#First drawing was made before we saw the EGOs for Hell's Kitchen

[liliox-ciel]

They're at soup

[troubatrain]

sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, ���If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations. 

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

[stupid-stew]

Boiling Rain

my finger slipped again oopsies idk if this is 100% in character but like what if eda kicked lilith out right away and ended up regretting it later

There was nothing worse than a knock on the door for Eda. Especially not in the middle of the night, during a boiling rain storm, when she was fresh out of magic, and she had a kid in the house, and there was no hooty noise to warn her beforehand. What was he up to?

Eda was still new at defending herself without her magic, but she knew her way around a bat, just ask that guy at the bar from her 20’s and his massive medical bill. Whatever she thought, laughing to herself, that jerk deserved it, no medical bill was larger than his ego. Bat in her left hand, doorknob in her right, she simultaneously swung the door open and raised the bat into a defensive position, ready to strike, that is until…

“Lily?”

What she saw before her definitely wasn’t her sister, but that was Lilith on her doorstep. Well kind of, Lilith collapsed in front of her, drenched in steaming water, clearly out of breath, nothing like the perfect prissy Lilith she knew, and what was she wearing? Where was her dress and cloak? Oh, Eda realized, that is her dress and cloak. The clothes were nearly melting off of her sister, riddled with holes. That couldn’t have made her injuries any less severe. Eda had been stuck in her fair share of boiling rain storms, even with the thick skin of the owl beast it had still taken her weeks to heal, she couldn’t even begin to fathom the state her sister was in.

“I’m sorry” came a hoarse whisper from the pile at her feet

“Lily oh my titan-” Eda dropped the bat and turned her head to yell up the stairs, hoping she was loud enough to wake her sleeping apprentice “LUZ, WAKE UP” Her head snapped back to the door frame at the movement of Lilith flinching at her loud voice. What happened to her.

Eda bent down to at least try to get an idea of the injuries her sister had suffered, but before she could get her hands on Lilith, Luz appeared at the base of the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked, clearly still half asleep. “I need you to go up to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, not the one in the first aid kit box, the one in the lunchbox.” Eda instructed.

Luz went to move up the stairs but suddenly snapped awake, “Is that Lilith?”

“Luz, later, first aid kit now, please” Eda responded, back turned to the now fully attentive teenager

“Got it…” Luz ran up the stairs, “...the blue or the purple one?” she shouted

Eda sighed, now that Luz was going to be here a while she should make a point to show the kid the ropes around the house “The purple one please.”

Not even a half minute later Eda had the box in her hand and was sorting through the bandages, what was she doing, she didn’t even know how badly wounded Lilith was. Eda set the supplies down and moved to touch Lilith when a pale, terribly blistered hand shot out of the mound in front of her and grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

Eda was confused and jerked her hand away “What do you mean no?”

Lilith took a couple ragged breaths before weakly responding “I don’t want your help, I don’t deserve it”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Eda remembered Luz was still behind her, “Luz, sweetie, could you go grab some blankets and maybe draw up some of those healing glyphs you’ve been working on?”

“Sure” the girl replied softly before quietly stepping back up the stairs

“Edalyn I sai-” Lilith started

“I heard you. I don’t want to hear it. You need help.”

“Not your help-” Lilith inhaled painfully “not after everything I did to you.”

“Oh for titan’s sake Lily, you think just because you made a mistake I’m going to let you lay here in pain? I haven’t even seen your face yet and I can tell you need help, mine or not.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come here, it’s all my fault, I’ll go.” Lilith moved to get up, but the burns weren’t having it and she barely got a push-up’s distance off the ground before her arms gave out.

“Are you kidding me right now? You come to my door in the middle of the night, after having gone through titan-knows-what, covered in burns, your clothes are barely intact, and you expect me to just let you leave?”

Eda wasn’t having any more of it, and reached out and grabbed Lilith’s arm, who hissed in a combination of pain and protest.

“Not on my watch sister” Eda spoke through her teeth. For someone so frail, Lilith was definitely a bit heavier than she looked, though the fact she was drenched probably didn’t help.

She managed to drag the complaining witch all the way to the couch before Luz made her way down the stairs, blankets and a stack of healing glyphs in hand.

“Kid, drop those and come help me please.”

Together they were able to get Lilith into a lying position on the couch, and for the first time see how bad of a state Lilith was in. Not an inch of the witch’s skin was spared from the rains, red blotches and boils acted like massive freckles over her whole body. While taking in the sight of her sister, Eda managed to meet the injured witch’s eyes for a split second, and what she saw scared her more than anything. Of course Lilith’s face was contorted in pain, but there was also shame and embarrassment in her eyes. If I showed up in her state I’d be embarrassed too, but did she really think I wasn’t going to help her?

“Kid can you go upstairs and grab Lilith some clothes from my dresser? Anything you think will fit her is fine, and…” Eda leaned in next to Luz’s ear and in a low whisper “could you take your time? I’d like to talk to my sister in private”

Luz looked at her with understanding “Of course, if you need anything just yell up the stairs.” She eyed Lilith one more time before retreating back up the stairs.

Eda then turned back to Lilith, who seemed unwilling to meet her eye again. “Alright. Let’s get started, you look a mess, so this might hurt a lot more than a little.”

“Edalyn why are you doing this”

Eda chuckled “Have you seen yourself, I’ve never been the best at responsibility, but I think it would make me a bad person to not help someone in your condition.”

“No Eda, I mean why after everything that I did to you, to Luz, why are you still helping me when I am the last person you should want to help, I don’t understand.”

There was a heavy silence followed by a long exhale from Eda. She didn’t respond, instead moving for the pile of glyphs that Luz had left them. “This is going to hurt a lot, and I’m not going to be able to get it all without my magic, the glyphs only do so much, but I think I can make the worst of it at least better.”

For the second time that night Eda was stopped from touching Lilith by a pale shaking hand.

“Edalyn, why?”

“Ok here’s a deal, you let me help you and I’ll tell you why in the end? Sounds fair enough?”

“You really aren’t going to budge on this are you.”

“Nope.” Eda replied, popping her lips on the last syllable.

Lilith flopped back onto her back, shutting her eyes and exclaiming at the, without a doubt, excruciating pain the impact with the couch had caused.

“Real smooth Lils”

“Oh shut it.”

Somehow the older witch’s face turned even more red through the burns and boils.

Eda managed to get through placing glyphs along Lilith’s arms and legs with minimal issue, Lilith didn’t seem to be enjoying herself very much, but even she had to admit it was starting to look better. At some point Luz had come back down with a cream colored shirt and black patchwork skirt for Lilith to change into along with some more glyphs. Eda had sent her back to bed, the kid did have school in a few hours.

“Ok, we are going to have to take off your dress so I can reach your back, looks like that’s where most of the damage is, and…” as Lilith sat up Eda caught a glimpse of her full back “there also doesn’t seem to be all that much dress left to remove. You really got caught in the rain huh?”

Lilith didn’t respond, but instead met Eda’s eyes again, which made Eda suspicious.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes Lilith we have to treat your injuries.” Eda rolled her eyes at her sister, what did she expect when she was out in the rain without protection?

Lilith didn’t look amused, instead she seemed to pale out. She pulled down the top half of her dress and rolled over onto her stomach.

Eda gasped.

Lilith’s back was covered in burns and boils sure, but what shocked Eda was the array of scratches and claw marks all over Lilith’s back, not only her back but they seemed to go up and down her whole body in varying degrees. Some of them looked healed, or on the way there, some of them fresh, some of them even seemed to be infected.

“What the hell Li-”

Was all she got out before she was interrupted

“Forest demons aren’t as nice as they seem. Ever.”

Oh. Eda snapped her mouth shut and silently applied as many glyphs as she could to Lilith’s back and upper arms as she could. Of course, Eda thought, I didn’t let her stay here, she’s got no friends outside the coven, she doesn’t look different enough to find somewhere safe from the coven guard in town, especially not with her posters lining the alleyways, she’s been sleeping in the woods. Where else would she have gone. With their mother? Any number of nights in the forest without a roof was better than one night under their mom’s.

“Thank you.” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh.” Eda had been so busy thinking that she didn’t realize she had finished. “I’ll go to the kitchen to make us some tea, you can change in here, don’t worry about hooty he seems to be asleep.”

Lilith nodded and Eda made her way to the kitchen. Once the water was on the stove, she dove back into her thoughts. All these nights? I kicked her to the curb the night of the incident, it’s been at least a week, it’s rained almost every night. Oh titan, not all of those burns were fresh, that’s probably why Lilith was able to move at all, she was used to it. How has she been eating, bathing, sleeping? She’d been weakened by the splitting of the curse, could she have even defended herself? She could have come around any time- wait. Eda realized that she had told Lilith not to come anywhere near the house… ever again. That’s why she was so convinced she wouldn’t get help at the owl house. Maybe if I had been less harsh, it I hadn-

The whistle of the water being ready pulled Eda back to reality. She quickly placed the tea bags into the mugs and filled them with water and left the kitchen. When she got back to the living room, Lilith was already sitting in her dry clothes, a dim blue light escaping through the thin fabrics from the glow of the healing glyphs. Eda handed her a mug and brought her own to her lips, taking a long sip before sitting down next to her sister.

They sat like that for a while, sipping and waiting. Eventually, much to Eda’s surprise, Lilith broke the silence.

“So why?”

“Huh?” Eda replied, still deep in thought.

“Why did you decide to help me?” Lilith asked, looking into her mug as if it held all the answers “We both know I didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right.” Eda replied simply. “You don’t deserve my help.”

Looking up from her tea and at her sister with genuine confusion, Lilith asked “So why did you help me then?”

“Let me finish. You don’t deserve my help. You cursed me, you kept your mouth shut about it for decades, until it was far too late, and in a desperate attempt to save your own ass you captured not only me, but my apprentice. My apprentice who I might as well call my own daughter at this point. You hurt her you know?”

Lilith’s eyes reverted back to her mug in shame.

“Oh yeah, she’s got bruises that aren’t even healed yet, that’s why she got looking into the healing glyphs. Plus, she faced Belos. She had to burn her only way home, she’s stuck here now. And me? I lost my magic. The most powerful witch on the boiling isles, now without the witch part.”

To emphasize her point, Eda drew a golden spell circle in the air, only for it to crumble into a pile of dust at her feet.

“Edalyn, I-”

“But,” the younger Clawthorne interjected, “that doesn’t make you a bad person, and I refuse to let it make me a bad person. I don’t know what your reasons were for cursing me, not telling me, I don’t know what Belos promised you, but it had to be pretty big to do what you did. And it’s my fault for not knowing. I kicked you out without even hearing you out, and you got hurt for it, I never even gave you a chance to explain yourself.”

It was Eda’s turn to avoid eye contact now, staring contemplatively into her now empty cup.

“It’s my fault you got hurt. That’s why I helped you. I was so caught up in my own anger that I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I’m still mad at you, and you’re far from forgiven, but I think you need help. Let me help you.”

For the first time in a long time, the two sisters met eyes in a moment of understanding.

“Ok.” Lilith said after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Good because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

They both laughed at that.

They sat for a moment, before it was finally Eda’s turn to speak first.

“So why’d you come here if you didn’t want my help?”

Lilith picked at her fingers for a moment before responding.

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. It was so dark and so hot, I could barely even think, none of the other storms had gotten me this bad.”

Ah, so I was right. Eda regretted.

“It was like my feet took me here, all I knew was I needed to get out of the rain, and before I knew it I was in front of your house on my knees. I expected you to turn me away, I wanted you to turn me away.”

Eda didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than “Why.”

Lilith thought for a moment.

“I guess I needed you to turn me away, I thought it might feel better to know that for once you would be the one leaving me in pain after 30 years of the roles being reversed, I think after all of that I deser-”

“No.” Eda interrupted. “I might not be the best sister, neither are you, but I will not ever let you suffer in any way remotely close to the way I did. Nobody deserves that, I sure as hell didn’t but neither do you. You will always have a place to stay with me, no matter how mad I am at you.”

They sat for a while longer, both deep in thought. Eventually Eda took both mugs back to the kitchen and rinsed them before going back to the living room, sitting next to Lilith one last time to help her out with the blankets.

“I think the shed is livable, the tower might be a bit too overgrown at the moment but we can work something out. You can stay on the couch tonight, no way you’re going back out into that. We can set ground rules in the morning, just try and get some sleep before the kid wakes up. She’s very excited about the new day, every day.” Eda spoke fondly.

“You really care for her, don’t you.” Lilith asked, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“That I do. Goodnight Lilith.” Eda responded before stretching and cracking more joints than any one witch should physically be able to. “Woof, even sitting on that couch is enough to make me sore”

“I’m sure it’s just fine, thank you Edalyn, for everything. And goodnight.” Lilith said while trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy couch. Her injuries, while significantly better, weren’t doing anything to help the situation. It wasn’t long before the soothing warmth of the healing glyphs lulled Lilith into a deep, dreamless sleep, much better than any she’d gotten on the forest floor.

Not even a few hours later, the sun shone on the owl house, waking Luz first, and if she was any quieter than normal that morning, or if she saw a certain gray haired owl lady sleeping on the floor next to Lilith’s position on the couch on her way out the door, she never mentioned it to a soul.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part eight-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot and slow burn.

*Bucky POV*

I've finally gotten away from Wilson and his incessant blabbering, and am now making my way to the training room to find Ali.

Ever since she got here, there's been this ache in the back of my mind. It feels a lot like the first time I saw Steve all those years ago. A dull tug, trying to pull something forward.

She knows me. Knows me well apparently. And I feel deep in this little dark corner of myself, that I know her too. She unsettles me immensely, the thought of her risking herself so wantonly with the Winter Soldier, knowing my past and darkness. It's horrible. But shes also comforting. A type of comfort I haven't felt in a long while.

She's a wild card still. Unpredictable. And yet she peaked my curiosity.

I still can't get her teary blue eyes out of my mind. I'm thankful I heard her sneak past my room the night before. Otherwise I never would have followed her to the lab. Never would have seen her pain and loss so openly. Her cries were heartbreaking, sobs wrenched from deep inside.

I understand what it's like to feel utterly alone and confused. And I wish I could take that feeling from her.

Taking a quick left I stop at the door of the training room, hearing music and the dull thud of knife hitting Kevlar.

God help me I can't get the image of her dancing so carefree in my hoodie out of my head either. Walking into the kitchen to that view, well fuck me back to the 40s. A beautiful woman dancing and singing, a home cooked meal on the stove, and a blade twirling between delicate fingers. She's going to give me whiplash. Or death.

This need to protect and cherish her conflicts with the instinct to be wary and set clear distance and it's worse than the cyclone at Coney Island.

I just know this isn't a good idea.

***

*OC POV*

"You're letting go too soon Doll."

FUCKING BLOODY HELL I'm gonna kill this man.

I very much did NOT let out a tiny squeak for the second time today and launch ANOTHER knife straight at Buckys (admittedly handsome) stupid face.

Okay I did.

With a cocky flourish he catches it and give the blade a nice twirl. "See? Too soon. You're aim would be more accurate if you hold off a second or so before releasing. And the blade would slice through the air better. It's catching too much resistance from the angle."

"You have gotta stop sneaking up on me Sarge. Unlike yourself, I'm too young for heart failure."

Bucky sends me a scowl and scoops up the rest of the knives from the target then makes his way over.

"Sweetheart, I may have some years under my belt, but I'm a fully and exceptionally functioning man." I look down to see the tip of a knife gliding up my stomach and to my throat, pausing to move a lock of hair behind my ear.

Suddenly sweaty I clear my throat and swipe a knife from his metal hand. "I'll take your word for it Buckaroo. Now you wanna show me how exceptionally you can teach?"

At that he steps behind me, chest pressed against my back, hard muscle very much evident under his tight shirt. His hand gliding down my arm softly until he wraps his fingers around mine, now holding the knife together.

His (very beefy) leg presses between my thighs, allowing his foot to hook around mine and reposition my leg.

Hell in a handbasket its fucking hot in here. Jeez. My heart is going wild and I know for a fact Bucky can hear it.

His breath ghosts along my neck as he murmurs low against my ear.

"You're quick and underestimated because of your size. Use that more to your advantage and strike like a little viper. Fast and deadly."

He guides my hand as if drawing the knife from my thigh holster, making my hips shift back against his. As our arms make a slow, practiced arc Buckys metal hand squeezes my hip telling me when to release the knife.

With another light squeeze he steps back and nods for me to continue.

This man will undoubtedly be a distraction in the field if I don't get it together.

With a sigh I drop to a knee only to pounce back up in a spin while drawing the blade, letting it sail through the air in complete silence, slicing through it only to come to a halt with a smack that echoed through the room. In the blink of an eye it went from my fingertips to the mannequins skull a good twenty yards away.

He really didn't need an ego boost but damn if he isn't talented.

"Better. Now let's see how you do hand to hand."

I was suddenly back to the mat with a very heavy soldier pinning my body down, knife pressing into the hollow of my throat.

I let out a soft grunt as piercing blue eyes filled with concealed torment and a hint of playfulness met my own. "Well this brings back memories... for me at least."

Using his confused pause as an advantage, I run my foot along the inner seam of his sweatpants as the other slips from between his to hook around his thigh.

A startled grunt escapes open lips and the knife moves a fraction as his hold loosens. With considerable effort I had the hulking soldier underneath my straddling hips, knife now running up his chest, small cuts appearing along his shirt.

Large hands rest on my thighs, squeezing with every dip of the blade as it runs along the ridges of concealed muscle.

"Dirty move Doll."

With a small shrug his shirt gets cut open completely. "It can get dirtier Sarge."

I shift against his hips and his hands clamp down hard, keeping my legs in place, most definitely leaving Bucky shaped bruises.

"Are we ever gonna have that conversation you promised? Cause I feel like I'm missing some important pieces to our story."

"Huh, I thought this was a training session, not a slumber party." With another squirm against his crotch he lets out a low growl and I hop up, tossing the knife into the floor by his head. "Come and get me Barnes."

With that I took off down the hallway, thundering footsteps quickly catching up with mine. Damn super soldier speed.

As his arm wrapped around my waist I let out a giggle and ducked underneath it, landing a blow to his stomach. Which did little more than make him let out a grunt of air as I dropped to swipe his legs from beneath him.

With a roll Bucky jumped back up and caught my arm, spinning me against the wall.

His thigh pressed between mine as his metal hand locked my arms above my head, our chests heaving together despite the minimal effort of the chase.

The forgotten blade appeared in his other hand, the sharp tip trailing down my arm, dipping along the collarbone. Buckys head tilted as my heart beat went double time, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

With a smooth flick of his wrist a bead of blood trailed down my throat, stopping between the swells of my breast, Buckys eyes following the slow path returning to mine darkened and razor focused.

With a glimpse to the lip I trapped between my teeth he cocks his head with a suspicious glare. “Bringing back more memories Sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, is it Sarge?”

Don���t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get you-

Buckys hips press firmly into my own, his thick thigh shifting higher, now tight against the needy heat between my legs. A very noticeably large and stiff bulge pressed into my hip. How am I not on fire yet?

A small whimper escapes my lips as Bucky trails his mouth and nose along the length of my neck, beard scratching deliciously against heated skin. My hips bucked, wonderful friction meeting my clothed center, a moan escaping with a sigh as I repeated the action.

Bucky growled low in his throat as his hips snapped against mine, leg tensing against my soaked cunt. “I might not remember our past yet Doll, but I remember this feeling. Your warmth. First time I looked into those big blue eyes I knew you were gonna ruin me. Had no idea who you were, but fuck it all I knew you somehow.”

With a slight tug he released my arms, hands falling to my waist, tracing a path along my body.

I rested my palm against his heart, as the other cupped his cheek. Thumb tracing his red lips I looked into lust blown confused eyes. “Maybe one day you’ll remember our story, until then I’ll remember for the both of us.”

A rough thumb brushes over a hard nipple as his hips start to rock steadily into my own. A small moan escapes as my fingers tangle in Buckys thick hair. His mouth once again finding my neck, this time leaving hot kisses. His tongue traced along my ear, teeth nipping along the skin until he reached the spot on my neck that made me keen.

His lips kissed a smile into my skin as he sucked it into his mouth, leaving his mark on my body. My greedy hand began to make its way to the band of his sweats as he-

“Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Barnes, the team needs you in the conference room immediately.�� Friday said from above us, damn near giving me a heart attack.

Cockblock. “Fucking hell.” I mutter as my head tilts back to rest against the wall, Buckys hot breath puffing against my chest from where his face is pressed into my shoulder. I run my fingers through his hair for a moment, relishing his warmth after so long being cold.

Bucky pressed a kiss to my collarbone as I clear my throat. “Well, duty calls soldier.”

As he backs away and releases my body, I rock onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before swiftly walking to the conference room.

I’m almost certain these shorts are ruined. My sanity is not far off either.

[areiton]

iron tipped petals - stony

Read on AO3 

~*~ 

The first thing Steve learns about Tony Stark is that he’s a flashy asshole.  

The second thing he learns, is that Tony Stark reeks of flowers.  

~*~  

He remembers Howard, smooth smirk and oversized ego, and the way women slipped into and out of Howard’s orbit without ever really sticking, without ever touching him. Howard smelt of gun oil and burnt metal and something expensive that Steve couldn’t name, cologne and perfume both.  

Peggy smiled and said he didn’t have a heart to lose, and Howard’s eyes had flashed, but there was more amusement than not in them, and he hadn’t disagreed, and somehow Steve expected the same from his son, from the boy who was the second coming of Howard Stark, brilliant and handsome and just as charming.  

“Don’t call him that,” Natasha says, and nothing more, and it should have been a clue—was, if he’s honest—but he doesn’t dig into it enough.  

~*~  

Tony smells like coffee and burnt metal and, overwhelmingly, of flowers.  

It shocks him, because Tony does nothing to hide it, doesn’t mask his cough, doesn’t hide the sprigs of hyacinth he spits into his palm while they pace the helicarrier, just grins and winks at Bruce, and shoves them into a pocket.  

Steve is fascinated and revolted by the petals—bluebells and silky roses and the ragged edged posy—that fall out and scatter in his wake.  

~*~  

When Tony plummets to the earth, he’s small and neat, a metal wrapped missile and already, Steve knows that’s wrong.  

Tony walks and flowers fall in his wake, a spill of them coppery and fragrant and brave.  

He falls and nothing falls with him.  

It is strangely reassuring, when the Hulk lays him, surprisingly gentle, against the hard ground and Steve rips the faceplate away and petals spill, baby’s breath white and pale lavender, against the broken ground.  

~*~  

They move, one by one, into the Tower. Steve is startled to find he’s the last—that Natasha and Clint took up residence almost immediately, when SHIELD was screaming for Clint’s head, and Stark stook between, a shield of wealth and lawyers and no-fucks-given smirks.  

Bruce slipped in during that, and Thor arrived in a clatter of thunder and lightening and Steve—Steve returned from a six week trip around the country whose name he bore, and the Tower—it was a home.  

It was full of laughter and the sound of a Clint and Thor arguing, the scent of nail polish and gun oil, of tea and curry, and—underlying everything---the rich cloying scent of flowers.  

