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epicstuckyficrecs · 4 years ago

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2020 Half-year fic rec for Steve Rogers’ birthday!

I made a poll on Twitter to know if people would be interested in me doing a half-year “best of” fic rec like I did last year , and the response was overwhelmingly positive, so here it is! 😊 These are my favorite fics of the year so far! (in no particular order)

Complete

Two Colors, White and Gold by Carelica (Canon-Divergent | 36K | Explicit): He’s here, he’s alive. His hand is on a tree.

Deep Sea Diving by AidaRonan/ @bisexualstarbucky (Shrunkyclunks | 5,4K | Explicit): Steve’s wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

Some things you do for money by pushdragon (BDSM AU | 72K | Explicit): Steve’s wholesome take on domination has suddenly become the hottest thing in the business. He should be cashing in on his newfound celebrity, but instead he’s distracted by the guy who works odd shifts in the club’s bar, fresh out of prison and damaged in ways that don’t show.

the hand you want to hold is a weapon (and you’re nothing but skin) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Post-WS, Sex Pollen | 13K | Explicit): Steve gets sex-pollened. He handles it just fine, and then Bucky shows up.

Dear Mr. Postman by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 52K | Teen): “I’m um—your mailman,” Bucky says, lamely. Or—Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.or: bucky has not let steve rogers fuck him since his sophomore year (Part 1 of himbo-verse)

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants?

That Boy Is a Problem by 2bestfriends (Modern AU | 10K | Explicit): In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve’s dick and he’s really into it. (The leash is a metaphor. For now.)

bullet in a gun (but in the end, my time will come) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Post-Endgame, Canon-divergent | 25K | Explicit): Post-Thanos, Bucky Barnes has happily settled into a life of peace and pining. That’s when alternate versions of the best friend he’s secretly in love with start showing up.

Like it’s the Only Thing I’ll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (ABO AU | 39K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky’s apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

A Company Man by mambo/ @whtaft (Modern AU | 75K | Explicit): No matter what it is, the truth is the same: Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, a married man.

How to Fuck With (and Feed) Your Soulmate by BlueSimplicity/ @bluesimplicity73 (Soulmate AU, Shrunkyclunks | 114K | Explicit): It’s called the Grey Space; a patch of skin marking you as blessed and the first sign you have a soulmate. Steve Rogers didn’t have one when he crashed into the ice. But he did when he woke up in the future. The second sign is the Sense, a sharing of one the senses to help soulmates find each other. Steve’s Sense, taste, is rare, but he loves a challenge and a soulmate is a gift from the Fates. Except instead of a blessing, it’s a curse, since his soulmate is a dick. Bucky Barnes loves food and a homecooked meal is something he cherishes. When his Grey Space starts to itch, Bucky can’t help his excitement, since the Sense he and his soulmate share is taste. But not for long. Whoever he’s bound to has the blandest diet in the world, ignoring all Bucky’s messages. After weeks of putting up with tasteless food, Bucky decides to strike back.

Strangers in the Street by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Canon divergent | 15K | Teen): Every five years, Bucky meets the same tall, blond stranger.

Departure by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (Arrival AU | 80K | Mature): Captain America is recruited by the U.S. government to assist a linguist and her team of scientists in communicating with aliens after twelve mysterious space ships appear across the globe overnight.

Compatible - A Romantic Science Fiction Thriller in Four Parts by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 33K | Explicit): When young nanotech engineer Bucky Barnes finds himself falling head first in love with none other than Steve Rogers, he ends up getting a lot more of the Alpha than he– or science– could ever have imagined possible.

WIP

four dreams in a row where you were burned by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (canon divergent, post-Endgame, 1945 alternate timeline | 10/? | 58K | Mature): When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

A Matter of Trust by chicklette/ @chicklette (Singer Bucky, Fake relationship | 7/13 | 26K | Explicit): At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top. Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

Bespoke by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 6/10 | 61K | Explicit): “I love you, too. So fucking much,” Steve answered. His voice sounded cracked and exhausted, an exposed nerve ending in the shape of a man. “Some days I still don’t believe you’re real. Feels— feels like somehow, I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know you.” Bucky smiled softly at that and felt his heart threaten to explode. Still straddling his lap, he reached a hand up to cup Steve’s cheek. “You’ve always known me,” he stated, simply. “I was made for you, remember?” (Part 2 of Compatible)

Series

couldn't get the boy to kill me by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, SHIELD Agent Bucky | 12 works, complete | 74K | Explicit): Captain America and the Winter Soldier are a terrifying duo on the field, working together with a well-oiled precision that tears through their enemies. Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are distant coworkers, all polite nods and mission briefings. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are fire and gasoline; it never ends well.

the hero's shoulders by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, Post-CW, canon divergent | 3 works, not complete | 32K | Explicit): Sequel series to couldn't get the boy to kill me

Honorable mention for Where The Interstate Ends by paperstorm/ @paper-storm because it was posted last year but I only read it recently!

#stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #half year fic rec

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denimbex1986 · 4 years ago

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“...I think now, movies and “television” is so interchangeable that like, the quality’s just gotten so much better, you know, in terms of what we’re seeing...I was just happy to, to, to be included and, and to keep having, you know, keep, keep, keep exploring this character...”

“...the parallels of, of what was going on in the scripts and what was going on in, in our world, kinda like freaked us out.”

“...it was one of those things where like you read the scripts and it’s a scene that you feel grateful about as an actor, right , because you’re like ‘Oh cool, like, I’m gonna get to do this’ and then you’re really terrified about it because you’re like ‘Oh my God, I have this scene.’ So I, I sort of had it marked on my calendar, you know, like, and then, and then I was counting the days, you know, six days till - to the scene, and there’s all - always this build up to it, because you knew that it had to be it had to be some sort of like major revealing scene or, or, or, or a getting over of some sorts. So it’s like - it’s not like you have a choice, right, like, you’re like; ‘No, I have to go there and like -’”

“...I felt from, from a point of view of the character it was really nice to have that scene. We’ve never really seen him let go so to speak...it was just nice to have that scene and, and, and have it happen there, and for us to have that flashback...”

“I always think with story-telling, the most important thing is to have honesty, you know, and just have people understand and relate to something that you’re doing. Um, trauma is obviously something that everybody understands because everyone’s experienced some level of trauma; different levels of it, but, but I think trauma’s very relatable and I think it’s very important that, you know, and, and I love that the M - you know, that the MCU was dealing with certain, certain issues that were maybe hard to talk about or, you know like, confronting them in a certain way. My goal to everything was always just to - just to provide the most honest answer and take to it all, you know, and just have people relate.

You know I have a lot of fans that reach out you know like, talking to me writing about trauma and, and, and telling me about certain situations that they’re going through, and - and feeling empowered, like from the show or something - and I, I feel like that’s just; that might be the greatest gift to be honest, because people are experiencing a lot of difficult things and if for a second, they can, you know, like, have another experience outside of themselves with it, I think we’ve done our job, you know like that - that’s the most important thing.”

“...this is entertainment, but, but, but at the same time, there’s a message there; there’s something that, that connects deeper about it.”

