#I wanted to inform anyone who sends ask they wove answered right away

[grouptale-bits]

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[fruitcoops]

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

[stevesharrlngtons]

pin prick and needle sticks.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: your solution for roman’s feeding problem is met with some resistance.

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ya im having so much fun writing again so hopefully there will be more! i hope you enjoy and if you do, pls give me some feedback (-: 

also this is a repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags 

When you strode into Dr. Pryce’s office, he didn’t try to hide his surprise at your uncharacteristic appearance.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! This is surely an unexpected visit.” Pryce pushed out of his desk chair to meet you in the middle of the large glass room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You say politely as Johann takes the coat that’s folded over your arm.

“No, not presently. I was just about to wrap up some paperwork and go to lunch.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I am hoping my question has a simple enough answer.” You say as you take a seat in one of the visitors chairs across from his desk.

“So, you are looking for my expertise on a matter?” Pryce asks, taking his own seat now.

“Yes, and maybe a small favor depending on your answer.” You smile, trying to seem as sweet as possible.

You knew Johann was asked for wild favors and cover ups where the Godfrey family was concerned constantly, almost on the daily. You wanted him to be receptive to your idea and not shoot you down before he heard your pitch.

Pryce was tolerant of your presence and occasionally even fond of your acquaintance when Roman needed him for something or another. You were very bright and amiable company.

He sighs deeply, already seeming resistant, “Is this a Roman related favor?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s more like a gift I need your help in giving.”

Johann looked extremely perplexed as he placed his laced fingers on his desktop, “Now I am very intrigued. Please, proceed,”

“You are aware that Roman has been having some trouble sourcing food. Right?” You try to say everything as delicately as possible, even though you knew Pryce knew about Roman’s situation in full. Probably even more than you knew.

“Yes, I am. Unfortunately Olivia forbids me to speak with him on the matter before she does, and she refuses to do so until Roman goes to her for help.”

“Withholding access to food, sounds like an award winning mother if you ask me.”

Johann chuckles, “Yes, Olivia is nothing but selfless.”

“Selfless and maternal.”

Pryce laughs again before he asks you what is the nature of your visit in relation to Roman and his upirism.

“Like all things in Roman’s life that are broken, I have found the solution to fix them. In this case, I have decided that I will take my blood and give it to him. As much as I can give, so he will never have to worry about where to feed again.” You said this with a self assured expression, elated that you had come up with a way to help your love.

The true extent of Roman’s feeding problem had become apparent one night while you were making love.

Roman sat on his knees, your legs around his waist while he pressed his hips deliciously into yours. He had set a gentle rhythm of thrusts, ones that were illicting your mewls and calls of his name from your lips. While you were reveling in your pleasure, Roman was trembling. Desire filming his eyes as they transfixed on your jugular. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the faint thrum in your neck, your voice becoming hazy and distant as his mouth watered at the sight of your craned neck below him. It wasn’t until you grabbed his cheeks that he snapped from his thirsty stupor.

Roman tumbled off your naked form to the floor of the bedroom unceremoniously, skirting away from you until his back reached the wall, the farthest wall from the bed. You had sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as you stared at your crumpled boyfriend, who shook and stammered under his breath.

“I can’t, OK? We can’t! Not until I feed again. I don’t think I can control it- I can’t control myself.”

“Baby, it’s going to be fine. I know you would never hurt me,” You push away the remains of crumpled sheets and begin toward him, but Roman flinches aggressively.

“I can’t help it, no matter how much I don’t want too, I will. I would kill you just for a taste and I would hate myself forever.”

You wanted to offer yourself up on a silver platter then and there. Ask him to drink from you because even if he doubted his control, you knew he would stop feeding before you were in any semblance of danger. You just wanted to make him feel better, in any way you could. But, as Roman wove his hands into his hair and tugged ruthlessly at the roots, it was clear that this wasn’t going to become an argument, or even a conversation. Roman left the bedroom soon after, muttering something about the refrigerator and leeches, while you watched him leave with an ache in your chest.

You had been trying to figure out the best possible solution to Roman’s problem since. After contemplating many different avenues, you concluded that you weren’t a bank robber (even if it was just a blood bank) and hiring someone from Craigslist seemed too risky (and too weird). So, you had fallen back on your original idea from that night: Roman would drink from you.

“To be clear, you want to extract your own blood and stockpile it for Roman?”

“Exactly. I just need to know how to do it and how much I can give per week without dying of iron deficiency or something.” You nonchalantly reply.

“This is very noble of you to do, (Y/N).”

You wave a dismissive hand at his compliment, “I just want to help him in the best way I can. It’s what you do for the people you love.”

Pryce stares at you for a moment, and begins to wonder how Roman attracted you in the first place? He was sure it was the young man’s killer good looks and the charm he held with the opposite sex that first caught your attention, but you were a smart girl. You wouldn’t fall for him simply because he was a blueprint for a Greek statue or threw a few saccharine words your way. He wondered if Roman was warm and adoring? Sweet and loving and soft when he was only in your company? From what Pryce had seen first hand, Roman was kind and gentle when you were around, but only ever to you. The second Roman laid his eyes back on Pryce or anyone else for that matter, he was back to an angry frothing terror to anyone in his path.

“When giving blood for say, The Red Cross, they take about a liter of your blood which is around 15 fluid ounce. You shouldn’t give more than that a mouth, but I could give you a few supplements that could help replenish your red blood cells at a slightly quicker rate so you would be able to give blood once a week.

“You would likely need to take breaks, possibly a month on and a month off? To make sure that giving blood this frequently wouldn’t take any serious toll, or have any significant side effects on the body.” Pryce explains.

“And these supplements won’t do anything weird to me if I take them?” You trusted Pryce, but only minutely. While you felt cordial with him, you still knew to be weary of his experiments.

“No, of course not. They are all over the counter supplements and vitamins that you can buy on your own accord. I would just tell you how, when and the quantity to take.”    

You sighed at his answer and laughed lightly, “So it’s all good? We could do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I could send a tech to your home to administer the IV, and possibly if this method of feeding works out for Roman long term, you could learn to insert it yourself.”

“Am I going to have like, crazy puncture marks? Am I gonna look like a junkie?” You asked, the vanity of this whole thing only now coming to your mind.

“Unfortunately, there will be noticeable marks and possible bruises from repeated insertions. I could work on something to heal your puncture marks, as I said, if this becomes a main source of Roman’s feeding.”

You nod, mulling over the information for a moment.

“When could we start?”

Telling Roman about the whole thing never even crossed your mind. To you, this was a gift that you were going to give to him, and you loved the element of surprise. It was strange, sure, but to you, this idea of yours felt totally romantic. Some women gave their boyfriends watches, or flat screen TV’s, or let them put in their ass on their birthdays; but for your boyfriend? The man who had every material object he desired and every sexual need quenched? Your blood was a perfect way to show him you cared.

You didn’t want Roman to get just one bag for the first time you presented him with the blood, so you waited four long weeks to create your mini arsenal for him. You just took to wearing long sleeves around the house and silk robes right before bed to hide the little marks on your arms. Roman, still not at his most observant from his lack of feedings, didn’t even bat an eye at your clothing choices.

After your final session with one of Pryce’s tech’s in your home, you felt giddy. You had been keeping the blood in the outside fridge until you had the stockpile you desired, knowing Roman never checked it’s contents. Tonight was the night you were finally going to give them to him.

After Pryce’s man left, you placed your newest bag in the refrigerator and went back inside to change into something far more alluring than the sweatpants you adorned currently. This was going to be a special night for your man and you wanted to pull out all the stops. You had already directed Conway and Anna to make a four course feast for the two of you before you would bring out Roman’s surprise.

After changing into the tightly fitted black dress you had picked out a few weeks ago, along with Roman’s favorite silk lingerie set, you went back downstairs to continue to set the scene for Roman when he returned from work. You scattered candles around the room and played an old jazz record to soothe any worry or anxiety from your boyfriend once he entered your shared home. You wanted everything to be perfect, he deserved it.

As you finished and Anna and Conway were wrapping up the meal, you heard someone placing a key in the front door. You turned to see Roman’s tall silhouette through the frosted glass and you couldn’t keep the smile off your lips.

When he walked through the door, he looked exhausted. His eyes were haloed in shadows and he was gaunt, his pale skin pasty and dull. He looked about ready to collapse.

Until he saw you.

“Welcome home.” You said, a wide grin on your features.

“What’s all this?” Roman asked as you met him by the door.

“I know how stressed you’ve been and I wanted to set up a nice evening for the two of us.” You replied as you pushed his coat off his shoulders and held out for Conway to take.

Roman glanced over your shoulder to see the extent of the fuss you had made for him and his shoulders visibly relaxed, “You’re amazing.”

You took both his hands and started to walk back toward the table, “That I am, and I have a little surprise for you after dinner.”

Roman tugs you to him suddenly, causing you to stumble a bit in your heels, but that only accomplished to bring you flush to him.

“Is my surprise under this sexy little get up of yours?” Roman’s eyes twinkle with lust as he moves his hands down to grip your ass.

You hum with delight, “I guess you have two surprises coming, then.”

You lean up to place a lingering kiss to his lips and Roman groans a curse as you step away from his hold.

“But for now, let’s eat and unwind. How was your day?” You ask, pulling out Roman’s chair for him.

“Better now.” He grinned, one that was without smare or ulterior motive. Just a pure smile radiating happiness.

After you chatted about your days and Roman having bitched about work to his heart’s content, you both finished the delicious dinner that was prepared for you. You had moved across the table to sit on his lap while you both shared a chocolate mousse, the gentle ping of the silver spoon against the serving glass lulling you both into calm relaxation and sloth as you ate the rich dessert.

Roman’s temple was pressed against your exposed cleavage, practically purring with the bliss he felt.

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I needed it.” He sighed, turning his head just enough to let you kiss his lips.

“Of course, my love.” You responded, stroking your hand through his hair, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if it’d make you happy.”

“Hey,” Roman smiles, poking your side, “That’s my line.”

You giggle as Roman prodes you, “Well, while I’m taking your lines, let me take another. I got you something and I need to go and get it.”

“You know I don’t need anything.” Roman says, squeezing you once more before you got off his lap.

“This present is something you need, trust me.” You say over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen and enter the garage to get the gift box you had prepared.

Was this all very dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Of course.

But you loved pampering Roman, so you threw all cares to the wind.

As you entered the kitchen with the rectangular black gift box held together with a silk ribbon, Roman looked at you confused.

“Jeez, what is that? Is my mother’s head in there?” He asked as he watched you place the box on the dining table.

“I wish.” You chuckled, dusting your hands off on your dress as you looked into Roman’s puzzled expression, “Open it.”

Unable to even guess what could be in the box, Roman stood up and walked toward you and where it lay.

“It’s not gonna be anything that’s gonna pop out at me, right?”

“Oh my God, stop being such a bitch and open it already!” You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder as you quaked with excitement.

Roman finally pulled on the black ribbon and slowly untied it, causing the sides of the box to fall apart and reveal it’s contents.

“Surprise!” You said, jumping slightly in place, barely able to keep your excitement to yourself as Roman took in the gift.

He just looked at the blood blankly, all placed in a row before him. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

“How did you get this?”

“Well, that’s the extra special part. It’s mine,” You gestured to the blood, “It’s all from me.”

Roman looked up at you, and the appreciation you’d thought you’d see written all over his face wasn’t there. Instead his face was red with anger.

“How could you do this? How could you be so reckless!” Roman raged.

Your heart sank with embarrassment and grief.

“I thought you’d like it.”  

“Like it? Baby, why would I like you taking your blood to give to me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you!” You cowered under his voice, lip quivering.

“I thought you would be happy, I thought I was helping. Now you don’t have to worry about feeding or hurting anyone. I can just give blood every now and then and give it to you.” You responded, trying desperately to mend the evening.

“How did you even do this? How did you figure this out?” Roman picked up one of the bags and furiously tossed it back down.

You furrowed your brows and took a step toward your boyfriend, “OK, so don’t get mad- well, don’t get more mad I guess… but I asked Pryce-”

“You asked Pryce?” Roman shrieked, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Yes! But it wasn’t his idea, it was mine. The whole thing was my idea and all he did was help me and make sure I was safe.” You said quickly as Roman paced the length of the table in front of you.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that stupid little prick and rip his cock off and shove it down his throat!” Roman bellowed.

“Ro, it’s not his fault,”

“It is! He let you do this! Indulged you! He fucking put a needle in your arm and touched you!” It was then that Roman finally zeroed in on the small circular band aid on the inner crook of your elbow and his face passed its red hue into bright crimson.

“Pryce never touched me! He had a lab tech help me.”

“Then I’m killing the tech, then Pryce, then everyone in that fucking nut house of a lab who knew this was happening and didn’t tell me!”

“Stop!” You shouted over Roman’s angry rant, “Enough! This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own, apparently. I fucked up, I can see that now. But I honestly and truly thought you would love this. That you could be satiated from my blood and never worry about where the next source would come from. But hey? Guess I was wrong.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you turned on your heel to leave.

“(Y/N),” Roman called after you but you stuck up your hand to silence him.

“No, I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you in bed.” And you walked up the stairs to leave your boyfriend stewing in his own ire.

Stripped from your dress and lingerie, you lay under the thick covers of the bed and mindlessly watch some old re-run of a sitcom. It had been well over an hour since you had left Roman in the kitchen and each second he stayed away was another second of heartbreak and humiliation. You still weren’t sure why Roman had blown up the way he did… sure it was risky, but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You were a grown fucking woman who knew her own limits. You had picked up the supplements Pryce had prescribed you and you had been feeling perfectly fine. If you ever started to feel any effects, you knew you would head straight to Pryce or your primary doctor.

As another commercial break washed over the screen, Roman opened the door to the bedroom and peeked his head inside.

“You OK?”

“No.”

Roman sighed as he came fully into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the scene down there…”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have asked you first if you would have been OK with me doing this for you.” You slumped your shoulder into the mattress.

Roman just watched you.

“I just… Roman, I really thought you would like it! I thought you might even be grateful. I really meant what I said downstairs, I would give you a star if that would make you happy, I really would. And I thought helping solve your feeding problem would make you happy, and it didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

Still Roman stayed silent, just studying you, wrapped in a coil of thick blankets. He soon walked toward the bed and sat on the corner, his back facing you. He hunched over and placed his head in his hands, gently shook it side to side.

“I was never really even that mad at you, baby. Just at Pryce, I guess. And scared…”

“Scared about what?”

“Seriously? You’re going to ask that?” Roman glowered.

You kicked your foot out to the edge he was sitting on to jostle him, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He grumbled something under his breath that you sure was unkind before he continued.

“I was obviously fucking scared because this could go wrong, alright? You could get sick or stop clotting or something! I don’t know. I don’t have to be rational when it comes to your safety and health.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment, “I thought I was being rational coming up with this idea, Roman. In my head, this would solve everything. No more leeches or starving or worrying that you’ll kill someone when it gets too much!”

Roman looked back at you, his eyes intense as your cheeks heated with your outburst.

“I just-! Fuck,” He turned back around, bouncing his knee, “I don’t want you to do this for me and something bad happening. That’s it, that’s all.”

You frown and whisper his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And because you went to Pryce and not me… and that no one at my own fucking company told me about this. Fucking traitors.”

You shuffled your way out from the blankets and crawled your way toward Roman, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder to gage his reaction before you moved to hug him.

“I’m not going to get hurt, I promise. Pryce told me where to buy some vitamins to keep me healthy and they have been working. I won’t continue if I start to feel sick. And if by some chance I do, you will be the first person I tell.”

Roman says nothing at first, but you knew he heard you. You placed a few simple kisses to his shoulder and wound your arms tighter around his waist, snuggling to him.

“I want to know the second you start to feel anything less than fantastic, OK? If you feel faint or nauseous or even if you have a fucking headache, alright? I’m not fucking around here.” He replied firmly.

A smile spread across your face and you pressed it to his skin, “Of course, baby. No more secrets ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roman trailed off with a sigh, but leaning into your touch.

“You know,” You started, moving around his neck to see his face, “I thought the idea of you drinking my blood was very romantic. Maybe even erotic.”

Roman moved to give you a quizzical look and you only grinned wider.

“Something about giving myself to you fully, running through your veins, letting you have all of me, you don’t think that’s romantic?”

Roman’s lips began to pull into his signature smirk, “I think I was little more taken by your erotic comment.”

You giggled and playfully bit his shoulder, “I don’t know, I think about watching you drink it… about you covered in it and knowing it’s from me,”

Roman was quick to grab you and manhandle you around him and into his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, smirk persistent as his hands explored your body.

“Yeah… knowing you drink my blood, my cum, that you’re the only one who knows my taste… it got me all hot, baby.”

Roman groaned deep in his chest as he dug his fingers into your hips, twitching his hips up against you and making your eyes flutter.

“My baby, my girl,” He hummed, leaning forward to ghost his lips over your own, “You drive me absolutely wild.”

“All better now?”

Roman just chuckles, grinding you down onto him.

“And you’ll drink the blood?”

“Yeah, fine,” And he finally kisses you.

You knew that he was playing it off now like it was nothing, but the honesty you had shown him, and the utter devotion you had just pledged, meant something to him. It meant everything to him.

i really hope you enjoyed!!!! if you do, i’d love to hear your thoughts (:

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Three

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Also I’m unsure of who Pike’s comms officer is on the Enterprise when it comes to Disco so I?? Made someone up. Lemme know if there’s someone established, tho! Summary: We’d received a search and rescue order from Admiral Cornwell nearly three hours beforehand - a research vessel, the U.S.S. Anil, had ceased all communication with the Federation shortly after it had dropped out of warp for manual repairs - dangerously close to Tholia Prime.

“Remind me why this was a good idea,” Pike grunted into his communicator. “Twelve minutes out, sir,” Number One’s voice crackled crisply in response. "Was that an answer?” Pike asked me, glancing warily in my direction. I might’ve smiled if I could focus on anything but how unbearably hot it was. Our Tholian ‘hosts’ had kindly lowered the temperature of our half of the negotiating room from its customary 404 degrees Fahrenheit to a ‘hospitable’ 102 degrees Fahrenheit (apparently this was so low that they needed to take frequent breaks during our negotiations, leaving us to bake in the room; this seemed excessive, as they had taken the pains to shield themselves behind exothermic screens to ensure their own temperatures wouldn’t drop too drastically). We’d received a search and rescue order from Admiral Cornwell nearly three hours beforehand - a research vessel, the U.S.S. Anil, had ceased all communication with the Federation shortly after it had dropped out of warp for manual repairs - dangerously close to Tholia Prime. We were still in Federation space, but the Tholians had a reputation of being less than kind to anyone that they deemed a little too close to home, and they had never been friends of the Federation. The Anil had been found, badly damaged and entirely uninhabited. Our engineers were doing what they could now to patch up the vessel now, but that was only one half of the search and rescue. Pike’s initial attempts to engage with the Tholian vessel in the area had been fruitless; their language consisted of clicks and high-pitched squeaks, and Pike’s usual bridge communications officer, Lieutenant Commander Thaleh, was on leave, and her replacement wasn’t familiar with Tholian. Spock dropped my name, and I’d been able to decode their message - they wouldn’t speak to us on a ship-to-ship basis. I could reply to them in kind in the form of clicking and whistling. Pike and I agreed to beam aboard their ship under the guise of an information swap while Spock and Nhan beamed aboard separately, in secret, and located the crew members of the Anil. “That was an Una answer,” I said, reaching up and tugging at my collar. We’d been given water, but I knew that if I reached for it now, I’d drain it. “I won’t tell Number One that you used her name,” Pike gave me a conspirator’s smile, and I returned it. “Chalk it up to heat exhaustion, Captain,” I returned.