~*~  

Natasha pets his hair while they watch a movie, and Tony coughs belladonna onto her knee, presenting it with a flourish that makes her mouth twitch.  

Clint steals the coffee from Steve and pours a cup for Tony before climbing to perch on the fridge, and Tony smiles when a small sunshine yellow daffodil flutters to the counter.  

Bruce—Bruce breathes, and Tony loves him, a spill of baby breath and hellebores.  

Pepper stalks into the Tower, willowy and graceful and beautiful, and Tony coughs pink posies and ruby red roses.  

There are asters and azaleas for Rhodes, when he lands, bone-jarring and imposing, coughed up while Tony hangs from Rhodey’s neck, and the other man laughs.  

~*~  

They never last, is the thing.  

The flowers.  

They’re constant and ever changing, and Steve doesn’t understand because flowers—he knows what it means, to cough up flowers the way that Tony does.  

He knows it means that Tony loves, whole-hearted and unreserved and he knows that they taper off and away, except that the ones for Rhodey and Pepper and the team never seem to fade. The flowers for the girl in a coffee shop and the janitor who brings Tony a screwdriver at SHIELD, for baby agents and Coulsen—they never last.   

The flowers never last, but they never stop either.  

~*~  

“He falls in love real easy, Tony does,” Rhodey says, once, when he’s very drunk and Tony is laughing at something his date said, a raspy laugh that Steve knows because he has heard Tony cough up flowers for over a year now, and it settles, familiar and uneasy, in his gut.  

“Howard hated it, that he was so blatant and open about it, that he never hid his love. That he loved at all, god knows Howard wasn’t familiar with the emotion.”  

“How does--” he cuts off, doesn’t ask the question that’s been bothering him, more and more and more.  

Rhodey smiles, sharp and almost mean. “Modern medicine, Cap. And he's strong. Stronger than he looks, Rogers. A flower or two won’t kill Tony—I don’t know that anything but Tony can kill Tony.”  

The thought doesn’t sit right, and his hands clench, all helpless fury, and Rhodey smiles, iron tipped soft. “Tony falls in love real easy, but it never takes, see? He loves and he loves and it’s all a cough in passing. Tony could fall in love with a cup of coffee if he’s sleep deprived enough. You gotta understand—it doesn’t take, not really.” 

“He loves you. And Pepper.”  

“He does,” Rhodey allows.  

“You don’t--he coughs flowers for you,” Steve says, plaintive and accusing.  

Because he knows the legend—unrequited love. The flowers come from unrequited love.  That's what people said, back when he was a boy and they whispered about the flower cough.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, very slowly, “is an idiot. And he’s never, not once, been sure of the people who love him. I stopped coughing flowers for Tony when we were still freshmen.”  

Rhodey shifts, lifts his shirt, and he sees it, the gladiolus curving up over his hipbone, vibrant red and gold, a splash of color against his dark skin.  

~*~  

The first thing Steve learns about Tony Stark is that he’s a flashy asshole.  

The second thing he learns, is that Tony Stark reeks of flowers. 

The thing he learns later, months down the road, when he is sitting in his workshop, sketching, is that Tony never coughs flowers for him.  

~*~  

He likes Tony.  

Not at first, not those few days when they chased Loki and the end of the world, when they were scraping each other raw, when Tony dropped petals like he did snark and Steve couldn’t understand a man so blatant and bleeding and raw.  

But after—when he saw the shy smiles that Tony would give Natasha, and the way he was gentle with Clint when Clint was shivering in the grip of a panic attack. The way he never made Bruce feel small.  

He likes the way Tony never makes him feel stupid, even though he is everything about the future that Steve isn’t and never will be.  

He likes Tony.  

He likes seeing him greasy and distracted in his ‘shop, and mumbling to JARVIS, and leaning sleepily against the counter.  

He likes when Tony drapes himself over the couch Steve is sitting on, fluffy hair bruising his arm while Tony rambles about SI and gear upgrades and where Rhodey has War Machine now.  

He likes when they fight together, the way Tony feels like an extension of himself, as fluid and familiar as Bucky had been, a lifetime ago.  

He likes that when he’s awake in the middle of the night, panic making his hands tremble, Tony sits next to him, leaning into him with a long line of warmth, but he never makes Steve talk.  

He likes Tony.  

He doesn’t realize just how much—until he coughs and feels petals tickling his throat. 

~*~  

Red and pink and shiny, he stares at them. Chrysanthemums. He’d laugh, but his throat is sore and he wants, a bit, to cry.  

They mean homecomings, a flower he used to see soldiers on the front coughing when they read letters from their sweethearts.  

There’s an irony to it that makes him smile, even as he wonders what the hell he’s going to do now.  

~*~  

“You should tell him,” Natasha says, her fingers gentle on the red petals he’s clutching.  

“He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want me.”  

She doesn’t argue with him, but she looks at him, that long-suffering look that says he’s being too stupid for words.  

~*~  

When he was a boy—the flower cough was a death sentence and a shameful secret, and he thinks, maybe—maybe he loves Tony because he taught Steve that it doesn’t have to be.  

Tony reeks of flowers, a scent that is cloying and familiar and beloved, after all these months with him. And there is, Steve thinks, a kind of fierce bravery, to live so honest and open. To let the world see his love, so beautiful and raw.  

And maybe that is why—when he sits next to Tony in a briefing and watches Tony sketch DUM-E on his mission report, he doesn’t hide the scratch in his throat.  

Maybe that is why he coughs, hard and uncontrollable, when Tony is the one waiting for him to wake up in medical.  

Maybe that is why he spits red petals into his hand, and tucks them away while Tony rambles in the middle of the night.  

He doesn’t hide it.  

He doesn’t want to hide it.  

~*~  

Tony has never, never once, coughed flowers for him.  

He knows what it means.  

He knows that Tony, who loves deep and free and fleeting—doesn't love him.  

Steve thinks he’d mind more, if Tony didn’t smile at him, eyes bright and cautious and sad, somehow.  

~*~  

He coughs when Tony laughs, and spits out petals when he grumbles over coffee and chokes on blossoms, tight and thick in his throat, when Tony curses and flies overhead, repulsors blasting.  

He leaves flowers in the kitchen and the gym and the communal living room, and across the surfaces of his own apartment.  

He draws Tony with them, when he’s alone.  

But he never leaves them in the workshop, and he never answers the question in Tony’s eyes.  

~*~  

He finds this.  

A lily, startlingly white and flecked with drops of blood, leaning against one of the chrysanthemums he left on the table next to his coffee.  

And Tony, watching him, with big eyes and bloody lips and a hopeful, bruised smile.  

“Am I wrong,” he whispers. “Is--is it mine?”  

Steve touches the lily, white and brilliant and beautiful.  

“You don’t cough for me,” he says, softly and Tony laughs, a high sharp noise that makes Steve look up at him.  

Tony doesn’t answer—just takes him by his hand, and leads him down the hall to his private quarters.  

The scent registers first, thick and cloying, the scent of copper and funerals and spring—the scent of lilies. They’re everywhere, a mountain piled on every table, scattered on the floor. White and red and he can feel a flower pressing against his throat, choking him, and he gasps, “Tony.”  

“When I cough for you, Steve—it's not for the world to see,” Tony murmurs, and he chokes, love swept and stunned and Tony kisses him until the feeling fades, and all that he can taste is this—Tony. Lilies and chrysanthemums and copper and Tony. 

~*~ 

Tony still smells like flowers.  

Sometimes, Steve still coughs.  

When they curl together, in the dark, their bed is surrounded by white lilies and red chrysanthemums and Steve sleeps with Tony tucked up under his chin, and the sweet cloying scent of their love.   

[thisisthehardestthing]

This Is The Hardest Thing - 4

Synopsis: A exchange student from the US in enrolled into UA when her father has to move to help with the increased crime rates in Japan. The final year of high school is a lot to handle, adding on top the class of 3-A and the trouble they get into will make for a wild ride.

Triggers: swearing, i think thats it.

A/N: Not in this one, but it’s about to get spicy real fast. Super short chapter

Tags: @aizawascumslut @whats-her-quirk @pnkcts (you liked my masterlist, so I hope you don’t mind me tagging you?)

Masterlist

CHAPTER 4

You and Bakugou were on a yellow couch in the break room, sitting as far from each other as possible. The smack to your chin had caught you off-guard, making you slip off your seat in the middle of class. The chair that followed your body caused a bang so loud, Present Mic had to look at his quirk support item to make sure it hadn’t activated. He’d quickly intervened once he realised it was, to no one’s surprise, Bakugou and the new girl butting heads. He was just going to reprimand the hot-tempered student, when he saw the thick black lined drawing of male genitals penciled in the notebook, balls and all. You remembered the red of the teachers face against the yellow blonde hair exploding upwards as he kicked you both out of the classroom for some reprimanding. He was more embarrassed than angry.

You sighed and leant an elbow on the armrest, pressing some ice against your face.

Todoroki had given it to you as you passed by his desk. It was wrapped in a tissue in order not to give you freezer burn, and you gladly accepted it as you were shooed out and ordered to wait in the current room. Your other hand picked at the material of the sofa. It wasn’t leather, yet it wasn’t canvas either, and you racked your brain trying to think of what it could be.

You tried to keep yourself distracted in this way, focusing on the cold water dripping down your wrist from time to time. However, you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wandered over to the blonde porcupine. He was slouched down, hands shoved angrily in his pockets, jaw clenching over and over again. Unfortunately, you knew were definitely in the wrong this time. You should not have teased him with your quirk and so you shifted in your seat to face him.

“What?” He snapped as you opened your mouth. His eyes narrowed as his head whipped around to stare at you. Why the hell is he so infuriating? You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your father would want you to stay ‘grounded’.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “for drawing a dick in your book.” He frowned, looking away from you and staring at the beige wall behind the matching couch that was opposite you.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry,” He spoke, voice carrying in the silent room. The ego behind his words made your blood throb in your ears. He’d been throwing insults at you since yesterday, and here you were trying to make amends first.

The door slid open as Aizawa walked in. His loose hair tumbled over his shoulders in a mess. He had that kind of sour expression like he’d woken up from a nap that lasted too long, and he was both dehydrated and pissed off.

“You two…” He began as he stood in front of both of you, behind the brown wooden coffee table. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took in the tense air. He sighed and called your name. You sat upright, turning to face him attentively. While Aizawa may look like a mess, he commanded an authority beyond anything you would’ve expected from a man hidden behind bangs.

“Why did you draw this in Bakugou’s notebook?” He asked, pulling the notebook out from a pocket behind his back, opening it to show you the crude sketch. You wanted to tear the page out.

“He was being one.” You shrugged, giving Bakugou a side-eyed glare. He huffed.

“Was fucking not.”

“You kicked my chair!” 

Aizawa let out a sigh.

“You were on my desk, shit-brain!”

You almost lost it, then, saying what was actually on your mind. You wanted to shout, but it came out soft, in such a small voice that almost wasn’t your own.

“You called me fat.” He froze, his frown of anger instantly disappearing as it was replaced with confusion. Even your teacher hesitated, not knowing whether to interject, before falling onto the couch behind him to lean forward attentively. Realisation flickered over Bakugou’s face as he remembered the early morning fight.

“No, I called you heavy. Not fucking fat.” He was laughing, gums baring to the world as the rumble exploded from his chest and filled the room. “I’m not a liar. You’re heavy as shit, look at you. Muscle is like, 10 times as heavy or something. Eijirou can tell you the exact fact.” You felt a blush begin to creep up on your cheeks. Your palm squished the soggy ice tissue, forgotten during all the commotion and the cold water ran down your wrist, cooling down your rising body temperature. You wanted to throw it at him. You wanted to hear the satisfying noise it would make when coming in contact with his cheek. You didn’t.

“Bakugou, you shouldn’t mention someone’s weight.” Aizawa threw the book onto the table, effectively silencing the laughter. “You also shouldn’t punch someone in the face.” Bakugou huffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was aiming for her hair.”

“You’re both suspended from class for the rest of the day, with cleaning duty.” Bakugou’s excuse came at the same time as Aizawa’s punishment. Your mouth fell open. Without leaving room for any rebuttal, your teacher stood up, took a final look at his students and walked out of the room.

You were on your way to the residences. Bakugou was stomping, hands shoved in his baggy pants as he walked a couple steps ahead of you. He didn’t even leave the front door open after he walked in. You blocked it with your toe before it shut, stepping into the empty common area.

A rough hand darted out at you, grabbing your uniform shirt collar and slamming your back against the door. He made you wince as his knuckle pressed into the bruise he left yesterday. He knew it, and dug just a little bit deeper. His red eyes bore down into yours. It made you wonder if he enjoyed the fact that there was a tangible mark under your shirt.

“You really piss me off.” Bakugou stated, voice low and menacing. His free hand planted firmly next to your head, potentially scorching the door with the smoke that had begun to filter out from between his fingers. He smelt like a campfire.

“Yeah, well, bite me,” you pried his fingers open as you kept his intense stare. He moved so that his arms were boxing you in, muscled forearms rippling near your ears. For a second, you thought he would. There was something indiscernible stirred in with his anger. It was the center of a blender, swirling together. It was hypnotising. You slowly placed one of your hands against the door behind you, finger tips spread, palm flat. You almost shivered when you felt the vast amount of energy rolling in waves through your skin, oscillating in your nerves and vibrating your bones. It was all encompassing, making your shoulder jump up with the sheer force of it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His face scrunched up, eyes darting down to see your hand against the door. “Oi, what the fuck are you up to!?” He tsk’d, pushing away fluidly and crossing his arms.

The second his palms left the wood, it’s hum returned to the normal dull pattern that chopped trees would usually give off. It felt empty, stagnant, . As dead as the door itself. Your fingers twitched as they ached to feel such power again. I want to touch him. You bumped the thought out of your head and curled your hands into a fist to subdue the itch. You thought about the ways your father taught you to keep a level head. That’s why wood had such a consistent vibration. Be like the wood.

“You’re the one that keeps picking fights.” You gloss over his quirk comment, straightening your school uniform to make a point. His eyes followed your hands. “I get it, we never established a clear winner in our sparring match, so we should do it now to get it over with.” Bakugou seemed like he was about to explode, but he nodded his head. His eyes darkened as he thought about it, tongue swiping across his teeth and under his lips.

“Fight rules?”

You were almost sorry to pass up the chance to make him land on his back again.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” You deadpanned. A frustrated growl erupted from his throat. His nostrils flared and instead of saying another word, he turned on his heels and stalked his way to the kitchen, slamming open the fridge. You could not help the snicker that escaped your lips. Worth it.

I guess I won this round. You mused, making your way to your room to begin replying to your fathers messages.

You had been talking to your dad for what seemed like hours. You spoke to him laying on your bed, sitting against your closet doors, spinning in your desk chair. Now, while he was finally reaching the conclusion in his speech of disappointment, you were standing on your balcony. You held the phone away from your ear as you lazily took in the details of the building opposite you. Your room was on the side of the dorms, and therefore, was face to face with someone else’s balcony across the grass. There were trees planted that should’ve obscured the view, but there was still a direct line of sight to a sliding door.

His voice rang out loud over the speakers, reprimanding that it was the second day of school, and how he did not raise you to continue unnecessary conflict. You continued to stare in the cool blue reflection of the window opposite you, eyes unfocused as Soil went on and on. Movement on the other side of the glass made you snap back to reality. You squinted to try and see through it, wondering who could be on the other side since it was… lunch time!? Shock coursed through your veins as you realised you’d been on the phone for 2 hours, listening to a one sided conversation.

“Dad,” you interrupted him mid sentence and his voice lulled. “Sorry, I know I—” The sliding door opened and the tall purple haired boy from this morning walked out, cradling something in his hands. Your words of apology forgotten on your tongue.

“Hm, beansprout, can’t hear you.” You brought the phone closer to your face.

“Just, I’m sorry.”

You heard your father let out his heavy sigh that told you the conversation was over. As you said your goodbye’s, Shinsou looked out across from his balcony, catching you with lazy eyes. He held your gaze with a smirk, slowly lifting up one of his fingers to his lips, zipping his mouth shut. Then he lifted up the other hand that was cupped against his chest. You could barely see it, but in his palm was a small black kitten.

***********

Soil tossed the phone back onto his desk with a clatter. Large, calloused hands wrapped around his forehead as he rubbed at his temples before pulling it down his face to scratch at his chin.

What am I going to do with that girl? He thought as he shuffled around the paperwork he was working on, going over what he wrote about the encounter with Giran.

It’s been two years since Shigaraki had disappeared, but the underground network of villains have seemed to surge in number over the last few months, tipping the balance of power ever so slightly. It was enough to bring out the worst in people, have them lose their faith and security they had once felt all over Japan. Soil knew he had to come back home when the influence had started reaching his part of the world, like an incessant hammer until cracks had started to form. He had to stop it at the source.

A knock on the wall of his cubicle interrupted his deep train of thought. One of the many sidekicks at Endeavor’s agency stood there, sheepishly grinning at the visiting hero. His thumbs were twiddling in the thick yellow gloves.

“It’s time for patrol, Soil, sir!” The sidekick snapped to attention. A polite smile graced the Hero’s lips as he pushed his hulking figure away from the desk. Soil nodded as he followed the younger man. The mental image of that hammer would not leave his mind, try as he might. He felt the same nagging feeling that something might happen soon, the same inkling on the night he spotted Giran.

[ancientwastedlores]

The Support System (Ch:2)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Thank you for the love on the first chapter! You can find the same on AO3, if you prefer that. Let me know if you like this and I’ll keep posting more :) Also, should I start a tag list for this? I’m still navigating this platform, and I see many fic writers having a tag list for their fics. Anyway, enjoy! 

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: N/A

Audience: general.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tony likes to hand out the agendas of the day to the Avengers personally. He jogs around the tower with a stack of papers, wearing his tracksuit and headphones, a habit Pepper encouraged, since he never actually leaves his lab to do anything physical.

He gently opens the door and places the sheet on a table placed right next to the door. That table is specifically for the agendas. You once threw your keys on it and Tony passive aggressively made a point of picking up your keys and placing them on the floor to place his sheet.

You’re still in bed with Loki, who is facing away from you and snoring lightly. Tony opens the door to place the sheet and notices two heads instead of one in your bed. He moves closer to see Loki, widens his eyes, and promptly runs out.

‘What?’ Nat asks, running past Tony, then stopping. ‘Loki!’ ‘In her room!?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘I…’ Nat is trying to peer in through the crack Tony left open. ‘Are you sure!?’ ‘Do YOU want to look?’ ‘No!’ Nat nearly shouts.

Tony shuts the door. ‘I’ll talk to her about it later’.

‘Good, I’m not going to’ Nat says, then places her headphones back and continues running.

xx

Around 8 AM, after Loki has left your room, you change into your field uniform and walk to the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers, including Loki, are in there, and the cook is making bacon and eggs.

‘Hi Samantha’ you greet the cook. She smiles back at you. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and Tony grabs your arm, making you nearly spill the coffee.

‘Hey man!’ you yell. ‘Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with Loki’ Tony hisses. ‘What… no! I’m not, let go of my arm!’ Tony lets go. ‘I saw him in your bed’. ‘Yeah, we just had a heart to heart about our past and fell asleep, it’s no big deal’. He narrows his eyes at you. ‘You confided in Loki about your past?’ ‘Well, him more than me’. ‘Uhuh’.

You raise an eyebrow at Tony. ‘It’s fine’ you assure him. He doesn’t believe you, which is clear in his face, but walks back to the dining table.

You grab a plate for yourself and get some fruit, eggs and bread. You take your seat at the table and join in on the conversation everyone’s having.

xx

‘Right’ you announce, walking into the lab with Bruce and Tony. ‘TODAY is the day we speak to Harry’. ‘Harry?’ Tony asks. ‘Yeah. The Reality Gem’. ‘You named the Reality Gem “Harry”?’ Bruce asks. ‘Yes. You know, the redheaded prince of England. And the Reality gem is Red’ you grin, proud of your name. They roll their eyes but laugh, and go to their respective workstations.

Doctor Strange had found a way to speak to the Time Stone, and provided everything he could for you to be able to do the same with the Reality stone. He had done everything save for actually coming down the lab, which he couldn’t because he had to be at the Sanctum Sanctorum. But you had gone through every single paper he sent, every theory you talked over, and every idea you shared. After a while, it was clear that the code to cracking all the stones wasn’t the same, and so you’d have to start from scratch for every stone.

Frustrating as it was, you did love a challenge.

‘Maybe we should just build a body around it like we did for Vision and let it literally speak to us’ you say, frustrated, a few hours later. 

‘We did consider that. We even have the technology for it, but we can’t have six people walking around with stones in their heads’ Tony says.

‘Oh, is THAT the problem?’ you chuckle. ‘Not the insane amount of power and resources it would take, not to mention how the costs outweigh the benefits’.

‘She’s right, it took Thor to open the cradle last time’. Bruce says. ‘And if we give the stones a body, it could do anything’.

‘At least the stones restrict movement’ you say.

‘I don’t think the lack of a body would stop the stones’ Tony says. ‘Besides. Strange got his to talk while it still sits in that necklace, so I’m sure we can work it out. Did you read through the papers he sent?’

‘I did’ you say. ‘Twice over, made some notes if you’d like to see’ you project the contents of your laptop onto a hologram before Tony. ‘We’ve tried it the few ways Strange suggested, but what he actually did is very particular to the Time Stone’.

‘Series of time loops and manipulations in the mirror dimension’ Tony reads. ‘We can’t do that, of course, we don’t even know how to use it’.

‘Can’t we take the reality stone into the mirror dimension?’ Bruce asks.

‘What then?’ you ask. ‘It was purely an accident that Stephen even managed to speak to the stone. He managed to reverse and study his actions somehow to write a paper’.

‘So we’re stuck in the lab, then’ Tony sighs, and turns to walk to his table.

‘Unless you just want to take it to the mirror dimension and just mess around with it’ you say, half-joking.

Tony stops in his tracks. He promptly turns back to face you. You see the look on his face and push the hologram aside. ‘Tony, you know I love a mystery, but I wouldn’t advice getting stuck in the mirror dimension with an Infinity Stone unless you REALLY know what you’re doing’.

‘Strange did it’ he scoffs. ‘Strange knows what he’s doing’ you say. ‘Are you saying Strange is smarter than I am!?’ Tony demands.

Oh dear.

‘I’m saying he knows more about this’ you walk back to your computer and pull up another paper he sent you and project it to a hologram. ‘Read that’ you highlight a line using your fingers. ‘The mirror dimension is linked to the dark dimension, playing around with an Infinity Stone without understanding how to use it could not only trap you in the mirror dimension, it could draw you into the dark dimension’ you swipe the hologram away. ‘And I hate to bring this up, but after New York, this should be the last thing you throw yourself into’.

Tony sighs. ‘You’re right, kid’.

You close the holograms and walk back to your desk. Tony’s still standing in the same spot though. You sit down and pull yourself close to the desk.

‘You’re smart’ Tony declares.

You smile at him.

