was out there and because monsters and their families tend to be revengeful types. And she was right. Because that’s what took her from me.”

You were quiet again and suddenly found your glass to be incredibly fascinating. Again, all that was heard were the embers crackling in the fireplace. You could feel Elijah’s eyes on you but you knew they weren’t full of pity, rather admiration of the strength he had already seen in you. Now he was learning where it had come from. 

Without looking up you continued, “Um about four months later I was sleeping when I heard a noise downstairs. I sat there for a minute until the noise turned into a loud crash. I raced downstairs to find my mom wrestling with a werewolf on the floor of our living room...

“Y/N RUN!”

“MOM NO!” 

You watched as your mother continued to fight against the wolf holding her to the floor. The little training you had began to kick in and you bolted for the arsenal under the stairs, grabbing a gun and silver bullets. When you came back, the wolf now had your mother pinned to the wall. You pulled the hammer of the revolver back, loading a bullet into place. The sound of the gun cocking caused the werewolf to turn and look at you.

“My beef ain’t with you kid. Do what your mommy said and run, I don’t wanna hurt ya.” 

While the wolf was distracted your mother had pulled the spare knife she kept from her boot. She went to stab him but the wolf was quicker, grabbing her wrist and turning it back around on her, causing the blade to go into her own stomach.

The wolf must’ve been a pure-blood, as he drew back his claws and his eyes returned to normal. He stalked toward you but your wide eyes were still locked on your mother’s slumped form against the wall. When he got close you finally noticed his advance and began to back up, dropping the gun as your back hit the wall behind you.

“You got someone you can call?”

You nodded.

“Good. Here, this was hers.” He handed you your mother’s cell phone, which you took with a shaking hand. “Now, don’t ever let me catch you hunting or I won’t be as nice next time. Understand?”

You nodded again, a tear streaking down your cheek.

“That’s a good girl.” He patted your head a couple times before walking out of the front door like nothing had even happened. 

You stared at your mother’s body. You couldn’t find it in you to go over to her, so you looked down at the phone in your hand. There was only one person you could call and you hoped like hell he would even answer. With shaky hands, you dialed the number your mother made you memorize for this very instance. You thought she was being overzealous and paranoid, if you had only known.

The phone rang four times before a gruff voice answered, obviously upset at being woken up at the late hour, “What?”

You were silent. You had only met John twice and had literally just watched your mother get murdered; you were entitled to a bit of a freak-out.

The voice on the other end huffed, “Hello? Who’s there? How’d you get this number?”

Thinking your only family was about to hang up on you jolted you into action, “Hi,” you said in a small voice, “Is this John Winchester?”

“Yeah, who’s askin-” he paused as he thought he recognized the voice and when he checked the number that had called, he recognized that too. “Wait, Y/N?”

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Baby, why are you callin’ me at 3 in the morning?”

You sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I need you to come here.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Where’s your mom?”

The tears had managed to escape and were cascading down your face in full force, “Just come here please.”

“Where’s your mom, Y/N?”

“A man got into the house. There’s blood. Daddy, please.” You begged, crying hard at this point.

John sprung into action, waking his oldest son to get his youngest together. “Okay baby, I need you to go upstairs to your room and get into your closet and shut the door. Don’t come out for anyone but me, understand?” John thanked whatever powers there were that he was only an hour away from your house; with a Winchester driving it could be made in about 20 to 30 minutes.

When he arrived he rushed into the house, ordering his sons to stay in the car until he returned. He entered the house and cringed at the sight he saw; he and your mom may not have always seen eye to eye but she was the mother of his child and because of that, whatever did this was going to pay.

He ran upstairs to his daughter’s bedroom and tore open the closet door, finding her small form sitting on the floor hugging her knees and sobbing. Thankfully, she had no blood on her and looked unharmed. Physically at least. John knew it was going to be difficult for her; Dean was only four when Mary died and it took months to get him talking again.

He crouched down to her level, “Y/N/N?”

You looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me. C’mon, let’s go.” He scooped you into his arms and carried you out the front door, making sure you didn’t see the scene in the living room again. They were close enough to Bobby’s that he could drop off his children and then return to deal with this mess.

As he plopped you down in the front seat next to him, you turned to look at the two boys in the back seat, both older than you.