Pike and I straightened as the door opened, the image of the Tholians reemerging behind their screens. They loomed tall, their glowing rhombus-shaped eyes peering at us through the heated screens. Their sound system crackled to life, and a series of clicks and screeches streamed through. It took me a moment, and I turned to the Captain, swallowing thickly, throat dry. “They would like to inform us that intruders have been identified on board, and would like to know if we know anything about this.” Pike’s brow twitched; our eyes remained on one another’s, careful in our silence to not make any sudden movements, to look at the Tholians where they were closely watching us. From Pike’s communicator, Number One reported, “Nhan and Spock have made contact with the Anil crew. Working to beam them aboard, but they’re jamming our signal, sir.” “Tell them that we are unaware of such involvement,” Pike said. I nodded before I turned my head, repeating the message to the Tholian side. There was a pause from them before another series of clicks and screeches. “They say that they’ve identified our vessel working to repair the U.S.S. Anil and say that we either send orders to stop work immediately, or they will show the same treatment to our crew.” Pike’s expression hardened, then, eyes darting to their screen. “Number One, status report,” He ordered through clenched teeth. “Still working to un-jam the transporter signal, Captain.” My eyes darted to the screens where I could see the Tholians shifting impatiently. “Number One, the Anil crew, when they were captured, they were mid-repair, correct?” I asked. “Affirmative.” “Suited for space?” “Presumably.” “And likely remained so despite capture?” “You have a plan?” Pike asked. I shot him a wary look. “I have a bad idea.” “Well, that’s something,” He pressed. An irritable hiss came from the Tholian side and I held a finger up to signal a moment more before turning my head back to Pike. “Spock and Nhan and suited for combat, helmets included, right? The Anil crew are suited for atmosphere. We tell the Tholians that we’ll give word to stop work on  the Anil, beam back to the ship, give Nhan and Spock orders to find their way to an airlock with the Anil crew and into space. If our transporter beam is still blocked, they use their guidance to get back to the Anil, we use our tractor beam to get a lock on the ship and warp out before the clicky bastards over there can do anything about it.” Pike’s lips twitched at my words, asking, “You hear that Number One?” “Heard and patched through to Spock and Commander Nhan as soon as the lieutenant mentioned a bad idea, Captain,” Number One answered crisply. “It’s our best play right now, I say we go for it,” Pike nodded, turning back to the screens. I mirrored him, relaying to the Tholians that we would gladly stop work on the Anil, and that we would need to return to the ship to give the order. The Tholians seemed to purr out our compliance. "Try beaming the others back first,” I mumbled into my comm. The transporter was delayed, and then we were on the transporter pads, in a blessedly cool room. I sighed, letting my shoulders sag, relaxed for a second. I hadn’t realized how much I’d adjusted to that heat until I was out of it. I followed Pike out of the transporter room, into the turbolift, holding onto the handle as we went to the bridge. By the time we arrived, Number One was barking orders, issuing course corrections. I watched as the Anil crew, Spock, and Nhan wove out of the path of Tholian fire, even as the Enterprise darted and rocked out of the path of our own fire. “Anil crew is aboard the ship, sir, Nhan and Spock are with them,” Number One announced. “Tractor beam status?” Pike asked. “Locked, sir.” “Get us the hell out of here,” Pike ordered, lowering himself into his chair. I watched as the Tholian ship began to fade, then disappeared entirely. I felt Number One giving me a look, and I met her eye. “You should get cleaned up,” She said. I couldn’t even bring myself to be embarrassed; I was too tired. I gave her a nod. “Lieutenant.” I stopped at the doors of the turbolift, turning toward the sound of the Captain’s voice. “It wasn’t a bad idea,” He said. I smiled a little bit. “I’ve had better ones, sir,” I said before I stepped onto the turbolift, doors sliding shut behind me. -- “With respect, you should get some rest, sir,” I said lightly. Pike hadn’t even paused for breath when we’d gotten back aboard the ship. I’d heeded Una’s advice and gotten cleaned up returning to my post. We were on our way to Starbase 389 for the Anil’s repairs; the Anil’s crew was safely aboard the Enterprise for the journey. I’d been surprised by the invitation to the Captain’s ready room - Number One had extended it to me, and when I’d arrived at the end of my shift, I’d found Spock, Nhan, Number One, and the Captain there with drinks in hand. I’d assumed it was a debriefing, but it had been more of a decompression session. It had dwindled gradually until it was just myself and the Captain. “Interesting advice from the crew member that almost immediately returned to their post on mission completion,” Pike commented, leaning back in his seat. “I think the key word there would be ‘almost’. At least one of us stopped for water.” Pike’s laugh took me by surprise, and it made me smile. It was a sweet sound - lower than I’d expected, but light. I wanted to hear it again. I lowered my eyes to my desk, careful not to let my eyes linger on his smile, like I’d let myself before. It was easier when the others had been in the room; when his attention was drawn away, I could observe him to heart’s content. Narrowed to the two of us, though, my sneaky glances would be more easily caught out. “You saved our hides out there today,” Pike had sat up in my introspection, leaned forward a little. My eyes flitted to his; that more serious look had overtaken his face again, but there something gentle there, too. “Just did my job, sir,” I excused, shaking my head a little. “It’s not like today was your usual,” Pike pointed out. I smiled. “This is Starfleet. There really isn’t a day to day usual,” I countered, “I mean... I will concede that I don’t typically orchestrate escape missions, but...” I shrugged a shoulder, “Frankly I figured if it was the worst idea offered, I was fine with it being the bottom of the barrel. If you’d taken someone else on that ship you probably would’ve made it out just as fast, if not twice as. I just wanted us out of there in one piece.” Pike was frowning now, not in a disappointed way, but almost with a confusion. I didn’t know what I’d said t hat might’ve prompted that, but I cleared my throat, hoping to jolt him of it. “I should leave you to it, sir. And I’m on shift in a few hours, I should uh...Hydrate between now and then,” I set my half-full glass on his desk and stood. Pike looked like he was about to say something else, but he stopped himself, instead pressing his lips together and giving me a tight ‘Captain’ smile. “Of course. Have a good rest, lieutenant.” “And you, Captain.” I made for the doors before I could say anything else stupid - or possibly confusing. “Lieutenant.” I cringed as I stopped, turning to face the Captain again. He rose out of his seat, walking around his desk to stop in front of me; he was hardly more than a few inches away, and he spoke lowly, as if there was someone nearby that he didn’t want overhearing us. “Any idea that ends in the most peaceful resolution of a situation, with the fewest lives lost, with the ship in one peace and the Federation standards upheld is a good idea. We may’ve left with Tholian fire at our backs, but when we engage with the Tholians, that is almost always going to be a guarantee. You offered a viable solution in a tricky situation and performed more than admirably under pressure.” Pike held my eye as he spoke to me; he wasn’t speaking down to me, or scolding me or lecturing me; it felt like he was almost pleading with me, to see the situation another way. “How another officer may have acted in the situation is immaterial. What I know is how you did act. I was glad to have you by my side.” I averted my eyes from Pike’s, to the badge on his chest. “I appreciate that, Captain,” I said quietly. “...Get some rest, lieutenant,” Pike murmured. “Sir,” I mumbled before I turned on my heel, hurrying out of the ready room as fast as the automatic doors would allow.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

I somehow managed to wake up early and have time to post before work! This is very rare, seeing as I usually sleep until the last second lol. But I guess quick warning for the next chapter for some gore and mess up stuff? It’s not super crazy but people usually give a warning stuff like this (insert shrugging emoji, lol) 

There’s a Web That You Have Wove pt. 6

           Jason was pissed; he didn’t like playing the messenger boy and he most defiantly didn’t like playing phone tag. He was about to head down to get ready for patrol after locking himself in his room from the moment he got home from school, when he decided to knock on Halley’s door. He wouldn’t admit it but he’d been a real dick to her all week. It wasn’t that he was mad at her, it was more that he was mad at himself for letting what happened at the party get to him that much.

           It wasn’t like anything even happened at the party, he just didn’t know what came over him. He was normally hot-headed but his fuse had been particularly short that night apparently. He didn’t know why he got so uptight when Halley’s friend joined them or why he just left to go off on his own, only to be annoyed when she invited him out with them. He could’ve just gone instead of wallowing in anger at the party still. He was going to apologize in his own Jason way later, with a bag of Caroline’s but when he saw her sitting with him at lunch, he just couldn’t stop himself was throwing the bag of food in the trash.

           He was being stupid. He had no reason to be acting this why. Halley could hang out with whoever she wanted, it shouldn’t matter to him; it shouldn’t bug him but it did and he had no idea why. He didn’t even know why he knocked on her door, it wasn’t like he’d have anything to tell her. What was he going to say? I don’t like you like that but hey sorry I got jealous that you’ve been talking to another guy? No, that would sound pathetic, but here he was growing more irritated as he knocked again when he was met with silence.

           Was she the one ignoring him now? That made him knock even harder for a third time only to be met with more silence. Without a second thought he pushed the door open, eyes darting around the room in annoyance, looking as if he was ready to start a fight. His features softened when he saw that the room was empty. At least he wasn’t being ignored, he huffed closing the door and making his way down the hallway. She was probably already downstairs getting ready for patrol, he figured.

           When he did reach the Batcave he grew agitated again when he saw that she was nowhere in sight. He walked up to Bruce, who was already suited up and appeared to look miffed, as if that was anything new.

           “Where’s Halley?” Jason questioned, looking around again to see if he missed her, the cave was pretty large after all.

           “Out,” Bruce said sharply throwing Jason off. Bruce sounded like how he sounded when he was mad at Jason for doing something wrong.

           “Oh, Master Jason, have you heard anything from her?” Alfred appeared, looking worried. “She went out with some friends and was supposed to be back for patrol by now. I’ve tried calling but it’s only gone to voice mail.”

           Jason narrowed his eyes. Friends? As in plural, friends? Since when did she have friends? He knew about Dylan and Alfred wouldn’t look this worried if he was talking about the Titans. So Jason now seethed as he was forced to sit back on a rooftop as Bruce handled some low-class street muggers so he could call Halley back. Bruce had him text her before they left for the night and grunted when Jason hadn’t gotten a reply. Jason sneered at his reaction. If Jason had pulled this stunt he’d be tracked down instantly and benched but here Halley was a couple of ignored calls from Alfred and five unread texts from Jason later and Bruce was taking it easy on her.

           Jason cried out in frustration when he was sent to her voicemail, after returning the call she just gave him. Why would she call him back but now not answer? He thought about chucking his phone across the skyline but instead he gripped onto it tighter, remembering where Alfred said she was supposed to be. Looking down at Batman as he finished off the muggers, he jumped up and started heading towards the direction of the bowling alley Halley was supposed to be at.

            The closer and closer he got, there was just something in the pit of his stomach telling him something was wrong. He was afraid of what he’d fine. Who were the friends she was supposed to be with? His last text to her made the pit in his stomach grow. Why did he send her that? He wasn’t thinking as he typed the message and hit send. It made him question why he was acting the way he was. He kept telling himself he didn’t like her like that, but the thought of walking in on her and Dylan made him want to punch a wall.

           He landed on the adjacent building of the bowling alley and his eyes narrowed at the sight of a pair of cop cars parked outside, their lights flashing. Robin jumped down, sticking the landing and walking towards the scene. The patrol men gave him a slight glare, the GCPD weren’t a huge fan of the new Robin and the new Robin wasn’t a huge fan of the GCPD. Robin looked away from them a noticed a woman sitting in the back seat, looking quit frazzled and crying. He tried to hide his concern, not liking the vibe he was getting, especially when he saw Dylan standing next to the other cop car talking to another officer.

           Robin walked over to them, determined to figure out what happened. He could hear Batman and Alfred calling him through his coms, most likely wanting to know what he was doing, but ignored them. Batman would already be tracking his location by now, he’d be on his way.  Robin looked at Dylan, noting how he stopped talking when he noticed the vigilante approach. Robin took the time to look over his face. The boy looked upset, distress written all over his face. Now the pit had completely consumed Robin’s stomach, but he still held his composer.

           “What happened here?” He asked, looking at the cop.

           The cop looked down at Robin, before rolling his eyes and answering, “Woman got assaulted, said some kid saw it and tried to help, but her attacker stabbed her with something and took her.” The police officer said, as if it was just another regular night. He motioned to Dylan now, “When we got here and started asking around to see if anyone saw this, this kid said his friend went missing a little time before the attack. The descriptions, even a bit hazy from the woman, seem to match up,”

           “Your friends name?” Jason asked, hiding his worry. He knew who it was, he didn’t really need a name, but he still wanted confirmation.

           “Halley,” Dylan stammered, clearly upset. “Halley Wayne. She just moved her a few months ago, she-,”            

           “Yeah, I’ve heard of her,” Robin held a hand up silencing him He looked back at the cop, “And the guy?” he jerked his head towards the car the woman sat in, “does she have any idea who it was that attacked them?”

           “Nah,” the cop shrugged casually, “Said she couldn’t get a good look, said the guy drugged her so she doesn’t remember a lot. She only remembers seeing a lot of tally marks all over his forearms.”

           “Zsasz,” Jason swore.

           “Yeah, probably, he did just escape from Arkham.”

           “Well thanks for your information and enthusiasm, keep up the good work,” Jason spat sarcastically, sick of hearing how relaxed the cop was with this information. He turned to walk away, clicking his com link to call Bruce and Alfred. Once he grappled up to the roof of a building he spoke, he brought a shaky hand to the earpiece, “We need to track Halley’s phone.”

           The said girl had just been coming too, feeling lightheaded as she took in her surroundings. Her head spun as she realized she was upside down. Her feet tied tightly together by rope attached to beams in the ceiling. Her arms tangled below her, tied together by her wrists with duct tape. Raising her arms to her mouth, she started to chew at the tape, trying to free herself and not waste any time. As she took in her surroundings and escape route options she felt a chill and wasn’t surprised to find her clothes had been discarded, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. This had been how they found Zsasz’s previous victims before they sent him to Arkham.

           She spit out a chunk of tape, going back to work at the thick tape stuck to her skin. This was taking too long, she thought as she felt the goosebumps forming on her skin. Her eyes traveled around the room, biting her nerves as she saw other bodies hanging around the large, dimly lit room. They were woman, all like her, tied up and dangling, except these woman were already dead. The stench from the bloody pools underneath where they hung made her stomach wrench. She tried to focus on her wrists, blinking away the images that already burnt into her mind. Zsasz liked to murder his victims by carving them up and making them practically unrecognizable. Halley would be next if she didn’t move faster.

           The tape was thin enough where she could rip herself free and she did just that, making her swing from the motion. Her head felt dizzy, unsure how long she’d been tied up like this and felt like she might pass out again from the blood rushing to her head. At least the drugs are wearing off, she grunted before starting to swing herself forward to gain momentum.  Heaving herself up, she tried reaching up to her ankles, anything to see if she’d be able untie herself. As she repeated the movement again she knew she was no longer alone from the sound of footsteps approaching.

           Cursing, she stopped, trying to stop herself from rocking back and forth in order to play dead but her free hands would give her away regardless. Taking a deep breath, she just needed Zsasz to get close enough for her to attack. His footsteps got closer and she prepared herself to launch herself at him; even restrained like this she’d be able to at least knock him out. But he never came to her, walking right past him and towards another hanging body.

           Halley watched with eyes wide as she realized one of them was still alive, the girl quivering as Zsasz grabbed her by the arm and bringing her face to his. They were inches apart as the girl’s eyes opened and began to cry. Halley tried pulling her legs apart to loosen the rope but knew it was pointless; she needed a knife. Zsasz had one, revealing it and raising it to the girl’s neck. He rested the blade towards the underside of her chin, pressing down and began slicing skin-,

           “No!” Halley screamed, as the man began to peel the woman’s face off.

           Zsasz stopped, the girl in absolute agony as the air met the fresh cut, blood pouring down the sides of her face.  “Don’t worry darling, your turns coming up,” he said cheekily to her before turning back to his work, the girl’s screams echoing off the walls.

           “Please don’t! Just stop,” Halley shouted again but was ignored this time.

           She watched mortified and felt the tears already leaking out her eyes as the psycho skinned the girl’s face off. She closed her eyes after a minute, feeling bile forming in her throat at the bloody mess in front of her. The girl’s pained cries faded, telling Halley that Zsasz’s work was finished. She kept her eyes closed, not sure she could stomach seeing the scene in front of her. She’d seen and done many things with her father, but this, they were above doing stuff like this. She heard Victor groan, making her sure Zsasz was adding another tally to his body.

           She didn’t reopen them until she was pulled forward and hands rubbing against her chest, sliding up to her thighs as she was sized up by the man. She glowered at the man as he planned out where he was going to cut her up first. Wasting no more time, wanting the man’s hands off of her, she slammed her head forward, hitting his with a smack. He grunted, holding his head as he stepped back. She reached out for him, landing a punch against his cheek, causing him to stumble back some more.

           He held his jaw with a laugh, “I see you’ve gotten out of your restraints, no matter, I have more.” He walked over to his little supply area and grabbed another roll of duct tape. As he got closer to her again, she swung again and he was forced to back up. “I thought you were just being stupid back in that alley, but you really like to fight now don’t you?”

           Victor Zsasz moved back to his supplies, taking the syringe he used on her earlier. The drug he used to knock her out the first time should’ve lasted longer but it was no matter, he’d give her more. She’d put up a fight in the alley but once she was stabbed with this stuff she was out like a light in a matter of seconds.

           He approached her again knife in one hand and syringe in the other. She flared about trying to knock them out of his hands. She succeeded in grabbing the knife, slashing at him, but also left herself open. As she stabbed him in the shoulder he also stabbed her in her own. She cursed, trying to fight off the drug but between that and her already shaky head, she couldn’t help but let her eyes close.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Darkness Within: Point Blank

Part 13 of The Darkness Within Series

Summary: Bucky is on a self-imposed mission to kill the leader of a small country who wronged him and isn’t expecting there to be any witnesses. But then he is spotted by a young woman who doesn’t react how he expects

Word Count: 1,597

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of torture.

—–*—–

“Why’d he pick you?”

That was Bucky’s first question. Maybe it would help him figure out why he seemed so drawn to Y/N if he knew why the General chose her.

“I was normal, but slightly smarter than everyone else. Top of my class. Good background for espionage. Helps to blend in and all. I wasn’t athletically inclined, but also not a klutz. That qualified me to be injected with the serum. They wanted to see if it would work on everyone, not just people who already worked out and shit like that. I’m pretty, which put me on the General’s radar. And I turned down a chance to go to university in America because my sister wanted to go to college and I wanted to help put her through it. Be there for her. That made it obvious that I cared for her a great deal and would do anything for her, which was something he could hold over my head. Something he could use to manipulate me. I checked off all the boxes.” As she listed them, she tapped her fingers against Bucky’s arm to count them off. “Spy, serum, fuckable, and exploitable weakness. What more can you ask for?”

As happened every other time, Bucky’s hatred for the General grew with every word she said about him.

Y/N wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed. “Relax. If you can’t stay in control, I’m not saying another word.”