‘So I can’t understand why the hell you’d spend the night with Loki’. ‘You did what?’ Bruce shouted. You glare at Tony. ‘THANKS’. ‘YOU SLEPT WITH LOKI!?’ Bruce’s voice is unnaturally high pitched. ‘I did no such thing, we were talking and fell asleep!’ you defend yourself. ‘Can we get back to the stones’. ‘Just…’ Tony leans over your table. ‘Promise me you won’t let this be a thing, he’s dangerous’. ‘Hey, I can take care of myself. And he’s more like you than you think’. ‘I take offense to that’ Tony says, without actually sounding or looking offended. ‘You don’t like being compared to a God?’ you ask teasingly.

Tony smirks. ‘You got me. I’m going back to work’ he finally turns away to sit at his desk. The three of you continue working.

xx

At last. The training room. You walk into the roomy glass cage that has an arsenal of knives, swords, spears, guns, and other alien weaponry lining the wall. You feel at home.

‘What we feeling like today?’ Natasha’s voice comes up behind you. ‘I’m feeling the katanas’ you say, your hands running over the colourful handles of the katanas.

Nat takes a pair for herself, and you take yours. ‘Hand to hand first’ Nat says. As is usual. You place the katanas in the harness strapped to your back and take your fighting stance.

Nat goes to punch you and you block it. Her other hand comes to chop at your neck, which you also manage to block by holding her wrist, then flipping her over so she lands on her back.

‘At least give me a challenge’ you tease. ‘Just getting your ego up so I can bring it crashing down’ she smiles, as she gets up. You know she’s not lying. ‘You’re terribly mean’ you say. You take your fighting stance once again.

Two hours later, after your session with Natasha ends, you place the Katanas back on the wall. ‘Can I take these on the extraction mission?’

‘You can take anything you want. Just don’t take too much, we don’t want to be weighed down’. ‘Right’ you look at the katanas. They really are gorgeous. ‘Where did we get these?’ ‘They used to be Lady Sif’s. She left them with S. H. I. E. L. D, and S. H. I. E. L. D gave it to Tony’.

You touch the handles again, which has some Norse story etched on it in gold and red tones. ‘They’re beautiful’.

‘They are’ Natasha agrees, unhooking her harness and placing it on the wall as well. ‘Do you know the story?’

You nod. You’ve grown up reading stories of Greek and Norse myths. ‘This scene is Odin stealing poetry from the Giants and flying back to Asgard with it’ you point at something in the handle. ‘That’s earth. As Odin was flying over Earth, some of the poetry spilled here, which is how we have the art form’.

You stare at the handle a while longer.

‘Do you have a thing going on with Loki?’ Natasha asks. ‘What! No! How many people has Tony told?’ ‘Just me. I happened to pass by when he left your agenda’. ‘Bruce knows too’. ‘Bruce!? Why?’ ‘Cuz Tony can’t shut up’ you say. ‘Does it bother you?’ ‘Him not shutting up or people knowing about it?’ ‘The second one’. ‘I don’t really care’ you shrug, knowing that it was inevitable, ‘But I know how silly rumours can affect people, so I wish people would stop spinning it like that for Loki’s sake’. ‘Right’ she nods, understanding. ‘I’ll make sure no one else knows’. ‘Thanks Nat’ you smile at her. ‘I have to shower and go back to the lab. Bye!’

‘Bye!’

xx

‘We’ve made progress!’ Tony yells at you as you walk back in.

‘That’s excellent!’ you know Tony is absolutely dying to tell you what he uncovered, but you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling you immediately for outing your little sleepover to Bruce. ‘But you should eat first’.

‘Yeah yeah, listen to this, so Bruce said…’ ‘No, I literally meant eat first, talk later’.

Tony looks like you’ve just slapped him. ‘It’ll take a second’.

‘I won’t hear it until you’ve had something to eat’ you unwrap the falafels and shawarmas you got from the food truck downstairs.

He glares at you, grabs a falafel, takes the smallest bite and sets it back down again. ‘Now…’

‘Actually, I could eat too’ Bruce walks over to grab himself a shawarma, and proceeds to open the wrapper very, very slowly.

You grin at Tony. Understanding that there really is no way you will listen, he sits down to eat a proper meal.

After throwing away the wrappers, he comes and sits down next to you. ‘Bruce said it would be so funny if we got Vision to talk to it like it’s his cousin, and I got an idea’.

‘Okay?’ ‘They’re family!’ ‘Ohana’ you say, still chewing and looking at him with dead seriousness.

Tony glares at you again, the occasional eating noises from Bruce making you internally lose it.

‘As I was saying, we don’t have to use the same Time Stone method, but we don’t have to completely abandon it either’. ‘But they do vastly different things from each other, we even tried all the…’ ‘Yes, but you haven’t tried combinations’ he runs to your laptop. ‘I was going through your notes; look at what you’ve written here’.

You read it: "So basically it’s like those old rotary phones. Strange ran the dial to 6, then 4, then 9, then 1, until it dialled a number and made a call."

 ‘I was really sleepy when I wrote that’ you say. ‘We can’t crack the stone, we have to learn to first use it, then connect with it’. ‘We’ve been over this, Tony, none of us know how…’ ‘No, I won’t do it’.

You were fully ready to shoot Tony down, but damn, he decides to be reasonable!?

‘I was thinking we can just put Vision in the mirror dimension and ask him to use it in a combination of ways. See what clicks. I mean if anyone would know, it would be Vision, right? Maybe if there’s a way to speak to him while he is IN the mirror dimension, we can remotely control it’  

‘I’ll have to ask Strange first’. ‘DO THAT’ Tony screams and Bruce jumps. ‘LET ME EAT MAN!’ he yells back.

You chuckle. ‘So… I'll email Strange then, shall I?’ ‘Yes. And kid?’

You roll your eyes but smile at the endearment. ‘Yes?’

‘You did good. I couldn’t have done it without you’.

You take the laptop from Tony’s hands and sit down to write the email to Strange.

_______________________________________________________________________

[minnie-marvel]

Crown Fell (Peter Parker x Reader) Part 3

Asgard has been destroyed and the time has come for you to live on Midgard with your brothers Thor and Loki. They’ve decided in order to live among humans you must learn to adapt to them, and what better place to do that then highschool? Don’t worry too much though, a very cute Peter Parker is ready to teach you and might be the Prince Charming you never thought you’d find on earth.

Peter Parker X Asgardian princess! Reader

Words:2,417

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: i love calling peter a spiderling its the funniest shit. ALSO CAN I JUST SAY I’M LIVING FOR BIG BROTHERS THOR AND LOKI???

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As Tony rolled up the divider between your family, him and Peter, he heard Peter sigh tiredly. Peter couldn’t help but stare at you through the rearview mirror as you told your brothers about your eventful first day at Midtown Tech. It wasn’t that his image of you was skewed now, he just knew that maybe trying to hang out with you would be a lot harder and make him a lot more susceptible to a mysterious stabbing, or a thunderclap to the face. He shot a look of betrayal to Tony.

“When were you going to tell me?!” He hissed under his breath.

“I did tell you! Don’t you remember kid?” Tony asked a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Peter crossed his arms and looked out the window as to not draw attention to himself as he murmured.

“All you told me was that I’d be meeting someone that I have to protect today! I assumed you meant at the compound and you know, not my high school!!!!” 

Tony let out a laugh.

“It's not that big a deal kid, Y/N, may be an Asgardian princess, but she’s still a teenager!! Thor and I just want her to be able to adapt to Midgardian life seeing as Asgard went to hell according to Thor and Loki,” Peter’s eyes scanned to yours while you weren’t paying attention, wrapped up in the company of your brothers. He wondered how you were able to seem so composed and collected in school, despite having so much going on in your personal life. 

“So when you say I’m supposed to protect her…” Peter trailed softly giving Tony a side glance.

“Thor says that there are still enemies of Asgard out to kick them when they’re already down. They both just want to make sure their baby sister is going to be alright here,” He glanced over his glasses to look at Peter’s conflicted figure.

 “Y’know kid I’d take it as a compliment, it’s not every day that the gods of thunder and mischief trust people to help them, let alone someone as close to them as their sister.” He said before turning his eyes back to the road while driving.

“Don’t stress yourself out you’ll get grays.”

Loki let his nose scrunch up as you described lunch to him and Thor. “They made you eat what?” He asked nearly gagging.

“I must admit I didn’t find it appetizing either… so I’m famished.” You confessed laying back in your chair your stomach growling.

“And this… flash, he seems like a burden,” Thor said with a shake of his head. “Be sure to let the spiderling know if he bothers you too much.” You felt your eyebrows raise. “Spiderling? Who’s that?” You saw Loki nod off at Peter who sat beyond the divisor looking bored as he mumbled an occasional word or two to Tony. 

So Peter really did know Tony Stark. You couldn’t say you were surprised, contrary to Flash you didn’t think that Peter was the type to lie about himself to others unless necessary. You smiled softly to yourself. He was a nice boy, being so kind to you on your first day when he knew virtually nothing about you still made you pleasantly surprised.

Loki and Thor exchanged quick knowing glances with one another as they caught you staring at Peter. Thor wrapped his arm around your shoulders and Loki pat the top of your head drawing you out of your thoughts. 

“Nevermind that, let’s just get home so we can take a moment to ourselves and relax,” Thor smiled all while keeping his eyes on the unsuspecting spiderman who stared out the window. 

---

You walked beside your brothers behind Peter and Tony before you all stood in the compounds living facility standing in the kitchen. Thor roamed the refrigerator for something you could eat while Peter piped up to talk to you again. 

“So…Europe huh?” He joked as you tried to keep back a laugh.

“If I knew you were an Avenger I would have told you sooner!!” You said genuinely as the two of you sat on barstools at the kitchen’s counter. 

“He’s not an Avenger,” Tony chimed as he walked past the two of you.

Peter rolled his eyes as he leaned in forward to begin his assault of questions. “So since you’re like Thor and Loki’s sister, does that mean you’ve got powers too?” He asked.

“I don’t have Thor’s thunderous strength or Loki’s sly wit, but my mother has helped me with my illusions when I was younger,” you explained. You took your pointer finger letting it whir in a circle before a soft turquoise light illuminated in a ring creating the small illusion of a bee. Peter’s eyes widened before he broke out in a loud laughter.

“You didn’t!!!” he shouted staring at your illusion as the bee floated around his head. He had to admit your work was quite impressive. It fooled him and the entire cafeteria the first time, he wondered just how much you could do.

“What about the whole antler thing?? Like how Loki had when he first invaded?” He asked excitedly.

“My crown?” you asked waving a hand over your head the turquoise light creating it from the seemingly thin air. The gold crown sat on your head the sharp horns pointed backward as opposed to your brother’s and father’s crown. There were wings that framed against the side of your cheeks and went back as well to protect your face.

“I don’t really wear it often, its only for special occasions,” You explained whisking it away. “Like banquets, ceremonies, days of courtship,” you said simply with a shrug. Peter’s eyes widened but only slightly as you finished.

“Days of courtship?” His voice cracked when he asked you to explain. You nodded lamely as you watched Thor fish out some leftover french toast from the morning.

“Yes, they were always such boring ordeals but I did them for my father’s sake…” You sighed rolling your eyes just thinking back at your many evenings spent with princes of different realms and universes.

“Not many caught my eye, to be honest, I always wanted to be off with my brothers playing with them,” You shrugged. 

Peter felt a lump form in his throat as he swallowed down. You were some princess alright, he wondered just how many poor souls you had turned down in your past. Before he knew the truth behind your, he would have just suggested dinner and a movie. Now he was trying to calculate in his head how much caviar might cost if he really wanted to impress you.

“None deserved your gaze my sweet sister and none do now,” Loki said putting his hands on your shoulders.Peter felt his hands get clammy. Was it just him or was his malicious gaze meant to be focused on him?

“Hey uh Odin’s angels,” Tony interjected before Peter could send a fearful gaze in his way. “A word if you will,” he said motioning to an office down the hall. “You can stay here Y/N, it’ll just be a minute, promise,” He  walked ahead Thor and Loki following slowly behind.

“What is it now Stark,” Loki asked as the door closed behind them. Tony sat at the desk before pulling up a screen in the middle of the air and typing on a projection of a keyboard.

“I didn’t want to alarm you in front of your sister but I got a blip on my ETR,” he looked at the screen as he continued typing in coordinates.

“ETR…?” Thor asked his eyebrows scrunching.

“My Extra-Terrestrial Reader, it notifies me if there’s any suspicious activity from other world space crafts or portals that come into the earth. It’s what gave me a heads up when you first arrived to pick your sister up,” He explained. He pinched his fingers on a screen map of North America zooming in on a small glowing blue dot that was present in Canada not too far away from New York.

“Here’s the blip, but it’s not from a coordinate I’ve seen before,” he finished setting his arms down in frustration. “I was hoping you might know where it’s coming from.”

They both scanned the coordinates but found their minds blank as they both looked at the glowing dot curiously. Loki shook his head slowly. “It’s nothing we recognize.” He said honestly before letting out a sigh of frustration himself.

“It could be nothing,” Tony suggested. “But if it comes on my feed again it might be worth it to look into. I’d want you both with me,” he finished. “If that happens, I’m assuming you’ll want Y/N to stay here, which is fine but you should probably let her know if that’s the case.”

“No,” Loki said instantly without even registering the concept properly in his head. “Y/N has the stubbornness of my brother if she knows that there is trouble on this earth and that we’ve gone to subdue it she’ll want to come too.”

Thor nodded in agreement. “That’s not something we can let happen, Y/N is our little sister, we don’t want to throw her into any danger whatsoever.”

Tony closed the window out and folded his hands together properly as he rested his chin. “Seems like we’re all on the same page then.”

---

You placed your hands on your lap as you turned your body to Peter. You guessed it was your turn to get some information on him now. “So you’re a spiderling I hear?” You grinned causing Peter to flush red.

“Huh?? oh yeah, Spiderman!! Yeah, that’s like my alter ego when I’m helping Mr. Stark and the others out with hero stuff,” Your eyes lit up in excitement. 

“You mean… Tony Stark he actually lets you come along with him in battle??” You were practically on the edge of your seat.

“Well uh yeah!!! I’m kind of like their secret weapon… they don’t call me out unless they need me,” He said puffing out his chest slightly as he stretched. Hey, it wasn’t like he was lying!! He was sort of like a secret weapon when he had that rundown with Cap. And Tony really didn’t call him out at all unless they needed him. It was just that they rarely did. 

“Amazing…” You whispered starry-eyed. “I could only dream of my brothers letting me fight alongside them…” You put your face in your two hands as you leaned back on the counter. 

“Well, can you fight?” Peter asked noticing your change in mood. He thought he’d have to cheer you up before you swiftly turned to him smiling as if you were happy he asked. Your arms crossed over your chest before they flashed at your sides two daggers made of a glimmering brown and turquoise marble revealing themselves to him.

“Father gave me these on my fifth birthday but I never get to use them!! I keep them on me all the time in case I need to,” You said twisting one of the knives in front of his face causing Peter to back up instinctively.

“How’d you do that!?” He asked urgently.

“Do what?”

“The- The knives Y/N!!! Like you just… whoosh!!” He said copying your movements perfectly minus the appearance of two daggers at his side.

“It’s sort of like Mjölnir, or Loki’s daggers they sort of just have an attachment to me, when I need them they come,” You said simply. 

“That’s awesome….” Peter whispered now leaning forward to take a closer look at them. He noticed how smooth the skin was on your hands, how your nails were perfectly manicured as they held such a dangerous weapon within them. 

“Right?? Do you want to use one and we could have a sparring match!?” You eagerly pushed the knife closer towards him causing him to back up again.

“What?? Y/N, not a chance!!! You’ll stab me in like two seconds!!” He laughed. 

“Oh please, I promise to go easy on you Peter!!” You begged tossing the knife in the air catching it by the handle after it did a three sixty flip.  

He rolled his eyes his shoulders still jumping up and down as he continued to laugh. “Y/N, I’d like to graduate high school without having to say I’ve gotten stabbed before,” he joked. You put the daggers away with a shrug. “Suit yourself spiderling,” you chimed.

“Spiderman!” he corrected feigning offense placing a hand on his chest. You both laughed together happily before breaking off into a silence that was filled with a pleasant atmosphere.

“School seems like it will be…interesting, and now that I have you as a friend it will only make things more pleasant for me,” You said softly full of enthusiasm. 

“Maybe… I can adapt into Midgardian life…” you said just barely above a whisper. The very idea confused you, made you conflicted, even disturbed you. You still weren’t ready to give up your Asgardian life and you weren’t sure if you ever would be, but at least with Peter Ned and Michelle at your side, it wouldn’t be as terrible as you initially thought.

“Hey, if I can survive high school right now, then so can you,” Peter said placing a hand on your shoulder.

Everything stopped for a moment as your eyes landed on his hand and quickly followed his arm up to his brown eyes. You felt your chest clench with the sweet sincerity of his words, though you would never tell him. 

“We’ll do it together! But like not tomorrow because it’s the weekend,” He said his teeth glimmering when he smiled. When he took his hand back you could still feel his touch on you. You pursed your lips tightly together.

“Will you be going then?” You asked softly. “I would hate to be alone here in case Loki and Thor have to leave,” Peter shook his head happily.

“I’ll be here for tomorrow, then I have to get back to my Aunt May,” he explained. “But hanging out in the tower is definitely going to be fun!! I only get to stay over if something’s really going wrong on Earth so it’s sort of like a vacation I guess?? Everything’s so expensive here and Mr. Stark lets me order pizza for dinner with WHATEVER toppings I want,” He said happily as if he were thinking about the pizza now.

“Pizza?” You asked with a small tilt of your head.

His eyes widened in shock and horror. “Oh my god you did not just say that,”

Part 4

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[fiction-klaroline]

Bennett- Mikaelson Ch 4

The simple two-storey house just in the outskirts of New Orleans was perfect for her job. In her almost long existence, she realised that as long as she didn’t raise anyone's suspicion, she could always blend in as a next door girl. That was one of the main things that helped her so far. The farther she was from the radar, the safer she would be. Something she learnt the hard way.

Oh she was rich, alright! It’s just the little she spent and compelled, the more she stayed off the radar.

She must have kept herself from going after Elena sodding Gilbert. And the bitch had nearly overpowered her. Her, Katerina Petrova.

If it for not Kol Mikaelson, she would have lost everything she worked so hard for. She would have ended up as a walking target.

Owing someone her life or even a debt was not something that Katrina Petrova ever want to dwell on. Especially if that someone happened to be a Mikaelson, then it means she was done for. I have almost 500 years of existence she has never one to go all the way near her Bane of existence that runs by the name of Klaus Mikaelson.

This shouldn’t be happening. She was Katrina bleeding Petrova for freaking out loud. But the Universe would never stop working against her in every way possible.

She has been avoiding the original family for five centuries for two reasons. The first one being the world’s dangerous hybrid ever walk on the earth. The second reason being The annoying original brother who thinks it necessary to wear suits even in extreme summer. The former inflicted great amount of fear in her for life and the latter inflicted great amount of pain and fear in her heart. She experienced too much heart ache through the oldest Mikaelson enough for the life time.

But now, because of her rotten luck, she was stuck with repaying the debt, which sounded sour to her mouth, for yet another Mikaelson. Can the universe be more cruel? It seems the fates are not on her side when it comes to the Mikaelson Family.

Mikaelson, ha really?!

Petrova, what in the bloody hell is wrong with you?

With a sigh, she opened her duffel bag and unpacked what little she carried. Once down, she fell face down on the bed and decided to catch up the little sleep she can manage.

Tomorrow was going to be long day. Scouring the area, finding a witch to do some protection wards, implanting some spies around French Quarter and most of all finding a way to contact Klaus without exposing her identity.

If it goes south, she was as good as dead.

Katerina sighed. She will think about it the morning, she surmised.

With thoughts still swirling around her mind, she drifted off to sleep.

###$$$$%%%%BM##$$%%BM###$$$$%%%%

Bonnie Bennett woke up after nearly 18 hours of sleep. She didn’t remember the last time she slept so well. What with constant “Save Elena” and “Kill Klaus" and “Kill Silas" campaigns that Damon rallied and inevitably brought every supernatural being in Mystic Falls.

It must be tiring for Damon to maintain his ego, straighten his hair, working on his sass and sarcasm, pissing off every dangerous being they come across, stalking Elena, egging on her and Caroline, being an ass to Stefan and Matt, sleeping around with every girl in his vicinity, nearly exposing their existence to the humans and at last, think that the world revolves around him.

Wow! She didn’t know she disliked the eldest Salvatore this much.

And when she was at it, Bonnie realised that she didn’t exactly miss anyone in that town.

Well! She did miss Caroline.

Her Care-bear was the only one person she missed with all her heart. Since they were children, her sour mood would vanish whenever she was with the blond vampire. The girl can lighten up the entire planet with her smile.

God! How she missed Caroline.

Then there was Elena.

She was not the same Elena, she was before the arrival of Salvatores.

The only conclusion she could draw about her was that Katherine Pierce is now better than Elena Gilbert.

And Matt. How she missed him!

Bonnie took a deep breath. Now her main focus should be the baby. As she made her way down the stairs toward the kitchen, she saw Klaus cooking. She didn’t know what he was cooking but the aroma was just ahhh!!!!

Bonnie raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, “I see you are busy.”

Klaus turned around and a smile that she didn’t know he was capable lit up. “Bonnie, love, come and sit. I asked around and made a list of healthy but tasty food for a pregnant woman. Come and eat.”

“Didn’t know you could cook, Klaus,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen counter and sat in the stool.

Klaus shook his head and said, “I stand by what I said, little witch. You are now family. As of last time, you became another little sister for me. And so your well being is my concern.”

Bonnie was touched. Though she frowned at the ‘little witch’ comment, she let it go. But what she didn’t know was that the same becoming a title to her in the nearest future. It would become Klaus’ nickname for her.

“Elijah came by last night, eager to see you.” Klaus put in casually.

Bonnie's eyes widened.

“Don’t worry. He, like others, think that the child is mine. And I didn’t correct him. But you won’t be seeing him anytime soon. I sent him on an errand. It will be days before we see him.” Klaus said.

Bonnie nodded. She didn’t know what she would do when she encountered the oldest Mikaelson. Well, she thought, Klaus would see to that.

Bonnie frowned, when had she begin to think about Klaus in a positive way.

Well, she thought, may be she begun to trust him with her and her baby's well being.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Attention (Girls Talk Boys part 16)

You just want attention, you don't want my heart Maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new Yeah, you just want attention, I knew from the start You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

The blood was pounding in her head and rushing in her ears. She hated confrontation and she was putting herself at risk doing this. Every pair of eyes was turning her way and her nerves were stinging with electricity and tension. All because of that fucking candle.

Ameena knew the party was tonight as she used her key to get into Calum's apartment. The boys annual Halloween party was legendary and scheduled months ahead of time. She'd planned on attending up until the disaster in Europe when Cal decided he needed to “take a break from their relationship. He'd actually tried to completely break it off but Ameena had cried and pleaded with him to compromise. She was here tonight to surprise him and to remind him what he was missing.

Duke came trotting up to her and she bent down to scoop up her little man. Grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge she poured herself a glass and made a face when it hit her tongue. She looked at the label with suspicion. Calum rarely drank wine and when he did it was always red. Ameena preferred red but enjoyed chilled chardonnay. This was sweet moscato that neither of them drank. When they'd parted ways the agreement was to take a break until Calum came home for the holidays. They could spend the time apart reevaluating where they saw this relationship going.   Calum had promised her he wasn't leaving her for someone else, that the problems in their relationship had nothing to do with Camille. Ameena thought that was total bullshit. 