You turned to look at your father, “Who are they?”

He sighed, this wasn’t how he wanted to do this, “Y/N that’s Dean and that’s Sam; they’re your brothers. Dean, Sam, this is Y/N, your sister. She’s going to be staying with us from now on.”

The flashback played like a movie reel in your head as you told the story to Elijah out loud. It was strange; actually telling the full story to someone felt kind of... good? Freeing? Sort of like a weight had come off of your shoulders. Sam and Dean knew everything of course, but had always walked on eggshells around you when the topic came up. Something told you Elijah wouldn’t.

“I know this is not helpful nor any consolation to what you’ve gone through, but I am truly sorry. Losing your mother that way...”

You looked up at the Original vampire in front of you and smiled, “Thank you Elijah. You should know that you’re the only person who knows the full story besides Sam and Dean; I’ve never told anyone.”

“May I ask why?

“I didn’t want their pity I guess? Also I guess I’ve always felt sort of guilty. I could’ve pulled that trigger and saved my mom but I froze. It’s my fault she’s dead.” A lone tear streaked down your face.

Elijah moved closer to you, a bit hesitantly at first to see if you’d stop him, and then moved right next to you when you did not. Using his thumb, he wiped the tear from your cheek.

“First, you were six, merely a child when she was killed. Parents are meant to protect their children, not the other way around. You were incredibly brave for a child of your age, mature in your actions and thought processes.”

You laughed, “My mom always used to say you could’ve plucked my brain from my skull and dropped it into the body of an 18 year old and no one would’ve been the wiser.”

He smiled, “She was most likely correct. You should not blame yourself for her death, Y/N. If the blame lies with anyone, it is with the creature who took her from you.” He cupped your cheek after wiping another tear away.

“He’s dead.” You whispered into his hand.

“How do you know?”

“Because I killed him.”

Elijah pulled back and looked at you, “When?”

You sighed, “When I was 14. Dad came back from a hunt one day and said he had found the wolf that had killed my mom and that it was time for me to put everything he had taught me to the test. So he took me to the house the pack was holing up in and he took out the other two and left he one who killed my mom for me. He recognized me too. Cursed me for turning into my mother: a hunter, a cold-hearted killer. And then I put a bullet in his heart. John was so proud, I don’t think I spoke for a week.” Remembering the alcohol you had in your hand, you downed it in one fell swoop. 

The room was quiet again. Tears were flowing down your face in full force now. You hadn’t cried in years, not since Sam had left for Stanford, but you had ended up on his heels anyways. You went to wipe the tears but two hands beat you to it. Elijah cupped your face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. 

“He was right. We’re all killers. Why we claim to be better than the things we hunt I’ll never know. I tried to leave this life, I did. But everyone always gets pulled back in. Even when I tried to leave I ended up here, a town made up of 75% supernatural beings. John made his children into killers, Dean never asks questions; it’s always so black and white for him. I never followed John’s orders like he does, even less than Sam did. No wonder Dean resents me so much. All I did was come into the family and piss John off basically with my existence as I got older.” 

You were still crying at this point. Why were you spilling your entire guts to him? What the hell was happening to you? Oh yeah, this is why you didn’t want this can of worms unsealed, because it was so damn difficult to keep them all from crawling out. Now you were basically having a breakdown in front of someone you barely knew.

Elijah brought you into his arms and you instantly relaxed in them. He held you tightly and you wrapped your arms around his neck, reciprocating it. You felt your breathing begin to even out as one of his hands rubbed your back and one cradled your head. 

“It may not mean much, but from what I have seen and heard you are an incredibly strong woman.” You both pulled back from the embrace but stayed close. “You protect yourself and others but know that there is a line that should not be crossed, and that there are shades of gray when it comes to people like me. To deviate your beliefs from those of your friends and family I know is not easy. From what you have told me you have overcome insurmountable ordeals and dealt with events no one else will most likely ever experience. Yet you still dropped everything to come aid your friends here in Mystic Falls.” 

Elijah moved even closer to you, your noses almost touching, and you swore you completely stopped breathing. You knew what was coming, and even though you knew you should, you were making no effort to stop it.

“You are an amazing woman, Y/N.”