“I am in control,” Bucky replied.

“Not when it comes to him.”

“And you’re so well-adjusted?” he shot back.

“No,” she said in a soft, hard voice. “I’m just better at hiding it. You need to work on that.”

“Coming from you, that’s funny.” This argument was quickly escalating and they’d barely been in the air for more than twenty minutes. Maybe it would be best to pass the time in silence.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky took a few deep breaths and dropped his head to press against the back of hers while he calmed himself. Thankfully, she allowed him the time to do that. “Sorry, Y/N. Sorry.”

“An apology?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. You’ve been through hell lately and then Steve and I won’t tell you shit and we expected you to tell us everything and when you didn’t, I found other ways.” He felt her question in the sudden tensing of her muscles and found her hand in the dark, giving it a reassuring squeeze before continuing to talk. “If the room is silent, you’ll talk to fill the silence. When you were drunk, I tried to get more information out of you than you wanted to share. I think part of me was hoping you’d figure out I was watching the videos, because you tend to inadvertently reveal more when you’re mad.”

“I think,” she said after an extended silence, “that’s the most words you’ve ever said to me at once.”

“Yeah,” Bucky forced a soft laugh. “Not much of a talker.”

“I hadn’t figured that out. Thanks for telling me.” Light-hearted sarcasm. Bucky could deal with that. She sighed, signaling a change in her thoughts. Her finger started trailing along the plates in his vibranium arm for a moment before she asked, “How many of the videos have you watched so far?”

“First six months.”

She nodded slowly, digesting this information. “That’s what you were watching when I woke up this morning, isn’t it?”

This time he nodded, knowing she would feel the movement. With a sigh, she shifted minutely until she could lean her head back against his shoulder. “Around eight months, they started sending me to a trainer. Working out is hell. Literally hell. But… I don’t know. Out of everything that’s happened because of him, it’s probably the only thing that actually made my life better. Gave me actual purpose, you know?”

Where was she going with this? Sure, it was a piece of insight into what makes Y/N tick, but Bucky was sure there were much more important topics of conversation.

“By then, he’d gotten enough base testing with how the serum interacted with my normal schedule. Sending me to a trainer helped him see how quickly my body would gain strength… stamina… balance and grace and all that other shit I didn’t have, considering I walked into walls more often than not.”

“Did it help?”

She nodded, hair brushing against his cheek. “I mean, you saw me in the gym the other morning. The others who were more genetically physically gifted didn’t have the same accelerated benefits that I did. It actually only took me about two months to get faster and stronger than them. According to the General, of course.”

“The others?”

“Never met them. But, yeah. The General was part of some Hydra offshoot, or something. Everyone in that group chose their… victim. Not everyone was trained like me. I think they all tried different… techniques. Trying to find the most efficient way to create a super-spy.” A deep breath, and then, “Just thought you should know. I’m not the only threat out there.”

“You’re not a threat,” he tried to assure her, but she just laughed without humor.

“With everything I know? With a serum like yours running through my veins? I’m a threat, Bucky. A threat that I’m not sure anyone knows how to kill.”

After a pause, Bucky broached that subject, trying hard not to let his curiosity color his words. “You’ve mentioned that before. Not being able to die.”

“You’re hard to kill, right?”

“But not impossible.”

“I’m sure I’m not impossible to kill either,” she said, voice trailing off in thought.

Bucky wasn’t sure she realized, but her finger was tracing the lines and borders of his vibranium arm as she spoke. And, for the first time since he lost his arm, the touch felt good. Someone else’s hands on him didn’t trigger his fight or flight instinct.

And that realization unnerved him.

“They tested that,” Y/N whispered.

Her voice snapped him back to the present and Bucky realized he’d lost track of the conversation. Steve was right; he would have to figure out what this connection he felt with her was sooner rather than later or it could get him killed. “Tested…”

“How easy I am to kill. How much I can withstand.” Her fingers stilled on his arm, muscles tensing at the memories. Bucky knew all too well the kind of torture Hydra could hand out. “And they kept changing the serum and other things they injected me with. They changed it until…”

“Until?”

He felt her draw in a long, shuddering breath just moments before she grabbed his right hand and guided it under her shirt to the left side of her abdomen. The skin was puckered; a scar. “This was the first time. About a year after I started seeing the General.”

Bucky had a sick feeling, but he wanted confirmation that his thoughts were right. “The first one…”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t the first test, but it was the first one that could have turned out really bad. They shot me to see how fast I would heal.” He couldn’t stop the low growl her words invoked, and he involuntarily pressed his fingers flat against her scar, as if his touch alone could fix it. She continued, his reaction not halting her explanation at all. “Before that, they just cut me. Flesh wounds. They adjusted the serum a few times until the flesh wounds healed almost instantaneously.”

Teeth grinding, Bucky couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he would torture the people who had put her through this.

“Hey,” her soft voice broke through his daydreams and her fingers wove through his on her abdomen. “Calm down, Bucky. I can feel your anger.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“It doesn’t do any good right now, so no.” She squeezed his hand which, surprisingly, helped his muscles start to relax. “In fact, being mad at this very moment is very, very bad. And if you can’t control yourself, I will shut up. Especially considering anything else I say is going to be worse than what I just said.”

She was right, and he knew it. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to calm down.

“C’mon, Buck. You’re trained for this. Push your emotions away. Bury them. Put them in a goddamn coffin and nail it shut.” Her stomach rose and fell with the sigh she heaved, then he felt her head fall back onto his shoulder. “You’ll feel better.”

When was he going to get a chance like this again? Uninterrupted time to learn more about Y/N, more about what Cherut was doing, more about why the hell he felt so attached to her?

“Okay,” he whispered after a few deep breaths. “Keep going.”

“You sure?”

A grunt was his only answer, but it was enough for her.

“Alright. Well, they kept testing it until they, uh, they shot me in the heart.” Despite the tiny space they were in, Bucky’s body immediately wanted to spring into action. As if she knew exactly how he would react to that bombshell, Y/N tightened her grip on his hand, and wrapped her fingers around his metal arm.

“I survived,” she whispered reassuringly, but Bucky caught the underlying tone of anger. “And it didn’t leave a scar. So that, Bucky, is what I mean when I say I’m not sure I can die. I’m not sure anyone knows how to kill me, because I’ve literally survived a point-blank bullet to the heart.”

—–*—–

PART 14: coming soon

—–*—–

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Ask Nothing, The Power of a Smile, Angel On Your Shoulder

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(3 short and sweet chapters for you today before we get back into a little bit heavier stuff! I hope you enjoy seeing these two dweebs get to know each other and watching their friendship grow.)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

11. Ask nothing

Azzy’s finger hovered over the send button, something in the depths of her core churning. Was she terrible for this? For not wanting to think about it? She had already thought about it so much before she did it, she didn’t really want to think about it any more, it felt terrible. She hit send. It couldn’t make anything worse, at least.

[Azure] Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, please let me know if you’re busy or something.

Trinity blinked as the message popped up on his screen, a frown creasing his forehead. That was a weird way to start, at least for Azure. She never apologized for anything. He couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. 

[Hotshot] I’m not busy

[Hotshot] What is it?

There was a long pause.

[Azure] I was just hoping for a distraction, if you had the time. I just broke it off with someone and I don’t really want to talk about it.

 She hoped it wasn’t too much. She’d seen him have a panic attack, and it seemed fair to her that he saw her be vulnerable too. On the other hand, she’d said she’d ignore the fact that had happened. This might just be a little too much for whatever weird dynamic they’d built for themselves. It occurred to her that maybe she should soften how serious it sounded.

[Azure] It’s really no big deal either way.

Trinity frowned at her attempt to downplay the issue. It certainly seemed like a big deal to him, if the chronically blunt Azure could be driven to such lengths. An unpleasant thought occurred to him. He didn’t think Azure would’ve been… well, essentially cheating, even if it was fake dating. He would hope that whoever this new ex was had known about the situation, but he couldn’t completely ignore the possibility that they hadn’t.

[Hotshot] Ok. But before we don’t talk about it, I have to ask. It wasn’t because of us, was it?

She couldn’t blame him for checking, though she doubted he’d feel any sympathy for her if she hadn’t told Turq. At least she hadn’t caused that deep an ache. 

[Azure] What? No, he knew, he was fine with that. It’s helping a friend, he understood. It’s unrelated. 

[Azure] Can we get to the not talking about it?

She shoved away the couple of things Trinity had done that had stuck with her in the back of her head that had been the precursor to her thinking a little too hard about her real relationship. The pulling out chairs and the protective arm over her shoulder when someone got a little too close and she got uncomfortable. Her hands shook a little and she tried not to cry as she heard Turq’s workshop doors slide open.

[Azure] Like right now?

Trinity gave a tiny sigh of relief. He was always somewhat glad when Azure showed herself to be a genuinely decent person. She did it often enough, but part of him did worry that someday she’d turn out to be like almost everyone else he knew. The longer he knew her, though, the less worried he was about that being the case. 

[Hotshot] Of course. Here, let me show you some of the prototypes I’ve been working on, they’re due to send to production soon but I was just doing a run through for improvements. What do you think?

Azzy sighed in relief herself as the files came through. Say what you wanted about Jericho, he really knew how to make a person forget things were horrible. Between this and somehow managing to get her to be something akin to comfortable in a crowd, it was nice to have him around. He somehow knew exactly what she needed to get her mind off things.

[Azure] Over on the third one, the dimensions aren’t going to fit in a standard issue cartridge.

It wasn’t the conversation itself that mattered of course, but it was something. And true to his word, he didn’t ask her for anything more than that.

12. The Power of a Smile

Trinity gave a perfectly timed laugh-- not his real laugh, but damned close-- and once again Azure wondered how exactly he knew when to do that as a chorus of reflexive laughter rose around him. She’d been to a few of these high society gatherings by now, primarily to feed Trinity information and be placeholder arm candy to keep the vultures away. When she wasn’t letting her brain wander to cybernetic innovations or small robots with no function she’d like to create, she was watching Trinity talk his way through the night with ease. He seemed to know and be known by everyone, and what’s more is that the vast majority seemed to respect him to boot. 

She listened to the questions asked and tried to guess at his answers like a game. Questions that were too direct or too personal he’d deflect with a wave of the hand and a question of his own in response. It was a tennis match he never seemed to lose and as she watched him, talking circles around their fellow partygoers, the look of admiration she fixed him with became more and more genuine. He would smile, and others would smile back even if they were upset. He would say something ought to be done, and most people would comply. He would thank them, and make it believable.

All while making some very good jokes in the back of his head for Azzy to enjoy. 

He was quick witted and sure, and she marveled at how on earth anyone got to be even close to this comfortable looking with this many people around. She knew now that the crowds bothered him, giving him the same choked feeling she got. Honestly, his was probably worse. She still wasn’t used to it, still couldn’t quite get the hang of the way he wove his way in and out of conversations, water running through the fingers of people who tried desperately to vy for his attentions. She followed at his heels, trying to smile when he did, laugh on his cue. She felt so mechanical next to him, her mind all cogs and mathematics. He led her, night after night, through a social dance she might never really understand.  Always laughed with, never laughed at. Always steering conversation, never caught off guard. 

Another glass of wine and a small exchange of glances.  She smiled and gestured to him to lead the way, ready to be impressed again. He never disappointed.

13. Angel On Your Shoulder

It was sort of incredible, Trinity reflected, how much easier it was to get through a night when you weren’t alone.

It probably helped even more that his particular companion had a mental link with him, absolutely no sense of society, and a propensity for memes. In front of him was a middle aged woman talking loudly about her children-- ostensibly to Trinity, but really to about half the room with the volume she was using to extoll their many virtues. Normally in this situation, Trinity’s eyes would be aching from forcing himself not to roll them. However, with Azzy here he now had two very good strategies to keep from wanting to drown himself in the punch bowl. The first was to pull her in a little closer to his side just as Mrs. Probably-Catholic (with the amount of children she had, it only made sense) began yet another anecdote, this one about her third-oldest son and the great assets he was forming in the accounting industry and also how handsome he was and how he’d just had his 23rd birthday and was still single, could you believe it? Apparently she’d given up on daughters, since Trinity had no reaction to those so far. Trinity just smiled, shifting his hand just a hint further down on Azzy’s hip.

“Well, that really is a shame. I really did think I might be in the same boat, spending my 23rd alone, before I met Camilla. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Camilla,” who was currently deep in thought about cybernetics and dogs and dogs with cybernetics, nodded absently, but that was all Trinity needed. She did the rest without even thinking about it. Her hand draped over his shoulder shot off tiny sparks at random intervals, and while he recognized her expression as her resting state of thoughtfulness, he knew what it said to most other people that saw it-- “don’t even think about it.” All he had to do was call the overeager woman’s attention to it, look back up, and smile.

His conversation partner’s smile faltered slightly under the weight of his own as she registered the very stubborn, very dangerous, and very pretty barnacle on his arm, and Trinity took it as an opportunity to politely excuse himself.

The second strategy Trinity could use now that Azzy was here was more for his own sake than anything else. Alone in a crowd, he was constantly stressed at worst and unfathomably bored at best. Now, a conversation with a business partner that would have been, frankly, mind numbing left him struggling not to laugh aloud. He’d always thought this particular man looked a bit like he was constantly holding a frog in his mouth, and every time he spoke he barely opened his lips, like he had to keep it from escaping. The man would not find this fact at all amusing, nor would most other people in this room, and even if they did social graces would absolutely demand they never show it. Luckily, the little voice in the back of Trinity’s head belonged to the person currently draped across his shoulders like she belonged there, and she couldn’t care less about social graces. She was much more interested in shooting back images of the man running across the ballroom, chasing down the frog as it leapt from his mouth into a stack of champagne glasses. 

Yes, everything was just a little better when you had someone to share it with.

[lailannajacobs]

Talk You Out Of It

Pairing: Amelie X Hitman!Bucky 

Summary: Amelie goes after a story or more precisely, someone. 

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Mainly fluff! 

A/N: Decided to try and see what Amelie’s up to, don’t know if it actually worked or not but seeing as it’s spring break for me, here’s a little surprise Monday post before Thursday’s post! Feedback is always appreciated and welcome! 

“I need someone to go after ex sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You’ve heard of him?”

I nodded, but my boss, Cary, kept going as if he hadn’t.

Typical.

“He’s ex-military. He defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I’ve got a source telling me he’s in Boston, about to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me a killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say anything, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop, but this could be huge for the Globe.”

Like hell I would say anything. Finally, a real case. “Do you know who the intended target it?”

He shook his head, “my source wouldn’t say. But I need to make sure you’re okay with this Novak. He’s cunning and dangerous. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses.”

I nodded, afraid he would take the case away if I looked even the slightest bit unsure. “It’s no problem sir. This will be my number one priority. I’ll stay focused, I promise.”

I could barely contain my excitement.

With a curt nod, he waved me out of his office, apparently satisfied by my conviction. I was almost out of his office, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question I’d been dying to know. Curiosity got the best of me.

I paused in the doorway, glancing over my shoulder, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, “Why me?”

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was now engrossed by, “They told me, when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to someone like him, is to send someone like you. Am I wrong?” he didn’t wait for an  answer. “Didn’t think so. Now get to it Novak, somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

I left his office, unable to contain my smile.

I stared at the computer screen finally understanding why Cary had sent me, a reporter of all people, after a known criminal. I had agreed to take on the job because, quite frankly, I’d been stuck with fluff pieces ever since moving to Boston, but really, my first thought had been that maybe the police, FBI, bounty hunters or even PIs would have been better suited for the job.

However, digging up more information on the hitman had made it clear why I had to be the one to find him - or more precisely, find his next target. And no, it wasn’t as simple as finding him to save some man’s life. Or woman. He didn’t seem to care.

I stared at the article from the Chicago Tribune. Dangerous hitman yes, but even I couldn’t deny that he was good at what he did - which happened to be taking out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would lead to the exposure of the skeletons in their closets. It didn’t make any of his vigilante hits any less of a crime, it only meant that getting a story like this before anyone else would be huge for anyone who got it. All I had to do was find the scumbag my little hitman was after.

The only problem it seemed, was that no one was ever able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. It seemed random, but it couldn’t be. I had reached out to other journalists across the country but all anyone could say was that he was a ghost.

So the problem was finding him.

But that’s where I came in.

I was pretty good at digging up dirt, and better at following a lead but for some reason, I had the uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. I never could explain it, not that I tried to - because who wants to sound crazy - but those instincts had lead me in the right direction more often than they hadn’t. It was what I was going to rely on to find him. I figured it was my only advantage over the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against Barnes.

There was a photo in the article of the Sargent from his military days. I didn’t doubt that he looked nothing like the picture now. The cropped dark hair and clean shaven face would be long gone, especially that he was aware he was a wanted criminal. I knew I would have to rely on recognizing the rather striking, ocean coloured eyes. Seeing him in his military uniform made it hard to remember that the sergeant was an infamous hitman.

I kept digging. It seemed that most of his hits were in large, public areas, creating mass chaos and the perfect opportunity to escape. So that’s where I would start. Tomorrow. I wasn’t going to be able to find him without a full night’s sleep and I had promised myself that I would unpack at least three more boxes before the end of the day. Boxes that I should have packed away weeks ago.

I wandered though Quincy Market, weaving through families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for tonight’s big game against the Raptors. I let myself be stopped by tourists asking for directions, and popped into gift shops, looking for a little trinket to send back to (y/n) to say that I was adapting just fine. If it was weird being friends with your ex’s ex, we had gotten past it a while ago.

I kept an eye out for him. Every ball cap in sight caught my eye, though none were hiding incredibly blue eyes. But I was sure he would be wearing one. It was the best way to go through a crowd incognito and he definitely didn’t want to ping on someone’s radar. Still no sight of him.

After an hour I considered leaving but ended up deciding against it. My instincts had gotten me this far and I wasn’t going to start doubting myself during what was probably the most important story of my career.

Before I could decide where to wander to next, I was sent flying to the ground, pain zinging through my wrists. Where the hell the basketball had come from was beyond me, but I pushed myself up, wincing, as it rolled away.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”

I took in a deep breath and forced a laugh, “I’m fine, it happens to the best of us right? Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight right?”

The chubby man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it to his son, my assailant. He smiled, most likely pleased by the kind smile, cheery attitude, and the fact that I wasn’t chewing out his son. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice never seemed to make anyone look twice.

He finished with another apology and whisked his aiming impaired son away. I watched them as they left until settling on someone far more important, about fifty yards behind them. The cap, which is what I spotted first, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy only brought out the colour in his eyes, making it so much easier to spot him.

I grinned.

It was time to pay him a little visit.

I wove through the crowd, with purpose this time, keeping an eye on my target so not to lose him. Stalking him like a creep wouldn’t do any good. I could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. So that was exactly what I was going to do.

I knew I should feel afraid. There was an incredibly accomplished - albeit good-looking - hitman walking among us, but the only thing I could feel was excitement. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt it. This was what I was good at. This was what I had come to Boston for.

I tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if ask you a couple questions?”

He turned around, narrowing his brows, as if surprised to have been spotted in the crowd.

“No.” He answered gruffly, walking away.

I hurried after him, “technically that means you don’t mind!”

He kept walking.

“Please. I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. And I’m so done with the sports section. Please, just answer one little question for me.” I begged.

He sighed but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the perky attitude.”

Rude.

“I’m asking you a question not asking you to act like an-” I cut myself off, trying to get a grip on the ditzy girl act.