“...both of the men that you just mentioned are like maybe the best people. Chris and, and, and Anthony like, they just - they just have an energy about them that like, they walk in and they change the room, you know; that’s just who they are. That’s a natural thing to who they are. But both of them have this thing like, like that I’ve loved, of, of just embracing people and making people, people like feel good. You’re in that presence, you’re immediately uplifted by it. To go to work with those people, like it - it’s, it’s undeniably going to be fun...”

“A lot of that scene was improvised. I think we were filming that scene and in between takes, we walked out and recorded a Valentine’s Day video. I said to him, I was like ‘Anthony, I think you and I have to go on Instagram and, uh, tell the people that Valentines Day is gonna be okay’, and he was like ‘I’m in.’...we knew it was an important scene in terms of the characters just because it was saying something about where they were at...”

“...that was a big thing for me...it was a great show and, and it was just a little bit too early ‘cos I think we could’ve done it now...”

“...you gotta be curious. Like, I feel like when people ask me like what do you think is the most important thing, I’m like, just stay curious. Like, stay curious about life, people, experiences, stories. I don’t know, don’t be so quick to judge, you know; everyone’s got a story. This sort of ended up in my lap, I, you know, uh, sometimes I don’t know why. But, but, but it did and, and then, and then you’re like; ‘Well I wanna tell this st- , you know, I wanna be a part of the telling of the story’, but the only thing I’ll say about it is, what’s interesting to me is people have a lot of preconceived ideas and misconceptions; boy, like, do we love to project, you know what I mean? Like we are projecting a lot. Do you remember when you, you could just be surprised by something? You know, it’s like - like we’re very quick - we are very quick to judge, um, again good and bad, Like, right? Like there’s two sides to the coin, always. But like, this is an interesting story, you know, because it brings out reactions in people and I think it’s funny to watch people sort of have some reaction, to something without even knowing what it’s essentially about.”

“I gravitate towards really good writing. I see things as, as characters, I see things as stories; whether they happen to be based on a true story or real life stories or real people that’s another thing, right? I think you have a responsibility to, to uphold a certain truth to those, to those people you’re representing, but at the same time, it’s a story and it’s told through a different medium. You know, it’s, it’s not, um - we’re not making a documentary; it’s a point of view and sometimes as an actor, it’s not even your, like, you’re not the writer, you’re not the director, you’re - you’re in this thing, but I appreciate really good story-telling, and I, and, and, and I, and to me I, Tonya was a really well written thing.

I really appreciate our writers on this thing as well, like I - I think they’re very talented. I think that, I think they’re saying bigger things. I get hesitant to talk about it too much only just because I feel like, you know, people deserve to, you know, they deserve to have the story told before it ends up being sort of like thrown to ‘the comments’ of, of it all. But these are very talented people you know, like again, with a moral responsibility and with telling a story that’s just not like; they’re saying something with it; there’s a message behind it, you know? I’m happy to get behind that kind of story-telling, you know, which is what I felt with I, Tonya, what I feel with this. People are gonna have ideas about it, but they’re gonna - in, in the long run, perhaps be surprised about the level of depth that’s actually going into this thing. We are in a, in a, in a world where we are depending so much on technology and the internet And we have to understand the origins of that to some extent, and what went into it, you know, and funny enough, this factors into that; that - the, this story.”

“...I had to learn drunk. I have no idea, like, you know, you just go with the flow. You - all, all of this is a learning lesson, essentially, you know? You do your best and that’s it, you know? I think it’s just interesting how people criticize everything so quickly, you know? Like, like, I just wanna be like: ‘all right, you got something to say, like - go out there and fucking prove it’, you know what I mean? Like, I’m like, I’m like; ‘alright, cool. Is that comfortable for you to just say what you wanna say right now?’ you know? Like, and it is - people are very comfortable behind a keyboard, you know, but it’s like if you wanna meet life, and you wanna do something interesting or something that lasts, you’re gonna have to do a lot more than type a fucking message.”

#Sebastian Stan #awards circuit #pam & tommy #falcon and the winter soldier #I Tonya

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 9

“But what if it’s the hospital?” Inko asked, still staring at the phone, cheek cupped in one hand. “What if it’s an emergency with one of your patients? It could be important.”

It wasn’t. Mostly because nothing could possibly be as important as dealing with Midoriya Inko.

Without a doubt, the woman was the most difficult to deal with person in the entire world. It was no reflection on her personality, of course, but rather on her unique position.

Garaki could cope with rabid villains. He had handled heroes cursing him. He could even converse normally with All for One.

But then, compared to this woman, All for One was easy. As long as she wasn’t part of the picture, all Garaki had to do was follow orders. When she did, every interaction became a balancing act between All for Ones previous orders and not upsetting her.

Garaki was too valuable to All for One for the man to kill him, which only meant that Garaki had been on the receiving end of some truly creative punishments in the past.

Also, Midoriya Inko once threatened to pull his pancreas out of his nose if he ever spoke ‘like that’ to her son again. Truly, she was a match for All for One, who had threatened much the same thing only hours later, despite the fact the results presented had been ordered by him.

This was truly a terrifying situation, and he had to face it without even little Johnny at his side. How pitiful…

“Really,” said Inko, “I think you should answer it. Maybe it’ll give you some idea about how we can help Izuku.”

That seemed unlikely at best. Even so, it would be unwise to go against the wishes of All for One’s chosen queen.

He smiled tightly. “I’ll have to step out,” he said.

“Of course,” said Inko, nodding.

He stepped out if the dining room and checked the phone. It was Shigaraki Tomura. Because of course it was. Normally, he would have scrambled to answer, but… He looked over his shoulder, to make sure Midoriya Inko hadn’t spontaneously appeared there.

One way or another, he feared, he was going to die today.

No, he told himself, focus on the positives.

For example, Midoriya Inko seemed to have taken quite well to the longevity quirk All for One had slipped her while they were dating. Very well indeed. He’d already known that, of course, but it was good to see it in person. All for One’s youngest son was now in conflict with the heroes, even if he was still clinging to All Might’s emaciated skeleton. The call from Shigaraki Tomura meant that Gigantomachia hadn’t killed him while Garaki was distracted.

Overall, this day was going wonderfully.

He answered his phone.

“You f—”

Ah, so it was Shigaraki Tomura.

“How did you and Sensei manage to lose an entire-a—” And there he went again. “—ing feral child?”

Wait. Garaki knew about Midoriya Izuku. How did Shigaraki Tomura? “Er, what feral child?”

“The green brat! Except he’s not green anymore. He died his stupid puffball hair white—”

“—honestly, I always thought it was more broccoli—HA! He’s a cauliflower now-!”

“Shut up, Twice! He was wearing a suit, using Eraserhead’s quirk. Did you guys think I was stupid or something?”

“What?”

“Do you not have the news in your crappy lab?”

“Erm.”

“What are you even doing, that it took so long for you to pick up your phone?”

“Well…”

“Never mind. We need a fast travel out of here. This place is crawling with heroes, and the giant boss is going to wake up soon—”

“I can’t,” said Garaki. “I’m not in my lab.”

It wasn’t quite silent on the other side of the line.

“What do you mean, you aren’t in your lab?” A pause. “What are you doing, old man? Where are you?”

“I have to go, now,” said Garaki, feeling oddly detached. The phone beeped as he hung up on Shigaraki Tomura. He opened his news app.