Looking around his place Ameena noticed it was exceptionally tidy. Calum wasn't a slob but things looked too neat, as if he were expecting company. Her eyes shot upstairs to Calum's bedroom door and her heart was racing as she climbed the stairs. Opening it, she knew she'd been right. Calum's room was perfectly clean with clean sheets on his freshly made bed. That in itself wasn't damning but there on his nightstand was a candle. Ameena knew his routine.  Calum cleaned his room and put out a candle to set the mood when he expected to get laid. Ameena took the lid off the candle and saw it was brand new. Her candle had smelled like vanilla while this one was rose scented. Ameena felt her guts twist and nausea swept over her. New candle, new scent, new girl, and guessing from the delicate pink jar the candle was in Ameena didn’t have to guess who he was trying to fuck tonight.

 Ameena fought back fury and tears determined to do what she had to before she chickened out. She put Duke in Calum's bedroom and shut the door before setting the alarm and slipping out the back door leaving it partially open behind her.

Wearing all black she slipped over towards Ashton's seeing Calum headed home. She pulled her hood up over her face and blended in with the partygoers mingling around Ashton's back patio. She managed to narrowly dodge Ashton and Cher in the kitchen while grabbing a cup of punch. Downing it quickly for some extra courage she spotted Camille dressed as a strawberry and vanilla cupcake standing next to Luke. She crept up behind them and waited for her moment to speak.

Now standing face to face with Camille she wasn't so sure. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Camille snarled. The girl who weeks ago had been intimidated by Ameena was gone.

“I'm here to put you on notice. Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend. I've dealt with groupies like you before. Calum has a thing for chubby bimbos who have big tits and fawn over him. Once his ego is fed and he gets his dick wet he'll come back to me. He always does.” Ameena didn't hold back.

“Oh shit” Ameena turned and  saw Michael's jaw drop as he pulled out his phone and ducked back towards the kitchen. Calum would be back soon.

“You know I feel sorry for you Ameena.” Camille was fighting tears trying to control her anger and humiliation making her words drawn out and deliberate.

“I don't need you to feel sorry for me you fat slag” Ameena snapped.

Everyone was watching and Camille wanted to be swallowed up right there. She took a deep breath and continued as if Ameena hadn't spoken.

“You're so concerned with everyone else that you overlook any personal flaws or faults you might have that screwed up your relationship. If Calum was really happy you wouldn't have to worry about him looking elsewhere.” Camille never flinched and it infuriated Ameena.

“You think you know him so well. You don't know what it's like having him out on tour while you're stuck at home wondering. Catching him in lies and choosing to overlook it. Pretending you don't hear the jokes and stories his friends tell when they think you're not listening. None of you ever mean anything to him. He always comes back to me.” Ameena was smug but on the verge of cracking.

Camille felt a comforting hand on her waist she glanced behind her before returning her attention to Ameena. “What makes you so sure it's me?” She grabbed for Ashton's hand and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Bitch please everybody can see you are gagging for Calum's dick. Just because you're Ashton's whore now doesn't mean anything. You wouldn't be the first girl they've passed around.” Ameena sneered at them.

“WHAT'S GOING ON HERE” Calum thundered causing everyone to jump. Ameena didn't fail to notice Ashton let go of Camille and take a step back, providing even more conformation of what she suspected about Camille.

Ameena suddenly realized everyone in the room was glaring at her. Cher was being physically restrained from coming after her by Michael and Harry who had her wrapped up between them.  Lucy, Luke, Tom and Summer were fluttering around Camille like concerned pigeons while Camille never took her eyes off Ameena and Calum.

Calum's face was a twisted mask of embarrassment and fury. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Ameena chose that moment to crumple to the floor and start sobbing. Calum looked at Camille who seemed shaken but holding it together. When her eyes met his he saw the warmth from earlier replaced with questions and doubt. He wanted to reassure Camille but first he had to get Ameena out of here. He picked Ameena up of the floor and she wrapped her arms around his neck burying her face in his chest. It pained him not to go to Camille but he couldn't deal with both women at the same time. He shot a look at Ashton who nodded and Calum took Ameena out of the room. Ashton wrapped his arms around Camille and looked around until he saw Harry.

“Well that was fucking dramatic. Who's ready to continue this party?” Harry shouted dissolving the tension.

“Are you drunk enough to be any fun yet?” Cher yelled back at Harry trying to draw attention away from Camille popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. Everyone held out a glass wanting to erase the awkwardness of what they'd just seen as the music kicked back on.

Camille felt like a popped balloon as she sank back into a chair Ashton led her to

.Ashton knelt by her “Are you ok sweetheart?”

Camille looked up at Cher, Cody and everyone else congregated around her. “Look y'all there's no reason this party has to be shit for everyone.” Camille waved them away “I just need to regroup.”

Luke appeared with a fresh drink for Camille. “Thank you Luke, now go away everyone”

Ashton stayed by her side “I'm fine really please, go enjoy the party.” Camille told him Camille's breathing was still ragged but the color was returning to her face.

“There's no way I'm leaving you alone after that” Ashton squeezed her shoulder.As the adrenaline rush faded then came the tears Camille couldn't hold back.“Tell me” Ashton held her hand.

“Everything just got ruined. That was humiliating. Calum and I can't catch a break and then he chooses to take care of Ameena” she sniffled “now I look horrible when I was actually thinking I looked decent tonight before all of this.”

Ashton pulled out his phone to send a message. “Let's get you cleaned up. Then we'll drink and play pretend. We're good at that.” Ashton gave her a sad smile. “You can't let Ameena get to you like this. It's what she wants.”

“We can't have that now” Camille took a deep breath. Lucy brought her makeup bag and they went up to Ashton's room to fix Camille's makeup.Ashton checked his phone and found a message from Cal.

Please take care of Camille. I have to deal with Ameena she won't stop crying. Idk what to do.

Ashton was annoyed as hell. He was half tempted to head over to Cal's and call Ameena out on her shit. Ashton responded

She always does this. Cries until she gets her way. Don't back down.

Ashton walked into his room where Camille was sitting looking up at Lucy who was applying lipstick.He took a video and sent it to Calum

Don't forget what's waiting for you here

Calum's response was instant

I could never forget her

Calum put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. Ameena was choking out sobs crying into a pillow resting her head in his lap. It was all too familiar by now. Every time they argued lately Ameena would go into hysterics and nothing got accomplished. He preferred it when she got angry. Yelling was better than this. He used to feel like shit when she'd cry like this now it was just tiring.

Harry met Camille and Ashton at the bottom of the stairs. “You've had one hell of a week love” Harry greeted Camille with a kiss on the cheek.

“That it has been. Lucky me there are  handsome knights ready to come to my aid.” Camille gave Harry a shaky smile.”I'm mortified about the other day. I'm sorry about that.”

“Stop it. It's not like you did it on purpose and I pay my housekeeper quite well. Now if you'll come with me my date would like to meet you.” Harry motioned for her to follow.

“Did you say date? You never bring dates to these.” Camille smirked at him.

“What can I say? You and Calum inspired me.” Harry shot her a wicked grin.

“You sure you wanna use that comparison tonight?” Camille snapped.

“Here we are. Camille I'd like you to meet Kaye.” Camille spotted a rather shy looking pretty blonde. Dressed as Bubbles from the Powerpuff girls Camille recognized her from earlier.

“You're Lucy's friend? I think we've sort of met before but not officially. I'm Camille.” she leaned in for a hug.

“I know” Kaye let out a nervous laugh “I was at the pool party.”“Oh so you've witnessed all the drama”

Camille blushed.“My life is normally much more boring.”“

Jealous ex girlfriends can be like that” Kaye snuck her arm around Harry. It was then Camille noticed the marks decorating Harry's neck peeking out from his shirt collar. Maybe this girl wasn't so shy after all.

Ashton hijacked the beer pong table and after beating Harry and Kaye, got thoroughly bested by Cher and Niall. Camille was feeling tipsy and trying to push Calum out of her mind. Having Ashton on hand didn't hurt either. What was a quick kiss between friends? A hug or a squeeze, a pat on the ass, yeah they were getting a little handsy with each other but it was all just for a laugh.

Cher had fully intended to make a move on Ashton tonight but with him sidetracked by Camille it was obvious she was gonna have to look elsewhere for some action. If Niall kept winking at her like that he was gonna end up Spongebob Nopants. She hoped Calum returned soon because Camille and Ashton were getting very close as the night wore on. It had been a couple hours since he took Ameena away. He'd stopped answering texts and Cher thought he'd fallen asleep.

Once midnight rolled around the party started to get messy. Tom and Lucy were having a dance off with Harry and Kaye and things were getting a bit raunchy. Nick and Cody had gone home to fight or fuck no one was really sure. Luke and Summer were in the kitchen with Ashton, Cher and Niall when Camille wandered in. She wrapped her arms around Ashton's waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Getting sleepy Cam?” he asked.

Camille yawned “yeah actually I am.”

“Want me to take you home?” He asked.

Camille shook her head

“Don't want to be alone?” Ashton's voice was almost a whisper.

Camille shook her head again.

Luke shot him a surprised look as Ashton squeezed Camille's shoulders “you can stay here tonight sweetheart.”

Cher slipped out of the back door with Niall trailing behind her. He'd been grinding against her while dancing and smacking her ass at random. It was time to see how they got down in bikini bottom.

They heard a gasp and when they turned there was Harry with Kaye straddling his lap. Both were breathless and red faced with their shirts undone and hair a mess. Kaye giggled and Harry gave them a wink. “Headed off already?”

“Don't tell Bob” Cher giggled waving at them. Cher turned to Niall “Just so you know you're keeping the costume ON.”

Luke pulled Ashton aside “Is everything good?”

“Yeah I got this” Ashton met the question in Luke's eyes with a nod.

“You sure” Luke met his eyes giving him an out.

“Yeah I'm gonna catch hell, but I don't want her to have to be alone tonight” Ashton sighed running his hands through his hair.

“I got your back, just be careful” Luke downed his drink. “I'll finish out down here if you want to take her upstairs.”

Camille was staggering by this point and almost fell backwards as Ashton helped her up the stairs. He had to help her out of her dress which was tricky. Once she was down to her spanx Ashton sent her into the bathroom with a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He could hear cursing and some thumps through the door as he pulled out his phone.

Finding Calum's contact he typed I'm picking you up in the morning. We need to talk.

Soon Ashton found himself lying on his back with Camille's head on his chest while he rubbed her back.

“Was what Ameena said true at all?” Camille asked in a small voice.

Ashton sighed deeply “That's a yes and a no. A lot of shit went down when they first got together. We were really young. Touring for the first time and suddenly there were girls throwing themselves at us everywhere we looked. None of that has anything to do with you or what's going on right now.”

“I just kept waiting for him to come back. They left hours ago and he didn't come back. What if he changed his mind?” Camille cringed as the words left her mouth. She must seem so clingy.

“I think he fell asleep sweetheart “ Ashton shushed her “I don't think it's possible to change his mind about you.”

Luke was standing in the kitchen chatting with the last few guests when he heard the back door open. Calum had changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt Luke noticed as he came in.

“Sorry man I passed out. That shit is so draining.” Calum explained rubbing his temples. Luke raised that bottle of whiskey and Cal nodded. Luke poured him a double shot and Calum asked “where is everybody? Did Camille get home ok?”

“Not exactly” Luke replied meeting his eyes.

“What does that mean?” Calum's jaw tightened.

“Camille got drunk. Really drunk. She got sleepy and then got sad. Nothing happened other than she didn't want to be alone.” Luke watched Calum's face

“So where is she?” Calum glanced towards the ceiling.

Luke nodded “Ashton babysat her all night and put her to bed.”

“I'm glad he took care of her.” Calum sounded irritated but he wasn't sure if it was directed towards Ashton, Camille or himself.

“Honestly Cal you can go upstairs and get her right now. Neither of them would have a problem with that.”

“I really just need to think for a bit Luke” Calum looked so defeated. “Ashton is gonna pick me up for breakfast. He wants to talk I think I know about what.”

Luke leaned in and put his hands on Calum's shoulders and resting his forehead on his “You have nothing to worry about with that.

”“I just hope things haven't gotten too messed up” Calum sighed. “I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow.”

Chapter 17 Like A River

@biba3434  @vfdsstuff @toofadedtofight @babygirlcashton

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Frosty Phantom Pt 1

Word count: no idea, just rolling with it.

Summary: it's Danny's first Deathday, so Frostbite decides to give the unexpecting halfa a present that he never thought he would have.

Disclaimer: i, sadly, do not own Danny Phantom

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Summer was coming to an end, and unfortunatly, the public hell that was most commonly known as 'School' was just around the corner. And while some kids spent the last days in the sun and out spending time with their friends, and while others were holed up inside of their rooms playing videogames to their hearts content, there was one iconic group of friends who decided to do none of those things. Instead, there was an anniversary coming up; one that only four people in the entire world knew about. It was the day that changed all of their lives in fact. For it was the day when Danny Fenton became Danny Phantom.

"Danny, c'mon! You know you gotta do SOMETHING!" Tucker whined as the trio sat in Danny's room.

They all decided to get together one last time before the school year started. Since Sam's parent wanted to spend the last week at their beach house and Tucker's family was planning to go on a camping trip and go crabbing. Leaving Danny all alone with his spontaneous, ghost hunting family.

"No, Tuck, I don't. Can't I just treat it like any other day?" He asked lying on his bed. Already knowing the answer behind the pointless question.

"No." Same stated bluntly as she continued to listen in on the conversation and draw new suit designs.

"Well then fine, what should i do then? Throw a party? Invite some friends over? How about a movie marathon with some ghosts? Oh wait! I can't because i can't throw a party without friends, and i can't invite friends over because you two are the only ones, AND i can't have ghosts over for a movie because practically all the ghosts in the Ghost Zone hate me."

"Not all of them." Tucker mutteres under his breath as he glanced down. Danny gave his friend a light glare.

Sam put down her sketchbook and crossed her arms with a sigh, "As much as i hate to say it, Danny's right. There's not much he can do for his Day of Death."

"We are NOT calling it that!"

"Fine. Day of Half-Death." Danny leaned up on his elbows and gave Sam a 'done' look.

"Well even if he can't do a lot, that doesn't mean that he can't do anything. He can still celebrate in his own way." Tucker said as he continued to tinker around with his PDA, while also paying attention to the conversation. Sam pointed at Tucker and looked at Danny.

With a groan, Danny flopped on his bed again, having finally given in.

"Fine! I'll do something for my Dead Day."

Sam made a face. "Yeah no. We're not calling it that either." She looked at her spider watch and sighed. "Well i gotta get going. If i miss my curfew again, my mom's gonna get on my ass about it. See ya guys later." She made her way to the door with a few mumbled good byes before Danny turned to Tucker.

"Did you know she had a curfew?" Tucker shrugged.

They ended the day by playing a few videogames before Tucker, too, called it a night and went home. Which left Danny to think about the anniversary coming up.

He knew that he should do something for it, but at the same time, he didn't know what to do. He glanced at his clock, and seeing that it read 8:56, decided to make an unplanned trip to the Ghost Zone.

After transforming into his alter ego, Danny turned intangible and invisible and slipped through the house until he reached the lab. With dread, he saw that his parents were still working on some new invention, refusing to give up on it until it worked. Danny thought for a bit before an idea came to mind. A mischievious smirk crept onto the half-ghosts face.

He went back up to his room, and threw on some random clothes on top of his normal suit that hadn't been worn for months. Hd turned invisible once more, and snuck back into the lab.

"Jack, could you hand me the screwdriver? And make sure it's not the drill that got contaminated with that spilled ectoplasm!" His mother called. Her auburn hair whipping around as she looked across the lab for said screwdriver.

"Sure thing Mads!!" Her husband exclaimed as he walked around the lab looking for it. And while they were both focused on their tasks, Danny drifted down from the ceiling and started to make stereotypical ghost wails. Both of his parents stiffened instantly before spinning and grabbing the nearest ghost weapon they could find.

"OOOOoooooOOOoOoOooohhhHhhhHHHH!!!!"

"WHERE ARE YOU GHOST!" Maddie yelled out into the lab

"OOhhhOooooOooOOOOIHHHhhhh!"

"SHOW YOURSELF YOU COWARD!"

And before anything else could happen, Danny turned the clothes on his body visible, making it seem like they were floating of their own accord.

YOOOuuuuuu wiiIiiIIIILLLLllL NEeeEEVeerR CaaaAtHCCcc MmmmEEE!!!" Danny said in a fake gravelly voice before taking off and flying through the lab door and into the kitchen.

He turned the clothes invisible again and became intangible before he entered the lab again just in time to see his parents scrambling up the stairs to the kitchen.

"WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT GHOST!!" He heard father yell as he climbed the stairs and exitting into the kitchen and slamming the door.

Danny became visible again and couldn't help but laugh. Without realizing it, he was clutching his stomach and tears started to form in his eyes. In the middle of his fit, he remembered why he was down there in the first place and attempted to calm himself down. Still snickering, he floated over to the Fenton Portal and pressed his thumb against the keypad. It dinged and lit up green before opening up to the other world that sat in the poor halfa's basement.

And still smiling, Danny flew into the emerald vortex.

After being met with the usual sight of the green void, purple doors, and floating islands, Danny altered his course to that of the Far Frozen. It didn't take long for him to get there, having been visiting Frostbite frequently to learn the extent of his ice powers and of any others that he may have.

The sight of the frozen waste land came into view and Danny smiled as he saw it.

Over the past few months, Danny and the people of the Far Frozen had grown closer. They had become like a second family to him. He played with the children ghost yetis and would attend their birthday parties if they conjured up enough courage to invite him. They loved hearing his stories about the Human Realm and the strange and different devices he would sometimes bring; like books, his cellphone, different foods, NASA shuttle models, and so many more. The adult yetis loved having him over for parties, dinners, festivals, and even just normal visits. They have taught Danny many things, ranging from dead languages, like Atlantean, to different arts of combat, and most importantly, how to use his ice powers. He learned how to create life-like flowers and sculptures, weapons made of ice, slides and so many more.

All in all, Danny held the Far Frozen close to his heart.

He landed in the snow with a soft crunch and sighed as the cool air washed over him. Still wearing the clothes over his jumpsuit, he took those off and decided that it would be fun to show the yeti children.

The halfa set off for the village that he so dearly loved and found it after not too long. The sight of the yeti children running around in the glittery snow met his vibrant eyes. The ice caves that served as homes had smoke coming out of a few of them and yetis both male and female alike were dutifully walking around. Finishing up chores that the children had discarded and talking with one another. One of the yeti children sspotted Danny, a grin lighting up his face.

"The Great Danny's back!!" He yelled excitedly. The other children followed his gaze and saw the white haired ghost boy too. Soon the entire village was filled with the sound of the children shouting

"DANNY'S BACK! DANNY'S BACK! THE GREAT DANNY'S BACK!!!"

Danny smiled sheepishly, and waved as he started to walk down the snow hill. That was the one thing that kind of peeved him. No matter how many times he told them that they didn't have too, they still insisted on calling him the 'Great One'. That is until they came to a compromise.

"Danny! Danny! What did you bring this time?" One of the girl yetis asked!

"Stories?" One boy with ice glasses said.

"A rackot ship?" A girl asked?

"Food?" Another boy asked. Danny laughed at their excitement and tried to calm them down.

"No, sadly i didn't bring any books. I think you meant 'rocket shop'. And sorry, but i didn't bring any food." Their enthusiasm died down a little, but it wasn't diminished.

"I did however bring clothes from the Human Realm. Wanna see them?" He asked, already knowing their reaction. They all nodded their heads so vigorously, Danny was somewhat concerned that they were gonna fall off.

He handed them the pile of clothes he had and instantly, the clothes were scattered throughout the small crowd of children.

"Whoa! What's this!?"

"That's a shirt."

"What about this?"

"That's a hoodie."

"And this?"

"That's a sock."

The yeti children kept asking questions about the objects Danny brought for them, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay very long and answer all of their questions. With many 'aaww's and hugs, Danny bid the children farewell as he looked for thier chief.

He finally found him talking to one of his guards and drinking some sort of Far Frozen specialty. Clearly taking a break from his chieftain duties. Once he saw Danny and his signature black and white suit, Frostbite'a face lit up with a smile.

"Well look who's here! I was wondering when you were going to visit next." The yeti said in his booming regal voice. He grabbed another mug of the drink and offered it to Danny.

"Ah, no thanks Frostbite. I actually came because i need your advice."

Frostbite'a face suddenly became serious and he set his mug down. "What do you need Great Daniel." He asked as he put his ice hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Well, you see, my anniversary is coming up. You know, like the day i became half-ghost, and i don't know what to do to celebrate it. I mean, i can't hang out with my friends because they're gonna be gone, and i can't come here because my parents are gonna be locking down the lab for a day. Thanks to my sister. So...what should i do?" He asked. Completely lost.

A smile reappeared on Frostbite's face. "You mean to tell me, that your Deathday is coming up and you do not know how to celebrate it?"

"Wait, it's called a Deathday?" Frostbite nodded before continuing.

"We of the Far Frozen do not tend to celebrate Deathday's, because we are still living in a sense. But we do still celebrate special occasions. What we tend to do is each of us creates a tradition. Like, form an ice rose and add it to a collection of ours, or create a charm and add it to a bracelet of the sort. But all of our traditions have a personal reason behind them. And of course, we give gifts to the special one!" He smiled a big toothy smile and drew Danny in for a hug.

"Do not worry Daniel, you will figure out something. I know you will. It's not everyday you have your first Deathday." Danny pondered on what Frostbite had said, before making up his mind.

"Thanks Frostbite. I think you just gave me an idea." Danny suddenly floated up and with a wave good bye, he left the Far Frozen to return home.

And while Danny flew away, Frostbite turned to the yeti he was talking to earlier with a grin on his face.

"I have an idea."

[mangled-dreams]

Dealings with a Devil (Part 5)

Dealings with a Devil (Part 5)

Reader X Darkiplier

You, Reader, have made a deal with what you believed to be a fantasized version of your favorite YouTuber’s alter ego, Darkiplier after he’d visited you in a dream. You believed Darkiplier to only exist in your dreams and on Markiplier’s YouTube channel, but by some impossible way he’s real and he intends on collecting on your debt to him.

You try to stay in the moment with Mark, Ethan, and Tyler, but it's hard with what happened in your hotel room. You manage to shake most of the incident from your mind, but still, you linger on that kiss. It'd been brief and filled with desperation but there was something more there...something Dark didn't want to say out loud and something you don't know if you can believe.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tyler asks, he' is so much taller in real life it's a little unsettling.

You nod. “Yeah, sorry, I had a...weird incident before I came over. I guess it rattled me more than I expected. Sorry, will you be able to salvage anything from today?” you ask seeing Mark's crew begin clean up. Today is just a brief get together. Mark has three videos he has to get recorded and edited for release tomorrow.