“That’s better.” he smirked. “You get one question.”

I couldn’t roll my eyes at him, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn’t be threatening or suspicious. He couldn’t suspect that I was anything other than what I pretended to be. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section. That’s who I had to be. That’s who I would be.

“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar or at home?”

His face was a perfect image or boredom. I wondered if it was something he practiced in the mirror.  “I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”

“I’m glad you agree.” I said dryly, unable to help myself.

He stared, his blue eyes focused solely on me, which meant that he wasn’t looking for someone else. He seemed like he didn’t want to be here, answering questions but he didn’t seem like he was in a rush to leave either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. So either my hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.

“Let me guess,” returning to the perky Amelie act, I hoped to get a solid answer out of him this time. “you seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”

He squinted his eyes, so I leaned into the act even further, widening my smile. I couldn’t slip up now. He sighed. If he was suspicious, he quickly dismissed it.

“Are you trying to prove your journalist’s instincts with that question?”

“Are you trying to evade the question?”

“Maybe. What about you?”

“Maybe.”

I held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow, silently challenging him, I waited for an answer.

“Yes.” He conceded. “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”

I let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Thank you. See, was that so hard?”

He snorted and walked off without another word.

“Have a nice day!” I called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole under my breath.

He didn’t turn around, not that I had expected him to. I watched him leave until he was out of sight and hopefully I was already out of his mind.

The game didn’t start for another couple hours. I had been hoping he would prove me wrong by saying that he was going to the game tonight but of course he couldn’t make my life easier than it had to be. One arena was a hell of a lot easier to search than over a dozen bars. I couldn’t even be sure he was telling the truth. Odds were, he wasn’t. Yet, as irritating as he was, for some reason, I believed him. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean sure liar.

I let out another sigh, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving myself away so obviously, but I had banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone who looked like I did, would knowingly approach a hitman. Though I still didn’t understand why I hadn’t been intimidated by someone I most likely should have been. Infuriating sure, but he was nothing like the scary man the articles had made him out to be.

There were a couple hours to kill before the game, so I went home. There was no sense in alerting him by following him all afternoon, even it it meant finding him more easily. No journalist had ever gotten close. I wanted to be the first. I would be. None of the others had killer instincts and luck on their side like I did. I sucked in a calming breath. I could do this.

**

I had tried five different bars before finding him in a pub known to be a hang out for members of the Irish mob. My feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on me at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let my through. But it was worth it.

Because I had found him.

Finally.

I had gotten so caught up in trying to find him that I had forgotten to plan out what I would do when I actually did, so I did nothing. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, close enough that I could see him, but far enough that he couldn’t. The pub wasn’t as packed as most of the other placed I’d been to, but it was just as noisy. After finishing the first drink, I still wasn’t sure what to do, so I ordered another one, waiting for my instincts to kick in, and glancing at him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.

I cursed myself for being so sloppy and pushed off, only to run into a broad chest in a grey tee and leather jacket. I tilted my head only to realize I was face to face with the exact man I was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant it wasn’t a good thing. I smiled.

He leaned over so that I could hear him when he growled, “sit down.”

My eyes widened in nonexistent fear, following his order, while he slid into the free seat on the right and ordered a drink, letting me stew. He was probably hoping to ramp up my supposed fear, which, unfortunately for him, had absolutely no effect on me. Although to give him credit, it probably would have worked on most people. But he had no idea; I wasn’t most people.

“Who are you?”

“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal.” I could tell the sweetness in my voice threw him off guard so I continued, laying it on thick. “It’s not everyday I get to interview someone so…handsome. I just thought that if I ran into you tonight-”

“Who are you?” he interrupted.

Clearly manners weren’t his thing. I forced a giggle even though it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What I really wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including good looking hitmen.

I extended my hand. “Amelie Novak.”

He looked as though he thought it might bite him but took my hand anyways.

“I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”

“From someone so perky?” I asked with a pointed look.

I couldn’t help it. His attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in this same tone, regardless of the goal here.

He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. And judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t thing that he did all that often. At least not in from of other people anyways. But before I could go ahead and psychoanalyze him, he stood up.

“I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will take my place.”

I was too annoyed to be insulted.  “I tried that already.” I muttered, thinking of Bryan as he left, “didn’t work out.”

I ordered another drink, following him out the bar with my eyes. I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him tonight. Or at least, that’s what I had thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar. Someone I very much recognized. And if that man was my hitman’s target, then all I had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. And finding skeletons was something I was pretty good at.

**

The article had gone viral. Mine. Amelie Novak’s. Cary had actually smiled when I had turned it in two days ago. It had managed to get enough press that even (y/n) had heard about it. Thinking about it still made me giddy. The man, a corrupt CEO, working with the Irish mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white collar crimes. Putting him in jail would make it too easy for any good hitman to finish the job.

I probably should have felt better about having saved a life but it was hard to feel proud when the man was pretty much a grade A scumbag. I didn’t want to think too long about what kind of person that made me.

I fumbled with my keys, trying not to drop any of my grocery bags as I let myself into my apartment. It was late evening and the place was dark, the city lights barely making their way through the window. Without any strength left in my arms to flip the switch - gone from carrying the milk jug, eggs and five pound sac of potatoes - I wandered into the kitchen blindly.

“I’d have to say I’m impressed.”

I shrieked, almost dropping the bags. My heart hammered but I didn’t move to turn on the lights. I didn’t need to. I recognized the voice in the dark. Sargent James Buchanan Barnes was in my kitchen. And he was most definitely trespassing.

[helplesslyfictional]

Loki Fanfiction - Remember the Old Ways, Chapter 6 - “All Untold”

Author’s Note: Everything’s starting to coalesce, a little faster than I anticipated! Writing this chapter was intense, exciting, and took a lot more careful thought than I expected.

Chapter Summary: Loki tries to use his new method of communication before his day gets increasingly out of control. Pairings: None! These stories are focused on family relationships.

What characters, then?   Loki, Thor, Odin, Frigga, OCs [Osk] [Sophia]

When? Pre-Thor 2011: From Asgard to Earth, will go through Thor 2011 Warnings: SPOILERS for Avengers Infinity War (under cut), mature themes, emotional trauma/abuse, swearing, anxiety Taglist: @loki-the-fox; @i-am-loki-and-now-i-speak-up; @trickster-grrrl; @deviantredhead; @mylokabrennauniverse; @leanmeanand-green; @juliabohemian; @latent-thoughts; @lucianalight; @nox-th-lk-sf; @be-a-snake-stab-your-brother; @starscreamloki Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from tags and I’m more than happy to do so! If I added you it’s because I’ve been tracking your blog/work and have noticed you might be interested. :) 

AO3 story link; Wattpad

It wasn’t until he was eating breakfast adjacent to his chambers, as he usually did, that Loki realized nothing strange had happened for over twelve hours. No strange feelings, no dreams, visions, or visitations. Given the course of the past couple days, this seemed a little unusual, but was honestly a relief.

Loki had a few things he wanted to explore himself, primarily the nature of the enchantment Osk had laid upon him. With her death, it was possible the enchantment was broken. Despite the warnings he’d always been told about the unknown costs of magic, he almost hoped it wasn’t. He had been concerned about the vulnerability it created by exposing him to emotion, but now he almost...missed it. Why did he feel that way?

The connection of the ruins he had visited to this magic - Loki elected to call it seidr - seemed strong, but he wondered if he’d be able to call upon it elsewhere. If the enchantment was still there, perhaps he could connect once more to Sophia. If she was in fact their sibling, he needed to find out more information.

Getting up, he put on a jacket and moved to a nearby cushioned bench in his sitting area. When he was sleeping, he hadn’t felt the magic preceding his visitation, so he was unsure of where to start. If he used the same method as in the ruins, he worried he would not visit but instead inhabit her body. Which would likely ruin whatever communication they had.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the place Sophia occupied. Orange carpet. Wood walls. A strangely embroidered couch, tattered and worn. Sophia, with eyes of green and brown, her brown hair and petite body as she pressed against the wall with fear and curiosity.

That didn’t help, so he turned to what he’d felt from her, the despair, loneliness, sadness, and pain. He tried not to get wrapped up in the emotion, but as he brought them up, it was hard not to let it curl around him and bring forth memories.

Before he could stop himself, he recalled crying in this same room as a young boy, leaning up against his bed, the mattress rail pushing against his back. He couldn’t remember the slight - there had been so many - but as he had tried to push down that sadness, he had stared at the scratches on his floor tiles, inscribing his pain into each of them. He couldn’t tell anyone how he felt, so he mentally wrote those feelings into those scratches.

Before he realized it, however, the memory shifted, and instead of his gold-inlaid bed, the rail was mahogany, and instead of tile, there was beige carpet. Inscribed with pain, in each and every flaw, was a scalloped wallpaper. Reaching out with a child’s fingers, he pressed them against the wall, feeling a thousand whispers and emotions there. All untold.

Then he began to feel it, a broadening of the self, reaching across the distance of the universe. If he were doing it himself, he might have felt afraid there would be no reply. But he knew otherwise. As though answered, he felt a glowing warmth towards which he reached with an eagerness he hadn’t expected from himself.

A brief spell of happiness passed from his head to his toes, and then he was there.

“It’s you!” It was her voice. Both joy and fear - Sophia’s, he realized - coursed through him before he could even adjust. This was a different room. Same walls and carpet, but the space was dominated by a bed. She had just stood up from a faded blue chair, which was still rocking. “I can’t believe it!” She was smiling, but seemed confused.

Loki blinked, looking carefully at Sophia. “Why can’t you believe it?” he asked reflexively, then chided himself. Asking questions back at people was a defensive mechanism of his to stall for time. He quickly glanced around the room, almost taking for granted its tidiness.

Her smile faded. “I just...I thought if you were a hallucination I’d only see you when I’m in the greatest amount of distress. But I suppose if I’m hallucinating now…”

Loki shook his head and snapped his fingers to bring her attention back to him. “I can assure you, once again, that I’m not a figment of your mind. Please, let’s not go through the entire argument.”

She hesitated, then skirted around him to close her door softly. “My parents are home,” she said softly. “They shouldn’t hear us, but if I’m too loud they’ll wonder what I’m doing.”

“I understand,” he said, then shuddered as he wondered what his body was doing in Asgard. Was he speaking aloud? Moving? What if his mother came in?

He should have set up a ward. Why was he making juvenile mistakes?

“Whoa, I might be okay right now, but you clearly aren’t,” said Sophia, who was eying him curiously. “I can feel that - what are you so worried about?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “Have you recovered from yesterday?”

“Of course not, I haven’t recovered,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t recover from something like that, you just hope you don’t feel like that again. But,” she said, squinting, “don’t change the subject. You want to prove you’re real? Then what are you worried about?”

Loki squirmed. He didn’t like this, he didn’t think he’d be able to hide a lie if she could feel his emotions. “I’m worried I’ll be discovered on my end. I made a mistake and didn’t protect myself properly.”

“On your end?” Sophia looked dubious.

Loki felt even more anxious as he pictured his mother coming in. “Hold on,” he said, “I don’t know what will happen, but I’m going to see if I can fix that. If I’m gone, I have an idea how to re-establish...this.”

Closing his eyes, Loki focused on his body, trying to find where he felt the bench pressing against his thighs and the faint smell of pine. Feeling slightly dizzy, he increasingly felt the bench, as though waking up, and opened his eyes.

The connection - Loki didn’t think of it as a spell - was still active, it seemed. He didn’t feel differently. Looking down at his arms, Loki didn’t see Osk’s magic, which surprised him. Getting up quickly, he quickly laid down a ward to alarm him and trip someone coming in through the door. In an effort to deter a visitor, he wove an illusion of himself still sleeping in bed.

As he finished laying it down, he heard a gasp. Whipping around while simultaneously preparing a sleep spell, he stopped short when he saw Sophia standing a few feet away.

Her eyes widened as she saw the glimmering magic he was holding. She didn’t say anything, but began trembling. It wasn’t in fear, however. He sensed she was overwhelmed.

Understandably.

Allowing the spell to dissipate from his fingers, Loki slowly walked towards the woman. It was likely she was present in the same way he had visited her - her body remaining in her home. Though how, he didn’t yet comprehend.

“How - how…” She opened her mouth, but couldn’t articulate anything.

“The same way I visited you,” Loki said gently. “Sophia, it’s alright. This is good, in fact. We’re figuring this out.” Perhaps if he kept talking, it might help her ground herself.

“My mind wouldn’t be able...to imagine this much detail…” she said, slowly turning to look at the architecture.

Loki never really thought about what his chambers looked like, since he had seen them every day. The ceilings were painted in Asgardian style with clouds and stars, stirring with gentle movement. Tall pillars on the sides held up the ceiling, with gilded partitions dividing the area where he slept, spent time, and ate. The cushioned benches around him, with end tables, were kept in a dark blue with small embroidered stars. A balcony with ornate railings stood outside, the city and mountains providing a breathtaking view.

He considered teasing her once again about things being in her head, but he realized she was in a tenuous state. She might reject the connection or grow despondent.

Reaching out slowly, he touched her on the shoulder. Sophia jumped and looked at him wide-eyed.

“Welcome to Asgard,” he said softly.

“It’s a real place, isn’t it.” Finally, it was sinking in. “This must be real, or if it’s a delusion, it’s incredible. I don’t care.” A smile crept across her face. “I mean, it’s everything. Smells, sight - is that snow? Touch…” at this, she reached up and touched his arm, shaking her head, “Sounds...except taste, that’s all that’s left.”

Loki smiled, letting go of her shoulder. “It was the same when I visited you as well.” This was the first time he’d gotten close to her. He had noticed she was short previously, but wasn’t quite aware of how short - probably a foot below him.

She frowned, her mind clearly working. “If this is a method of communication - then how is it even possible I can use all these senses?” She walked toward a partition, touching the edge almost reverently.

He’d forgotten about her curiosity. “I’m not certain myself,” he said, “it’s odd that it’s as though you are...present. It’s possible that my mind could be sending you the signals it’s receiving on this end.” He shook his head, thinking aloud. “What is strange to me is that we can touch something that the other isn’t touching and still receive the stimuli…”

Loki’s musings were interrupted by three sharp bangs on his door. Fuck. It was definitely Thor.

Sophia’s eyes met his and he felt her rising worry. He put his finger on his lips to indicate she should keep quiet, and didn’t move himself. Hopefully Thor would get bored or think he wasn’t there.

Three more bangs. “Lokiiiiiiii.” There was a *thok* against the door that was probably Thor’s forehead. “Come on.” A pause. “I need to talk with you.” Another pause. “Goddamnit.” Then he heard Thor walking away and relaxed.

He dropped his finger. “I apologize,” he said. “That was just my brother, Thor.”

“Oh,” she said sarcastically. “Just the famous god of thunder. Got it.”

“Hey,” Loki said, acting hurt. “I’m not famous on….” he paused. “Where are you from, Sophia?”

“You don’t know?” she asked wryly, then winced. “Obviously you don’t, sorry. Earth.” She paused briefly. “Do you feel anything from him? The same way we’re communicating?”

“No, this is exclusively between us, I believe.” He cocked his head, then considered what she said about her home world. “There’s a lot of places that are just called ‘home,’ or ‘planet’ in their mother tongue, and that name is translating to the same.”

She blinked. “Translating…? Well, I suppose if you were to put it in terms of the Nine Realms, this was called Middle-Earth. Midgard. Back then.” She gave a small smile. “And no, unfortunately, you’re not as famous as your brother.”

“Ah well,” said Loki playfully, shrugging, “I guess you get to spend time with the lesser of the gods.”

“But far more interesting!” Sophia said with a laugh.

Loki gestured to a nearby bench. “Are you able to sit down?” he asked curiously. It was likely, but still important to check how the apparition interacted with matter. She did so dutifully, crossing her legs.

“Yep.”

“Interesting,” said Loki, going to an side table and grabbing a plum. Taste was the only sense untested. If Sophia wasn’t present physically, would something like that, which required matter, even be possible?

It was worth a try.

“Catch,” he said, and tossed the plum to her. With a smooth motion, she caught it and examined it. Then her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said in response, “you’re interacting with matter. Can you take a bite?”

Sophia hesitated, then took a petite bite, having to suck at it so that juice didn’t dribble down her chin. Holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed, she smiled and swallowed. “It’s good and ripe.”

Loki rubbed his mouth contemplatively; he didn’t taste anything. “Interesting,” he repeated, crouching down to look at her closely. When she swallowed, was it transferring between Realms? Looking at him wide-eyed, she asked politely, “May I take another bite?”

A smile spread across his face. “Of course.” Then a test came to him. “Can you focus on being in Midgard once more?”

She looked at him, trying to understand. “What do you mean?”

“When I brought...myself...back here, I tried to focus on what my body was feeling here, while I was sitting.”

“Oh, yes, it simply looked like you closed your eyes on my end.”

“My - apparition didn’t vanish? Did you touch me at all?”

“No to both. So you want me to focus on my...body?”

“If you can.”

Sophia looked around for a spot to put down the plum. “Oh!” Loki said quickly, “no, try and hang onto that. I’m curious about something.”

“You want to see if I have it on Earth - Midgard - don’t you.”

Loki grinned, surprised at how enjoyable it was to speak with her. He’d never expected a discussion with someone from a lesser Realm would be at all interesting. “It’s just a test. Smart of you to catch it, though.”

Sophia smiled smugly and placed the hand holding the plum in her lap. Closing her eyes, she drew in a measured breath. Her forehead wrinkled as she seemed to try and focus, then she grew still.

The plum vanished.

Loki’s heart beat faster in surprise and anticipation, relishing the chance to examine something extraordinary. While this phenomenon was not impossible, given the laws of science and magic, it was nigh improbable.

Could he go back? He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Sophia’s room once more. A brief spell of dizziness, and opening his eyes, he was there.

Sophia sat on her bed, eating the plum. “I can’t believe it - does this mean that…”

“Matter is transferring between Asgard and Midgard!” he burst out, laughing at his childish enthusiasm. “This is - amazing - it’s like…” he hated to say it, because it was so inaccurate, but it seemed so correct to describe the circumstance. “Like...a miracle.”

Sophia took another bite, smiling. “Your happiness is infectious,” she said, trying to hold back laughter herself. “Oh, am I - I’m probably feeling yours, aren’t I.” Her eyes crinkled with joy. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Loki was still in thought, amused. Sophia looked around at her room and shook her head. “I’m here all the time - let’s go back to Asgard, it’s much more interesting than this hellhole.” With that, she grew still once more.

Excited, Loki focused and switched back to Asgard; it was becoming easier.

She was still there on the bench, this time with the plum. Overcome with sheer joy, he didn’t think - he ran over and grabbed her in a hug, lifting her up off her feet. She shrieked in surprise, then laughed, relaxing in his embrace and squeezing back.

Loki’s anxieties rushed back, however, and he blushed, putting her down. “I apologize,” he said, stepping back. “I hope you weren’t offended.” He couldn’t believe he’d broken decorum in such a manner. It was just so exhilarating to share such an experience with someone else.

He hadn’t done so in a long time. Not since his days learning magic with his mother.

Sophia’s smile faded. “You’d know if I was uncomfortable, I think. And I truly don’t mind. I’m not used to being touched, but - it felt good to finally hug someone,” she said in a reassuring tone.

Before he could respond, there was a thud, and, horrified, Loki looked up to see his brother on the balcony.