Masterfully, he avoided crying as he read through the top local stories. The real shock was that All for One hadn’t broken out of prison yet.

Oh, and Eraserhead’s quirk, because he absolutely shouldn’t have been able to do that. The quirks of the past users, yes, fine, that made sense. The mechanism between All for One and One for All was presumably sufficiently similar. But Eraserhead’s, that was a different story.

Unless… The remnants…

Garaki found that he was very afraid.

He replayed the video of the incident. Mentally calculated the trajectory of All Might and the younger Midoriya. Perhaps�� perhaps rather than taking a phone call, he should be making one.

“’S like Ragdoll,” explained Izuku, as the pair of One for All members limped through the forest. “Shiretoko-san, I mean.”

“Mhm,” said Toshinori, lifting Izuku over a spot that would give his sprained and swollen ankle some difficulty.

“Even though she can’t use Search anymore, there’s still remnants. She can- She can keep track of a lot more objects at once. Her organizational skills, visual acuity… Some things have actually improved, now that she’s not using that part of her head. The point is, not all of the support structures disappear when the quirk does. And I think- I think not all of the quirk itself goes away, either.”

“I’m not sure I follow you on that part.”

“It’s—It’s a, um. All for One, I think, physically, obviously, there has to be psionic component as well, the way it works is by destructively copying the quirk and the quirk factor of the target individual. It’s like—Like if there was a copier in a shredder? I guess? Can’t copy without destroying the original. But, yeah. There has to be a mental component. So, my—So, what, I mean, I mean what I—Hmmnnng.”

“My boy?”

“My head hurts.” He swiped ineffectively at his sluggishly bleeding nose.

Toshinori pressed his lips together, concerned. Izuku rarely admitted to feeling pain, no matter how beaten up he was. This must be serious.

“We have some painkillers,” said Toshinori.

“No,” said Izuku. “I’m okay. What was I-? I was saying… Quirks. My quirk when he—There’s still remnants, and the emergent behavior—” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “The bits left behind when he took my quirk, with One for All—assuming that’s what happened, and they’re not wrong—they let me access the past users’ quirks, and also since Saito-san’s quirk seems to interact with quirk ghosts, at least partially, it can use that to pick up Aizawa-sensei’s quirk. Probably could get the others’ as well, although I’m less confident about mutant quirks like Iida’s.”

For a moment, they let the conversation lapse.

“I think we’re handling these revelations very well,” opined Toshinori.

“I know, right?” Izuku giggled like someone at the edge of a very tall cliff. “Anyway, One for All uses more of a passive copying mechanism, but I’d guess there’s something wrong with its writing mechanism, unless the stockpile quirk just takes up all its time, or something, or there was a problem with interpretation? Or, or! The others are wrong about me ever having a quirk, and it’s really just One for All finally processing and writing in the other quirks. Maybe because I’m genetically closer to One than any of the others?” Izuku’s breath caught.

“Izuku?”

“Toshinori,” he whined, “it hurts…”

“What does?”

“Everything,” said Izuku. “My head. My eyes.” He’d mostly relied on Toshinori’s vision while navigating through the forest. Since using Aizawa-sensei’s quirk, he’d barely opened his eyes.

“We’ve made some distance since we landed,” said Toshinori. “Why don’t we rest for a little while?”

“We can’t,” protested Izuku. “We’re still too close.”

“Izuku, you’re suffering from quirk exhaustion.”

“Oh,” said Izuku. “Oh. I guess I never felt—Never felt it before? Because I’d just break my bones first.”

Toshinori visibly cringed. “If I understand what you just said correctly,” he said, taking Izuku by the shoulders and guiding him gently towards a fallen tree, “what you did back there with young Aizawa’s quirk was akin to running a race with a broken leg.”

“W-well, I mean, only if—only if—they’re right about it being my quirk. And n-not just something One for All can do.”

“Mm,” said Toshinori, dubiously. “Even then, it isn’t something quite natural for you, is it? And this right after receiving Float.”

“It,” said Izuku, frowning, and letting himself be directed. “Actually, it felt… Good? Right before it started hurting. Like… satisfying, almost? Like when I used One for All for the first time… Well, before I realized all my bones were broken.”

“It wasn’t quite all of them, was it?”

Izuku shrugged. He blinked slowly as he sat down on the log. “It’s cold.”

“It is December,” said Toshinori, unzipping his coat. “Let me see here, I had some winter clothing for you in here somewhere… and we should take a better look at your ankle.” He sat down next to Izuku, who immediately leaned towards him, not quite touching.

On impulse, Toshinori wrapped the open edge of the coat around Izuku, pulling him close.

Izuku rested his head against Toshinori’s chest and brought up his knees to hug them. “This’s warm,” he mumbled.

“How about,” said Toshinori, “you just rest for a few minutes. Then we can sort everything else out.”

“Okay…”

“Well,” said Recovery Girl, entering the conference room the hospital had lent them, “no one is in any danger of dying.”

“But?” said Hitoshi, bracing himself for bad news.

“No but. They’re all fine, beyond not waking up, but you all already knew that. So.” She hopped into a seat at the table they’d all squeezed around. “What have you found out?”

She directed the question to Hizashi, who had his head in his hands, his elaborately styled hair almost hitting Jirou and Kaminari, who were seated across from him.

“Midoriya has a sentient quirk and no one bothered to mention it.”

“I’m not sure Midori knew,” said Tsuyu. “It does seem like something he’d mention.”

“I don’t know,” said Kaminari. “He’s, like, weirdly cagey about his quirk.”

Tokoyami crossed his arms. “Hm. He may have been hiding it. Possession of a sentient quirk casts one into the shadow of the commission’s regard.”

“Huh?”

“People with sentient quirks are monitored by the Hero Commission,” said Hitoshi. “Just like people with ‘villainous’ quirks.

“He was not hiding, mes amis,” said Aoyama. “That’s absurd! He was simply a late bloomer, like myself.”

“Does it really matter if he knew or not?” asked Jirou. “Everyone has stuff they’d rather not tell other people.”

“She’s right,” said Kayama-sensei.

“Well,” said Yaoyorzu, “we’re going to try to help him, aren’t we?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“But how?”

“Overthrow the government?” suggested Jirou.

“Start a social media campaign?” said Kaminari, at the same time.

They looked at each other.

“And you call yourself an anarchist,” scoffed Jirou.

“In my defense, I have never once called myself an anarchist.”

“As much as I like the idea of overthrowing the government, the social media idea is probably more doable,” said Hitoshi. “I mean, there’s only fourteen of us here. What are we going to do against the government?”

“As much as I hate to say it,” said Kayama-sensei, “we do have more resources than just the people in this room. Like the person who sent us to extract you in the first place.”

“You mean,” said Shouji, voice hushed, “the rat god?”

Kayama-sensei blanched. “Where did you hear that?”

All the students, including Hitoshi, pointed at Hizashi, because, really, she should have known that. Actually, wait, one of them hadn’t and had instead buried his face in his hands. That was… Kouda. Yeah. Kouda.

“What’s up with him?” asked Hitoshi.

Mineta snickered. A baleful collective glare was turned on him.

“What?” he whined.