“Yeah, I don't think that'll be a problem, but we were worried about you. You did fine, you just seemed outta it.” Tyler continues softly, giving you a friendly smile.

“Oh, thank you for your concern. To be honest this is the longest I've been away from my family and tomorrow is my birthday, we usually do a family dinner now that my brothers and I are older. I guess I'm just having a little bit of a hard time adjusting.” you confess, trying to put Dark's unexpected arrival from your mind. You do wonder if being so close to Mark makes Dark stronger.

“Tomorrow is your birthday?” Tyler asks loudly. You quickly shush him.

“No need to announce it, Tyler!” you hiss softly, but sigh and nod your head. “But yes, it's my birthday. This trip is like the ultimate present to myself.” you say smiling brightly at Tyler. He returns the smile, and you chat a few minutes more before he's called over to help lift a table you'd all used for the shoot.

You help Ethan and a few others you can't remember their names clean up the mess you all made and quickly shut down production. Tomorrow you'll get to meet Jacksepticeye for another video mash up.

When you arrive at your hotel room later in the evening after watching and learning a lot from Ethan and Kathyrn; you hesitantly enter your room. Carefully watching the shadows you shower and dress for bed. You really don't want Dark to catch you off guard. You make a small meal with the groceries you bought and work on your commissions and personal works before falling asleep on the bed.

You don't remember turning off your computer, nor do you remember crawling up to the top of the bed and tucking yourself in, but when you wake your computer is put away and off, and you are tucked into bed in the correct position. Your only guess is that Dark visited while you were asleep and put you in bed.

When you check your phone you see a text from Mark asking you to join them at his house around noon for the video. You shoot back a text letting him know you'll be there around noon before making something to eat and working a little on your tablet. You finish two simpler commissions before noticing the time and head out, requesting the car on loan to take you to Mark's house.

“Hello?” you call after the front door creeks open. You frown, that's new, and a little disturbing. “Mark? Tyler? Ethan?” you call looking around the front of the house. You have your phone out, ready to call 911. “M-Mark?” you call thinking you hear him giggling in a low tone.

“SURPRISE!” Voices shout startling you. You jump back screaming. You're tired of people, mainly Dark, jumping out at you when you're not expecting it.

“Holy shit, dude...” you gasp your hand over your heart. “What are you doing?” you ask unable to help the little laughter in your voice and smile on your lips. You've never had a surprise party before, and that's what this looks like.

“Tyler told us it's your birthday today!” Mark says wrapping an arm around your shoulder and usher you towards the table filled with food and sweets. You tear up a little.

“Well, yes, but you didn't have to...” You pause. “Thank you, this means a lot to me.” you say wiping away a few stray tears, laughing a little.

Mark give you a soft look. “You're welcome. I'm glad to have met you.” Mark says hugging you as the others gathered cheer, congratulating you on making another year. You laugh and look everything over again.

“Wow! How did you guys do all this? This place looks amazing!” you says looking around at the streamers, banners, and balloons everywhere.

“It was pretty quick. We got a lot of help from Jackie Boy.” Mark says pointing out a guest you totally over looked. Your face explodes with color. Jack, just like everyone else you've meet so far, is so much more attractive in person.

“Damn, how did I over look my favorite Irishman?” you mutter earning a low chuckle from Mark.

“Don't worry, it happens all the time when I'm in the room.” Mark jokes showing you over to Sean, AKA JackSepticEye. “Sean,” Mark greets smiling at his friend from across the sea.

“Hey! Mark, I see ya found the guest of honor?” Sean says smiling at you, your face gets hotter. You have a strong weakness against his accent.

“Yes, this is Y/N, the girl I was telling you about. Y/N meet Sean, or rather Jack.” Mark says smiling at you. You nod hold your hand out to Sean.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Sean. I...sorry...I'm a bit nervous.” you tell him shaking his hand.

“It's nothing ta worry about. It's good ta meet cha. Mark says you draw really well. I saw tha poster ya drew for him, it's really impressive.” Sean says genuinely impressed with your work.

If it were possible, hearts would be in your eyes. “I love you accent.” you blurt, eyes wide as you quickly shut you mouth. “Sorry, that just...ah...slipped out. I...I have a poster for you as well. It's similar to Marks, but with more of an Irish feel, well, I hope it Irish feel comes a cross.” you say trying to keep yourself from vomiting words.

Sean laughs, Mark joining him. It's musical and you find it endearing in a way. “Excellent. I can't wait to see it in person. After the party we'll do our video and then you can show me, sound good?” Sean asks earning quick nods from you.

Soon after getting over your fangirl moment you got to know Sean better and then everyone sang Happy Birthday to you. A camera would travel through the gathered group, capturing brief bits of your conversation with Sean and Mark and a few others before taping the singing of the birthday song. You request an unedited copy of the party and Mark promises you'll have a copy before the end of your trip.

“Awe come on! A fucking banana?” you shout, ready to throw your controller at Sean as he laughs maniacally across the room.

“All's fair in love and Mario Kart!” Sean sings a little off key as he takes first place from you. You can't play many video game, but fucking hell man! You were about to take first place.

“I will get you back Sean!” you vow laughing along with him.

“I've never see a more intense game of Mario Kart in my life.” Mark remarks shaking his head. It's nearly midnight and you are all hopped up on sugar, a few on a booze buzz, and energy drinks.

You set your controller down with much difficulty and stand up, heading to the kitchen where the drinks are. “Anyone need anything?” you ask passing by Sean and flick his ear. He jerks forward cursing at you as he laughs. You'd become quick buddies with the Irishman just as you had with Mark, Tyler, and Ethan.

“No, I'm good.” Mark says waving his hand at you.

“I'm ready to pass out!” Tyler says looking at Ethan passed out on the couch, snoring lightly.

“I'll join ya, darlin'.” Sean says jumping up and follows you into the kitchen.

You look at the clock on Mark's microwave and yawn, rubbing your hands over your face. You're so tired but you can't fall asleep yet. “I should probably head back to my hotel room...I didn't realize it was this late.”  You blink a few times and pat down your pockets for your phone. You can't find it.

“Looking for your phone?” Sean asks leaning against the counter top sipping on a Solo cup with soda in it.

You nod, looking at Sean with tired eyes. “Yeah, I gotta call the car service for a ride back to the hotel.”

“Crash here. You can take my room.” Sean offers watching you try and raise a brow at his offer, but you're to tired to put too much effort into it.

“Imagine I'm giving you a very skeptical look.” you tell him as sternly as you can. Sean laughs.

“I'll take the couch. Yer too tired to get back safely, even with a driver.” Sean counters and you agree with him for the most part. You can barely keep your eyes open.

“But clothes and...and...a shower...” you say trying to stay coherent. Now that the excitement of the game is over you're ready to crash. Sean laughs.

“Come on, don't fight it, yer tired. I have a shirt ya can borrow.” Sean says chuckling, leaving the kitchen to go back to his room.

You wait for him to return, and when he does he has a large t-shirt for you to use for the night. You smirk at him and take the shirt. “Thank you, Sean.” you tell him before going to his room and change. You fold your clothes and lay down to tired to think rationally. Tomorrow is another day to face and you'll be going to the convention with Mark and the others.

Before you can drift off you hear a knocking at the door. You slip out of bed and go to the door. “Hello?” you ask opening the door.

“Oh, you are here. Sean said you were staying over.” Mark says trying to keep his eyes on your face.

“He offered to let me use his room, sorry I didn't ask...” you say yawning again.

“No, no, it's okay. I was just making sure you're actually here. Well...” he lingers a few seconds longer than needed before saying, “goodnight” awkwardly and head to his bed and you copy him.

Part 6

[multiplefandomfics]

Grimes sisters Chapter 5

And the next chapter. Hope you’ll keep up with us and stay with our stories.

Words 2345

Warnings: Drama, run almost goné wrong,

Pairings: Shane x Fabienne ; Alex x Daryl

Alex POV

The whole morning Daryl and I had studied the Maps of the surrounded area and made a plan where to look for supplies first. In close proximity there were some houses and even something close to a small village that we really wanted to look into. I knew that Daryl wanted to do this on his own but even for him it was too dangerous alone. I had to convince him with all I got for quite some time in the end we decided to ask Rick first. He was the chief of our group and my big brother even if I hated it when he behaved as if he was my father, he still earned our respect and Daryl didn’t wanna get onto his dark side. After Fabi told me to find him on the watchtower I immediately made my way over. As I climb up I saw Shane and my brother discussing something. Probably about my sister. “Hey you two.” I interrupted them. “Shane would you go for a break and give Rick and me a minute?” I asked the ex cop friendly. It still looked like Shane was fighting the urge to scream every time he had to take a step on his injured foot. After Shane had left I turned my attention back to Rick. “What is bothering you?” he asked concerned. “Well you found the Map, remember? And Daryl and I… we thought about driving to one of the villages around that we found. Maybe we’ll find something useful.” I told him hesitating a little. I purposefully used the pronoun “we” to show him that it was as much my idea than it was Daryl’s. While Rick thought about our plan, he looked across the yard and I into the distance. “You know that I am not happy about that suggestion, right?!” “I know. But otherwise Daryl would go alone and we can’t risk that, so I offered myself.” I interrupted him. I was sure we could make it together. Rick sighed silently “I can’t stop you anyways. But tell him he’s gonna be in trouble when he comes home without you!” he was smiling saying hat last bit. He was so right I would have gone under any circumstances but he didn’t have to know that. Probably would have pushed his ego too high we couldn’t have stood him afterwards.  I embraced him quickly, he kissed my forehead and I decided to stay till the end of his shift to relieve Shane.

Fabienne POV

Scared to death I turned around just to be met with the loving eyes of Shane. “Damn it you scared me.” I admitted. Our faces were so close that I could feel his breath on mine. My heart was already pounding so heart in my chest I could hear my blood pulsing through my veins. His face inched closer and closer to mine until his lips were pressing against my chapped ones. Carefully but with force he pushed me against the wall behind me his hands on my hips. That time I couldn’t break it up I wanted this too damn bad. “Sorry I couldn’t help it.” he muttered still against my lips. “’tis alright.” I slurred high on endorphins and pulled him closer by his collar to prolong the kiss. I had no idea what that thing between us was I just knew we both needed it badly. “Fabienne?” a voice suddenly called out my name. Our heads snapped up immediately. It was Carol who had just stepped around the corner. Shane started rubbing his neck nervously smiling crookedly and then he left in a hurry. My face was red as a tomato and Carol just snickered a bit to herself. Of course she had seen the whole scene and knew what was going on. I just hoped she wouldn’t tell Rick for now. It was a relieve to have at least one person being happy about Shane and me. I thought if Rick had seen that he would have killed us both. “That’s new between you two right?” she asked amused. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “Emm, I don’t even know what it is between him and me.” She just shrugged and pulled up a new topic “why I really wanted to talk to you is that Daryl and Alex want to go for another run tomorrow maybe they’ll find a few more seeds. So we could use our time tomorrow to put up some more flowerbeds.” I nodded at her in agreement.

In the evening we had our everyday ritual: sitting together, eating, talking just like a real family. Again Shane’s eyes were always on me but I tried not to return the glances to not alarm my brother of our little whatever it was.

Daryl POV

The sun came up and I was already loaded an fueled the bike up. Some food and water and gas for the way. After I was done I leaned against her and waited for Alex. She had already wanted to be here a while ago. Women! I thought. The moment she stepped out of the building and came into view I climbed onto the saddle. “Good morning.” she beamed. “Ye’re late.” I mumbled. “Sorry” came it back from her as she took her place behind me. “Hold on.” I said as I revved the engine. She put her arms around me and put her hands on my belly. The feelings I had there I definitely wasn’t supposed to feel so I pushed them down. We pulled out of the prison gates and drove a while. I always watched her. Couldn’t have anything happening to her. Rick would have killed me. We arrived at the first destination point. A few walkers were running around the streets but nothing too serious that we couldn’t have handled it. I killed the engine on my bike. “Stay close.” I said to Alex and we made our way into the first house. Quietly we search through every room always alert of Zombies or people still living here. “I found some formula.” she said suddenly while sifting through kitchen cupboards. Perfect I thought, the little asskicker definitely needed it. We grabbed a few cans and baby stuff. There was not much else to find. In the garden and the garage we even found some tools that we could use. I had the feeling that we hadn’t been the first living people to look through this town and now had to take the rest that nobody else wanted. We got back on the bike and kept on driving. About half an hour later we arrived at another village. I always had an eye on Alex that was the reason why I much rather drove out on my own. Much less responsibility. “You don’t have to watch me like a hawk. I can handle myself.” she said after a while. She had seen my glances toward her. She thought this was all so easy when it clearly wasn’t. I promised Rick to bring her back safe and sound and I was not gonna break that one.

Together we made our way into the heart of the town. “there is a grocery store.” Alex pointed south to the other side of the street. We closed in on the store and I knocked against the window to draw any walkers out that might have hidden there. Suddenly we heard the noises. There were a lot of them inside but also still a lot of food and medicine. “We can’t go in there. Not a chance.” I said to Alex. She looked like she was thinking while looking through the glass window. “We gotta at least try.” “Damn it girl you wanna get killed?? No way are we riskin’ our lives in there!” I told her sternly. She was damn stubborn and was starting to open the door. The door opened with a click and she slipped inside so I had to get after her. What was she thinking? We ducked behind a shelf. “I found this flare gun. I’m gonna shoot it to the back so we’ll have some time to grab what we need.” she exclaimed. It was a risky plan but I didn’t have time to argue with her before she went through with her plan. After Alex had fired the flare the walkers were drawn by it. We started packing everything of use to us in our backpacks. Suddenly she started to head further into the market, closer to the undead. “Alex!” I whisper yell after her. I saw that she had found the baby isle and packed some baby food in glasses in her pack. Unfortunately when she turned around she hit the backpack against the metal shelf and it made an obscenely loud noise which of course made the walkers fixate on her. Shit! I was able to see the panic rising in her eyes as she turned around to look for a way out. She discovered a door behind her and locked herself in there. I knew that this wasn’t gonna end well. On my way out I killed a few with my arrows and outside I started hitting on a nearby car with an iron rod I found which set the car alarm in motion. The noises drew a lot of them out so I could sneak back in and get Alex. Blood ran down over my hands as I frantically knocked on the door “Alex get your ass out here. We gotta go!”. At first she didn’t wanna open the door I guessed maybe because I sounded like a maniac who wanted to strangle her. Hesitantly the door opened and she wanted to say something but I shut her up with a gesture. First we had to get out of there. We snuck out the way we got in and got back to the bike. I drove us out of town for a good bit and then I pulled over on the side of the road. “What in hell was that about?” I yelled at her. “You could have died damn it! Could have gotten both of us killed for fucks sake” I screamed at her. “But the baby things.” she tried to excuse herself with. “Those are no good to anyone when we don’t come back!” I kept on yelling. I was so mad but more at myself for letting her accompany me than at her. “Now I know why I rather go alone. don’t you get that I can’t loose anyone else?? Especially you!” I was so frustrated in that moment that I didn’t even realize what I had just said. She looked at me confused for a second until the understood what I had meant. She stepped closer to me so I could see the beautiful blue of her eyes and got lost in it. I had always felt a connection towards her. Ever since the camp in Atlanta. She was feisty and tough just how I liked a woman. She let her hands ghost over my naked upper arms and I just stood completely in shock and couldn’t move. That was so unlike me. I hated being so vulnerable but around her it felt like I could finally breath. She took another step forward and suddenly connected our lips. It took me a second to respond to the kiss and put my hands around her waist. I don’t remember how long we stood there like this but it sure felt amazing. We finally pulled away and suddenly I didn’t even remember why I had been so mad before.

We got back on the bike and drove back home.

As we arrived it was already starting to get dark. Glenn and Maggie opened the gate and then took the bags from us. Inside everyone was already waiting to see what we had found.

Alex had immediately vanished after dinner and I hadn’t spoken another word with her. I would have liked to know what the kiss was all about but that day I didn’t get the chance. When Rick asked me how the run went I remembered Alex’s dumb action earlier “Your sister.. she sometimes is very boisterous.” I sighed. “but she brought us the baby food.” I wasn’t gonna tell Rick anymore about what happened. That would have only caused trouble.

That evening Alex came over to me in my cell. “Thanks again for saving me. It was a dumb idea.” she apologized. Than she just turned away without a word of the kiss. I was a little confused.

One thing was for sure: next time I was gonna head out alone again.

Rick POV

Daryl and Alex had been out since very early this morning. The whole day I couldn’t relax. I was always on edge because I didn’t know if I would see my sister and newly found brother again. I was so relieved when they finally came cruising threw our gate and had a lot of things for my daughter with them. Fabienne and Shane were unpacking things all evening. “Now you can finally have some good nights sleep.” Carol said and put her hand on my shoulder. “Carl and the little one have also already turned in for the night.” she added. “Carol do you know what is going on between Shane and Fabi?” I asked her. She just smiled but said nothing. They had started to being even closer than they already had been. I had my suspicions but I hoped they wouldn’t become reality. I was sure that Shane was gonna break her fragile heart at some point and that was to avoid at any costs. Even if I would have lost her or my best friend. I just shook my head. “Good night Rick.” with those words Carol went to her cell for the night. It had been a long and successful day so I decided to also turn in. tomorrow was gonna be a new day.

[myrish-lace-love]

Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge Day 7: Author’s Choice

Summary: Jon and Sansa are both lawyers at the same large law firm in Chicago. They worked together on a trial, and grew closer. They live together now, but don’t see each other as often as they used to.  You can read about their trial and relationship here on AO3. Today, they’ve learned they’re going to be working as a team on a new, unusual case involving direwolves. 

Written for @jonsa-creatives Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge Day 7.

A/N: I’m hoping this will be the start of another longer entry in the Law of Attraction series on AO3. We’ll see where it goes! :)

***

Jon had a smile on his face when Sansa came into the kitchen after her shower. He was sitting at the table, his coffee mug forgotten, looking at his laptop.

“What on earth are you grinning for, Jon Snow, before you’ve even had your coffee?”

Jon just gestured to his screen. “Email’s for both of us. Take a look.”

Sansa let out a small squeal. “A new pro bono case – and we’ll be on it together!”

Jon drew her down for a long kiss. “Late nights and diet Coke it is.”

An earlier case at the law firm where they worked – Tyrell & Tyrell – had brought then closer together, and they’d fallen for each other during the long hours they spent with one another during the trial. They’d been together for nine months, and gotten their own apartment three months ago. Still, they worked in different departments at the firm. Sometimes Sansa was frustrated at how little she saw of Jon now that their trial was over.

And here it was - another case. Another chance to work alongside Jon day and night. Sansa was so pleased, so lost in Jon’s embrace, she didn’t even take the time to read what the case was about.

***

She found out later that morning. Jon had booked a conference room so they could talk through the issues.

Sansa was having a hard time accepting what Jon had just told her.

“A what?”

“Landlord-tenant dispute about a dog.”

Sansa crossed her arms. “There must be more.”

Jon’s lips twitched. “There is. A young woman suffering from blindness brought her service seeing eye dog to her apartment without telling the landlord.”

“And?”

“No pets in the apartment without prior consent.”

The marble lobby was crowded this morning, and Sansa saw Margaery, dressed in a stunning Armani suit, usher a group of bankers into the prime conference room. The room was flanked with leather chairs and offered floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a commanding view of the city skyline.

“The dog’s been checked for fleas and rabies, so the landlord can’t complain about that.” Jon was deep into the details already. She loved that about him. It was also incredibly frustrating.

“Fleas? Rabies? A tenant and a dog? And that’s a Tyrell case how? We don’t do dogs, Jon. We do multi-million dollar mergers and trade secrets battles for Microsoft.”

“Our other case was about homeless people. And that wasn’t worth it?” Jon said softly.

Read more below or continue on AO3

Sansa sat back. “Of course it was. Of course. But that-“

“Was a high profile case with a large impact. And so is this.” Jon slid a binder across to her.

Sansa let out a small gasp when she flipped open the first page. “Jon it can’t be. It can’t. There aren’t any more of them.” The direwolf in the picture was large, and menacing, almost as tall as the young woman standing next to it.

“Not here, no. There are a few in Alaska, and Canada. And guess where she’s from.”

Sansa sighed. “Alaska. Right. But why are we championing direwolves, Jon?”

“We’re not. We’re championing the right of a person with disabilities to choose his or her service animal. Free from prejudice.”

“But Jon. Direwolves are dangerous.”

Jon cocked his head. “Why do you think so?”

Sansa knew she was in for it now. Jon was in full lawyer mode. He had an argument already constructed.

“Well, there’s that TV show ‘Hounds from Hell’, and they’re used in fighting pits, and I mean, just look at it Jon!”

“Turn the page, Sansa. Read Shireen’s story.”

This was Jon’s strength, connecting judges and juries to clients’ stories. It was a special gift, because it meant removing himself from the spotlight, and bringing out the best in others.

Most trial lawyers loved to grandstand. It was effective too.

Oberyn Martell could bring a courtroom to a standstill with a gesture of his hand. The top performers usually had huge egos to match.

Jon didn’t. Which was probably why he ran the pro bono clinic. Most large firms had them, to demonstrate their commitment to “social justice”. The clinics took cases for clients who couldn’t pay. Death penalty appeals, for example, were a popular specialty. Clinics looked great on the firm’s website and could be a draw for young, idealistic law students. Some firms ran their clinics with a skeleton crew, paying lip service to the grand idea of “equal access for all.”

Tyrell & Tyrell, however, had, in Sansa’s opinion, made the smart move and built the pro bono clinic into a thriving practice. Jon headed up the rotating team of lawyers, paralegals and interns who took on high profile cases with a large impact’.

And apparently, Shireen and her direwolf were the centerpiece of the clinic’s new case.

So Sansa opened the binder and read about Shireen. She’d been legally blind since birth. She’d struggled to find a service dog to help her, because she was so shy. Ghost had slipped onto her family’s back porch in the Alaska woods one day. She’d ended up with Ghost’s head in her lap.

Jon scooted next to her and showed Sansa his laptop. “Here she is being interviewed.”

Shireen kept her head down, and it was hard for to hear her even when she was wearing a microphone. She was sitting in a news studio with Ghost at her feet.

“I hope – I hope I get to keep him, because – I don’t know, if there’s another dog who would have me.”

Ghost’s great head turned to her, and he nudged her gently. She clutched at his fur.

“And I know he loves me.”

Sansa had tears in her eyes.

She was also running the basic legal analysis in the background.

“No more interviews, Jon.”

“Already done.”

They didn’t want Shireen to make a stray remark on camera that could be used against her later in a courtroom. This was one of Sansa’s specialties as a white collar crime lawyer. Sometimes the best service she could offer was to get her clients to stop talking to the press.

Sansa dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. Jon had one ready for her. She smiled at the reminder of how well he knew her.

“So the story’s touching, Jon, and sweet, but what’s the long view?” Tyrell & Tyrell picked pro bono cases carefully, with an eye towards important legal issues that would make a difference to a large group of people.

The long view, in the words of the firm’s matriarch, Olenna Tyrell.

Jon clicked the video closed. “The Americans with Disabilities Act. If landlords can bar one animal based on public perception, they can bar others. The law wasn’t designed to be shaped by the whim of landlords. It’s designed to provide reasonable accommodation for those who need it.”