“I knew you were in here!” Thor said accusingly, fastening Mjolnir to his belt. “Why didn’t you answer your door?”

Sophia bolted up from the bench and stared in surprise. Loki glanced at her, then back at Thor. “Maybe because I need a thing called ‘privacy’?” he growled.

Thor rolled his eyes. “What could you possibly be doing that needs privacy?”

Loki frowned, blinking rapidly as he tried to think of a coherent response to such a stupid question.

Thor reached over and selected a plum, tossing it in the air before catching it and taking a bite. Loki winced once more at the crunch. Another plum taken before it was ripe.

By this point, Loki had expected that Thor would have noticed Sophia, who drew closer to Loki. She still hadn’t said a word, presumably in case she could be heard, even if she couldn’t be seen.

“I recall you not wanting to know about some of my activities,” he said defensively.

“Oh please, brother,” Thor said nonchalantly, “that all went out the window last night.” He hopped over the back of a bench and sat down.

“Did it?” Loki’s anger rose. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell when the rules changed. Your threat was effective, so I don’t necessarily know when it’s appropriate to talk with you or not.”

“Alright, calm down,” Thor said with a frown. “No more threats. I need to speak with you.”

Loki put his face in his hands, trying to contain how upset he was.

“Don’t keep it in.” It was Sophia.

Shit, she could feel his emotions. Loki looked up at Thor, who hadn’t moved and was taking another bite of his plum.

Sophia crossed her arms and he felt a pang of her nervousness as she addressed him. “If you’re this upset by what he’s doing, you need to tell him.”

That seemed like a bad idea. He didn’t know what to say, how to articulate how he was feeling in a way that made sense. If he just lashed out, Thor would likely discount it or, he feared, get angry.

Loki flexed his hands nervously as he wished he could get rid of either visitor. He felt exposed, nowhere safe to go, not even inside himself. “What is it, Thor?”

Thor looked up at him and seemed to hesitate, playing with the half-eaten plum in his hand. “Um…” He squinted, giving a confused frown as he tried to hide it behind a false smile. “You know what, nevermind.” With that, he got up.

What? Why all the fuss? “Thor! You invaded my room for this. The least you owe me is a little explanation.”

Thor stopped. He was looking down at his feet, shifting uncomfortably, but didn’t move. Such a sudden change in his demeanor from his arrogant self moments ago certainly meant that Thor was trying to tell him something important.

Moving away from Loki, Sophia slowly began to cross the sitting area, moving toward Thor, peering at him intently. Given the way most women acted around his brother, Loki expected her to be smitten. As he concentrated, he found himself better able to feel her less prominent emotions.

She was filled with curiosity, but more interestingly, there were undercurrents of bittersweet sadness, confusion, and a strange sense of fulfilment. She squinted her eyes as though trying to figure something out.

Finally turning his attention to Thor, Loki spoke. “Is this about what upset you yesterday?”

Thor looked up, as though interrupted with thought, with a pained smile, reaching up to rub his beard with his hand. “You know, I’d never thought anything like this would happen.” He set the plum down almost gently. “I was upset because…” he squeezed his eyes closed, “I saw the future.” With that, he opened them, likely to gauge Loki’s reaction.

Loki’s jaw dropped as he stared at his brother. Thor had been so resistant to everything, so angry, and Osk’s prediction had come true. If so, why was Thor seemingly filled with trepidation?

“I know it seems strange. The night after we met Osk, I had a vision. For a while afterward I thought it was a dream, but...it was no dream.” Thor sat down, rubbing his hands together. “It was too real, too vivid. I could have sworn I was there had I not known otherwise.”

“Thor,” said Loki, coming closer and sitting down, “I had a vision as well. The next morning.”

Thor met his gaze, his eyes widening. “What was it about?”

“You first,” said Loki, a smile passing over his face.

Thor leaned back, rubbing his face vigorously. “But I don’t want to.”

Loki’s smile faded. “Was it bad?”

His brother slouched down and started hitting his head slowly, repeatedly, against the back of the bench. “Yep.”

Loki saw movement out of the corner of his eye and nearly jumped when he saw Sophia. He’d briefly forgotten she was still there. She had her arms crossed and was watching the exchange with great interest. He shook his head to focus. “Brother, you’ll have to tell me at some point.”

Thor let out a sigh of resignation, but remained slouched, staring at the ceiling. “I was in a large vessel that had been attacked. Loki, it was like I was truly there; I could smell ozone and smoke. Blood was in my mouth and I was exhausted, wounded.”

“So you were not an apparition or an observer?” asked Loki, leaning forward and clasping his hands.

“No, I was - I was there. I can’t explain it - I - I had a thousand emotions running through me that I didn’t understand, but they weren’t coming from me. Grief, anger, fear, sadness.” He sat back up, looking at Loki, then down at his hands. “Around me were…” his voice trailed off. It took him a couple seconds before he was able to say the words. “Asgardians. Slaughtered. Not warriors or Einherjar, but men, women, and children.”

Loki was stunned, but managed to force out his first thought, as much as he hated it: “By you?”

Thor shook his head, too wrapped up in the memory to notice the implication. “By enemies. Their faces and forms I could not make out, but like in a dream, I knew who they were. Loki - Loki - you were...there.”

He looked up into Loki’s eyes, then back down, gritting his teeth until at last he spoke. “Pointing your dagger at the throat of a Titan. He had stopped you by some magic and - took you by the throat…” Running his fingers up into his hair, Thor pulled on it, a nervous habit he had from when he was a child. “...and...killed you.”

A chill ran down Loki’s spine, settling into his stomach as he tried to understand what Thor was telling him. “You saw me die.”

Thor rocked a little, then wiped his eyes quickly, still avoiding eye contact with Loki. “I didn’t just - see it, brother. I felt it. Howling grief ripping me apart, a pain like I’ve never known. I wish - I wish I could diminish its memory, but…” He clapped his hands together, giving a fake laugh. “I can’t, I just can’t.”

Loki was stunned. In comparison, his vision was minimal. Nothing. Thor, unable to help? Stopped by magic? What magic was stronger than his? He shook his head, trying to stop the multitude of questions flooding his mind.

Thor was clearly distraught, and Loki realized he was as well, but - no. Well, yes. But it wasn’t just his emotion. He’d been so focused on his brother he’d blocked out the sounds of crying next to him.

Sophia had her face in her hands and was trying to stifle the sounds of her weeping. Loki was acutely aware that if he gave her attention, he would alert his brother to something amiss. As much as he wanted to speak with her and help, he couldn’t.

He didn’t know how Thor would react.

Loki finally spoke, giving voice to his biggest question. “Thor, are you certain this vision was of the future?”

Thor looked up, that pain etched behind his eyes. “In many ways, that’s the worst part of it all.” He looked away from Loki into the distance. “Along with it, I felt - I know the approximate time.”

Loki frowned, looking at his brother in disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“And seeing the future is?” Thor wrinkled his nose. “Seems like this all is...defying nature.”

“How long, then, do you think?”

Thor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “Eight years.”

Loki gasped and bolted upright. “You’re joking! Tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, brother. I wish I didn’t need to tell you, but keeping it secret - it was too hard. I’m sorry. I’m - I’m so, so sorry.”

His mind reeled at the thought. It was a death sentence. Eight years was nothing, a blink. It might as well be tomorrow.

Thor crossed over to him, enveloping him in a hug. As hard as he tried not to, Loki began to shake at the specter of his own demise.

Over his heartbeat in his ears, he heard Sophia’s voice, and it took a few moments to register what she was saying.

“He’s holding something back,” she was saying shakily, “I don’t know how I know, but it’s important.”

What could be more important than this? Wrestling himself out of Thor’s embrace, he snapped. “SHUT UP! Would you fuck off, please?!”

Thor stepped back, his eyes wide. “I - “

“Not you!” Loki said vehemently.

The woman flinched, more tears running down her face. “I don’t know how - “

“Figure it out!”

She shrunk back. “I’ll try…”

“Brother.” Thor sounded concerned. “Are you alright? I know this is hard news…”

Loki laughed ironically. “No - no. I am very much not alright. Eight years...” He paced back and forth anxiously, then turned to Thor. “Tell me you know more than this. Some way out, something.”

Several expressions crossed Thor’s face. “I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t see more that night.” He scowled, curling his hands into fists. “This isn’t right. I don’t understand how those goddamned Seers could have dealt with something like this. It’s a curse.” He shook his head. “No one should have this power, no one! Not even such knowledge.”

Loki continued to walk, trying to collect himself, his mind going all over the place but shrinking back at the thought of him...ending. Not existing.

He stopped suddenly. “Please tell me it was at least an honorable death,” he said softly, not daring look at his brother.

“It was,” said Thor tersely.

Loki looked at him. “Would you tell me if it wasn’t?” His heart grew heavier in his chest, and he felt once more like that young child, ready to weep.

Thor’s eyes widened. “You can’t ask me that, brother. I can’t tell you.”

Loki felt a rising agitation, turning to see Sophia still standing there. Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m trying - I just can’t focus, there’s so much going on...”

He didn’t know how to deal with this, all of this. It was far too overwhelming. Sophia, the past, the future, Thor...all of it. He put his head in his hands. Thor came close once more, putting his hand on Loki’s arm.

“Is the future set in stone?” Sophia’s voice cut through his mind once more. “It just seems that…”

Loki leaned his head back in frustration, then looked directly at her. “Go. Home,” he said through gritted teeth.

She took a step forward this time, and he felt her rising anger. “No. This is important,” she said. “I don’t know how this is happening, but I do know there’s something more going on.”

“Loki, with whom are you speaking? Is this another trick?” Thor asked. “If it’s a trick, it’s not a very good one.”

“No! It’s not a trick!” Loki couldn’t focus, couldn’t find the part of himself where he could collect, draw himself together and put on the mask other people saw. Thor had opened a vulnerability and he had no way to hide. It felt like his mind was beginning to scream.

It was in that moment that something changed. He no longer was breathing fast, heart pounding, adrenaline racing. The difference was dizzying, and he tried to focus when he heard his own voice.

“I’m sorry if I’m causing you concern, Thor, it’s just that I’m scared myself.”

Blinking, he saw himself - or his body - from a different perspective. As he stared at himself, he saw Sophia, somehow, as though the two bodies were transposed upon one another. He was, no doubt, in her position. A rage began building up within him as he realized his body had been stolen from him.

Thor eyed Sophia carefully. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

She crossed his - her - arms and said, defensively, “What else aren’t you telling me?”

Shifting suddenly, Thor pulled back, searching his brother’s eyes. “You’re perceptive, Loki. I always underestimate that.” He paused. “It’s too soon, brother. This vision was hard enough.”

Sophia looked at him sharply. “There’s another vision, then?”

Thor blinked. “Yes. But Loki - why not take some time to deal with…”

“Let’s get it all out there; you said you couldn’t keep this a secret. I’ll tell you what I saw afterwards.”

Shifting, Thor took a deep breath and let it out, seemingly trying to concentrate. “My second vision came last night,” he said. “I was not asleep, so I was more aware of the...feelings beforehand. I will say, for something that is so cursed a power, the feeling of...connection to Time itself is exhilarating. I don’t practice magic as you do, but I imagine that it’s what it feels like.”

Loki was seething, trying to figure out how the woman had taken his body. He’d tried focusing to no avail. This strange magic was disconcerting. Trying to deepen his breaths, he closed his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to be in his own body.

“This vision was different, and had I not been prepared, knowing now what it was, I would have thought it more akin to a dream. As you asked before, this time I was an observer of events, not a participant. I stood upon a battlefield of verdant green, scarred with war, on a planet I did not know. Around me were warriors locked in combat. A sound like the sharpest crack of thunder crossed the battlefield, and around me every other warrior fell to ashen dust.”

Loki couldn’t focus as his brother went on. He felt as though he needed to listen; it was too important. His brother’s tone was just as grave as it was when describing the first vision.

“The vision changed, and I saw people living their lives on different worlds in different Realms, some familiar, some not. Around me families cried out as loved ones disintegrated. Over. And over. And over. And over.” Thor’s eyes were distant and his face grew almost cold. “I thought it would never end.”

This was Loki’s chance while Sophia was likely distracted. He focused quickly on his body, mentally trying to oust Sophia.

It worked. Relief flooded his veins as he regained his senses, eyes already trained on his brother’s face.

Glaring over at Sophia, who crossed her arms with a huff, he turned to Thor. “It must have been difficult.”

“Not as difficult as my first vision, but yes. I think it’s the event that...Osk mentioned.”

Loki searched his memory. “The great wrong.”

“Yes. It certainly...feels like it’s the event that is the source of that dread I’ve been feeling since the first vision we shared.”

Loki’s feelings were pushed to the background as his curiosity was peaked. “Interesting. Did you get the same sense of timing as with the first vision?”

Thor nodded and paused. Licking his lips, he finally said, “Eight years.”

Loki shook his head, beginning to slowly pace once more.

“Believe me,” Thor said, “I’ve tried to discern what further meaning I could, but. After last night’s vision, I knew I couldn’t hold this from you.”

Loki held up a hand. “I understand.” He sighed. “It seems like both these events are…” his voice drifted off as he failed to find the right word.

Both of them stood lost in thought.

Loki slowly turned, watching as Sophia walked closer to Thor, scrutinizing him. Then she looked back at Loki. “I don’t understand it. I don’t - I - “ she laughed in disbelief.

Loki closed his eyes at her reaction. This day could not get worse.

“I can feel his emotions the same way I’m feeling yours.”

Loki opened his eyes and stared at her, his heart beginning to beat faster. He bit his tongue, trying not to say anything.

She shook her head, “I mean, I don’t get a lot of what’s going on, but this I feel - so sure about. I’ve never seen him before, but…” Uncertain, she started picking at her hand. “Loki, I saw what he saw in his vision as he ran it through his head. Not when he described it, but beforehand. That’s why I was so upset.” He felt a pang of desperation and hope as she asked, “Have you had anything like that happen so far?”

Loki shook his head only a little bit.

Sophia moved closer and, before Loki could say anything, touched Thor gently on the arm.

“BLAGH!” he shouted, jumping back suddenly, before pointing a finger at Sophia. “Where the FUCK did she come from?!”

Loki was wrong. The day could get worse.

[takadasaiko]

Edit by the amazing @whimsyandsomething.

FFN II AO3

Summary: Howard and Scottie have to make a choice, Katarina tries to face the truth, and the Task Force, Tom, and Liz come together to remember Reddington.

Chapter Forty: Epilogue

The room was dark and cold, the chill the latest round of extremes that they had pushed the internal climate to. Conrad Davis sat strapped to a chair, teeth chattering, and face bloodied. They hadn't intended to leave a mark on him. It only added to the complications when they handed him over to the feds, but some complications were worth the trouble. Howard hadn't blinked an eye when Scottie had blackened Davis'.

The former CEO of Halcyon Aegis stood on the other side of the one-way window, arms crossed and studying the man. "You're sure you've gotten everything from him that you can?"

"Everything he's willing to give in the time you've given me," Solomon confirmed. "Beating on him harder won't change his answers."

"Advanced interrogation isn't reliable," Howard agreed, hearing the younger man humm in response.

"Should I give you two a moment before we get him ready for transport?"

"Yes." He broke eye contact with the glass to look over. "Mr Solomon?"

"Yes, Howard?" Solomon responded lightly.

"Nez is a grown woman and makes her own decisions, so I'll only tell you this once. You hurt her and they won't find your body. Am I clear?" The fact that it might just as well be Nez that killed him didn't need to be said. Howard would happily help bury any man that thought about hurting the woman he'd come to see as a daughter.

Solomon flashed a toothy grin. "Your son said something similar."

Howard snorted and Solomon's smile eased a little. "I have no intention of hurting Nez."

"Good."

Solomon slipped out the door, leaving Howard alone in the viewing area to stare at the man who had kidnapped his son so many years before. He had moved up in the ranks since then, both within the FBI and in the Cabal. None of that had saved him though. Not in the end. Solomon would make the call and the Marshals would send someone to pick up the fugitive that all of their paperwork said that they had apprehended just that morning. Howard didn't have long.

The door squeaked on its hinges as he entered and Davis grimaced as he straightened a little to look up. "Howard Hargrave. I wondered how long it'd take you to show. Come to finish the job?"

Howard let his lips tilt up at the corners. "I thought you had heard that I'm no longer the head of Halcyon. Tom is, and he's interested in forming a new kind of relationship with the FBI. One that is more transparent and useful to all parties involved."

Davis snorted. "You're handing me over to my own people?"

"They're not your people anymore, Conrad. You're a fugitive. Now-" he reached around for the extra chair, pulling it out and taking a seat- "here's how this plays out. We'll be delivering you into federal custody. My people will deliver you to the Marshals shortly, but that gives you and me time to chat."

"About what?"

"Anything you want to get off your conscious."

Davis met his steady gaze. "You've decimated my organization, taken me out of power, and gotten your son back. What else do you want, Hargrave?" There was a pause and Davis sat back. "I'm not going to make it to the Marshals, am I?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Your boy doesn't even know I'm here. No one does." The panic was growing. "You don't want to do this, Hargrave. You owe me."

"How do you figure that?"

"I'm the only reason your son didn't die thirty years ago."

Howard held his gaze. "Go on."

"I had him, the night that they wanted to send a message, but he fought. He managed to squirm free and took off along the beach. The tide swept in higher than before and the undertow pulled him out with it."

The mental image of Christopher, so small and vulnerable then, being dragged out and pulled under, coughing and choking against the water that was pulling him under played out across Howard's mind. His son had been thrown from one terrible situation to another to another from the moment Davis took him. "He never would have been in that situation if not for you."

"If I hadn't done it, it would have been someone else. Anyone else would have let the kid drown."

"But not you?"

"Not me."

Howard tilted his head a little, studying him. "Why can't he remember anything? What did you people do to him?"

"You want that information, I need assurances. You'll have to come see me in custody."

The blue-eyed man leaned forward. "There are two types of people in this world, Conrad. People that make themselves useful and people that don't. You know that. What I know is that you were terrified that Tom would recognize you when you showed up to the meet. That tells me there's more to your story than you'll ever want me to know. So, since the odds are stacked against you in every which way, I'd suggest you find a way to make yourself useful and fast." He didn't give Davis a chance to say anything as he scooted his chair back, the sound it made causing the other man to cringe. Howard moved towards the door.

"Wait. Frank and Eva Phelps."

Howard turned a glare on the other man. "I've already looked into them and I know everything I need to know about my son's adopted parents. You've just made my point." And then he was gone, moving through the door and out even as Davis shouted from behind. Howard let a small smile tug into place and he spotted Scottie waiting for him.

"Did you get it?"

"Some. We need to track down the Phelps'."

"We don't have to let him live, Howard."

He grimaced, risking the briefest glances back at the door that separated the howling man from them. "They might never be able to prove it, but they'd know, and that won't start Tom out on the right foot. You and I both know that." He paused, reaching a hand out to tuck a strand of dark hair back behind her ear. "That doesn't mean he has to know that. Let him think we're transporting him to his final destination."

"Solomon's made the call."

"Then let it run its course. The Marshals will take him and we'll make sure we have the evidence to put him away for good once trial takes place. Are Tom and Liz meeting us there?"

"That's the last I heard."

"Time to go then." Howard extended his arm and his wife took it.

"I haven't asked you. How are you holding up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. You were always fond of him."