Aoyama sighed. “Midoriya once asked him if he could control our fantabulous Principal Nezu, since Principal Nezu is technically an animal.”

“Ever since then,” continued Yaoyorozu, “he has a crisis whenever the principal is brought up.”

“Man,” said Kaminari, nodding in Hitoshi’s direction, “I bet that if Midoriya was here, he’d be asking you if you could control Principal Nezu, since he’s not human.”

… That was a good question.

“Speaking of Midoriya,” said Satou, as if they hadn’t been doing exactly that all along, “I don’t think we can overthrow the government without him. He’s our plan guy, usually.”

“Even with Nezu?” asked Hizashi.

The members of class 1-A seemed thoughtful.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Mineta, “we’re serious about that? I thought it was a joke.”

“Okay,” said Yaoyorozu, “perhaps we should discuss our other options first.”

“Oh!” said Aoyama. “We could become vigilantes!”

“What… What would be the point of that?” asked Hitoshi.

Aoyama did not have an answer.

Hizashi’s phone started ringing. “Oh, no,” he said, “it’s him. Does he know I’ve been calling him the rat god behind his back?”

“Probably,” said Kayama-sensei, “but I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

Hizashi answered his phone. “Heeeeeyyyyyy, Principal Nezu, what-? Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah, we were planning on that, but we weren’t sure—yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them, and –” He went pale. “You already knew about that, huh? Haha, yeah, yep, okay, okay. See you soon?” He cringed as he hung up. “He wants us all back at school before the commission decides to interrogate us. Also, he said to check the news.”

“It’s just going to be more slander of Midoriya,” said Jirou, looking at her own phone, “why both—Oh.”

“Still can’t believe they think Midoriya kidnapped All Might,” mumbled one of Shouji’s free mouth hands as Hitoshi unlocked his own phone.

“I know. Do you remember when he came into the cafeteria to ask Midoriya to eat lunch with him?” asked Kaminari.

“Which time?” asked Dark Shadow, cackling.

“It was cute, kero,” said Asui. “I have pictures.”

“We can use those for the social media campaign!”

Hitoshi’s news app loaded. He looked up and met Jirou’s eyes. Judging by her pale face, what he’d seen wasn’t a hallucination.

“Am I a dog, a mouse, or a bear?” chirped Nezu as he answered his phone. “One thing’s for sure, I’m Principal Nezu? How can I help you, Mr. Hero Commission President?”

“I’m sure you’re following the news,” said the president.

“Of course,” said Nezu, patting Eri’s head. She’d been staring at his phone like a predator faced with prey since he answered. They had, indeed, been watching the news.

“We need Midoriya Izuku’s medical records and the blood sample you have from him. You should have it ready by the time our investigators arrive.”

“Oh? Investigators?”

“To search Midoriya Izuku’s personal effects for clues. You should also prepare Chisaki Eri, Togata Mirio, and the teachers involved in Midoriya Izuku’s education for questioning.”

“Thank you for giving me a heads up, Mr. President.”

There was a suspicious silence on the other end of the line. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing at all!”

“You aren’t going to win this fight.”

“What fight, Mr. President? Aren’t we both on the side of heroes?”

“If you get in our way, I will make sure your precious school goes down with Midoriya.”

“Oh-ho! Is that a threat, Mr. President?”

“A promise. Public opinion isn’t something you can think your way out of, and UA has been on thin ice since the attack on the USJ.”

“I see,” said Nezu, fighting against the urge to bare his teeth and snarl. “In any case, I will not stand in the way of the law.”

“Good.”

The line went dead. “Oh, dear,” said Nezu. “He really doesn’t understand me at all.”

“What areya going to do?” asked Eri.

“Follow the law,” said Nezu.

Eri scowled.

“Bothering by the book, sir?” asked Togata, who had been hiding in Aizawa’s kitchen, baking.

“Oh, yes. The good heroes who were here earlier had the authority to request a piece of Midoriya-kun’s clothing, but what Mr. Hero Commission President is asking for is quite different.”

“How?” asked Eri.

“They need certain forms and paperwork in order to force me to do so much as let them in the front gate. Which cannot, of course, be opened to outsiders by teachers without my express permission. And if I am involved in an emergency involving one of my wards at the time…”

“That’s me!” said Eri, bouncing on the couch.

“Indeed, it is.”

“So,” she said, “I’ve got to be an em-er-gen-cy?” she asked, carefully sounding out the word.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” said Nezu, “except say that I was occupied with you when the commission representatives arrived.”

Eri nodded very seriously. “Can we watch Deku kick the bad guy again?”

Nezu chortled.

“Did I say something funny?” asked Eri, her face pinching again.

“Not at all, not at all. I’m just imagining how others might react to you calling Hawks a bad guy.”

“He’s fighting Deku, so he’s a bad guy.”

“Immaculate logic, young lady,” said Nezu, patting Eri on the head.

Izuku walked through Nana’s misty memories, searching for her and Suzuki.

Hopefully, Nana hadn’t reached through the dream to kill the guy in real life. He didn’t like Suzuki. In fact, he pretty much hated him. But murder was still, well, murder.

He had some things to talk to Nana about.

The far more comprehensive connection he currently had to One for All, thanks to Saito-san’s quirk, meant that he knew far more than he usually did, about One for All, the others, All for One, and even himself. Enough that he was twitching for his notebook and pencil, because he was afraid he would forget once the quirk wore off.

One of the things he knew now was that One for All had usability adaptations. Little things that tweaked the user’s body and subconscious in such a way that made the quirk actually viable. Required secondary powers, to use an older term.

A common one was the heat and burn resistance most fire users had. Bakugou had lighters in his palms to set his sweat off. Tokoyami had amazing night vision. Hagakure was resistant to cancer.

One for All read the DNA of potential recipients, to see if they could handle the quirk. One couldn’t go shoving quirks into random people all willy-nilly, even if the quirk in question was One for All. That’s why the noumu were so messed up. All for One didn’t have that compatibility-checking adaptation.

But since compatibility here was a function of both mentality and DNA… that meant…

“Were you ever going to tell me that we’re all related?” he asked Nana. “Speaking of which.” He pointed at the memory-shade of a young Gran Torino. “How is it that everyone I’m related to is so tall? Why are Mom and I midgets? And where did the green hair come from? I’m having a crisis.”

Nana chuckled, but it was a sad sound. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, kiddo.”

(The effect would have been better if her boots weren’t stained with blood.)

“Okay, but seriously,” said Izuku, sitting on the railing next to Nana. They watched the memory play out. “You guys all knew. Why didn’t you say anything? I think Toshinori’d be happy to be related to you, even if it’s only tangentially.”

“But would he be happy with the other part?”

“Huh?”

“Being related to him.”

“I think he’d overlook that. I mean, One was related to him, too. So it doesn’t really matter. And I’m…” He faltered. They had yet to confront this particular thing.

“You should talk to One and Four,” suggested Nana, gently. “Their perspective is probably closest to yours.”

“Will I have time?”

“As long as we’re with you, eventually,” said Nana. “This,” she gestured at the dreamscape, “changes things. You know this feeling, now. You won’t forget.”

Izuku nodded. “Should I call you grandma, now?”

“That makes me feel old.”