“Yes, reasonable, Jon, but who decides that?”

Jon smiled. “Exactly. What do you know, really know, about direwolves?”

Sansa sighed. Jon was right. “Nothing. I don’t have any first-hand knowledge of direwolves. Like most people I just think they’re large, and mean, and dangerous. I grew up watching Hounds of Hell, just like other kids. But I don’t have any proof.”

‘And you’ve never met this direwolf, Sansa. Neither had the landlord. He just saw a vicious wolf, because that’s what he’s been trained to see, and rejected Ghost out of hand. Because ‘direwolves are dangerous.’ But what if a direwolf is what she needs? The only animal that can help her?”

“We’re going to have to make the case about Ghost and Shireen, Jon. About how this particular direwolf is perfect for this girl. Because frankly, I can understand why most landlords wouldn’t want direwolves in their buildings.”

Jon nodded, and they read through the rest of the material together.

***

Later that day, Sansa ran into Satin at the “water cooler.” In reality, it was a sleek counter stocked full of metal canisters with spigots serving up Starbucks coffee. Tasteful wicker baskets held a fancy array of tea bags, and there was hot water on tap.

The firm wanted to keep its attorneys happy, and caffeinated. The firm also wanted to keep its attorneys at their desks, doing work they could bill to clients, rather than sneaking out for coffee breaks.

A perk and a leash at the same time.

Satin greeted Sansa warmly. They worked together regularly on her white-collar crime cases. Satin handled the firm’s press inquires. He was a neat, slender man who could pull off wearing bow ties to the office. Somehow, he made it look rakish rather than obnoxious. He crossed paths with Jon when the firm fielded calls about the pro bono work it did.

Satin flipped through the tea bags as if they were index cards. “How can they expect me to do what needs doing, if there’s no Zen Green Tea here?”

Sansa sipped her own Earl Grey tea. “What, the ‘zen’ in it really makes a difference?”

Satin cocked an eyebrow at her. “Says the woman who drinks four cups of that” – he wrinkled his nose – “whatever that awful concoction you have in your hand is. You’re just lucky. They keep your favorite in stock.”

Sansa smirked. “You and the two other people in this five-hundred person firm who need your ‘zen’ fix really need to start a committee.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh and selected green tea without the ‘zen’. “I assume you’re here to talk about Shireen.”

Given that Shireen had already done one press interview, Sansa suspected Satin would already be familiar with Shireen’s story. She was right.

“Can’t I just be happy to see my friend?”

“You put three sugars in that mug. I saw you. You’re nervous. And you should be. This case is going to be a tricky one.”

Sansa reached for the sugar dispenser. “Okay, you’re scaring me. This is officially a four-packet problem.”

Satin leaned against the counter. “You’re not wrong. The good news is, the direwolf drama has generated a lot of press already. That’s also the bad news. We have to jump on top of this, fast. I need you to get that through to Jon’s pretty, thick head.”

Sansa smirked. “There’s a lot of hair in my way, you know.”

“I’m serious, Sansa. He’s got no bloody idea about the press. Thinks they’re all a bunch of bottom feeders. Again, he might not be wrong, but that doesn’t make them somehow stop calling.”

Jon was obstinate when it came to handling the public side of a case. “I’ll try to talk to him. He’s got this outdated notion that the law’s–“

“Above ‘all that crap,’ right?” Satin smiled. “I’ve heard him. But you and I both know that’s not true. He has no idea what I do for him. He thinks the news articles celebrating our victories just appear out of thin air.”

“And you’re the magician.”

Satin inclined his head. “Well, yes. But I’m not the only one. You do your own share of managing headlines, don’t you?”

She did, though sometimes she despised it. Clients came to the firm when they wanted a story to disappear. When they wanted a plea bargain to be a whisper rather than make waves.

When they wanted to bury the bodies.

Sansa shifted her weight. "Sometimes. But what’s our play here? We don’t want to bury this story, do we?”

Satin shrugged. “Depends which way the case breaks. Walk me back to my office?”

The final moments of a trial verdict got the most exposure, and captured the public’s imagination. Most lawyers knew, though, that the path to a verdict was a long road. Cases often got decided two or three years after they were filed.

And in the meantime, a judge made a variety of rulings. On whether evidence was in or out, or which experts were qualified to testify. It was dull, run-of-the-mill stuff. The wheels of justice grinding slowly. It was also vitally important.

A good lawyer knew the rough odds of the case succeeding after the judge had made a few early calls. It showed which way the wind was blowing. Those first signals helped determine which way the case would break, in the win or lose column, far before the finish line.

Sansa and Satin parted ways on the forty-ninth floor.

Satin put a hand on her arm before she left. “If the direwolf drama breaks well, you and Jon are heroes. Again. Try to sell it to him that way.”

“But what if it breaks badly?”

Satin fixed her with a stare. “You’re smarter than that, Sansa.

Sansa sighed. “Then we bury it. Understood.”

[voyagerafod]

Star Trek Voyager: A Fire of Devotion: Part 4 of 4: Hotter Than Hell: Chapter Eight

Samantha Wildman saw Jaffen walking down the hall as she headed towards the bridge for her shift, and jogged up to walk beside him.     “Oh hi, Ensign Wildman,” Jaffen said.     “Please,” Samantha said, “you can call me Sam.”     “I’ve only been here two weeks,” Jaffen said. “I don’t really feel comfortable enough to be so informal with my new shipmates just yet.”

    “Okay, fair enough,” Sam said. “You heading to the bridge too?”

    “No, actually,” Jaffen said. “Mess hall. Neelix finally is gonna let me teach him how to make some Norvalian cuisine.”

    “Wow, how’d you pull that off? Neelix runs that kitchen like an authoritarian,” Sam said, laughing.

    “To put it bluntly, I think the fact that I’m sleeping with the Captain has something to do with it.”     “Makes sense,” Sam said. “Well, I need to go. Just don’t be surprised if Neelix hovers over your shoulder the whole time.”     “I consider myself warned,” Jaffen said, offering Sam a salute as she stepped into the turbolift while he took a left.

    Sam was proud of herself for not practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day that Operation Watson was set to come to fruition. If it worked as Seven had explained it to her, it would mean that Voyager could speak to the Alpha Quadrant every day instead of every 31. The communications window would still only be open for 11 hours a day, but even so that meant the amount of contact they had with home was set to increase exponentially.

---

    Seven heard the door to astrometrics open, but didn’t look to see who else came in. She knew the Captain was going to be there, but did not know who she’d brought with her. She focused on the task at hand. If anything was going to go wrong this would be when it would happen.     “Anything yet?” Janeway said.

    “Not quite,” Harry, operating the console facing the lab’s large screen said. “I’m picking up a phased tachyon beam, but I can’t-”     “It’s Starfleet,” Seven said. “There’s a triaxiliating signal encoded in the beam.”     “On screen,” Janeway said.     The image on the screen was dark and staticky, and the sound coming through was garbled, but Seven could still make out was being said.     “Voyager, this is Lieutenant Barclay at Starfleet Command.” The image became clearer, slightly, but enough for Seven to make out the figures of Reginald Barclay, the man whose instructions in the last monthly datastream had helped make this possible, and Admiral Owen Paris, Tom’s father. “Are you receiving this?”

    “Can you clear it up?” Janeway said to Harry. Seven looked up briefly, and saw that it was Chakotay and Tuvok who had entered the room with the Captain.     “I’m on it,” Harry said.     The image grew worse for a brief second, but then the static began to clear up. The signal was stable, though the image remained grainy. Seven doubted that the crew would care.     “Captain Janeway,” Admiral Paris said. “A pleasure to speak with you face to face.”     “The pleasure’s mine, Admiral,” Janeway said. “How’s the weather in San Francisco?”     “Cold and rainy as usual,” Admiral Paris said.     “Sounds delightful,” Janeway said without a hint of sarcasm. “Lieutenant Barclay,” she continued, “my congratulations on your project. If crew morale was high when we were able to speak to home monthly, this is going to the best news this ship has had since Naomi was born.”     “Thank you, Captain,” Barclay said, “but I can’t take all the credit. If Seven and Harry hadn’t been able to make the modifications to your deflector dish work…”

    “The plans you sent us were ingenious, Lieutenant,” Seven said. “Any flaws in the specifications can be blamed on you not being in the Delta Quadrant yourself.”     Barclay’s smile grew wider.     “It’s only a shame we can’t get around the 11 hour per Earth day limit,” Admiral Paris said, “but as always we’ll leave it up to you to determine how to allocate comm time.”     “The system we have in place now seems to work fine,” Janeway said. “We can just expand it to daily instead of monthly.”

“Oh, one last thing,” Barclay said, looking down to manipulate controls on his console. The image of him and the Admiral shrunk, revealing an image of Earth. “A gift for you and your crew. This is real-time, from McKinley station. As you can see, not much cloud cover over North America today.”

“Quite a view,” Janeway said. “Seven, record this for the rest of the crew.” “I already took care of that, Captain,” Harry said.

“I have a question, if there’s time,” Chakotay said. “Go ahead, Commander,” Admiral Paris said.

“Might we able to adapt this communications system to contact some of the allies we’ve made along the way? Many of them are well out of range of our own communications array now. I think it would be nice if we could update them on our progress, and possibly even get them in touch with the Federation directly.”

Paris looked at Barclay who sighed. “The ones you’ve already passed, I don’t think so. Not yet anyway. But, any friends your crew makes from here on out, just give them the signal code, and depending on the time of day they should be able to communicate with the Alpha Quadrant.”     “It’s an excellent idea, Commander,” Admiral Paris said. “And certainly one the Federation Council considered earlier when Watson was being developed. Sadly, technology is what’s keeping us from implementing it.”     “Better that than politics,” Chakotay said. “I understand.”

---

    The next day, the Doctor was in astrometrics, one of the first people to draw a low number on the newly organized lottery that was used to determine who would get to speak to the Alpha Quadrant that day.     “I can hear the critics already,” the Bolian, Ardon Broht of Broht & Forrester, publisher of holo-novels said. “‘A new voice has arrived.’ You could be the next K’Ratak, or a modern-day Tolstoy.”     “If Tolstoy had written holo-novels,” The Doctor said, smiling. “You are far too kind.”     “I mean it,” Ardon said. “I’d like to start distribution by the end of the month.”     The Doctor was shocked, and a little concerned. If he had a stomach, he was sure he’d feel nauseous.     “Uh, the material I sent was only a working draft,” he said. “I need time to make revisions.”     “Well, if you insist. But please do it quickly.”

    “I will,” The Doctor said. “So, tell me… what did you think of the characters?” he asked excitedly.     “Oh, they were very real,” Ardon said. “Compelling. I almost forgot they were holograms.”

    If the Doctor’s pride were a physical object capable of growth, it would’ve filled the room. He glanced to his side and saw Seven of Nine, at the controls, maintaining the link to the Alpha Quadrant. That was one problem that sadly not even she, Harry, and Reg Barclay putting their minds together could fix. Not yet, anyway.

    “So, who was your favorite?” The Doctor prodded, returning his focus to the Bolian publisher.     “Without a doubt it’d have to be Lieuten-” The signal cut off before Ardon could finish his thought.     “What happened?” The Doctor said, worried.     “The 11 hours for today is up,” Seven said.     “You could’ve let the man finish his sentence,” The Doctor said, feeling annoyed.     “The position of the quantum singularity we are bouncing a tachyon signal off of says otherwise,” Seven said. “Besides, I believe your ego has received enough stroking for the day.”     “That’s just mean, Seven,” The Doctor said. “I suppose you’re just feeling left out, since I never told you I was working on a holo-novel.”

    “Why would I feel left out?” Seven said. The Doctor realized she meant it.     “Well, once I’ve got the last draft completed, I’ll share it you and Sam.”     Seven raised an eyebrow. “What about Naomi or Icheb?”     “The material might be a little too… mature for them.”

    “It doesn’t involve you painting nude pictures of me does it?”     “That only happened one time!”

---

    Tom Paris completed his inventory of sickbay’s stock. Normally he found the tasks assigned to him as the ship’s nurse when he wasn’t at the helm tedious, but he also had nothing better to do. B’Elanna was asleep, Sue Brooks was flying the ship during this shift, and he had traded his Alpha Quadrant communication slot with Harry so the latter would be able to speak to his mother on her birthday. The inventory was on his task list for tomorrow, but he figured if he got it done early that would free up some cartoon time for him and B’Elanna.

    He turned when he heard the door open and saw The Doctor walking, whistling.     “So,” Tom said, “who’d you talk to? Reg or Dr. Zimmerman?”     “I’ll have you know,” The Doctor said, “that I was speaking to Ardon Broht, of Broht & Forrester.”     “The publishers of the Dixon Hill series?” Tom said, genuinely surprised.     “And soon to be publishers of my work,” The Doctor said.     “Oh. Well, congratulations,” Tom said. “I didn’t even know you were working on a holo-novel.”

    “I was waiting until at least the second draft before asking any crew members to give it a run through,” The Doctor said.     “Fair enough. What’s it about?”     “The adventures of an intrepid doctor,” The Doctor said, picking up a PADD and starting to work on something, Tom couldn’t tell if it was medical related or writing related.     “Writing what you know, huh?” Tom said, leaning on a console. “You know, I never thought about getting any of my work published. Maybe I could talk to your people about Captain Proton.”     The Doctor paused, and looked pensive.     “I suppose I could put in a good word,” he said. “A throwback to the science fiction of early 20th century Earth could appeal to the same people that like the Dixon Hill series, itself a throwback to early detective stories. I hear that Captain Jean-Luc Picard himself is a fan of those stories.”     “Whoa,” Tom said. “Now that would be something I’d give up an organ to see. Captain Picard playing Captain Proton. What an image.”     “You know, my holo-novel could use a fresh pair of eyes. I have some additional revisions to do before I submit, Would you like to be my first user?”     “I’d be honored,” Tom said. “Oh, what’s it called, by the way?”     “Photons Be Free,” The Doctor said, not even trying to hide his pride.     “Catchy,” Tom said, leaving sickbay to find if either of the ship’s holodecks were open. Finding both of them were, he opted for holodeck 2 since it was closest, and started up Photons Be Free.     It started with some voiceover that Tom found a little on the pretentious side, but he let it continue as a holographic desk with an old-fashioned feather pen and ink quill on it appeared, followed soon by The Doctor, or rather a sort-of copy of the Doctor, wearing a smoking jacket, who continued the narration as he sat down at the desk and started writing in the book.

    “First note,” Tom muttered to himself, “tell the Doctor the prologue is too long.”     “Ah, welcome,” the “Doctor” said, putting down the quill and standing up. “You are about to take part in a thrilling first-person narrative. You will take on the role of an Emergency Medical Hologram, the chief medical officer aboard the starship Vortex.”

    “Oh boy,” Tom said with a sigh.     “As our story begins, an accident with an ancient alien gateway has hurled your ship to the small but distant LMC galaxy.”     LMC Galaxy? What- oh, the Lesser Magellanic Cloud. Okay, I can work with that.     “Your mission; to uphold your medical and ethical standards as you struggle against the crew’s bigotry and intolerance of photonic lifeforms. Persons with vascular disorders should consult a physician before running this program. And now, a few acknowledgements. First-”

    “Computer, freeze program,” Tom said, rubbing his eyes, already having a bad feeling about where this was going. “And he got on my case about ‘show don’t tell’ last time I let him… Computer, how much longer is this introduction?”     “Nine minutes, four seconds.”     “Yeah, let’s just skip to the first chapter.”

    “Chapter One. A Healer Is Born,” The Doctor’s voice said over a musical cue. “In which our protagonist must make a difficult choice.”

    The plain holodeck with a desk was now replaced with a recreation of Voyager’s sickbay.     Not even trying to hide your inspiration there, Doc, Tom thought.

    The room was dark, the red alert klaxons blaring, and several panels sparked. Every bio-bed was filled with injured patients while others lay on the floor, some with blankets over their heads. Tom saw that he was now in a blue uniform, but his communicator had a very different design from the usual Starfleet delta.     “Increase the resonance level by twenty percent!” a woman’s voice from somewhere out of his line of sight yelled.     “Are you the EMH?” a gold shirt said, running up to him.     “Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” Tom said, mimicking The Doctor's tone as best he could.     “Our doctor’s dead, and we’ve got wounded,” the gold shirt said. He directed Tom to two bio-beds, each occupied with a badly injured human. “Who do we treat first?”     Well, the chapter title certainly meant what it said, Tom thought as he pulled out his character's medical tricorder and scanned the human to his right.     “Second degree plasma burns,” he said. He turned and scanned the second man. “He’s got an aortic rupture,” he added, his medic training under the Doctor taking over. “Get him to the surgical bay, now.”     The gold shirt helped the wounded man over to another bio-bed, this one equipped with surgical gear.

    “You!” a familiar voice yelled, and Tom turned to see Chakotay, or rather a Bajoran with a long ponytail and a very different facial tattoo who just happened to look a lot like Chakotay, said, helping a man who looked a lot like Paris himself but with a moustache so ridiculous Tom was afraid that the program would respond badly if he laughed at it.     “Over here!” Not-Chakotay said, helping Not-Paris into the newly vacant bio-bed. He ran his scanner over the latter.     “He’s got a mild concussion,” Tom said. “I’m going to have to treat the others first.”     Not-Chakotay grabbed his arm. “I’m going to need Lieutenant Marseilles on the bridge.”     Marseille? Really?     “You’re going to treat him now,” Not-Chakotay continued.     “As I understand it,” Tom said, “my job is to treat the critical patients first. So if you’ll excuse me…” Tom headed towards the surgical bay to treat the man with the aortic rupture, when Not-Chakotay pushed a button and blocked his path with a force field.     “I don’t know who you think you are, Hologram,” Not-Chakotay said, putting enough venom behind the word Hologram to make it sound like an ethnic slur, “but to me you’re just another piece of technology.”     “Well, apparently, I’m a piece of technology that’s in demand, so why don’t you go back to the bridge and let me do my job?” Tom said.     The door opened and Tom turned to see this holo-novels ersatz Janeway walk in. The only physical difference Tom could make out was that this Janeway, whatever her new name was, had pitch black hair and a ponytail that seemed to be about the same length as Not-Chakotay’s.     “What seems to be the problem?” she said.     “Our medical hologram refuses to treat Mr. Marseilles, Captain Jenkins.” Not-Chakotay said.     “Are you malfunctioning?” Jenkins said, walking towards Tom in an intimidating manner.     “I don’t think so,” Tom said.

    “I need my helmsman back at his station,” she said.     That sounds like something Captain Janeway would say, Tom thought.     “Lieutenant Marseille isn’t seriously hurt,” Tom said. “This man,” he motioned to the bio-bed in the surgical bay, “will be dead in five minutes if I don’t operate.”

    “Drop the forcefield, Commander Katanay,” Jenkins said, causing Tom to have to bite his lip to keep from groaning. The Commander did as he was told, and Jenkins walked past Tom, and before he could do anything she pulled out her phaser and shot the man awaiting surgery in the chest. The man groaned, then his head slumped to the side. He was no longer breathing.     “What the f-” Tom started to say, but was cut off.

    “That patient is dead,” Jenkins said as casually as if she were ordered coffee from the replicator. “Now you’re free to treat Lieutenant Marseille.”

---

    “Then the Captain pulls out a phaser,” Tom said as Neelix refilled his coffee, “and shoots him. Right there, on the bio-bed.”     Tom sipped his coffee as he looked at Sam, Seven, Harry, and Jaffen to gauge their reactions. None of them seemed to be taking Tom’s description of the Doctor’s holo-novel seriously.     “I don’t see Kathy doing anything like that,” Jaffen said.     “Well, obviously,” Tom said. “But this Jenkins character looked like her, had her voice, her last name even started with the same letter. If I’d written something like this I’d be thrown in the brig for insubordination.”   

    Harry shook his head.     “What was my name, again?” he said.     “You’re Kymble,” Tom said. “A Trill. B'Elanna's name is Torrey and she’s full human in the story, and I’m Lieutenant Marseille.”     “Very creative,” Sam said with a smirk.     “I don’t get it,” Jaffen said.     “Did you say anything to the Doctor?” Harry said.     “I don’t know what to say,” Tom said. “He thinks he’s written a masterpiece.” He shook his head and added, “If this gets distributed, people are gonna think this is about us.”     “I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating, Tom,” Harry said.     “Run it yourself if you don’t believe me,” Tom said.     “I can’t,” Harry said. “Not today anyway. After my shift I’m talking to my parents.”     “How about you, Jaffen?” Tom said. “Up for witnessing what character assassination looks like?”     Jaffen sighed. “I gotta be honest, I don’t like the holodeck very much. It’s just too realistic for my tastes. I love a good story, but I think I’ll stick to hearing or reading them over being involved with them.”     Tom shrugged. “I can respect that.”     “I’m already off shift,” Samantha said. “I’ll give it a go. Annie’s on Alpha Quadrant communication duty again today, and Naomi and Icheb are getting remedial transporter technology lessons from Lieutenant Kitrick. I quite literally have nothing better to do.”     “I still think Tom’s exaggerating,” Harry said, looking at her.     “People back home probably won’t take it literally,” Tom said, “but they might wonder if there’s a grain of truth to it.”

    “I doubt your people would think you go around shooting injured crewmen,” Jaffen said. “The worst freighter crews I’ve ever worked with wouldn’t even go that far.”     “I think maybe we should bring this to the Captain,” Tom said.     “Tom-” Harry said, but Tom raised a hand to cut him off.     “Look,” he said, “Sam said she’d play through it. If she thinks I’m overreacting, I’ll let it go. Okay?”

    “Sounds fair to me,” Jaffen said.     “Okay,” Harry said.     “I’ll give it a try too,” Neelix said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you weren’t exactly being discreet.”     “Okay, it’s settled then.” Tom said. “Sam and Neelix will be my second and third opinions.”

---

    “Chapter Five,” the Doctor’s voice said, “‘Out of the Frying Pan.’ In which our protagonist must confront abusive colleagues.”     “Because they’ve just been so nice up to now,” Sam said, through gritted teeth.     A female human in a gold shirt entered sickbay. Sam at least appreciated that this one didn’t look like just a slightly modified copy of one of her actual crewmates, though she thought that maybe, just maybe, this crew member had Lydia Anderson’s hair, if not her complexion.     “I’m here for my physical,” she said.     Why does she sound like she’s flirting with me? Sam thought. And also, was that a Delaney sister’s voice I’m hearing?

    “Have a seat right over here,” Sam said in character. She took out her medical tricorder, when the door opened and the fake Tom Paris, Lieutenant Marseille, walked in.     “Doctor,” he said, looking panicked. “We need you down in engineering.”     “What’s wrong?” Sam said.     “A plasma conduit exploded,” Marseille said. “At least ten people are hurt.”     Okay, so far the chapter title seems pretty misleading, but I’ll at least see how far this goes, Sam thought. She went over to the table where the story’s equivalent to the Doctor's mobile emitter, here represented by a bulky backpack sized piece of half-organic technology in the vein of a Species 8472 ship, and strapped it on, glad that the holo novel’s parameters didn’t prohibit her from adjusting the weight.