With that, Elijah closed the space between you until your lips finally met. The kiss started slow and gentle; you could feel the care he had for you behind it. Then it became a bit harder, more passionate. He cupped your face and you drew the lapels of his jacket into your fists. Your lips moved in sync and the rest of the world seemed to melt away. You didn’t know how exactly you felt in that moment; all you knew is that you never wanted it to end.

Oh you were so screwed.

Read Chapter 14 Here

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[thatishogwash]

A Pirates Black Heart

KuroDai Week 2018

May 12, Day Six: Disney AU / Ghibli AU

AO3

This is Dreamworks, not Disney, sorry!

“So, how do we even get to Tartarus?”  Koutarou asks, leaning over several maps spread out on the deck.  Tetsurou has told him many times how bad of an idea it is to have their maps up on the deck but as always, Koutarou tends to have selective hearing whenever Tetsurou is giving advice.  Which is a shame because Tetsurou gives the best advice, no matter what his crew says.

“People die in Tartarus Kou.”  Tetsurou slapped down another map.  “We’re going to paradise instead.”  A set of islands far enough from civilization that no one would hunt the pirates down but close enough that there would be plenty enough booze and companions for everyone.

“You’re going to abandon your friend?”  Koutarou asked, disbelief in his tone and face.

“You and I both know that the king is not going to let his youngest and most beloved son be executed.”  Tetsurou leaned his hip against the table, pointing once again to his chosen map.  “Tooru gets sent free, I don’t get executed, and we all get to spend some time under the sun!”

“We are pirates, we are always under the sun.”  Koutarou motioned to the sun shining brightly above them.

“Think of the women and men!”  Tetsurou tried once more.

“They are cannibals Tetsurou.”  Koutarou deadpanned.

“Exactly.”  Tetsurou said with a wink.  “Set course.  Boys, we are going to paradise!”  His crew shouted cheers as Tetsurou made his way below deck, away from Koutarou’s judgemental eyes.  Tetsurou kept him around because he was big and was clearly one of his best fighters, but also because Koutarou acted as his conscious in some situations.  This wasn’t something Tetsurou needed to be talked out of.

Tetsurou hadn’t stolen the Book of Peace, the God of Chaos Daishou had and then set Tetsurou up for the fall guy.  It was Tooru’s own damned fault for substituting himself in Tetsurou’s place, as if Tetsurou would ever willingly set foot in Tartarus.  And what was he supposed to do if he actually managed to get there?  Fight a God?  Bargain with him?

Tetsurou’s stride faltered as he heard noise from his quarters.  He knew all his crew was on deck, sailing off into the wide open sea they called home.  So who was making all that noise?

Tetsurou stepped lightly, his booted feet silent on the wooden floor.  He knew every inch of his ship and knew exactly where to step to keep himself hidden.  Mostly he used it to sneak up on his crew when they were slacking off.  He had never had a stow away before.  Most people knew better than to try and sneak aboard a pirate ship.

Tetsurou eased around his doorframe, the door being propped open which wasn’t unusual.  He trusted his crew and knew they wouldn’t steal from him.  Well that wasn’t true, sometimes they made bets to see if they could steal something without his notice but that was only when they had been out at sea for several weeks and boredom was riding them hard.

“This can’t be that sword, that sword is centuries old and would be delicate- oh.”  A soft voice said from within, clearly not trying to hide themselves as they stepped around Tetsurou’s quarters.  Tetsurou’s heart did some powerful acrobatics in his chest, which hurt and was unwholly unpleasant and unwelcome.

Daichi was the last person Tetsurou wanted to see.  What was Tooru’s betrothed doing in Tetsurou’s cabin?  Why did it have to be Daichi of all people?  The Gods knew what they were doing when they created the young Ambassador.  Tetsurou had thought that the moment he saw Daichi step off the boat and watched Tooru walk down to meet him.  It was then that Tetsurou took the first ship out of the harbor and never turned back.

Daichi was the most beautiful creature Tetsurou had ever seen and he was always meant for so much better than a gutter rat like Tetsurou.  He was marrying a prince after all.

“Wow.”  Daichi breathed out in excitement.  Tetsurou pulled away from the room, pressing his back against the wall and trying to control his ridiculous emotions.  Some part of Tetsurou, an admittedly large part of him, was thrilled that Daichi found his quarters so interesting when he had been surrounded with wealth and treasures since he was born.