“You are old.”

“Ouch, kid. But sure.”

“That aside, I do want to know where the green hair comes from.”

Nana sighed. “It’s from me. I used to dye my hair. Then I got a stylist to permanently change it with a quirk.”

“But… why?”

Nana slumped sideways. “The kids at my school… They were always saying, ‘Oh, Nana, you’re so green. Just like your name. Green Vegetable Nana.”

“Name related trauma is something we have in common.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So. Suzuki.”

“Under that rock.” She pointed to a massive boulder.

Izuku sighed. “What are we going to do with him?”

“Your call,” said Nana.

“Does it have to be?”

Gigantomachia shrugged dirt and trees from his shoulders and sniffed the air. The radio around his neck crackled as the doctor stopped transmitting. This, he decided, catching the scent of the Little Lord, was a joyful day.

Only once before had he received the privilege of smelling this scent. That day was eternally carved into his memory. The Little Lord had been so small, but so smart! So cunning! So much better than Shigaraki Tomura!

Machia wondered if he would still be small, or if he had grown up to be as big as Lord! Or even Machia!

Probably, he would not be as big as Machia. Still!

How wonderful!

Machia wondered if the Little Lord would smile at him again. That had been nice.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #my fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

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Nowhere to Run by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”

#nowhere to run #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #emma jones

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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The Third: Killan

CW: Literally nothing beyond some vague visual references to past torture, plus some unpleasant/negative generalizations about a fictional species. Killan is truly living the comf dream.

TIMELINE: ... later

As always, Killan’s universe and details of fae meta/biology/magic all belong to @wildfaewhump!

Even though the young woman knew the way, it still took three hours to walk from the barn, where she always stopped first to give a final scritch behind the ears to her favorite barn cat, to her aunt's tiny wooden cabin.

It wasn’t even an easy three hours of walking. Instead, it was three hours of hard hiking in her loose pants and shirt with a shawl thrown over for warmth, her thick black hair with its rough curls sticking to her neck with sweat even as she shivered from the chill breeze. Sometimes the walk felt like it was all straight up, placing each step with care as the rocks scattered back down below and her heavy boots dug into the earth to keep her hold.

At least her skin had held its color from summer and she felt the warmth of the sun settle in as she walked up to see her aunt.

The old woman lived up high on a ridge, hugging the side of the great mountains where the fae stayed hidden, with a view in the winter of the village far below and in the summer of acres upon acres of bright green trees and fields.

No one lived closer to the fae than her aunt did without coming to harm - the young woman even saw them circling overhead sometimes, out on the hunt. She’d even seen a mother, or she thought it was a mother anyway, with three littler fae flying behind her.

Might’ve been cute, if the fae didn’t teach their fledglings to hunt by siccing them on lambs and other defenseless things in the spring. The young woman had made a note of the fledglings, that year, and they’d kept an eye out. No lambs went missing, though, so maybe the fae mam had decided to teach her babes to hunt somewhere else.

Living this close to the fae was dangerous. Anyone else would’ve been terrified to live that way, but her aunt had kept the same home since she built it herself as a young woman and swore she would live nowhere else.

I have honest dealings with Sidhe, love, said the old woman - who wasn't really her aunt, not by blood, but who was connected to her instead through a complex web of distant relations and friendships that her family simply called kin. Honest as can be. There had been a twinkle in milky green eyes that the young woman never quite understood, when she said those words. You might say, if you were so inclined, that I have had the most honest sort of dealings one can have.

Her aunt’s laughter had near lifted the roof off with its volume, and the young woman had smiled uncertainly along, even though she didn’t quite get the joke.

Her aunt’s sense of humor always puzzled her. Fae weren’t to be joked about, not with such a jovial, even affectionate, tone. They were dangerous. They hurt people, slaughtered those who tried to find the pass through the mountains. They spoiled milk and made people sick. Everyone in the village kept iron along every window and doorway to keep the fae out.

Everyone except her aunt, whose windows were always open, like she wanted them to crawl in with their wiry limbs and claw her face off. It had never happened, but… still. It wasn’t safe to live alone, to live so close to the fae. Her aunt did it anyway.

The young woman didn’t even know her real first name. She was Aunt Llyrie, but everyone knew Llyrie was just a name she’d taken, said she’d been given by someone and thought she’d keep.

By who, Auntie?

Mmmn, someone else, from long ago, when I was prettier than I had any right to be and he took a liking to walking on the ground for a while. That’s all you’ll ever need to know, love.

The young woman and her sisters and cousins had all asked her aunt, and the answer was always the same. Someone else. What could that even mean?

She was called Aunt Llyrie because all women above an age were Aunt So-and-So or Auntie Whoever. It was simply how you did things, and the young woman had never thought twice about it. Her mother's sister was her aunt, and so was the old woman up on the ridge who grew herbs and made potions and salves. She came down only to check on pregnant women and new babies, and otherwise people who needed help went to her.

Not that very many people did. The old woman was spoken of in hushed tones. People made a sign against evil, they called her touched.

But they asked her to be there when their babies were born, anyway. No woman had died in childbirth in forty-three years, not since the old woman had taken up midwifery and started bringing her medicines with her. She had been there for the births of babies, and those babies’ babies. She might be there to meet the first babies’ grandbabies, too.

Who knew?

She was odd, though. Ask her about the fae and her aunt's face would settle into a hundred wrinkles like lines on an ancient browned map as she smiled.

Her voice creaked a little as age wore down its firm strength in sound but not in the iron-tough foundation of her spirit, and she would only shake her head. I do not fear the Sidhe. Will they carry an old woman away when they did not take the young one? Paugh, maybe he will one day. I would thank him for the final journey into the sky.

The young woman didn’t understand that, either.

Still, she had gone to see her aunt a hundred times or more, in her life. She was always welcomed with open arms by a woman who had seen her coming long before she actually arrived.

Today, though, she wound her way up the small path only to find her aunt’s cabin closed up tight. Even the shutters to those open windows were closed, despite the mild mountain air. A thin curl of smoke wound up from the chimney, the only sign of life beyond the solid black cat who slept along the low stone wall that encircled the garden. She gave it a quick run of fingers along the top of its head and down its back as she passed, feeling it arch up gratefully into her touch. It meowed, stretching, and leapt gracefully down to the path to trot along beside her.

Swallowing, she knocked on her aunt’s door, feeling trepidation curl cold and heavy in the bottom of her stomach. “Auntie? Are you at home?”

Where else would she be? In the young woman’s twenty years on earth, she had never once seen her aunt be anywhere else but home or seeing to the birthing of a baby. And since there were no new babies in the village…

The door popped open with a creak of ancient hinges, and the young woman swallowed as her aunt’s eyes peered through, with an expression she had never seen before - suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I-” The young woman blinked, startled. She felt suddenly guilty, even though she had committed no crime. Did I do something wrong and I just don’t remember? “I came to ask for a tincture, there’s an ague has hit the blacksmith and his family. My mam sent me up-”

Her aunt cleared her throat, cracked the door just a little bit wider. “Today’s not the day for it, love,” She said, her voice slightly sharp, snappish in a way that made the young woman take a step back, unsettled and uncertain.