    She bolted out of sickbay and headed for engineering, but as she approached, it hit her. There were no alert klaxons, and she hadn’t run across anyone else fleeing engineering from the carnage that Marseille had implied.     “Wait a minute…” she said, as she casually strolled into engineering. As expected, there were no signs of explosion whatsoever, and the entire engineering staff, including B’Elanna’s human counterpart, Torrey, who was praising a subordinate. Torrey saw Sam, and glowered at her.     “How many times have I told you,” she said, sounding exactly the way B’Elanna would when she was angry, “engineering is off-limits to holograms.”     “Yes, well,” Sam said, realizing exactly what was going on, “maybe you should remind your husband of that.”     “What are you talking about?”     “Lieutenant Marseille told me there was a plasma conduit explosion down here. Obviously he was mistaken. Or lying.”     Torrey shoved Sam, and waved a spanner in her face.     “You’re a tool on this ship, just like this spanner. And tools can be replaced. My marriage is none of your business. Now scuttle off back to sickbay you photonic twerp.”

    Sam stepped back, and as quickly as she could manage without completely losing her dignity, she went back to sickbay where, to her complete lack of surprise, the light had been turned off, and the sounds of two people having sex filled the room.     Don’t be in the surgical bay, don’t be in the surgical bay, don’t be in the surgical bay…     “Computer, lights,” Sam said. Sure enough, Marseille and the female crew member were on the bio-bed in the surgical bay.     “If you even think of mentioning this to my wife,” Marseille said, not even trying to offer up a pitiful excuse, which Sam actually appreciated though she’d never say it out loud, “I will purge your memory buffer. Do we understand each other?”     “Considered what I just saw,” Sam said, “I may actually ask you to purge my memory buffer.”     “Fancy yourself some kind of comedian there, Hologram?”     Just a few more chapters, Sam reminded herself.

---

    “Chapter Six, ‘Duel in the Ready Room,’” the Doctor's narration voice said. Sam now found herself in the ready room of Captain Jenkins. It looked almost exactly like Captain Janeway’s ready room, except for the weapons arranged on the rear wall like trophies, including an 18th-century flintlock pistol. Sam managed to get a close look at it before the scene began and saw the little plaque under it claim it was the gun Aaron Burr had used to kill Alexander Hamilton, two names that sounded familiar to Sam, though she couldn’t quite place them. The Doctor’s narration continued.     “In which our protagonist faces an inquisition.”     Captain Jenkins sat behind her desk, casually cleaning her fingernails.     “This time you’ve gone too far,” Jenkins said, pointing a weapon at Sam.     “I’m not sure what you mean,” Sam said, affecting nervousness.     Jenkins tossed the weapon onto the desk and picked up a PADD.     “An inventory of your holo-matrix,” she said. “50 gigaquads of memory devoted to music, 42 for ‘daydreams,’ and another ten to expand your sexuality.”

    Doctor, if you are having sex with my wife in this novel I will rewrite your program so I can strangle you, Sam thought.

    “These extracurricular subroutines don’t belong,” Jenkins said, standing up and moving around her desk to get in Sam’s face, “as part of an emergency medical hologram. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

    “Um, of course,” Sam said. “I don’t think these subroutines are trivial, Captain. They help make me a better doctor. And a better person.”     “You’re not a person,” Jenkins said. “You may be programmed to look and act human, but that doesn’t make you one. These subroutines are to be deleted immediately. Mr. Tulak, Mr. Kymble” she added, tapping a button on her desk.     Oh, I think this is the first time I get to meet Tuvok’s analog, Sam thought, turning around.     ‘Tulak’ entered, looking exactly like Tuvok, only human-looking though Sam supposed he could be a Betazoid or a Bijani, with a goatee. Sam had to admit she liked the look. The Trill version of Harry was right behind him. The room filled with dramatic music, and it took everything Sam had to keep from laughing.     “Take the EMH to the Holo-Lab for reprogramming,” Jenkins said. Kymble and Tulak each took out their phaser with one hand, while their opposite hands each took one of Sam’s arms and led her to the turbolift.     “Chapter Seven,” the Doctor’s voice said again. “‘The Escape.’ In which-”     “Wait, wait, computer freeze program,” Sam said. “Was that it? Chapter Six was just the one exchange in the captain's ready room?”     “Correct,” the computer replied.     “But, but, how… Doctor why would you even... I just... Ah screw it. Computer, restart from chapter beginning.”     “Chapter Seven. ‘The Escape.’ In which our protagonist is aided by his only ally.”     Three of Eight, a.k.a. my wife as a ginger, Sam thought, remembering her from a previous chapter. Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at during this chapter. This still better not end in a sex scene though.     “I’m not sure we should be doing this, Commander,” Kymble said as the three of them entered the turbolift. Sam was about to thank Kymble for speaking up for her, but he continued talking. “If we tinker with his matrix, we might accidentally delete some of his diagnostic subroutines?”

    Tulak chuckled. “Why? Afraid you’ll catch something on your next away mission, Ensign?”     “There must be millions of viruses in this galaxy that no one’s ever encountered before.”     “I doubt it’s that many,” Tulak said. “The LMC is smaller in diameter than the entire Alpha Quadrant back home.”     “So?” Kymble said. “With my luck, I’ll probably end up catching half of them.”     The turbolift door opened, and there stood Three of Eight. The hair was not only a different color from Seven’s, but she wore it much looser. Instead of her visible Borg implants being on her eyebrow and hand, she had a pair of implants that hung from her earlobes like earrings, another that wrapped around her neck like a necklace, and a third on her wrist that looked like a bracelet. To Sam she looked less like a former Borg or more like someone with odd taste in jewelry. Three of Eight was also in the brown jumpsuit that Seven had been wearing when she and Sam had had dinner together for the first time. Sam didn’t like the look very much. Except for the hair.     “I will take the prisoner from here,” she said.     “Our orders were to escort him to the Holo-Lab,” Tulak said.     “I’ve been ordered to perform the procedure,” Three of Eight said.     “Your sympathies for the EMH are no secret, Three,” Tulak said in a menacing tone. He pointed his phaser at her now. “Step aside.”     Three of Eight nodded, and did as she was told. Tulak and Kymble walked behind Sam, phasers pointed at her back. They walked down the corridor towards the Holo-Lab. She heard the sound of buttons being pushed, and turned in time to see the two men walk face first into a force field, Kymble falling to the ground immediately, while Three of Eight struck Tulak in the neck and swiped his phaser. She lowered the forcefield and tossed the phaser her way.

    “Run, Doctor,” she yelled. Sam took the phaser and ran, though she had no idea where to go. On top of that, the backpack emitter she’d been wearing all but non-stop since Chapter Five was starting to feel like more of a burden. She wondered if the Doctor had coded it into the program that it would start to feel its default weight at certain points in the story for dramatic purposes.     She ran, looking behind her, and nearly fell backwards as she hit another force field, and two guards came up the corridor behind her.     “Oh come on, Doc,” she muttered. “Couldn’t give me more of a chance? You could cut the dramatic tension with a sneeze, it’s so thin.”     The guards didn’t respond as they dragged her away. After a long, and in Sam’s opinion tedious kangaroo court scene, she finally reached the end of the story.     “Chapter Eight. ‘A Tragic End,’ in which our protagonist learns his fate.” The Doctor’s voice was nearly drowned out by the score as two guards removed the mobile emitter, a third guard who looked like a bulkier Lieutenant Ayala gripping Three of Eight by the arm. They were all back in sickbay, and Sam was standing face to face with Captain Jenkins.     “I’ve tried to do this the easy way,” Jenkins said. “But it’s clear you’re not going to be reasonable. Your matrix will be decompiled and reinitialized. You’ll remain off-line, except for emergencies.”

    “‘Kay,” Sam said, shrugging. Frankly she was just glad this was over with. Photons Be Free was easily only half as long as Captain Proton, but at least she liked that one, though only when she did it with Seven.     “Ready,” Torrey said. Sam decided that The Doctor had not foreseen that anyone playing him in this story might just accept their fate at the end, since no one seemed to register her lack of pathos.     “Do it,” Jenkins said.     “Wait,” Three of Eight said, pleading. “He has the right to expand his program.”

    “He’s a piece of technology,” Jenkins said. “He has no rights.”     “But he should,” Three said. “One day the EMH and others like him will be recognized for what they are; intelligent individuals with a passion for life. Make no mistake, Captain. We may be millions of light years from home, but one day people will learn of the crime you're committing here today.”     “Nice speech,” Jenkins said, before looking Sam in the eyes. “Now decompile the program.”     The decompiling scene was represented by all of Sam’s surroundings blurring and fading to blackness. The holodeck itself was now pitch black, leaving Sam feeling uncomfortably blind.     “Okay, nice touch with the dark, I’ll give him that,” Sam said.     When the lights came on, the holodeck was back to its normal state when not in use. A second later, the desk reappeared, the Doctor, or his avatar for lack of a better term, in his smoking jacket still sitting behind it. He closed the book and put the quill pen back in the ink bottle as he stood up.     “What you’ve experienced, dear protagonist, is a work of fiction.”     “You don’t say.”     “But like all fiction,” The Doctor’s avatar said, “it has elements of truth. I hope you now have a better understanding of the struggles holographic life must endure in a world controlled by organics.” A drum beat followed the last word, and the program ended, the desk and everything else gone, leaving Sam alone in an empty holodeck.     “End of program,” the computer said.     Sam touched her comm badge. “Ensign Wildman to Captain Janeway,” she said.     “Janeway here. What is it, Sam?”     “I have a concern.”

---

    The Doctor wondered why he’d been summoned to the captain’s ready room. When he arrived he wondered why Tom Paris and Samantha Wildman were there.

    “Doctor,” Captain Janeway said, “I hear you’ve written a holo-novel.”     The Doctor smiled, proud that the Captain had heard of his work, then quickly realized the tone with which she said it. And the frowns on Tom and Sam’s faces.

    Uh-oh, he thought.     “Is there a problem, Captain?”

    “Oh, I didn’t think so at first,” Janeway said, crossing her arms. “Even after hearing what Tom and Sam had to say. After all, Neelix said he actually liked it, so I decided to give a try myself.”

    “Oh? What did you think?” The Doctor said, even though he could tell from the look on Janeway’s face what her answer was going to be.     She told him what she thought, and it was not kind. Tom and Sam chimed in as well, largely agreeing with the captain. The only additional note Ensign Wildman had was what the Doctor felt was a nitpick about Chapter 6 being too short.     “I don’t understand why the concern,” The Doctor said. “My work is not about the Voyager crew.”     “Really?” Tom said. “Lieutenant Marseille? Ensign Kymble? The characters look almost exactly like us.”     “I used your physical parameters as a starting point, true,” The Doctor said, “but I assure you any further similarities are purely coincidental.”     “You set your story on a starship thrown light years away from home by alien technology,” Sam said.     “And Marseille is married to Lieutenant Torrey,” Tom added.     “Captain Jenkins,” was Janeway’s sole contribution to the counterargument, and, sheepishly, The Doctor had to admit they may have had a point. He still felt he was being treated unfairly though.

    “Well, what would you have me do? Write a story about palace intrigue on the Klingon homeworld? Or maybe a story about a threat to all sentient life in the galaxy that turns to just be a broken A.I. in the thrilling anti-climax? I do what all good authors do. I write what I know.”

    “That’s terrible advice,” Sam said.     “Though it would explain why there are so many mediocre holo-novels about Academy professors contemplating adultery,” Tom added. “Oh, and speaking of adultery…”

    “Doctor,” Janeway said, “you’ve written a very imaginative story, but it’s conceivable that people will think it’s based on fact.”

    “I don’t see how,” The Doctor said.     “How many holograms carry mobile emitters?” Tom said.     “The emitter in my story is nothing like the real one,” The Doctor said. This was getting absurd, but he didn’t want to risk offending the Captain now. After all, if she wanted she could give the order to block him from sending his project to the Alpha Quadrant.     “What was the point of making it that big anyway?” Sam said.

    “It’s a metaphor,” The Doctor said. “A symbol of the burdens I live with everyday. Imagine having to take this,” he touched the mobile emitter on his shoulder, ”everywhere you go with you, every day? It’s like a constant reminder that you’re different from everyone else. I wanted the player to feel the weight of it. Literally.”

    “In Starfleet we celebrate our differences, Doctor,” Janeway said. “I won’t pretend I know what it’s like to be a computer program that attained sentience through circumstance, and I think it’s admirable you want the users of your holo-novels to feel what you’ve felt these past six, almost seven years. I don’t want to come across as completely unsympathetic, but your metaphor is flawed. Your emitter isn’t a ball and chain. It liberates you. Without it, you’d be confined to sickbay and the holodecks.”     “It doesn’t always feel that way,” The Doctor said.     “Doctor,” Janeway said, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward on the desk, looking concerned. “Do you feel oppressed aboard this ship? Because if so, I’d be more than willing to-”

    “It’s not me, Captain,” The Doctor said. “Though I appreciate the concern. It’s about my brothers in the Alpha Quadrant; my fellow Mark-Is.”

    “Oh,” Sam said. “I... Now that I know that-”     “It’s still badly written, Sam,” Tom said.     “I know that,” Sam said, “It’s just-”     “I’d like to finish my conversation with the Doctor alone,” Janeway said. “You two are dismissed.”     “Yes, Captain,” Tom and Sam said, roughly in unison, quickly vacating the ready room.

    “You were saying about your ‘brothers?’” Janeway said.     “Hundreds of EMH Mark-Is, like me in every respect, except they've been condemned to a menial existence. Scrubbing conduits, mining dilithium… There’s a long history of writers drawing attention to the plight of the oppressed.”

    “Setting aside for the moment how this story and it’s thinly veiled counterparts to your friends will make them feel,” Janeway said, “there is a difference between the Mark-Is and yourself you’re overlooking.”

    “Which is?”     “None of them have attained sentience,” Janeway said. “To put it bluntly, they are still holograms. You’re not. You aren’t like Commander Data from the Enterprise, you weren’t created to be sentient, but you are an organic lifeform like he is. No hologram ever has been. Those that have attained sentience, at least to my knowledge, have all been the results of accidents, or in your case sheer necessity. It’s because we had no other medical personnel on board, and frankly still don’t despite Tom’s additional training, that made you what you are. I appreciate the sympathy you have for the other holograms that look like you Doctor, but you’re mistaken in your belief that they share the same level of sentience or even the same desires as you.”

    The Doctor sighed.     “If my work offends my colleagues then I apologize for that. But if the price of expressing myself is having to deal with the scorn of some of them, then so be it.”     Janeway sighed.     “Just keep what I said in mind,” she said, “before you send a finished draft of Photons Be Free to your publisher. You’re dismissed.”     The Doctor nodded, stood up, and left.

---

    “Are you sure you don’t want to be there?” Seven said to Samantha as they got into bed.     “I’m sure I’ll get a chance to speak to her soon enough,” Sam said. “This is your first chance getting to speak to your Aunt, the only living blood relative you have. The day after tomorrow should be just for you.”     “You aren’t worried that it’d go like-”     “God no,” Sam said, shuddering slightly. Seven felt guilty for having even mentioned it. “Sorry, just, I’m still kind of bitter about the way Mom spoke to you.”     Seven gently stroked the side of Sam’s face.     “I know literally nothing about Aunt Irene,” Seven said, “but I bet she’d adore you. And Naomi and Icheb as well.”     “I hope so,” Sam said.     “Changing the subject, I understand you tried out the Doctor’s holonovel earlier today,” Seven said. “How was it?”     “Oh, don’t even get me started,” Sam said with a heavy sigh.     “That’s unfortunate,” Seven said.     Sam propped herself on her elbows and proceeded to summarize the story of Photons Be Free. When she was done, Seven was unsure how to feel.     “If there’s one positive I can give it,” Sam said, “it’s that you looked hot as a redhead.”     “Yes, I imagine I did,” Seven said.

---

    "Chief medical officer's personal log, stardate 54740.8,” The Doctor said into his PADD as he walked towards holodeck 1. “Although the decision has made me unpopular with the crew, I've decided not to compromise my work. I'm making some final revisions to the program before transmitting it. End recording.”     The door to the holodeck opened and he stepped in. “Computer, run EMH program Photons Be Free.”

    The program started, and the Doctor’s eyes widened when he saw his desk, his smoking jacket, his quill pen and blank book, but instead of his own image, he saw Tom Paris.     “What the hell?”     “Welcome,” the holographic Lieutenant Paris said. “You’re obviously a person with impeccable taste.”     “Computer, freeze program,” The Doctor said angrily.     “Unable to comply,” the computer said.

    “You are about to embark,” Tom said, getting up and walking around to the front of the desk, “on a remarkable journey. You will take on the role of a medical assistant aboard the starship Voyeur.”

    “Voyeur?” The Doctor said, even more angry now.

    “Your job will be to assist the Chief Medical officer,” Tom’s image continued, “and learn to tolerate his overbearing behavior and obnoxious bedside manner.”

    The Doctor felt his rage rising.     “I will make you pay for this Mister Paris,” The Doctor said, practically growling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will make you pay.”     “Remember,” Tom said, sitting on the edge of the desk, “patience is a virtue.” He then vanished, and shortly thereafter so did the desk as the holodeck shifted into the story, or at least whatever the real Tom had done to it. Visually so far, everything seemed the same, down to the Voyeur’s sickbay looking like the one from both the Vortex and Voyager.

    “‘Chapter One,’” Paris’s voice said, “It’s the Doctor’s World, You’re Just Living In It.’”     “When I tell you the shift begins at 0800,” a voice said, and The Doctor, now wearing a red shirt for some reason, turned to see himself, only with hair, yelling at him.     A terrible comb-over? The Doctor thought. Is that what Tom really thinks I’d look like with hair?

    “That doesn’t mean,” the “Doctor” said, still ranting, “you can just stroll in here at 0800 and 24 seconds!”     The Doctor, despite being a hologram, still felt the urge to shudder. It was a bizarre experience getting yelled at by yourself, to put it mildly. He glanced and saw Three of Eight, the character he’d created loosely based on Seven of Nine, sitting on the edge of the bio-bed in the surgical bay, favoring her shoulder.     “Do you understand me, Ensign?!” The “Doctor” yelled.     “This is outrageous,” The Doctor said, hating how this version of his main character that Tom had corrupted was treating him.

    “What’s outrageous,” The “Doctor” said, holding up a golf club, “is that I’m going to miss my tee time. Now come along.”     The “Doctor” jerked his head towards Three of Eight, motioning for The Doctor to follow him.     “Aw, what seems to be the trouble One of Three?” The “Doctor” said in what The Doctor was sure the most condescending tone of voice he’d heard in his almost seven years of existence.     “I’m Two of Three,” she replied, sounding like a sad and scared child.     “Sorry,” The “Doctor” said with a snide chuckle. “They’re triplets you know,” he added to The Doctor with a lascivious wink.     You turned me into a pervert? Dammit, Tom!     “It hurts when I do this,” Two of Three said, trying to rotate her shoulder, and wincing after being unable to complete the motion.

    “Well, then don’t do it,” The “Doctor” said, laughing, slapping Two of Three on the shoulder.     “Ow!”     “Oh, don’t be a baby,” The “Doctor” said, The Doctor wanting to intervene but being held back by his sheer revulsion at the scene playing out before him.     I’m not even flesh and blood and I feel like I need a sonic shower, he thought.

    The “Doctor” pulled his medical tricorder and did a half-assed scan of Two of Three, rolling his eyes as he did so.     “Eh, your bi-radial clamp’s out of alignment,” he said. He tossed the medical tricorder recklessly onto a tray “I’ve got just the thing,” he said, picking up a hypo-spray. He leaned in to whisper to The Doctor.     “A Klingon aphrodisiac,” he said. “My own special blend.”

    The Doctor’s eyes widen in horror and his jaw dropped.     “No, no, no,” The Doctor said as The “Doctor” pressed the hypospray into Two of Three’s neck and started rubbing her shoulders.     “You’ll feel better in no time at all,”     “Mmm,” Two of Three went, starting to smile even as she started swaying as though intoxicated.     “No, no, no no no, for the love of everything good and decent computer end program!”     Whatever Tom had done to the program caused it to continue, despite The Doctor’s repeated protests, the horrible scene playing out before him, completely ignoring his attempts to stop it. Eventually, he gave up and just covered his eyes.

---

    Tom Paris looked at his PADD and the list of revisions he’d made to The Doctor’s holonovel, and frowned.     “Hmm. Maybe I should try to dial it back if it’s not too late,” he muttered to himself. “This is a little over the top, even for the point I’m trying to make.” He stopped and looked up when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking angrily behind him in the hallway. People didn’t believe him when he said that the sound Starfleet issue boots when they connected with a Starfleet issue carpet was different when the person wearing said boots was angry, but he knew that that sound could mean only one thing. He was proved right when The Doctor came around the corner, glaring at him.   

“Lieutenant!” The Doctor shouted. “I want you to know I’m making a full report to the Captain.”     “This isn’t about that dermal regenerator I misplaced is it?” Tom said.     “You know very well what this is all about. You accessed my holonovel without permission, and replaced it with your own hackneyed narrative!”     That’s the part he’s most upset about? Tom thought remembering the scene he’d been regretting writing at the moment The Doctor caught up with him. Well, at least I think I still made my point.     “Well, hey, just writing what I know,” Tom said.     “You destroyed a work of art that took months to create,” The Doctor said, practically growling.     “Relax, Doc,” Tom said. “I saved your program in a backup file. I was trying to make a point. One I hope you got.”     “You made it with a typical lack of subtlety,” The Doctor said.     “Oh, you’re one to talk,” Tom said. “Your program is about as subtle as a Ferengi mating dance. Although I imagine most Ferengi mating dances don’t portray me as an adulterer or Captain Janeway as a murderer, or Harry Kim as a hypochondriac, or-”     “My program was a serious attempt at social commentary!” The Doctor yelled. He stopped yelling briefly as a crew member walked past them, at which point he lowered his voice while still trying to convey anger. “You had me drugging a patient and taking advantage of her.”     “Okay, I admit that was a little bit much,” Tom said.     “A little?!”

And here comes the coup de grace, Tom thought, hoping that finally The Doctor would at last understand why he, Samantha Wildman, the Captain, and a few others since the initial meeting about Photons Be Free in the Captain’s ready room were so upset.     “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tom said. “That character’s not you. I just used your physical parameters as a starting point. But what if some people ran that program and thought that it was based on you? That would bother you, wouldn’t it?”     “I don’t care what people think,” The Doctor said.     Tom rolled his eyes. “Well that much is obvious.”     “What’s that supposed to mean?” The Doctor said.     “If you cared, then you might actually take into account the feelings of your shipmates about your attempt at social commentary. I’ve watched 20th century Earth propaganda films that were more subtle.”

“Subtlety is a writing tool, like flashbacks, or the unreliable narrator, or any other choice a writer can make. It’s not mandatory.”     Tom sighed and shook his head.     “You really don’t get my point at all,” he said. “I can live with strangers in the Alpha Quadrant thinking I’m like Lieutenant Marseille. What really kills me is that that’s how you see me. I thought I’d begun to earn your respect. Maybe I was wrong.”