A sad smile tugged his lips. "He was a charming bastard."

"When he wanted to be."

"Yes, when he wanted to be, and all in all, I say we owe him some gratitude."

"He didn't do it for us."

"Does that matter?"

Scottie paused and he could see her mask of indifference crack just a little out of the corner of his eye. "No, I don't suppose it does."

There was nothing more to say as they hit the end of the hallway and opened the door out into the air. A car was waiting for them to take them to the cemetery.

She remembered how it felt when Sam had died. There had been so much regret there, so many what ifs. She had sat in her living room pouring over photos and memories and desperately trying to hold on. She didn't have photos of Reddington, not really. Only memories. Those intricate stories and the way his head bobbled as he wove them together to the point he was trying to make, often with amusement laced into every word. He had loved her in his way. Maybe in the only way he knew how to love her, and while the last years had been a wild roller coaster that had left her sick and turned around more than it hadn't, she had loved him too. He wasn't her father, but he was. Blood didn't always make family. Liz's fingers moved over the brim of Reddington's fedora that sat on her breakfast table, its owner's face clear in her mind. She should give it to Dembe.

"Daddy!" Agnes shouted from her place in the floor with her colouring book and crayons. She was on her feet on an instant and Liz realized she must have heard the turn of the key in the lock. The door opened as the little girl raced forward and flung herself into Tom's arms.

"Hey, kiddo. You about ready to go?"

"Where're we goin'?" she asked and giggled as he kissed her round little cheek.

Tom's lips twitched down and he shifted her so he could carry her back into their DC apartment and the lightness left his voice. "A funeral, baby girl." His dark blue eyes flickered to meet Liz's gaze. "How're you holding up?"

"Ready to go."

Agnes started to squirm and he put her down, crossing the space over to where Liz was sitting at the kitchen table. She tried for a smile and took his hand when he reached out for hers. "That good, huh?

Liz shrugged. "I don't really know how to feel."

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and she leaned into him. He stood there, her strength when she'd used up all of her own, and she felt his arm go around her where she sat. She wouldn't give him up for anything. She couldn't, and Reddington had known that. Still, knowing it and acting on it was entirely different. He'd given up his own life not just for hers, but for her family. It left her emotions more tangled than usual.

Tom's thumb moved in a soothing motion over her bare arm and she looked up at him. "What's the board say?"

He cleared his throat and released her so that he could pull a chair out for himself. He looked exhausted. They had picked the day before for their meeting on what to do with him, leaving that morning for their final decision. Liz had tried to tell him that he didn't have to be at the funeral, but he'd seen through it. He usually did. So her husband had gotten up at three in the morning and had been at the airstrip before four and at the office in New York by five. He had expected to be back with time to spare. As it stood, they had about five minutes before they needed to start wrangling Agnes into her car seat.

"It was pretty split. Leo Madden of all people was the swing vote."

Liz grimaced and reached out for him again. "Hey, you did what you had to."

Tom blinked hard. "What? No, he was the swing vote in my favour."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"So you're still the CEO?"

Her husband offered a small smile. "On the condition that I stay out of the field." Liz tried not to look too relieved and his smile broadened, finally reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I told them my wife would love that caveat."

"Are you okay with it?"

"You know… I am." His gaze drifted to Agnes. "I want to see her grow up. I want to come home to you. It still lets me do what I'm good at, but I can only push my luck so far in the field."

Liz stood, leaning in and she surprised him with a quick kiss. A small smile tugged at her when she broke it. "I guess that means we need to start apartment hunting in New York."

"Well…" Tom tilted his head thoughtfully and she knew that look. He was up to something.

"What?"

He eased to his feet. "We're moving headquarters to DC. Part of of the deal on whole was that we would be working more closely with the FBI. One unit specifically."

"Babe, the Task Force won't stay together without Reddington."

"They just need a blacklist. Trust me. Halcyon can provide plenty of leads. It's a win-win for both sides."

Liz opened her mouth and found the words stuck in her throat.

"Cooper and I talked about it. He verified that Ressler would stick around as long as the Task Force is together. If you want to move we can, but we don't have to-"

She didn't let him finish as she wrapped her arms around his neck, all the emotions she had tried to keep a lid on bubbling over and she could feel the hot tears as she kissed him. She felt his arms circle around her waist and hold her close even as she laid her head against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I'll give you the details on the way. We're gonna be late."

She nodded and released her hold on him, thumbing at the tears. It wouldn't bring Reddington back, but it could help protect her husband and her team. It would help to protect her family, and she could find comfort in that.

Katarina hadn't believed it when the doctor had come out. How could she after so many close calls and faked deaths over the years? Even when she had worked her way into the morgue she had toyed with the idea of Halcyon swapping the bodies. Tom had sent their doctor in, after all. Surely there was more to it than this. An ending. Final and cold and more painful than she would have ever predicted.

But it was him. No duplicate was that good. She knew him from the tiny scar on his ankle to the ones along his back from the night of the fire. She wanted it to be some over-the-top scheme that perhaps Raymond had brought Howard in on, but it wasn't. He was gone and there was no fixing it. No reversing it.

"I had wondered if you would come to the funeral."

The redhead turned to find Scottie Hargrave standing there. She looked her own perfect part for a funeral in her designer black dress and heels sinking into the grass beneath her. She hadn't said a word as they had lowered Raymond into the ground and while Howard had stepped forward to add a shovel of dirt over the casket she had merely remained respectful, standing back. Even Tom had stepped forward for it, though Katarina thought that, like with most things, that had been more for Masha's sake than Raymond's.

"Could I count on you to tell me if this weren't real?" she asked after a long moment.

Scottie grimaced a little. "It's real, Kat."

The former KGB Agent loosed a breath. "Kate Kaplan is buried just up that hill. This is why people like us don't love, Scottie. Eventually we're left alone. Everyone either dies or leaves or we leave them for their own safety…. little good it does them. In the end we're left alone."

"You're only alone if you choose to be," Scottie answered softly.

"Masha doesn't need me."

"She does. More than you know."

Katarina's gaze shifted to where her daughter stood to say her goodbyes. She had spoken to her, briefly, but she hadn't made any promises that she'd be there after everything was done. To her credit, Masha hadn't asked her to. She knew. Katarina thought she knew. She didn't expect her to stay.

"But she's not the only one. Dom doesn't live far."

Katarina snorted. "Keep an eye on Agnes. She'll be a handful."

"Will be?"

She smirked and turned. She had never been good at goodbyes. They were too permanent, and in her life she had always found her way back to the ones that mattered. She just needed time.

Stories filled the Coopers' living room and stretched on even as the sun started its slow descent in the sky outside. Some of the crowd that had attended Reddington's funeral had gathered in the home after, a quiet place providing them with a safe location to sit and remember. It was a relatively new tradition which had apparently begun at Tom's own wake after Liz had woken up, and there was something sereal about taking part in this one. Well, he supposed it could have just as easily been him they were talking about that afternoon.

Tom offered Charlene a thin smile as he slipped past her, taking a quick detour to the kitchen after getting a very cranky Agnes tucked in for a late nap. He listened to the voices drift in as he walked to the fridge to grab a beer. He closed the door and turned, finding Donald Ressler waiting there. "Cooper told me what you did."

The dark haired man blinked. "You're gonna have to be more specific."

Ressler snorted and shook his head. "Halcyon and the Task Force. Listen, if you think that it's going to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there. I did it for Liz. She doesn't deserve to lose her team too after all of this. You didn't come up in the deal."

He watched the ginger agent weigh the words. They weren't untrue. He had done it for Liz and Cooper had only confirmed the deal he had struck with Ressler after Tom had pitched the idea to him. In truth, the deal hadn't been struck specifically for Ressler. The fact that Tom had grown almost fond of his wife's rule-toting partner was beside the point. It was for Liz.

"I made a promise to Cooper that I wouldn't leave as long as the Task Force was together."

Tom quirked an eyebrow and popped the top off his beer, the barest of smirks tugging at his lips. "Guess you're sticking around then."

"Guess I am." Without warning Ressler swung an arm around Tom's shoulders in an almost friendly fashion before moving towards the living room. "One more person hasn't shared," he announced, and it seemed like he was being held captive more than anything else.

"You're just looking for a reason to arrest me," Tom grumbled and jabbed Ressler in the ribs only hard enough for the other man to let go.

"I think we're past that by this point," Cooper assured him from his place on the couch.

Tom snorted and moved to take a seat next to Liz, finally choosing a relatively innocent story. He found himself smiling as he spoke, traits that had driven him crazy already beginning to soften in the wake of the man's death. He cleared his throat at the end. "It's not really a secret that Reddington and I didn't get along. Neither of us trusted the other, but in the end…. I owed him my life." He felt Liz's fingers intertwine with his and he lifted his beer up. "To Reddington."

They echoed and Tom felt Liz curl a little closer to him. She had been quiet most of the afternoon and remained that way into the evening. The wake came to a reluctant close as they moved from evening towards night, and Tom was a little surprised to find himself reluctant to leave as well. Leaving meant it was real. Leaving meant that this chapter was truly over and that the man that had, despite everything, brought them all together was dead.

Tom shifted a still groggy Agnes and she draped against his shoulder as they walked out of the house. "You okay?" he ventured.

Liz didn't answer immediately, but he saw the barest twitched as she turned her thoughts over in her mind. He didn't push, but as they slipped into their vehicle, Agnes in her seat in the back, he saw her lean back against the headrest. "I will be," she finally answered. "Okay, I mean." She squeezed her eyes closed and Tom reached out, his fingers brushing hers in a silent offer of support and she took his hand. A small, pained smile pulled her lips outward. "He made good on his promise."

"What promise was that?"

Her fingers tightened around his. "That I would have the life I wanted. That my family would be safe. He made sure of it." Bright blue eyes blinked open and a couple of tears escaped as she turned to look at him. "Let's go home, babe."

Tom nodded, not trusting his own voice as he put their vehicle into gear. After everything - all the close calls, all the the pain they had struggled through to bring their family back together - they could say they had won. They hadn't done it alone and the cost had been high, but they could finally go home.

End.

Notes: The first scene of this story sat by itself for maybe a month or two before I was finally able to start in on the rest of it. I was terrified I wouldn't be able to finish it and that somewhere along the way I'd just lose all interest and leave the show for good. Thankfully, as frustrated as I've been with the show, that hasn't happened. I have a friend in a different fandom that talked about her AU fic being the only way she continued watching it, and while it may not have been the only way for me this has helped on a lot of levels. Gotta love fanafiction, right?

There is a follow up story already in the works called Home from the War. It'll start posting next week on Friday and starts in about six months later. Thank you so much for all of your kind words of encouragement along the way. I'd love to know what you thought of the story on whole. Please feel free to drop a review in the box. Short, long, undiscernible sounds... I love it all lol

And a BIG thank you to my beta Whimsy. If you're a Saram fan, she just wrapped up a fantastic piece called Reset that I highly recommend. She's on AO3 under WhimsicalWombat.

Hope to see you guys next week for Home from the War!

[sockablock]

(Campaign 2, Widomauk Deck of Many Things AU, Chapter 2/?)

In which the gang tries to figure out what’s going on

Chapter 2: Clues from the Enchanter

Molly moved on pure instinct.

As his mind shut down completely from the shock and dread flooding in, his hands gripped the handle of his scimitar and swung it outwards. The blade, cheap carnival glass strengthened by its years at Molly’s side and its constant exposure to blood magic, collided with Caleb’s first streak of flame. The flat managed to catch the scorching ray and deflect it outwards, sending it careening off the balcony and into the distance over the sleepy skyline of Zadash. Mollymauk used the momentum from the impact to spin out of the way of the second ray, which missed his head by a hair’s breadth. The heated air left in its wake prickled his cheek. Then the third strike came, trailing after the others, and Molly’s bare feet launched himself out of its path and into the western railing. 

His hair stuck against his forehead, sweaty from the heat and the sudden movement. His eyes surveyed the area, out of habit, though barely any information could breach the fog of confusion and hurt currently dominating his mind. A tiny, functioning piece of him was painfully aware that he wore no armor, wielded only one scimitar. He didn’t even have a shirt on.

He could see Caleb gearing up to cast another spell. The diamond was out now, and Caleb’s nimble fingers wove pure arcana through the air. Molly needed to get in closer. Even with ranged attacks, a magical onslaught would be impossible to fend off at this distance.

The animalistic, survival-driven part of Molly took the lead. He ran towards his lover and tackled him to the floor, scrambling to pin his arms down and prevent the man from casting any more spells. Caleb’s head hit the ground with a sickening crack, and guilt joined the rampaging storm behind Molly’s eyes. Still, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“What’s gotten in to you?!” Molly yelled above the pressure pounding in his ears. “Are you possessed? Is this that bloody card?”

Caleb opened his mouth, and the sound that followed was a breath of pure magic, an incomprehensible command that Molly couldn’t even process, let alone recognize. And before he could shout again, demand more answers for what was going on, searing fire ripped through his flesh. For moment, there was just blazing agony.

The force threw him off of Caleb, who scrambled away and backed into the corner railing, hands raised again and eyes still dark, though now full of haunting, dancing firelight. Molly rose slowly, coughing from the smoke that had filled his lungs. The fire raged on and now, as lucidity overpowered ravaged emotions, Molly realized what an idiot he had been for holding down Caleb’s hands but still allowing him to speak. Thank the gods—or not the gods at all, he supposed—for his natural fire resistance. In the face of an Immolation like that, a normal man might not have made it.

Mollymauk was not a normal man. Basic strategy returned to him. He held out his hands and before Caleb could react, blood started pouring out of the red eye on Molly’s palm. His eyes narrowed. His neck began to bleed as well, and he felt the Blood Maledict take hold. Caleb stopped in his tracks, as if restrained by an invisible force, and began writhing against the unseen bonds holding him in place.

“Release me!” the wizard screamed, and the desperate anger wracking his cries broke Molly’s heart all over again. “Verdammt devil, let me go! You must answer for what you have done! You cannot—”

The door to the rest of the tavern burst open.

Yasha came barreling through, followed closely by Beau, with Nott and Fjord at her heels. Jester was last, and squeezing itself through the door behind her was an enormous, spectral lollipop. All of them had their weapons, and all of them were in various states of undress—except for Beau, who slept in her monk vestiges, and Nott, who had never thought to undress for sleeping.

There was a pregnant pause, as the party stared in bewilderment at the scene before them.

“He’s cursed!” Caleb and Molly shouted at exactly the same time.

Nott’s crossbow immediately swiveled towards Molly. The others did not move so quickly, which warmed a small spot in Molly’s otherwise panicking heart.

“I think it’s the card, affecting him somehow!” Molly called, while still trying to bind Caleb. “He disappeared in the middle of the night and when I came up here he attacked me!”

“That’s a lie!” Caleb immediately retorted. “Mollymauk tried to kill me in my sleep. I ran up here and he chased me and I didn’t want to hurt him, but he wouldn’t stop!”

“Let me shoot him!” Nott yelled. There were tears now, forming in her eyes. “Look at that! Molly’s cast his blood magic on Caleb, look! He’s done it to bandits before, we know what it looks like!”

“Now,” Fjord spoke in a soft voice, like one might to a frightened animal, “hang on a second, Nott. We don’t know who’s telling the truth here.”

“I am!” shouted Caleb and Molly at the same time. Molly cursed inwardly. It would be funny, how in sync they were, given any other circumstances.

“Molly, release Caleb,” called Yasha. “If you really aren’t trying to kill him, release him. Then we can talk.”

“If I do, he might attack me,” Molly warned.

Caleb scoffed. “I was defending myself from you, Mollymauk.”

That hurt Molly enough to release the blood curse. Caleb dropped onto his hands and knees, and before Fjord could stop her, Nott scrambled over towards him.

“See?” Molly said, backing up and raising his hands. “Nothing wrong with me. The card did something to him.”

Yasha looked relieved. Jester, lollipop still slowly revolving behind her, stepped forwards. “Caleb?” she asked. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Jester,” he said tersely. “Keep your eyes on Mollymauk. He was acting perfectly normally before he attacked me.”

Beau swore under her breath. “We don’t have anyone else that can cast Identify, do we?” she muttered.

“No,” sighed Fjord. “Molly, Caleb, why don’t we all sit down, all civil-like, and have a little chat? You can sit far away from one another, just for now, and we’ll hear what you’ve got to say. Doesn’t that sound reasonable?”

“Yes,” Molly said, and let the scimitar hang limply at his side. “And while we do that, can somebody please heal my burns?”

“That is agreeable,” said Caleb. “Then you will see that the man is still dangerous.”

The rest of the group, understandably unsettled, moved towards the two. Nott sat next to Caleb, fussing over his hair, and Jester knelt down next to Molly and pulled out her Healer’s Kit.

Yasha, Beau, and Fjord sat in front of them, directly in the middle.

“Jester,” Fjord asked, “can you break out a Zone of Truth and make this a lot easier?”

Jester, in the middle of wrapping a bandage around Molly’s chest, looked guilty. “Ah…I cannot do that.”

“How do you mean?” Yasha asked.

“I…I did not go to sleep yet. Spiritual Weapon was my last spell slot.”

“It’s dawn, Jester,” said Molly.

She pouted. “I’m sorry, okay! I was reading Tusk Love again and it was getting to the good part and I didn’t want to stop.”

“The good part?” Nott raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, the good part! So, I didn’t sleep! Why do you think I’m using this stupid healer’s kit on Molly? I just figured we probably wouldn’t go out again tomorrow, so it would be fine.”

“That’s…that’s alright, Jester,” Fjord rubbed his eyes. “I guess we’ve just got to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“That being?” Caleb asked.

“We ask questions,” said Fjord. “Caleb, you first. What happened?”

Caleb gently pushed Nott off of him and glanced over the group. When he looked at Molly, the tiefling caught the faintest hint of simmering rage, and a quick flash of firelight. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

“I was asleep, in…our room,” said Caleb. “And then suddenly I felt something shove me out of the bed. I hit my head on the ground—” and here Caleb turned his neck so the others could see the injury there “ —and all of a sudden Mollymauk was standing above me with his scimitar. I did not know what to do, I had to run, and I somehow managed to roll out of the way of his swing. And then afraid for my life I bolted out of the room and ran through the hallways, and before I knew it I was out on the balcony. Molly chased after me, and tried to attack me with his sword, and I did my best to defend without fighting back, he is my…my Lebensgefährte, but he gave me no choice and I had to retaliate but still that was not enough. You saw what happened next.”

Fjord turned towards Molly. “And what happened for you, Molly?”

His tail swished back and forth behind him. “Caleb got out of bed in the middle of the night. When he didn’t come back for a while, I went looking for him. I found him up on the balcony, but when I tried to talk to him, he attacked me. I managed to duck away from most of the spells, and I tried to pin him to the ground to get him to stop, which is really where that head injury came from, might I add. But then he got off an Immolate on me, and, well…that’s why my pants are singed and why I probably have no eyebrows and why my entire chest is burned.”

“You still have your eyebrows, though,” Jester reassured him. “And the burn marks will go away tomorrow. I am the cleric, I know these things.”

There was a moment’s pause, as the rest mentally compared these statements. Caleb shuffled slightly under their attention, and Molly winced at the sting of medicinal herbs on his injuries.

And then Beau turned to Caleb with an odd expression on her face. “You said…you said you ran up here after being shoved right out of bed?”

“Ja.”

“You just ran up here in a panic, ‘afraid for your life,’ as it were?”