“Well, I… it’s just, the ague is quite-... Aunt, are you well?” The young woman’s head tilted, trying to take a closer look, only to have the old woman close the door slightly, showing just one blue eye through the crack. Her heart began to race. She had clearly done something, said something on her last visit, angered the old woman in some way. But she had no idea what she could possibly have done. “If you’re sick, Auntie, I could nurse you?”

“I’m not sick, dear.” There was a pause, the old woman taking time to think, and then she said, “Can you keep a secret, love? From everyone but me?”

“A… a secret?” Despite her nervousness, and how ominous everything seemed when put together, the young woman had to admit she felt no small thrill at the idea of something secret. In a village like hers, there was no such thing as a secret. Even a quick kiss with the blacksmith’s son was reported to her mam within minutes, and she a grown woman whose kisses should be her own business by now. “I could, Auntie, of course I could. But what is the secret?”

Her aunt hesitated a moment more, and then the door swung open. Inside smelled like a mix of smoke and something savory, and the young woman’s eyes lit on the meat pies cooling out on the table as she stepped into the open cabin’s kitchen-side. “You must swear on your life you won’t tell a soul, love.”

“I won’t, Auntie, swear on my heart.” Her eyes scanned the walls, finding all the cooking pans hung on their hooks, bundles of herbs drying above the fireplace, a kettle hung for water to boil for tea. It was all the same, and yet there was a change in the air in here, something different indeed. Something smelled sharp and cold, like the way the night smelled in autumn when the sky was clear and the stars gave off nearly as much light as the moon. “What is the secret?”

There was a rustling from the bed-corner, and the young woman turned that way to stare, wide-eyed, at what she thought at first must be the largest bird she had ever seen.

Her aunt’s hand, warm, dry, with softly wrinkled brown skin like thin creased paper folded a thousand times until it is nearly cloth, came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “It’s not a ‘what’,” She said, her voice gentle. “It’s a ‘who’.”

“Wh-what-”

The wings moved, parting to reveal-

“Gods almighty, a fae!” The young woman scrambled backwards, tripped over a broom, fell flat on her arse on the flat wooden slats of the floor. She let out a breathy scream, backing up until her back hit the wall, grabbing the handle of a cast-iron cookpan as tightly as she could - let the bastard fae try to hurt her, she’d whack it with iron until its face was nothing but boils, she would, she’d not go quietly into some fae’s stomach - and holding it in front of her as a weapon.

The thing on the bed flinched back when she did, curling itself up tightly, staring at her with wide, terrified bright blue eyes with razor-thin slit pupils, perfectly inhuman. Its face, though… well, its face and hair looked nothing like she’d been told fae should look. It wasn’t angular or pointy-chinned, had no pointed ear that folded back or forwards, it just looked like… like a person. Like some man her own age, really.

It looked… well, it looked frightened, is what. Of her.

It made a high keening sound of fear, not a human sound at all.

“Calm, the both of you,” Her aunt snapped, stepping between them. The young woman didn’t move, kept the iron pan out ahead of her like a knight brandishing a sword. The fae-but-not-fae stayed pressed up against the wall in the bed, his wings shivering, trilling low in its throat. She could hear the feathers rustling with its fear. “He won’t hurt you, love. He’s just looking for a place to heal.”

“H-Heal? From what?” Her voice shook, but her hands didn’t. She was proud of that.

Her aunt began to laugh, and the young woman simply stared blankly, wondering if the old woman had perhaps lost her mind. “The ague, dear. Same as the blacksmith. This young man has taken quite ill.”

The young woman turned narrowed eyes back to the thing on the bed. Had it bewitched her aunt, somehow? Used their wicked dark magics on her? “Fae don’t catch our sicknesses, Auntie.”

“Hm, that’s true.” Her aunt’s smile was shining, beatific. “Fae don’t. But this young man isn’t fae. He came in delirious overnight. I’ve given him a tincture has brought his fever down some, though not all. Come, love. It’s rude to threaten a young man without even learning his name.”

“But-... but he-...” She frowned, and took a step closer, and then another. The thing on the bed did look like a young man, that was true. He wore tattered old clothes, worn to holes where his knobby knees poked through. But for his wings and his eyes… “He’s not… fae? But the wings-”

“Mmmn, yes. I did ask about that. He says they came later.” Her aunt shrugged, as if to say, pay it no mind. “He’ll not give me a name but said I could call him Del. That’s fae for boy, that is.”

“How d’you know that?” She took a closer look at the old woman, then, and wondered how much about the woman’s life she had kept secret from the village, too.

“Just do. Isn’t important. So anyway, he clearly knows a fae, even if he isn’t one.”

“I-I’m not,” The young man spoke for the first time. His voice was low and hoarse, but sort of… lovely, too. The young woman took another step closer, slowly lowering the cookpan. “I’m not fae.”

“Are you… half-breed, then?” The young woman asked.

The boy looked away from her, and it was that more than anything that made her think he wasn’t fae at all. Everyone knew fae would never look away from you, never let a threat or a meal pass their sight. Everyone knew that.

“No,” He said, softly. “I’m not. Half-made, maybe. Are you-... her niece?” His eyes went, puzzled, from the young woman to the elderly one.

The young woman’s aunt threw her head back and laughed, shining laughter that filled the room all the way to the roof, and even the young woman felt an answering smile on her lips. “Oh, my, no, sweet boy. I’m just an old crone in the woods. Now, your tea’s just about ready, and here I am with a new guest to serve the extra to. Let’s make introductions, and you’ll stay for dinner, love,” She said, turning her eyes back to the young woman.

“But the blacksmith-”

“Will be right as rain by morning. First, though, you’ll stay for tea. My name is Llyrie, this is Del, and… Del, let me introduce this woman who would hit you with a pan if she could.”

“She could,” The young man - Del - said. He smiled. It was faint, but there, and if it weren’t for his eyes she might have said it was a handsome smile indeed. “I wouldn’t, um, wouldn’t stop her.”

Despite herself, the young woman smiled at Del, and watched the tension in his wings relax, just a little. The kettle began to whistle as the water boiled within, and the old woman moved it to rest to the side, pouring in a generous palmful of dried herbs, leaves, and flowers to steep. Then she moved over to the bed, reaching out, and the young woman’s muscles tensed, her hand jerking forwards and then stopping itself, as she watched the old woman grip onto the not-fae’s taloned right hand as though he were perfectly normal, perfectly human.

“You’re safe,” The old woman said, softly. “Nothing with wings has ever come to harm in my home, Del.”

The not-fae - the young man, wasn’t he, really? Just a young man, and yet all wrong and not a young man at all - nodded, slowly. “Please,” He whispered. “I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone.”

He sounded so… genuine. It didn’t seem like a trick at all.

The young woman did not lighten her grip on the pan.

“Del,” Her aunt said, patting the back of his hand while holding it, and his talons never touched her, “this young lady is one I have known her whole life. Come here, love, say hello.”

The young woman moved carefully, cautiously closer. She could see, now, the bright red blotches along Del’s cheeks that gave away his lingering fever, the shadows under the bright blue eyes that spoke of restless sleep or little sleep at all. This close, she could see that he was still trembling, just a little, even relaxed.

“Hello,” She said, softly.

“Hello,” The young man said in return. “I’m-... I’m Del.”