The other part wanted Daichi gone and there was only one way to do that.

“Ambassador, I think you might have gotten on the wrong ship.”  Tetsurou said after leaning against the doorframe.  Daichi pulled himself up to full height, which was still shorter than Tetsurou.  Both times Tetsurou had seen the other man he had been dressed in his finest.  The clothes he wore now were clearly of good material but they were relaxed, travelling clothes and fit him rather nicely.

Tetsurou told himself to pull his eyes away from Daichi’s admittedly nice shoulders and concentrate on the man himself.

“I’m exactly where I need to be.”  Daichi put his hands on his hips and attempted to stare down Tetsurou.

“Oh really?”  Tetsurou raised his eyebrows and purposefully pressed into Daichi’s space, making the shorter man look up at him.

“I’m here to make sure you do what you promised to do.”  Daichi said, which pulled the wind right out of Tetsurou’s sail.

“I didn’t promise anything.”  Tetsurou shot back, stepping around Daichi to sprawl out on his bunk.

“You made a promise to get the Book of Peace when you allowed Tooru to substitute himself for you and you left!”  Daichi was something to behold when mad.  He was still unerringly polite, a lifetime of being a noble was hard to break even when met with a pirate.

“If you ask me nicely I might drop you off somewhere civilized enough to take you back home.”  Tetsurou threatened, turning over on his side and ignoring Daichi though he could feel the other man move closer.

“You are exactly the man I thought you to be.”  Daichi stated scathingly and Tetsurou turned to him.

“Oh?  And what kind of information have you gathered in all our numerous meetings?”  Tetsurou asked though he knew he shouldn’t.

“You’re the kind of man who runs away, and it’s a good thing you have no heart because I don’t think I could sleep at night knowing I let my friend die when I could have done something to prevent it.”  Daichi said simply, as if he knew Tetsurou at all.  Tetsurou pushed to his feet, feeling oddly fired up.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was so upset, normally he was the one upsetting people.  “I suspected the worse but I came prepared.”

“You did, did you?”  Tetsurou asked, turning to Daichi and raising his eyebrow when the man stepped closer.

“I know what a man like you wants and I’ve come to offer it to you.”  Tetsurou took a step back and felt a lump in his throat as he looked Daichi up and down.  Thick thighs, trim waist, broad shoulders, muscular arms.

“Really?”  Tetsurou’s throat felt parched.  Daichi stepped closer again before holding something up.  Tetsurou was so caught in the dark depths of Daichi’s eyes, noting the different shades of brown to make up the color itself, before he realized that Daichi was holding a rather large gem.

“I’m willing to speak your language.”  Daichi easily handed over the gem that was about the size of Tetsurou’s finger.

“How much do you have?”  Tetsurou asked as he tossed the gem up in the air and easily caught it.  Daichi surprised him again by grabbing his hand, turning it palm up, and depositing a small mound of gems into it.  “Huh.”

“So do we have a deal, Captain?”  Tetsurou should say no.  He should drop Daichi off at another port, somewhere safe that the sheltered noble could easily return home from.  Maybe he’d have Koutarou follow him to make sure he got home safe.  No, Koutarou couldn’t hide worth a damn.  Keiji would do a better job of it.

There was too much of a challenge in Daichi’s eyes, in his entire existence.  Tetsurou wasn’t willing to admit it but Daichi was partially right.  Tetsurou was prone to running away, he had started when he saw Daichi for the first time, when he realized the difference between Tooru and himself.  He had ran so he would be the one left behind.  He had walked away from the party when he had made a deal with the God of Chaos to steal the Book of Peace because Daichi had been there.  He couldn’t see Daichi and Tooru together, starting a life that had nothing to do with Tetsurou.

Tetsurou was a selfish bastard.  He was sure Tooru’s father would never let him die.  But he also knew if he turned Daichi away that would truly be the end.  There was no future for them either way but damned if Tetsurou wasn’t tempted to just have this time with the other man, to be able to hold onto these memories.

“You’ve got a deal.”  Tetsurou said with a smirk, fingers closing around the gems before quickly shoving them into his pocket.