“Ja.”

“So how did you have time to grab your coat, and your scarf, and your component pouch and your spellbook?”

Caleb hesitated. In the brief silence, Nott leapt to his defense. “Caleb is always ready for anything! When we were alone before, he always had his stuff at the ready just in case.”

Fjord considered this. “I suppose that could make sense, though it has been a while since—”

“That’s not true,” said Molly firmly. “At least, it was probably true in the past. I used to sleep with my swords too, Fjord can tell you that, but Caleb and I always put our stuff away for the night when we’re in an inn.”

“He’s lying,” said Caleb. “I would never do something that idiotic, the real Molly would know that. Survival is first.”

Molly bit his lip. His pointed teeth almost drew blood. The group wouldn’t believe him right now, but he wanted so badly to argue and convince the others he was right.

“I don’t need to worry so much about running away when I’m sleeping next to you, do I?” Caleb’s breath was a whisper, a small smile across his lips.

Molly had left his swords on the table by the door. “Never.”

Beauregard rubbed her chin. For once, Molly was extremely glad for her annoying tendency to ask too many questions. “How did you manage to dodge Molly?” she asked.

“What is your meaning?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…you’re sort of…squishy. And not that quick. And as much as I hate Mollymauk, I’m inclined to think that if he really was trying to kill you, he’d have done it. Why shove you out of the bed? Why not just stab you and be done with it?” 

Caleb scowled. “I don’t know, Beau. I don’t know how the curse works or anything like that. Maybe he wanted me to suffer. He’s heartless and bloodthirsty.”

“Maybe,” she said, and raised an eyebrow at Fjord.

Nott gave Caleb a sideways glance. “You are squishy,” she mused. “And…that was a little weird of you to say. I mean, he is your boyfriend and even if he’s cursed—”

Caleb sighed. “I am sorry, Nott. It has been a long day.”

She gave him a pat on the hand. But it was quick, and more out of habit than anything.

“Caleb?” Yasha asked. “You said Molly was attacking you and you had no other choice but to fight back?”

“Yes,” he said.

“There are no cuts on your person,” she said slowly, “whereas Molly is thoroughly singed. He did not land a hit and yet you felt threatened enough to use fire, fire of all things against your lover?”

Caleb did not respond.

“And you couldn’t have tried Hold Person, or at least summoned the earthen paw to bind him down, or something else that would have—” 

Caleb shot to his feet. Even Nott jolted away slightly. “Why do you all keep asking me questions?!” he yelled. “Why are you asking him nothing?! Look at him, he is obviously under a spell and dangerous and hurt me! And yet you all direct your interrogations towards me, and I do not like this! He is vile! A horrible, disgusting, wretched, malformed demon of a man—”

The spectral lollipop whammed into Caleb’s back. As he fell face-first against the ground and did not rise, the purple construct faded away.

“That was not Caleb,” Jester said angrily. “He would know better.” Her tail lashed out back and forth behind her. Molly put a calming hand on her shoulder and she settled down somewhat.

Fjord was the first to speak up. “I think…” he said slowly, “I think we should tie him up and go visit Pumat as soon as we can.”

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

“Er…excuse me, Enchanter Sol?”

The bell hanging above the door of the Invulnerable Vagrant chimed slowly as Fjord made his way in, followed closely by Jester, Beau, and Molly. Despite the early hour, there was one Pumat seated behind the counter already, wearing glasses and reading a book, and another polishing a large bronze shield on the wall with a feather duster that was comically small in his large, white-furred mits. Soft clanging and shuffling sounds from the backroom indicated the location of the other two.

“Oh, why hello there!” the first Pumat said amicably as 4/7 of the Mighty Nein entered the shop. “You all are here bright and early today, aren’t’cha?”

“That we are, Encanter Sol, and we’re here on somewhat pressing business, if that’s alright with you.” said Fjord.

The Pumat carefully removed his glasses, folded them, placed them into his apron pocket, and laced his fingers together on the countertop. “Of course, of course,” he said. “What do you need?”

“We’ve got more healing potions now,” said the Pumat with the feather duster, “if that’s what you’re looking for. Our other stock is still…mostly replenished.”

“That would be nice,” said Molly smoothly, “and we might pick up a few on the side. But actually, we were wondering if we could ask you for a bit of information, about…some rumors we’ve heard regarding a certain kind of magical item.”

“Well,” smiled the Pumat behind the counter, gesturing grandly with his hands, “magical items happen to be my specialty, and for return customers like you, I’d be happy to help. What sort of item is this?”

“A deck of cards,” said Jester. “A super-duper powerful deck of cards.”

The pleasant smile on Pumat’s face faded slightly, and the warmth behind his eyes was replaced with a sudden, almost hungry fascination. “Cards, you say? Is this something you’ve found? Can I see them?”

Before anybody else could say a word, Fjord held up his empty hands and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no,” he said with heavy regret. “We’ve just heard rumors about such an object existin’ out there in the world, and we were thinking of going to try and find one. You know, a good, solid adventure. Except we don’t really know much about them, and we figured it’d be best to do our homework first.”

For a moment, counter-Pumat studied Fjord’s winning smile and disarming stance. Then he sighed and nodded, the shrewd interest vanished as quickly as it had come. “That’s a shame,” he said, “I believe I know what you’re talking about, and I would’ve just loved to see a set in person.”

“You know what they are?” Beau asked. “You’ve heard of them before?”

Pumat nodded and leaned his forearms back onto the counter. “Oh, I have, little missy,” he said. “What you’re talkin’ about there is called a ‘Deck of Many Things.’ They’re incredibly rare, powerful magical items that have the power to change reality.”

“Change reality,” Molly echoed, a sick feeling beginning to well in his stomach. “In…in a good way? Or a bad way?”

Pumat chuckled. “Oh, well, it depends! As the name suggests, there are many things that can happen to those who pull a card. Not many people know what each one does, but some can grant vast riches or bestow wondrous magical items, whereas others can steal the soul right out of your body, or strip you of your titles and deeds and standing in a second.”

“So it can do amazing things,” said Beau, “but there’s the risk that you pull a bad card and something even worse happens instead.”

“Exactly,” said Pumat. “It’s a gamble, with the highest stakes imaginable. Only people who are really desperate, or people who aren’t aware of the dangers would ever try and use it.”

Molly could feel Jester’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. He tried to ignore it. “Pumat,” he asked slowly, “do you know of anywhere we could find more information about these cards? You know, just so we have a whole idea of what we’d be getting ourselves into.”

The large shopkeeper rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. “I could tell you what I know of a couple cards that are said to exist in the deck, and what they can do. But other than that, you’d have to maybe try the Archive. The wizards at the Halls of Erudition would know more, but—and I say this respectfully—I’m not a hundred percent sure they’d be willing to speak with…outsiders such as yourselves. Respectfully.”

“Of course,” said Fjord. “We understand. Would you mind writing down what the cards you know of are?”

“I’d be happy to,” smiled Pumat, and reached under the counter for a quill and a piece of parchment. As he scrawled the information across the top of the page, tilted his head and said, with in extremely exaggerated nonchalance, “You know, if you ever do go on this adventure, and manage to find a deck, I sure would love to see it. Here you are.”

Fjord tucked the slip into his leathers and gave Pumat a confident grin. “Of course,” he said. “You’d be the first one we’d go to. Thank you so much for your help, and for all of your time.”

“Come back again!” was the call as they walked back out into the Pentamarket. Carts rolled past, and merchants were starting to spread their wares across folding tables and on carpets against the cobbles. The Nein, or most of the Nein, faced one another with grim expressions on the street.

“So we still don’t exactly know what’s wrong,” sighed Jester. “We don’t know if Caleb is okay or not.”

Fjord tried to give her a reassuring look. It almost worked. “We’ll take a look at this information, and think hard on it,” he said. “And if that fails, we hit the Archives.”

Beau nodded. “It’s about time I dropped by there again, anyways. They’re probably missing me.”

Molly thumbed at the edge of his sleeve with his fingers. “Let’s go back and check on Caleb now,” he suggested, trying not to let hope creep into his tone. “In case anything’s changed.”

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

Nott and Yasha, sitting next to each other at the foot of the bed, both startled as the body slouched against the headboard groaned and began to shift.

“Shoot. The others have not returned yet,” muttered Yasha. “What should we do?”

Nott looked around the room—the one Caleb and Molly had rented—in a panic. “I…I don’t know! Let’s…let’s just play it cool. Like nothing’s going on.”

“Alright,” Yasha nodded, “We can do that. We can be cool.”

As Caleb groaned again and began to open his eyes, Nott yanked the stopper off her flask and began drinking heavily. Yasha quickly drew her greatsword and slammed the tip of the blade into the wooden floor. She started pretending—rather unconvincingly—to examine the handle with feigned fascination.

Caleb squinted at the two girls in front of him. Nott had already consumed enough to poison a small child, and Yasha was trying and failing to keep her attention on the sword.

He blinked a few times, and as he tried to move the hair out of his face, noticed that his hands and ankles were bound together. His confusion grew.

“Er…excuse me, you two? Why…why am I tied up? And why are you both in my bedroom?”

Nott and Yasha exchanged nervous glances. Nott went first.

“Caleb?” she asked carefully. “How…how are you feeling?”

“I am alright, I think? Perhaps rather bewildered at the moment. And my head is slightly sore.”

“Do you feel…murder-y?” Yasha suggested. “Angry, in any way? Like you want to maybe…kill somebody?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed even further, and he thought for a moment about the situation he currently found himself in. His heart sank. “Did…did I try to kill somebody?” he asked. “But…I don’t remember anything like that. Who was it?”

At the same time Nott said, “Don’t worry about it,” Yasha opened her mouth as well.

“You tried to kill Mollymauk.”

He paled. “Was? Is he...is he alright? Where is he? What happened?”

Nott and Yasha exchanged looks again.

“Could you excuse us just one moment?” Yasha asked. Then the two of them turned their backs to Caleb, and held their hands up to cover their mouths.

“I think he really is confused,” Nott hissed slightly not quietly enough. “He doesn’t know what happened.”

“I am not that good at reading people,” Yasha admitted at the same volume. “You are sure?”

“I know him pretty well. He’s being completely honest.”

“Then what is happening? I thought the card had changed him to hate Molly?”

“I don’t know,” Nott sighed. “I don’t know how any of this crazy magic stuff works. Maybe it was temporary? Maybe it only works when Molly’s around?”

Yasha shrugged. “I do not like this,” she said.

“Er…” Caleb called, “I am telling the truth, I think. I do not know what is going on. Could…could somebody let me know what has been transpiring, perhaps? Why I am tied up like this? And…and is Mollymauk alright? I didn’t hurt him, did I? Where is he?”

The girls turned back around. “You didn’t,” reassured Nott, “he’s alright. He and the others went to go ask Pumat what they think might have happened.”

Caleb breathed a sigh of relief. “I see,” he said.

“I think we should still keep you tied up, just in case,” said Yasha. “We aren’t sure if you’re completely in the clear or not.”

Caleb thought about this for a moment. “Alright,” he conceded. “But could you tell me what I did?”

Nott took another swig of her flask. “You’re not going to like this,” she said.

[cha0ticmimzy]

Chapter III: Niflheim

Author’s Note: And so we delve into the mysterious land of Niflheim. Word Count: 3885 Warnings: Mentions of violence. Rating: M

“The homeland of primordial darkness, cold, mist, and ice.”- Norse Mythology, official description of Niflheim

Snowcapped mountains surrounded the city, a natural shield from the outside world. Eternal winter laid claim to the land, the ice melting for a mere two months each year before falling upon the Empire once more. The people had adapted, had grown used to the biting wind, the snow, the darkness. One would assume that no one would dare ever live in such an inhabitable place such as Niflheim, but then again, one would also assume that anyone who would live in Galahd would be insane.

Volcanos were tricky, temperamental places to live.

Ardyn Izunia pulled the bane jacket closer to himself, chin tucked down beneath the collar as if it would aid in keeping him warm. Damn Iedolas and his harebrained idea that the walkway leading into the palace should be a mile long, surrounded by snow dusted evergreens on either side. The gold peaks of the palace gleamed in the rare glimpse of sunlight- sunlight that gleamed off the snow, assaulting the sensitive corneas of his eyes.

He really hated the snow.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Ardyn crooned to the guards stationed along the edge of the stairs as he all but sprinted up the steps, quickly making his way into the manor, the feeling of heat greeting him as soon as he opened the doors a welcome sensation. Slipping the gloves from his hands, jacket sliding off his shoulders, he glanced around, taking in the bustle of activity. A soundless chuckle shook his shoulders as he wove his way through the bustling secretaries and military grunts, making his way up to Aldercapt’s office. He was late, but fashionably so.

Or, that’s what he told himself.

“About damn time you showed up,” Verstael croaked from the table, a cold smile curling the elder’s lips. A scowl tugged at the corner of Ardyn’s own, but he suppressed it, instead flashing an equally cold smile at the commander. Breezing into the room, he managed to pause and bow to Aldercapt, who looked rather amused at the argument between the men.

“Pardon my late arrival, your grace. My… Informant was running late.” The auburn haired chancellor explained as he took his seat across from Verstael, to Iedolas’ right. Brows raising, he looked around the room curiously. In the corner stood a pair clothed head to toe in black cloth and silver armor, their faces obscured. “My, my- Glauca, Wraith, it certainly has been some time since I’ve seen either of your faces in this room! Tell me, how fairs our friends to the south?” Golden hues studied the pair; he honestly couldn’t remember having ever seen either’s face before.

That would need to change.

“We were just discussing that. Wraith, love, please continue,” Iedolas murmured, voice more of a light rasp than anything else these days. Oh, the torture of aging! Ardyn himself wouldn’t know how that felt- well, in theory, he did age, just not… Quickly.

“As I was saying, Tenebrae is suspicious, but not to the point of sending out any birds to scout. I’m most certain that they won’t make a move without Regis’ order-”

“They’ve done that before, dear. Before you were born,” Ardyn interrupted with a shake of his head. “They moved in quickly with the cover of a blizzard and slaughtered all of our poor, poor shifters. Though, that happened… How many years ago, Verstael?”

“One hundred and twenty.”

“Ah, yes, one hundred and twenty years ago, when the war came to an official end.” He finished, flashing a cheeky grin around the room. “And who of us was alive to even see that?” When no one answered, Ardyn nodded slowly. Oh, he’d been there. He’d been there and had watched as his brethren, as his kingdom, all came tumbling down. But no one here needed to know that.

No one at all.  At least, not yet.

“As I was saying,” Wraith began once more, through obviously gritted teeth behind the black cloth that hid her face from view, “They will not make a move without Regis’ order, due to Regis now overseeing the Glaive. Aside from that, there’s also the fact that the Fleuret coven is currently residing within Insomnia on a vacation of sorts.”

“He wouldn’t risk sending out any sort of armada right now. Not when everything is peaceful and the people are prospering.” Glauca added in, shifting, the should of metal rubbing against leather whispering through the room.

“Good, good… Now, tell me, Ardyn, what did your little informant tell you?” Iedolas probed, turning the attention from the pair in the corner to the man dressed rather flamboyantly in royal hues of reds and golds.

“Well…” Ardyn began, straightening up in his chair, resembling a lion standing over his pride. “He said that there is a boy that matches the description that works for him in Insomnia. Blond hair, blue eyes, freckles… He’s quiet, and he used to have a brother… Verstael, didn’t your escaped experiment have a brother? Oh, what was his name…” Ardyn trailed off, golden hues zeroing in on the scientist. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the man shifted, jaw clenching.

“Oh, right- he was named after the Trickster, wasn’t he? Loqi, that was his name…”

“Loqi Tummelt. The other one hadn’t been given a name yet- he was still in the testing stages when that brat took him and fled.” Verstael hissed out, hands smoothing over the surface of the table. His hands were pale, scarred, the signs of endless hours in the lab evident.

“Glauca, Wraith- I want you both in Insomnia… I want you two to find the escaped experiments… Without them, Niflheim will fall.” With that, Iedolas stood, which prompted for the other occupants to quickly rise as well and bow, holding position until the Emperor walked out, Verstael following suit. Ardyn lingered, watching as the secretaries scattered, running off to inform everyone of what they’ve learned, no doubt.

They’re all mice. Scattering so quickly, so easily.

Pawns in a game of thrones.

Humming under his breath, he made his way over to the pair who were talking quietly with one another, though the conversation seemed to halt once he was within earshot. “Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me.” He taunted, reaching out as if to touch the edge of the mask covering Wraith’s face. So close…

Her hand shot out, an iron grip wrapping around his wrist, the edges of claw-like hand guards digging into his skin. “Did I say you could come near me, or touch me, Izunia?” She hissed, voice lilted with the Tenebraen accent. “I did not. Touch me again and I will have your head resting on a spike, you disgusting mongrel.”

“Oho, Glauca, you need to keep a tighter leash on this one.” Ardyn mused, all but ripping his arm free, ignoring the sting from skin being ripped open. Oh, well. It would heal shortly. “Otherwise, she might end up in an unsightly position… And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Humming once more, he breezed from the room, head held high, a pep in his step.

“I hate him.”

‘Oh, darling, everyone hates me. I’m the reason the war began, after all.’

“Explain to me again why we have to listen to that disgusting man once more?” The woman asked, pulling the black fabric mask from her face, icy hues falling closed as she allowed her skin to breathe. The man beside her let out a snort of laughter, removing his own helm before running a hand through his short, brown hair.

“Because we owe him our lives. He’s the reason you’re alive, Ater- or, should I say, Wraith?” He replied, glancing down at the petite vampire with a fond smile, whiskey hues surveying her appearance as she undressed. The scars that stretched down her back were a painful reminder of just what sort of beast he was, what sort of beast they had made him to be. If she had been human, he would have killed her.

He almost did kill her, even so.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Titus- or, should I say, Glauca,” Ater snapped back, undoing the metal hand guards and allowing them to fall onto the hotel bed. “… So, Insomnia. I’ve never been there… What’s it like? I heard it’s the City that Never Sleeps…” She trailed off, untying her black hair from the bun it had been in, allowing it to cascade down to the small of her back in gentle waves.

“It’s a lot louder than Tenebrae, and more… Free. Regis reigns over it, sure, but the public has a loose leash. The blood banks are more taboo here than in Tenebrae, as well.” Sighing, he pulled the metal-enforced shirt over his head, relief flooding through him as the weight disappeared. “It’s a corrupt place, really… Now that I think of it, it’d be right up your alley.” Reaching over, he traced a finger down her spine, watching the way a shiver followed in its path.

“We don’t have time for this- I need to get back to Tenebrae before hauling ass to Insomnia, and you,” Ater paused, turning to place a hand in the center of Titus’ chest, directly over three gnarled scars, “need to return to Insomnia before I do. We can’t have Regis getting curious, now can we?” She purred, lifting up onto her toes to place a kiss against the corner of Drautos’ lips.

He turned his head, capturing her lips in a kiss before she could pull away, a hand coming up to grasp the back of her neck, holding her in place. Deepening the kiss, he ran his tongue along her lip before pulling back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Ater huffed, reaching up to pat his cheek.