“She said that.” He looked down, and a bit of wavy light brown hair fell over his eyes, hiding them from view. She leaned slightly forward, until he looked up again. It was… strange, to see inhuman eyes in a very human face, but if she really thought about it, they were… pretty, weren’t they? “Del, are you-... sure you’re not fae?”

“Pretty sure.” He had a hint of wry humor in his voice at that. He glanced over at one wing, then back at her. “Last anyone checked, anyway.”

She realized, all at once, that there were rings pierced through his wings in two places, just above his shoulders and again at the topmost join. Small brass rings ran through the piercing, and they clinked a little when his wings shifted.

Who had done that? She’d never heard of fae piercing their own wings before. But if he wasn’t fae, maybe… maybe whatever he was did it. Maybe there was more than fae in the world with wings.

“Will you… show me your teeth, Del?” She asked, voice low and quiet. Her auntie hissed at her about rudeness, but the boy obeyed immediately, baring his blunt, human teeth. She breathed out in relief at the same time her stomach twisted at the thoughtless, instant obedience.

“Auntie, you said you… you found him sick?”

The old woman nodded, checking on the scent of the tea steeping in the kettle. “He was wandering the woods talking to no one. He’s lucky I found him first.”

“He sure is. My da and the others’d sooner shoot him than speak to him.” Del’s wings bristled, nervously, and she glanced back over at him, flushing slightly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t talk about you like you’re not right here, should I?”

“It’s all right,” He offered. “I’m used to it.”

“Still. Just ‘cause you’re used to rudeness doesn’t make it any less rude. And I haven’t told you what I’m called, either.” She held out her right hand, watched him hesitate and look down at his talons, and then she laughed and held out her left. He slowly reached his left hand - simply human, nothing else - out to shake hers.

“I don’t know what you are,” She said, voice firm, “But you don’t seem like you’ll hurt me, and my auntie likes you. You’re Del?”

He nodded, slowly, eyes on her face in a way that made her feel strange, like her skin was stretched too tightly over her body, like her nerves were too close to the surface. “You can call me that, yes.”

“All right, I will. Nice to meet you, Del. I’m Laekna.”

---

Tagging Killan’s crew: @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @slaintetowhump , @quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology, @doveotions, @broken-horn, @moose-teeth, @whumpfigure, @spiffythespook, @oceanthesarcasamfox, @whump-only, @just-strawberry-jam(if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

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shoutoismybaby · 5 years ago

Text

Enouement- Ch 1

Pregnant!Reader X Bakusquad boy (He is a secret until next chapter! Can you guess who it is?)

Enouement- The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

Hi! This is inspired by all of those unexpected pregnancy AU’s that I love reading, but it always made me sad they were only a one-shot, so I turned it into a chaptered series! I hope you enjoy and tell me who you think the boyfriend is!

(also special thanks to @liliesoftherain for helping me with this story, a true MVP that you should follow)

masterlist/ part2

***

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a one-time thing, an accident. After being together for 2 years you both had finally turned 18 and decided it was time to take the next step in your relationship. You didn’t think that this would happen. You were careful every time after, neither of you thought that this would be the outcome of a one-time thing. He COULDN’T know this was the outcome, he couldn’t know that there was any outcome at all.

But there was, and it sat there in your shaking hands, a small test with two lines. Tears welled up in your eyes as you muttered to yourself about how this couldn’t be happening. You were on winter break, graduation was only 3 months away!

Could you hide it until then? You could only be about 2 months now, so no way that would be possible. Should you even hide it in the first place? Could you even take care of a baby? Did you want to give up your dreams of being a hero for a baby? And what about…

No. You couldn’t do that to him. You could never ruin his dream, a baby would set him back so far. He would never be able to forgive you. Even if he did, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Not only that but he totally was not mature enough to even think about being a parent. Those thoughts only left you with one option, abortion. You knew you couldn’t talk to your parents about it, or you felt like you couldn’t anyway. They would be so disappointed in you. Not only that an abortion sounded so terrifying to you.

Would they have to reach inside of you? Suck the baby out?

The thought of it made you nauseous.

“(Y/n), you alright?” you heard your mother’s voice from outside the door, “you’ve been in there for a while.”

“You having diarrhea?” Your dad laughed, and you hear the ‘ow’ that left his mouth after being elbowed by your mom. You quickly wiped your eyes and tried to clear your throat,

“Yeah,” you tried to figure out an excuse, “I was um, just fixing my hair.”

The last few days of winter break went by pretty smoothly, though you couldn’t help but feel like puking every time you thought of the test you had buried into your trashcan. Going back to the dorms was nowhere near easy, however, morning sickness hit you hard and excusing yourself from class in time to run to the bathroom was one of the most difficult things you had ever accomplished. Luckily for you, no one seemed suspicious of your changing behavior. In fact, your boyfriend just thought your increased appetite was cute. Part of it was probably due to being in different classes, you used to hate being in class 3-b, but at the moment it was giving you the time away from your boyfriend that you feared would reveal your secret.

“Hey, (Y/n), you okay?” your boyfriend’s happy voice broke through your thoughts. “You’ve been spaced out a lot recently.”

“Yeah I’m okay,” you tried to bring yourself back to the present, “it’s just that even though it’s only been a couple of weeks since break I’m already worried about our final.”

It wasn’t a lie. While you were worried about the exam, your biggest fear wasn’t about knowing the answers. No, you were terrified at the thought of not being able to take it in the first place.

“What do you mean, you've got nothing to worry about babe!” His chipper attitude brought a much-needed smile to your face.

“Yeah, you’re like totally smart!” Mina agreed, the rest of the Bakusquad you spent most time out of class with made various noises in agreement.

“Thanks, guys, but I’m more worried about the application portion. I heard the teachers won’t be wearing any restrictions thi-” Your phone buzzing on the table cut you off. Your boyfriend picked it up for you,

“It’s your mom,” he said, handing it over. You stood up and ruffled his hair gently,

“I’ll be back,” You answered the call once you stepped out of the cafeteria, “Hey mom, what's up?”

“Hey honey, I just have a question.” Her voice sounded shaky and a nervousness built up in your stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Your father and I just decided to get started on some cleaning, he wanted to beat the neighbors to spring cleaning, you know how he is.” Her laugh didn’t comfort you as much as it usually would.

“Yeah,” was the only way you could respond. You could tell that she was upset, but what was it about. “Is dad okay?”

“He went into your room to get your trash today.”

Your heart sunk.

“Mom I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Her voice broke and tears sprung up into your eyes.

“I was scared! I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, it was an accident and I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!” Your voice sounded strangled as you struggled to not sob in the middle of the hallway.

“Honey if you have this baby, your hero career will be ruined. You might not even be able to graduate at this point.”

“I know that,” you sniffled and wiped at your watering eyes.

“But Does your boyfriend?” It was a reasonable question but it caused a sharp pain to shoot through your chest.

“No,” You walked over to the window to watch the snowfall outside,

“(Y/n), you need to tell him,” Obviously you knew that, but you just couldn’t.

“He’ll hate me! I just- I don’t… I don’t want the baby. I want to be a hero, and I can’t ruin his life like that.” You could hear her sigh as you wiped at your eyes.