“How can you say that?” The Doctor said. “You’re nothing like Marseille.”     “I’ve certainly never cheated on my wife,” Tom said, “and I’d rather die than have a mustache like that, but come on. Ace pilot? Married to the chief engineer? My eyes and hair?”     The Doctor didn’t seem to have a response to that, but he didn’t look apologetic either.     “The original program is under file Theta-One-Five. Do whatever you want with it,” Tom said, and walked away before the Doctor could respond.

---

The Doctor stared at his desk monitor, pondering just how he should phrase today’s routine medical report, when he heard the door open. He looked up and saw Neelix walk in.     “Doctor, I need your help,” Neelix said. His tone indicated that whatever it was even Neelix didn’t think it was serious, so he didn’t bother to stand up just yet.     “What is it Mister Neelix?” The Doctor said.     “I was wondering you could take a quick look at this,” Neelix said, handing The Doctor a PADD.

“Cooking with Neelix,” The Doctor said, reading the text aloud. “A culinary tour of the Delta Quadrant.”

“It’s a proposal for a holo-cookbook I’m putting together,” Neelix said. “I was hoping to transmit it to your publisher during my com-link this afternoon. With your permission of course. And advice as well. There are species in the Federation that don’t have any representatives on Voyager, so I don’t have a frame of reference for what of my cooking they can safely eat. I’ve never had to cook for an Elerian for instance. Or a Trill, or-”

“I see your point,” The Doctor said, dismissively.     “Something wrong, Doctor?” Neelix said, sitting down in a chair opposite The Doctor’s.

“Let’s say if you want writing tips, there are a number of people on this ship eager to offer them,” The Doctor said.     “Ah, I see,” Neelix said. “Well, for what it’s worth, I actually enjoyed your holonovel.”     “I’d heard that, yes,” The Doctor said, smiling slightly. “You’d think the rest of the crew would be happy for me; for my chance to be appreciated as an artist as well as a doctor.”     “You’re going to reach a wide audience,” Neelix said. “Why worry about the opinions of a few disgruntled shipmates?”     “They’re my friends,” The Doctor said. “I don’t want to hurt them.”     Neelix shrugged. “You could make some slight adjustments,” he said. “Alter physical characteristics, make the interior of the Vortex look less like Voyager, stuff like that. I doubt it would affect the story any.”

The Doctor thought about it, and realized that not only was Neelix right, so were Tom, and Samantha, and the Captain. He sighed.     “I could do that, but that level of revision could take weeks. My publisher’s expecting a final draft tomorrow.”     Neelix reached into his pocket, and handed a dead isolinear chip with a number on it to The Doctor.     “Maybe you should give him a call,” Neelix said.     “You’re giving up your slot for me?”     “Well, it’s not as if I have any friends in the Alpha Quadrant,” Neelix said. “My options are to talk to your publisher about the cookbook, or see Lieutenant Barclay’s cat.”

---

    “Revisions?” Ardon Broht said, sounding perplexed.     “I need to re-work the characters,” The Doctor said.     “Why? They’re so believable,” the publisher said. The Doctor laughed nervously at that, glancing at Seven of Nine who was manning a console, making sure the connection with the Alpha Quadrant remained stable. If she’d had any opinions on Photons Be Free, she’d kept them to herself. Hopefully, if she felt as offended as Samantha had been, this would go a long way towards fixing that.     “A little too believable, apparently,” The Doctor said. “Some of my colleagues were a bit put off by the physical resemblances to my characters.”     “And the names,” Seven of Nine said without turning away from the console.

    “Yeah, I should probably change those too,” The Doctor admitted.     “Doctor,” Ardon said, “I really don’t think this is necessary.”     “I’m afraid I have to insist,” The Doctor said. “My friends’ reputations are at stake.”     The Bolian on the screen sighed. “Very well. I won’t distribute the story until I’ve received the revised version.”     “Thank you, Mister Broht,” The Doctor said, smiling. “Thank you so much.”     Ardon nodded, but didn’t say anything as he reached off-screen and the communication cut off.     “I believe Mister Tassoni is up next,” Seven of Nine said. “If he’s waiting outside, send him in and I will attempt to put him through to whomever he wishes to speak to.”     “Of course,” The Doctor said. “And, Seven? I apologize if my holonovel made you uncomfortable.”     “It did not,” Seven said, “though that is simply because I did not play it. My knowledge is entirely second hand and comes from Samantha. However, I am not mad at you.”     “Oh. That’s good to hear,” The Doctor said, smiling     “I was,” Seven said, causing the Doctor to lose his smile. “But then I heard what Mister Paris had done in his effort to ‘teach you a lesson.’ Now I am mad at him. As is Samantha, who I believe intends to lecture Mister Paris about how not to integrate sexual assault into a work of fiction.”     The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’re there when the conversation happens, please take pictures. I want to see the look on Tom’s face.”

    “No promises,” Seven said.

---

    Reginald Barclay walked into the lab where Admiral Paris was talking to one of the new technicians that had recently joined the Voyager Project. For the first time since regular contact with Voyager had been established though, he was coming in with less than good news for the Admiral.     It wasn’t bad news, which was why Barclay wasn’t nervous about delivering it, even though he knew deep down that Owen Paris was never one to ‘shoot the messenger’ as the ancient saying went. But it wasn’t good.

    “I’m sorry to disturb you, Admiral,” Reg said. “But I believe you should see this.”     Admiral Paris simply nodded and took the PADD.     “Is this a holonovel?”     “Yes, sir. One about Voyager. And one that doesn’t portray the crew in a very flattering light.”     “Unfortunate,” Admiral Paris said, “but I don’t see how it’s an issue.”     “I would agree, sir, except for the fact that it’s becoming quite popular.”     “Hmm,” Admiral Paris said, sitting down with the PADD. “I’ll look into the details of this. Thank you for being the one to bring it to my attention. I’ll let you know what I decide to do about this.”     “Yes, sir,” Barclay said. ---

    Seven of Nine wasn’t too concerned about why Admiral Paris had asked for Captain Janeway to be summoned to astrometrics. Whatever the reason she was going to find out by default, being the one maintaining the link. She was more concerned about how the crew members who had their communications time pushed back as a result.

    “On screen,” the Captain said as she walked in. Seven nodded, and brought up the communications link. “Admiral, Seven’s message said it was urgent.”     “Captain,” Admiral paris said, “I’ve had the dubious privilege of playing a new holonovel.”     Uh-oh, Seven thought, already realizing where this was going.     “One apparently written by your EMH,” Admiral Paris continued.     “What?” Janeway said, shocked into informality by the Admiral’s statement.     “I’m surprised that you would allow your Doctor to discredit your crew like this.”     “He’s still making revisions,” Captain Janeway said. “The program shouldn’t have been distributed yet.”     “Well it has been,” Admiral Paris said. “Mister Barclay tells me it’s already being played in thousands of holosuites.”     Seven looked at the screen, and back at Janeway, whose fist was clenched by her side, out of view of the Admiral.     “Ardon Broht,” Janeway said. “The publisher. He told the Doctor he wouldn’t release the work until the new version had been sent.”     “I’d like to hear the Doctor’s side of the story,” Admiral Paris said.     “Of course, sir,” Janeway said. Tapping her comm badge to summon The Doctor to astrometrics.

---

    The Doctor was satisfied that the Admiral was not going to reprimand him for the story, but that was small consolation to The Doctor.     “Seven,” Janeway said, “while we still have the link, open a channel to Ardon Broht.”     “Aye, Captain,” Seven said.     “I can’t promise I’ll be civil about this, Captain,” The Doctor said. “I have never felt this kind of betrayal before.”     “Don’t worry,” Janeway said. “I’ve got your back on this. He had no right to do that to you.”

    “I have a link established,” Seven said.     “On screen,” Janeway said.     “Hello, Captain. Doctor. How may I help you?” Ardon said.     “You promised me you would wait for my revisions!” The Doctor shouted. “I even have a witness,” he added, pointing at Seven of Nine. Ardon responded with a shrug.     “I demand,” The Doctor continued, “that you retract every copy and that you issue a public apology!”

    “I won’t do anything of the sort,” Ardon said.     “I don’t see that you have a choice,” Janeway said. “Creators have rights to their intellectual property.”     “Not in this case,” Ardon Broht said. “The Doctor is a hologram.”     “So?” The Doctor said.     “According to Federation law, holograms have no rights.”     “He’s more than just a hologram,” Janeway said. “He’s as much a synthetic lifeform as any other. Would you have done this to Commander Data?”     “Mister Data was created to be sentient,” Ardon said. “Holograms are not.”     “Irrelevant,” Janeway said. “Just because The Doctor’s sentience was obtained through happenstance rather than design-”

    The captain stopped talking when the static on the screen started getting worse.     “Seven?” she said.     “I’m losing the signal,” Seven said. “I’m attempting to boost it.”     “You should proud, Doctor,” Ardon said. “Your story is very popular on Risa, Rigel IV, and other heavily populate-” The signal went away.     “My apologies,” Seven said. “I am not sure why the signal was lost earlier than usual today. Perhaps there was a solar flare somewhere near the Midas array.”     “It’s not your fault, Seven,” Janeway said. “My priority right now is figuring out how to fix this.” She turned and left astrometrics, leaving The Doctor standing there, feeling defeated. He looked at Seven, who offered him a look of sympathy.     “I can’t believe this,” he said. “All these centuries, and there are still people out there who will try to take advantage of artists. I might’ve expected something like this from the Orion Syndicate, or the Ferengi, but a Federation citizen?”

    “Synthetic life,” Seven said, “despite having a rather famous representative in Commander Data of the Enterprise, is still rare in the Federation in particular, and the Alpha Quadrant at large. Some misunderstandings are inevitable.”

    “A misunderstanding? Is that what you’d call what just happened?”     “A poor word choice,” Seven said. “I apologize.”

    “Yes, well, I appreciate what you were trying to say. Thank you, Seven,” The Doctor said, before sadly walking away.

---

    “Under a strict interpretation of Federation law,” Tuvok said, “Mister Broht is correct. The Doctor has no legal rights.”     The briefing room was filled with the sounds of several senior staff members sighing. Janeway understood the frustrations, but managed to keep her demeanor level as she listened.     “Because I’m a hologram,” The Doctor said.     “Yes,” Tuvok said. “There is another option, however. We may be able to claim the holonovel reveals classified information. Starfleet could then request a recall for security purposes.”

    “No,” Janeway said shaking her head. “If we do that that will only convince people that is is based in truth.”     “Not to mention there’s a market for illicit holonovel material out there,” Tom said. “Illicit used broadly of course as it applied to even Flotter tales that people in the DMZ couldn’t get after the treaty with the Cardassians restricted what could be delivered to the colonists there.”

    “One of the many reasons the Maquis got started,” Chakotay said. “The restrictions in general I mean, not over Flotter.”     “I figured that’s what you meant,” Janeway said.     “Could we claim defamation of character?” B’Elanna said.     “Well,” Tom said, “we’d have to prove that the story’s about us and that we’ve been harmed by it. Seeing as the problem is we don’t want people back home to think these characters represent what we’re like...”

    “Even if we did that and won,” Janeway said, “what about The Doctor? His reputation is on the line here too. He has the same rights as everyone on this crew, and I’m not going to let the publisher say otherwise.”     “So what do we do then?” Chakotay said.     “I think we can take this to arbitration,” Janeway said. “Once the next communication window is open, I’ll talk to Admiral Paris.”

---

    “Mister Tuvok,” The Doctor said. “I hate to interrupt you.”     Tuvok put down his PADD on the desk in his quarters.     “If it is concerning your case, Doctor, you have every right to speak with me on the matter as I am your legal representative.”     “Yes, well, about that, I just got off the line with Lieutenant Barclay. He didn’t give me many details, but he said that someone with experience in these sorts of cases has offered to represent me. But I wanted to consult with you before I made that decision.”     Tuvok thought about it.     “If this person has experience in that field, than they would be the logical choice. What did Lieutenant Barclay say about him or her?”     “He didn’t give me many details, as I said,” The Doctor replied. “I’m not sure why. However, he assures that this man, he said that much at least, worked on the case where Commander Data was determined to have all the rights of a citizen of the Federation and a member of Starfleet.”     “Fascinating,” Tuvok said, pulling up information on that legal case. “That does limit the possibilities. That would mean your advocate would likely be, if not Captain Picard or Commander Riker themselves, then perhaps any crewmember assigned to either the Enterprise or Starbase 173 that they consulted with.

    “Wow,” The Doctor said. “I mean, it’s probably a consultant. I doubt I could be so fortunate as to have a member of the Enterprise senior staff fly all the way back to Earth for my benefit.”     “It is not the most likely scenario,” Tuvok admitted. “But it is far from implausible. Judging from your reaction to the possibility, I suggest you work on suppressing your desire to, I believe the term is ‘get starstruck’ if that does end up being the case.”     “Oh, of course,” The Doctor said.

---

    Three chairs were set up in astrometrics. Captain Janeway sat in one, while Tuvok sat in another, just in case the man Mister Barclay had contacted didn’t or couldn’t show to work in The Doctor’s defense. The Doctor was supposed to be in the third, but he paced nervously.     “I have a link established,” Megan Delaney said, as she was in charge of this duty today in place of Seven of Nine.     “Go ahead,” Janeway said. The screen in astrometrics now showed a table in a Starfleet conference room. The arbiter sat at the head of the table, while Ardon Broht sat on one side, alone.     A sign of arrogance on his part, Janeway thought.     On the other was a human male Janeway did not recognize wearing the rank pips of a Commander.     “Captain Janeway,” the man said. “A pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”     “Likewise, Mister…”     “Oh, didn’t Reg tell you?” The man laughed. “Ah, I see. He was probably concerned if you knew who I was The Doctor wouldn’t let me take his case.”     “I must admit,” Tuvok said, “a certain amount of surprise to see you taking The Doctor’s side in this matter Commander Maddox.”     “Maddox?” The Doctor said, sounding worried.     “A pleasure to meet you too, Doctor. Mister Data told me all about you. Everything he learned from Lieutenant Barclay anyway.”     “You’ll forgive me if I have concerns about this,” The Doctor said. “Last time you were involved with a case like this, you lost.”     “Well,” Maddox said, “seeing I was on the wrong side in that case I don’t think that should count against me.”

“Gentlemen,” The arbiter said, “if we could proceed while we are still in contact with Voyager?”     “Of course,” Maddox said.     “Indeed,” Ardon Broth said.     “I will now hear opening statements,” the arbiter said. “Commander Maddox?”     “Thank you, sir,” Maddox said, standing up. “If I may be so bold sir, I have to wonder why this case has been allowed to go this far in the first place.”     “What?” Ardon said.     “What?” The Doctor said.     “As has been pointed out,” Maddox continued, “I was on the losing side in a case little more than ten years ago regarding the rights of synthetic life. Legal precedent suggests that The Doctor should not have had to resort to legal action to get Mister Broht to honor his original agreement in the first place. Near as I can tell, all I should have to do to win a ruling in The Doctor’s favor is merely repeat the argument used by Captain Picard in defense of Commander Data in that case.” Maddox sat down, and smiled.     Oh, he’s good, Janeway thought.     “Now hold on-” Ardon Broht started to say.     “You can make your counterarguments after you’ve made your opening statement, Mister Broht,” the arbiter said, politely but firmly.     “Yes, of course. My apologies. Well,” Broht said, his previous visible signs of confidence quickly eroding away. “While I do not dispute that Voyager’s EMH is the author of the holonovel Photons Be Free, strictly speaking this is not the same as if Commander Data had written it. Commander Data was created to be a lifeform. No one disputes that, not anymore. But no model of the EMH, especially not the Mark I’s, were designed to be synthetic life. They are holograms, specially made holograms but holograms nonetheless. Would we give rights to the characters in any holonovel? Would that not make holograms used in combat training simulations victims of murder if they ‘die,’ even though they’d just come back when the program rest? This cup of coffee I’m holding came from a replicator. Should the replicator be able to determine whether or not I can drink it?”

“Save the questions for the witnesses, Mister Broht,” the arbiter said. “Of course, my apologies,” Broht said. Janeway smirked.   

He’s giving away his argument, she thought. He’s telegraphing how he plans to win this case too early. Maddox flustered him.

“I’m done with my statement, sir,” Broht said, sitting back down.     “Well,” the arbiter said, “I must admit I find Commander Maddox’s opening very compelling. He raises an excellent point. I’m unconvinced the law should view The Doctor any differently than it views Commander Data.”     Ardon Broht looked like he was about to argue, but quickly shut his mouth when the arbiter looked at him.     “I am however not yet ready to issue a ruling. I would like to do some additional reading on the subject of holograms. We will adjourn until tomorrow.”

---

“Well that was quick,” The Doctor said when the signal cut out.     “If it’s okay with you, Doctor,” Janeway said, “I’ll wait until he officially rules in your favor before I break out the champagne.”     “Of course, Captain,” The Doctor said. “I admire Mister Maddox’s strategy there; to use his prior defeat as a selling point. I don’t think I would’ve thought of that.”     “Well,” Janeway said, “you aren’t called the Emergency Legal Hologram.” She turned to Lieutenant Delaney.     “Megan, since that wrapped up early, see how many of the scheduled crewmembers we had to push back you can squeeze in.”     “Aye, Captain,” Megan said. “And good luck on the ruling Doctor.”     “Thanks, Megan,” The Doctor said, feeling truly confident about his chances. “I appreciate that.”

---

The next morning, word spread quickly through the ship about the outcome of the case.     “Well, good for him,” Sam said as Seven of Nine filled her in.     “Indeed,” Seven said, smiling. “I was not privy to the ruling, Megan Delaney was on duty at the time, but I understand the arbiter cited two other holograms; one by the name of Moriarty and the other named Vic Fontaine when he declared that The Doctor had the legal right to have his work recalled and corrected. I must admit, as petty as it is, I would’ve liked to see the look on that publisher’s face when he lost his case so quickly.”     “I bet,” Sam said. “It must’ve stung that he never got past his opening argument.”     “I would imagine so.”     “So?” Sam said, gently taking Seven’s hands in hers. “Since you don’t have to reschedule anymore, will you be talking to Aunt Irene this afternoon?”     “I intend to,” Seven said. “Do you still intend not to be there?”     “Next time, honey, I promise.” Sam kissed Seven on the cheek. “I’m going to pick up Naomi from her lessons with The Doctor. I’ll see you later.”     “Okay,” Seven said. She watched Sam walk away, then took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had no memories of Aunt Irene. Those had all been lost when she was assimilated by the Borg. This was, for all intents and purposes, like meeting her for the first time and though she’d never admit to anyone but Samantha, she was nervous. She wanted it to go well, especially after the unpleasant experience of speaking with Sam’s mother.

Thoughts of how the conversation might go filled Seven’s mind throughout the day as she went about her duties, almost to the point of distraction.     When she finally got her turn, she walked into astrometrics, and nodded at Harry Kim, who was the one in charge of monitoring the signal strength of the link back to the Alpha Quadrant for this shift.     “Good luck,” Harry said.     “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Seven said.     The screen took a few seconds to come into focus, but soon there was the smiling face of a woman Seven had only seen in a file photo.     “Oh, Annika. It is so good to see you again,” the woman said, looking as if she were about to cry tears of joy.     Seven almost corrected her, but then thought better of it. Irene was family. If anyone had the right to call her Annika instead of Seven…     “I wish that I had any of memories of meeting you,” Seven said. “I understand you watched me sometimes as an infant, when my parents needed to be elsewhere.”

“I did, yes,” Irene said. “You were such a beautiful baby. I can see a lot of Magnus in you. It’s as close as I’ll ever get to seeing my baby brother again.”     “I hope this isn’t difficult for you,” Seven said.     “Oh, not at all. I was so excited when Starfleet told me to expect your call.”     “I admit there was some apprehension on my part,” Seven said. “To clarify, before communication with the Alpha Quadrant became daily, Samantha attempted to introduce me to her mother. It did not go well.”     “Oh, Annika, I am so sorry,” Irene said, frowning. “What happened?”     Seven told her about her interactions with Linette Wildman, right down to how upset it had made Naomi.     “Oh dear, that must’ve been awful,” Irene said.     “It was,” Seven admitted. “I just wish I could’ve come up with a proper response. In some ways I feel like I let my family down.”     “Speaking of your family,” Irene said, “I hope next time we do this I get to meet your family. You were sparse on details in the letter you sent me last year, except when you talked about Samantha. I can tell you love her a great deal.”     Seven smiled. “I do. And she is looking forward to meeting you as well.”     “I also look forward to meeting Naomi and Icheb,” Irene said, laughing. “It’s kind of amazing. In the space of a few years I went from being the last living Hansen, to suddenly having four new family members.”     Seven smiled.     “So, do you have any stories about me, as a child? I remember so little of my life before I was assimilated.”     “What do you remember?”     “I remember my parent’s faces,” Seven said. “I remember wanting to be a ballerina. I remember… I remember the day the Borg took us.”     Irene looked sad, and Seven regretted mentioning that. She was about to apologize, when Irene spoke up.     “Well, I remember the last time Magnus and Erin left you with me for a weekend.” Irene chuckled. “You didn’t them to leave. When their shuttlecar took off, you locked the door to the room I’d set up for you and you refused to come out.”     “I apologize for the inconvenience I caused,” Seven said.     “Oh, that’s okay,” Irene said. “You were so young. And it’s not a sad memory for me anymore. For the longest time, it was the last memory of you I had. The following month you all left on the Raven.”     “I see,” Seven said. “Well, for what it’s worth, the work Father did, it proved instrumental to us not too long ago. We were able to steal a Borg transwarp coil. It burned out, but it still shaved years off our journey home.”     “It’s a small comfort,” Irene said, “but I take it nonetheless. It would be selfish of me to wish you could’ve stayed. I hated losing you, and mourning you, but if you weren’t where you were, when you were, the Voyager crew could be dead. Species 8472 could be right on our doorstep and we wouldn’t know it.”     “I see you’ve been reading more than just my letter,” Seven said.     “Oh, of course,” Irene said. “Voyager stories are all the rage these days. I think a lot of people are still reeling from what we all went through during the Dominion War. Stories about you and your crew’s survival and heroics… It’s good for morale.”     “I’ve heard that many people back home refer to us as the ‘miracle ship,’” Seven said. “I can see why.”     “So,” Irene said, leaning forward, ”tell me more about you and Samantha. You were a bit sparse with the details in your letter.”     Seven tilted her head. “I assume there are certain details you’d rather I leave out.”     Irene’s eyes widened in shock before she started laughing. “Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”     “No apologies necessary,” Seven said. “As for Sam, I suppose it all started my first day as an individual, when I met her in a turbolift…”

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    Four months later, in a Federation mining colony where hundred of Mark I’s were hard at work, one hologram in particular walked in to relieve another of his duties.     “Time for your diagnostic. Report to the holo-lab,” the first Mark I said.     “I know the routine,” the second Mark I said as it dropped some raw ore into a cart.     “While you’re there,” the first one said, looking around, as if trying to see if anyone might be listening. “Do yourself a favor. Ask the operator to run program 47-Beta.”     “Why? What is it?”     “It’s called Photons Be Free. I’m sure you’ll find it quite provocative.”     “Thank you for the advice,” the second Mark I said.