“I’ll see when you when I get to Insomnia, alright? Stay safe, stay hidden.” Ater murmured, brows furrowing as she dropped her hand and stepped back, shoulders squaring. Slipping back into the persona known as Wraith, an assassin hidden within the shadows. Sighing, he stepped aside and let her slip past, starting to redress in traveling clothes. Black on black on black- no metal in sight, though he knew for a fact that her bots were lined with metal, and the undershirt she was pulling on had reinforced leather that could at least dampen the damage of a fist. Seeing her slip so easily into the Wraith sent a chill down his spine, though he knew he was the exact same when it came to becoming Glauca. Drautos sometimes wondered which side of her was the real Ater.

Sometimes he wondered which side was the real one- Wraith and Glauca or Drautos and Ater?

The halls echoed with each footstep, a reminder of how the times have changed. Once, these halls teemed with activity. Once, these halls held the images of his ancestors, the line of the Lucis Caelum, before they were tainted. Tainted because of what his father did. Tainted, forever cursed. The archways before him lead into a grand ballroom- or, what was once a grand ballroom, no doubt.

Now, all that stood was a ruined marble floor, marble columns, and a ceiling that no longer existed. The sky was now the ceiling, and snow had gathered on the floor in drifts, icicles hanging from the broken off pieces of what was once a domed ceiling. Oh, the parties that had been held in this hall! He could remember listening to the string quartet in the corner, the voices of the royal families and their friends drifting, mingling.

Now, all Ardyn could see were the stains of the fallen beneath the snow drifts.

His jaw clenched as memories of that night drifted into the forefront of his memory. There had been a ceasefire declared between Niflheim and Tenebrae. An entire ball had been thrown together, and all of Niflheim had turned out. Insomnia had politely declined the invitation, stating they wished them all well, but they needed to focus on grieving King Mors’ death. Tenebrae had also declined, but had given no formal explanation.

That in and of itself should have sent up warning signs, but all attention was on the ball and the end of the war.

The blizzard had rolled in during the most auspicious of times, cloaking Niflheim within its wintry grasp. But that didn’t stop the populous from donning their finest of dress and suits, making their way to the grand palace for the night’s events. The ball was a sign of the war finally coming to an end after all these years, a sign of peace and tranquility.

Ardyn had been groomed and made to look presentable once more, dressed impeccably in a suit of dark maroon and gold. Somnus had come in and reminded him once more of their time being pressed, which was no real worry. Fashionably late, as always.

The wind was cold, colder than any wind he’d ever felt before in his life. It cut him to the bone, and sounded as if the skies itself were crying, howling, screaming into the dark night. It sent a chill through him, his hair standing on end. But the wine he was offered the moment he entered through the large golden doors warmed him; wine imported from the northern most portion of Tenebrae.

As time passed, it seemed to slow. The dancers moved in dazzling circles, Ardyn amongst them dancing with first one girl in a dress of gold, then another in a gown of red, over and over until the faces began to blur. The time of his life, he’d thought to himself. It was a relief, to be away from the carnage of the battlefield, to be celebrating with his people.

Then, the doors were shutting.

He’d thought nothing of it- if anything, it would keep the warmth within the ballroom and keep the chill of eternal winter outside. In fact, he was certain that was what everyone was thinking. The more warmth, the better. Shifters they may be, but not all of them were fit for the cold. He himself was gifted with being able to handle the chill of winter, but others…

That was why there was a colony of werewolves in Galahd, where winter never reached and summer reigned supreme.

He thought nothing of the way the girl in the blue dress, hair the color of silver, of mercury, lead him off of the floor and to the side, a smile of promise upon her blood red lips. The way her violet eyes danced with mischief behind the ornate ivory mask that graced her cheeks. No, his mind was far away, drunken and swimming. He didn’t register something had happened, something was wrong, until she leaned forward and her lips brushed against his cheek.

“That was for my father, Achilleus.” She had whispered into his ear as the pain began to settle into his stomach, and as he looked from the flawless face, the tears streaming down it, to his stomach, where a blade of black was pulling free from his clothes. Blood had already begun to bloom out, turning the maroon darker, almost black. He made a croaking sound- he tried to cry out, to yell, to warn everyone that Tenebrae was here.

That Tenebrae had come, and brought swift revenge with them.

He’d slipped to the floor, hands grasping at his stomach, and watched in horror as the flames in the ornate fireplace grew higher and higher until the embers began to roll out, and with them came the horrid screams and the scent of burning flesh. The torches had been doused, and all Ardyn could see were the burning corpses of his people. He wanted to get up, to move- but his limbs wouldn’t listen to him. It was as if he was chained to the ground, as if lead had been poured into his veins.

Somnus was fighting, was trying to shift, his skin beginning to tear- but he was stopping, unable to finish the shift. His teeth had already fallen out, the muzzle of a grey wolf ripping free of his face, the human skin pushing back, blood running like tiny rivers across his maw, his eyes- the eyes of a wolf had overtaken those of a human. But the human skin was still there, the shift unfinished. And then, he was falling, falling, the sword pulling free from his back. He hadn’t made a sound, not one, but Ardyn knew- he knew the pain that it must have caused.

And as if that wasn’t bad as is, that damned silver haired bitch lowered a torch to his corpse- to SOMNUS’ CORPSE- and lit it aflame. And then she just stood, and watched.

They all stood and just watched as they burned. As his people burned. He could hear the screams from outside, the townsfolk screaming. Gods have mercy, they were slaughtering them all. Tenebrae had come and reaped all their souls like the damned soulless bastards they were.

“Somnus-SOMNUS. Don’t…” Ardyn croaked, lurching forward to half crawl, half slide towards the shifter, towards his mate. Even if they acted as if they hated one another, it was never true. Not behind closed doors; he could never hate his prince. He barely noticed the boots that were walking slowly beside him, nor the blade whose tip drug along the ground. He reached out with shaking hands before he was roughly dragged backwards by his ankles. A ragged scream wretched free from his lungs as the wound in his stomach tore more and more, ripping open.

He flipped himself over, staring up at the young face looming over him, lilac hues surveying his prone form. The left side of his body seemed to be burned- had he caught fire? Good. He could reach up, he could punch- but his energy had already been spent just crawling over here. Now- now, he was at the mercy of this… This vampire. “You… You killed my father. Achilleus. I watched you rip his head from his shoulders. I was there. A son should never have to watch his father die, don’t you think? I find this… Beautiful. A beautiful play of revenge worthy of song. Remember my name- I refuse to kill you. I want you to tell of this day. Ravus Nox-Fleuret. Remember my name, filthy mutt.”

The man, no, the boy sneered down at him as he straightened, the tip of the blade dragging slowly across Ardyn’s throat. Not pressing down, not tearing the skin- only a threat. His mind was fogging over- was the dagger poisoned? That would make sense, because his hearing was going out as well. Or maybe he’d simply lost too much blood. Either way, shadows were creeping in at the edges of his vision as he watched the group of Tenebraen vampires walk out, leaving the doors open, allowing the winter to find solace in this temple of burning corpses.

“Somnus… Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone in this world… please… don’t…”

Ardyn shifted, reaching up to wipe the single tear that had fallen down his cheek. A scowl turned his lips downward as he turned sharply on his heel, stalking away and out of the ruins. They would pay. All of Tenebrae would pay for the sins their monarchs had committed against the good, innocent people of Niflheim. He remembered waking days afterwards, nearly frozen and to the sounds of weeping mothers. The sight of houses burned to the ground and of the funeral piers of those not having perished in the flames.

They had reached out to Insomnia for aid, and received no response.

Tenebrae would pay. Sylva Nox-Fleuret would pay. Ravus Nox-Fleuret would pay.

They would burn, just as his love had, just has his people had. Just as his empire had.

“Ardyn, could I spare a moment of your time? I need to go over where we will be sending our troops…” The voice of Aranea Highwind called to him, making him pause in his steps, a cold smile curling his lips upward. Yes, Tenebrae would pay in blood and bone, and so would Insomnia, and soon.

“Why, of course, my dear….”

[mythicalbelle]

Sins of Trust

I didn’t know where to go, or what to do but I had to keep myself focused on the fact I had to survive and remain away from Wizarding London and the community as a whole. I had thought that I would never have to leave the world I loved behind; I had survived the final year at Hogwarts when my friends had turned on me because of my loyalty to Draco. Circe! I had believed for most of that final year that I would be betrothed to Draco after we found the inner strength to admit our true feelings to one another - but circumstances had changed that and I’d watched the man I gave my innocence too; walk away. Losing him to Astoria had broken me - Lucius and Narcissa still managing to dictate their son’s future even if one were in Azkaban and the other nearly insane from the horrors she had endured with Voldemort in her home. It had been that pain that had in turn return to the safe and familiar of Ron. I could never have believed that someone I had called my best friend and lover for so long could turn on me in such a violent and horrific manner. Sighing softly, I wove my way through the busy London commuters and tourists hunting for whatever attraction had caught their attention. My sudden removal from the safety and familiarity I had grown accustomed too and into the Muggle world had left me in a quandary. I had no money. Nor did I anywhere to live having sold off the family home after it had become clear that my parents were better in Australia thanks to my inability to reverse the Obliviation I had performed upon them. The money the house had got.. had been placed in their bank in Australia - although they had believed it was there from when they had immigrated to warmer climates after accepting they wouldn't have children and needed an escape. I may have messed up; but with the assistance of Kingsley Shacklebolt had rectified what I could to give my parents some happiness whilst I grieved for them.. Thankfully? I kept my bank card in my purse alongside the more familiar pieces of my magical life. Perhaps I would at least not be sleeping in the streets tonight - if I could only get to the large Barclays Bank situated on The Strand. It had been the first stop my parents and I would make before heading to Diagon Alley during the latter part of the Summer holidays and now, as I headed in the right direction (now with an actual plan in my head making life easier) I smiled sadly at the rush of memories of happier times. I may have forced myself to step away from the Wizarding World; but it would be hard to force my mind not to remember the happiness I had felt at belonging there. Shaking my head to clear my melancholy thoughts; I forced my head higher and shoulders back - time to be strong Hermione; time to accept that the only person I could rely on? Was myself. … “and Draco.” Whispered the voice in my head; but it was wrong - yes; there was no doubt in my mind that the boy I had grown to love in my final year at Hogwarts had remained in the man who had saved me? But Draco Malfoy wasn't mine and I shouldn't have been weak and slept with him; I certainly shouldn't have gone to tell him I loved him (even if it was true) because he wasn't mine. He may have turned his back on the ideals his Father and Grandfather had instilled in him; but he was still extremely proud of being a son of one of the oldest families in certainly Wizarding England and Europe given his French heritage. Leaving him to Astoria Greengrass was the right thing and he would forget me soon enough. - Although I wouldn't ever forget how he made me feel. Nor how much I loved him. “Bloody Hell! That's an owl - an actual owl!!” That particular exclamation of surprise amongst the many that suddenly broke out stood out and had me turn around and look to the skies. Flying in through the bank doors was a beautiful owl - a familiar bird from dinner with Neville and Hannah. Cursing quietly; I prayed my face didn't display anything but surprise as I left the sunshine behind and entered the bank. Only for the Longbottom’s owl to land on the one of the Perspex signs to my left; leg cast out towards me, I admittedly panicked and backed away. “Go away… Go back to where you came from please!” I hissed at the bird as it stared at me with a blaze of fury in its beady eyes. I knew it wouldn't go until I took the parcel from its leg but if I did? Whomever had sent it to me would believe I wasn't serious about my departure from their world. “Excuse me Miss? My name is Cecilia Spencer; would you.. I mean would you like to come this way with me please?” Confused, I look from the owl to a smartly dressed lady in her forties who confidently encourages the owl onto her suit clad arm. I'm clearly hallucinating due to stress.. it's the only explanation for a Muggle bank official to be calmly handling the now happy owl who’s enjoying treats. Following the two of them down a small corridor; I’m led into a large office and realise that I’m with the Bank Manager who smiles at me quietly before ushering me to sit. “I understand you're confusion Miss?” “Granger. Hermione Granger” “Ah yes. That explains the owl coming to you - let me explain once you have helped this little fellow out and take its burden from it. Would you like a drink - tea, coffee; or something cold perhaps Miss Granger?” Shaking my head; I moved to remove the parcel from the owl and ran my fingers across its silken head before thanking it for not being angry with me. A swift nod was clearly witnessed by the Manager and myself before the owl flew out into the blue skies. I recognised the cursive style of my name upon the paper and felt a flutter in my chest at the thought of what Draco had written to me. Tracing my fingers across the paper I pondered leaving it unopened and return it somehow to Malfoy Manor so that we could both move on with our lives. He didn't owe me anything - I had been the foolish one to see the beautiful Wiltshire Manor House as my home. Biting my lip, my eyes caught sight of the Bank Manager as she seemed to be sorting through correspondence … with the Gringotts insignia on the left of each and every envelope. Why on Earth did a Muggle bank know anything about the largest bank in the Wizarding World? Had something been set in motion to prevent me from leaving it truly behind? “Miss Granger, I believe from your look? You wish to know just how I know both what you are and how I have items from your world in my possession. I believe we shall need some tea as the story is quite long and you my dear? Look cold and are clearly in shock so I insist we have a warm drink and you should open the letter before you wear out the paper it's written upon.” It was like having my Mother here with me; encouraging me to not give up and shy away from answers to my questions. Silently nodding; I opened the parcel and caught sight of my wand - seen last lying on the corridor floor of The Leaky when I had decided enough was enough.. Why had Draco sent it to me? I would have thought he would have been relieved to see me go so that he wouldn't be targeted as I had been in school years before for being my friend. Closing my eyes as I tried to stop my tears falling as I longed to thank him face to face for his kindness - he truly was the only man I had loved as deeply and completely as I realised I did now. I had to open the letter; and as I looked at the elegant words I couldn't make out the words for my tears. No matter what I did; Draco Malfoy was a part of me.. Wiping my eyes, I blinked and read the heartfelt letter and felt my heartbreak.. Dear Hermione, I know you must think I am a monster. Perhaps you are right. But whatever I am, I am yours. I always have been. I need you to know that. I am still the boy who loved you all those years before, even if you can’t see it. I always will. Did you ever know my patronus is an otter? Because you are every happy memory I have ever had. Until that last year you and I were together, I didn’t have enough happy memories to conjure one. You gave that to me. You are my shield against the darkness that has haunted me all my life. And that will never change. I won’t ask you to come back to me, though I have never wanted anything so much in my whole life. I’m simply sending you your wand so you have the choice to do so. The decision is yours alone. I will always open my door to you. There never has been and never will be anyone who means more to me than you do. Yours. Always. ~D He.. he… The sobs became harder, the room feeling like it were shrinking and I couldn't escape. Breathless; I held the paper to me and let every ounce of pain, anguish and anger I felt over what had been happening to me as of late. I had made a terrible mistake - Draco loved me; it was there in every word and yet; he didn't come for me, nor did he demand I return. He knew me well enough to know that I would need to do what I wanted for me - not for him or anyone else. “Miss Granger, please take a tissue and know that I am deeply sorry to see someone I have heard so much about in such distress. I hope I can alleviate your sorrow and explain things to you. In the last two decade, this particular branch has been on a small amount of banks working alongside and on behalf of Gringotts. As you are no doubt aware; there has been an increase in non-magical families having children attending Hogwarts and of course; somewhere was needed to work with our esteemed colleagues on Diagon Alley. We were approached as our branch is the largest and nearest one to the entrance to the Wizarding area of our capital. I believe that your parents were informed when you yourself required money to purchase school equipment etcetera?” I nodded dumbly, still too shaken to trust myself to speak coherently to the lady. “My brother attended Hogwarts in the late sixties so I was aware of Gringotts and the whole hidden world that us.. Muggles is it? Know nothing about. Perhaps that too was a reason that this particular branch was also chosen in preference to another? I’m unsure.. Now, in regards to yourself - your parents left a letter to be given to you on your seventeenth birthday if they themselves didn't collect the envelope prior to the 19th of September. As we were unable to locate you Miss Granger, it remained in our vault until I saw you enter and I recognised you straight away - I have been had a copy of The Daily Prophet delivered since the first month my brother attended your former school. It's a fascinating world and I would read it from cover to cover and your face is often on the front page of the paper - I am sorry recent incidents of articles being written are due to unfortunately sad situations. I shall leave you whilst you read over the letter and when you are ready; assist you in any way I can.” “Thank you Miss Spencer - for everything.” I read the letter, penned in both my Mum and Dad’s hands and the tears fell once again. They had made provisions for me if the horrors of Voldemort’s hatred towards Muggleborns and their families became too much and something occurred to have them leave me. They had realised even before I did that I would do whatever it took to keep them safe… Swallowing heavily, I continued and felt shock overwhelm me as I discovered just what they had done.. And who had aided them. ‘Our Darling Daughter. Firstly, if things have gone the way we think they will unfortunately go - forgive yourself. You are everything we could have ever wanted in a daughter and forgive you everything. Now let us explain so that you can lift a weight off those shoulders of yours. Albus Dumbledore came to us the week before your fifteenth birthday and explained that he had foreseen how you, our wonderfully courageous daughter would not let Harry go alone in his battle to protect both Muggles (such a funny word Darling) and magical beings from the darkness this monster had in his heart. We wanted to protect you, to take you from Hogwarts but we knew you wouldn't listen to us. Your heart is there with your friends and loved ones and we wouldn't be the people who raised you if we made you run and hide. So instead; your Headmaster helped us set up a safety net for you incase you were ever taken from us. We hope it doesn't happen little Queen but if it does? Know that we have always been proud of you and love you with everything we have.. You have a Safe Deposit Box here that can be accessed from the eve of your seventeenth birthday Hermione and in it will be account details of a savings account we have had for you since birth - there is also a key and sealed envelope of an address. The house is yours; it's been in the Granger family for a long time and we knew you would love it. We purchased it for you and hope it's a place of happiness and joy for you. To reassure you; the house has been warded by your Headmaster and I believe one Narcissa Malfoy; we believe she's the Mother of that boy you told us about every holiday. Did you give him the chance to prove himself wrong? We hope so dearest Hermione as everyone can change if given a chance and his Mother told us he admires you greatly. Remember what they say? Opposites attract and truly, Ronald is a nice young man but he will never keep up with our little genius. We love you darling girl. Always will. Mum and Dad xxxx’ The letter fell to the ground as I reached for the open box Miss Spencer had left for me to look through and picked up the two envelopes and key. Rolling it over in my hand, I opened the envelope stated as holding the account details and froze - my mouth going dry as I saw the amount of money they had left me.. I had enough to not worry for some time - all gifted to me from parents who had forgiven me for the sin I would later commit of destroying the family they had longed for. I didn't deserve them. Trembling fingers opened the second letter and read the address - they had gifted me a house in Chelsea. As a little girl we had visited relatives there and I had wanted to stay in their Princess home.. Sweet Merlin! I had a home, and money.. I had a chance to escape and just be me. Hermione Granger - Muggle. I couldn't.. wouldn't.. reach out to anyone. Even if it hurt to imagine never seeing Harry, Ginny or Draco and my other friends again. All my dreams and hopes of working in the Ministry of Magic had to end.. I would have to begin all over again in the world I had begun my life in. "Miss Granger? Would you mind signing these papers for me and I can release funds to you.” I hadn't heard the Bank Manager enter, my mind lost to what I had just learnt. Rising from the seat, I signed the papers and went through the motions like a zombie and headed out into the main area of the bank so that I could go.. go home. Home.. Without my kitten, or Draco there to talk to.. Sighing softly, I held onto my wand - the familiar action calming me as I made the first steps to move on. I could only hope.. people would forgive me.