“Listen, I’m going to pick you up from school, and we will figure out what to do okay?” You could only mutter in agreement before wiping your eyes some more. You turned away from the windows and back to the doors of the cafeteria only to let out a startled gasp. Standing in front of the doors was The Bakugou Katsuki.

“B-Bakugou, I don’t know what you think you heard but I can assure you it’s definitely not what it seems li-”

“You’re pregnant?” His eyes were blown wide open, and while you had seen him shocked in battle before, you had never seen him look so agape. Your once loose grip on your phone tightened to the point your hand ached in protest. The soft fabric of your shirt as you held the device close to your chest did little to comfort you as you began to shake.

“No, it’s not like that, I just..” Your grip on your phone slackened and your arms dropped to your sides, Bakugou wasn’t going to believe whatever shitty excuse you came up with, so you gave up.

“You’re fucking pregnant.” His eyes pierced through you and you couldn’t help but look down at the ground in shame.

“Yeah,” Your headshot up along with your hands, phone abandoned in your pocket, “but you cant tell! No one can know.”

“You’re not going to tell him?” His brows furrowed now, looking deeper to how you were used to seeing his face,

“Who knows what he would do if he found out! Hate me, leave me, give up on his dream to take care of the-” You pause, some part of you can not bring yourself to say the word once again. The whole situation was already too real for you. “I just need to deal with it by myself, then it won’t matter and everything can go back to feeling normal!”

“Is that what you want?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle,

“What are you talking about, what do you mean?” You scrunch your face in confusion. Not only did you have no idea what you were going to do, but now Bakugou was acting weird. As the blonde moved to open his mouth he was cut off by the bell. You both knew that your conversation would have to end there as people were about to walk through the door, and the relief caused your body to slacken.

The rest of the day went by pretty fast, other than hero training which really wore you out. You walked as slowly as possible to avoid seeing your parent’s faces again. You knew they would be in the parking lot of the cafe across the street, and they would be so disappointed in you. So you lingered about once school ended, spending some extra time hanging out with the Bakusquad. You were trying to be as normal as you could, but that unwavering stare you felt on your back just made your nerves skyrocket. You wanted to say you were being paranoid, you really did, that Bakugou glared at everyone. Yet the longer he looked the more unease you felt that wasn’t one of his normal stares

Would he ruin everything for you? He understood that this wasn’t his place to tell right? Plus, when had the Bakugou Katsuki ever cared about things that weren’t supposed to involve him? Still, he did what he wanted when he wanted, and that was that. His extremely strong set of morals is what guided him in life, despite what some liked to believe. He was definitely going to let your secret spill. If he did that then..

Oh god, you needed to get rid of this baby. It could ruin everything you worked for, and you couldn't imagine living without your boyfriend by your side. He was such a happy guy who lit up every room he walked into. His smile was contagious and he always knew how to cheer you up. This time though, you knew that this was something you would have to deal with without him, even though you hated the idea of keeping a secret as big as this. You two were so honest with each other, you were open books the other could read at any moment. But if he knew about the baby..

You must have cradled your stomach without thinking because everyone started looking at you weirdly,

“Is your stomach upset (Y/n)?” Your boyfriend was at your side, concerned for you as always. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong.

“Maybe you should head home and rest, we can’t afford you getting sick!” The group agreed with Mina, and strangely that included Bakugou.

“Yeah, you should go home to your parents.” He grumbled the others teased him about caring for you, but you saw the look in his eyes. You knew what he was thinking.

With that, you turned and headed towards the gates of UA high.

***

Please tell me your thoughts, I love feedback! And maybe if enough people like it ill create a tag list?? Now that we’ve reached the end, do you know who the boyfriend is?

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #is it #kirishima x reader #sero x reader #or #kaminari x reader #???

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

Text

Crashing 1- Drowning

Crashing Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version) Part Four of the Red Queen Chronicles!

Summary: When Loki pulls Cassandra Campbell out of cryo and uses her trigger words against her, the memories that have been hiding from her since she was ten years old finally crash down on her completely.

Word Count: 3686

Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, past Loki x OFC, past Bucky Barnes x OFC, past Steve Rogers x OFC

Chapter Warnings: mentions of brainwashing, mentions of murder, violence and anger, mentions of cheating

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Loki asked, setting his hand against the glass of the tank. The terrified Wakandan scientist nodded nervously. “Gives off an air of regality, even asleep.” He scoffed. “Especially asleep. There’s no fear on her here. No contempt. No attempt to run from her king,” he mused before turning to the scientist. “You can speak German, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

Loki produced a red notebook from his breast pocket and handed it backward to the man without looking away from the frozen woman. “Halfway through. Labeled ‘Kind’. Open this and recite those words.”

The man hit several buttons on the console attached to the tank and it filled with a chemical. Cassie blinked her eyes open, green orbs filling with confusion. The blur of confusion cleared out of her eyes and it was replaced with fear. “Loki?” she squeaked, struggling against the binds as the tank opened.

“Junior. Vierhundert.”

“No! Don’t read that!” Cassie struggled harder, but she didn’t move. “Please!”

“Keep going,” Loki ordered, smiling at her as she fought against the binds.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “Rot. Tochter. Vermächtnis. Fünfzig. Messer. Schädel."

“No! God, please, no! Please! Please, stop!” she begged over the trigger words.

“Johann. Zwei,” the scientist said, shaking as the woman blinked slowly...as if everything were suddenly clear.

“Undo her restraints,” Loki demanded, and the man rushed to release her. Cassie stepped down from the tank and looked around like she had new eyes. “How do you feel, Joanna? What’s different?”

“Shut up, Loki,” she bit out quietly before turning to the Wakandan man. “Run. Now. Go.”

The Asgardian watched in amusement as the man ran from the lab. “Now. How do you feel, my queen?”

“Not as different as you would want,” she snapped, leaning against the tank and looking up at Loki with disdain. “You really thought I’d come out on the other side of this ready to be your bride or something?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d come out of it, Joanna. I was actually hoping you’d be ready to take directions as the other one does.”

Cassie scoffed and shook her head, scornfully. “Someone’s feeling a little flaccid without his scepter.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. “How dare you talk to-” he started, indignantly.

“Don’t start, Loki. Let’s just go. We don’t wanna be here when the king and the Doras get here,” she said, grabbing his coat and pulling him out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T’Challa sent word to Steve as he was mounting his offensive on the Raft that Cassie was kidnapped out of the cryo lab by Loki, so when they were safely away from the prison and sitting in the cargo hold of a ship on its way to America, Steve sat next to Clint. “You know, Cassie was the one who gave me the information I needed to get you out.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah? When did she talk-”

“She didn’t go home after she got out. She found me and Bucky and she helped us get to Wakanda. She was instrumental.”

“Wait, but she was--what about the…” Steve looked down and Clint’s whole body slumped. “No. What happened?”

Steve shook his head. “She said she lost it, but...she also said she had some interaction with Loki after she left the Raft so...he may have...I’m not sure.”

“She must be devastated,” Clint whispered.

“Um...there’s...more.” Steve pulled the letter out of his inside pocket, but he didn’t hand it to the archer.

“Wh-”

“And before you read this, you need to know...Loki found her in Wakanda.”

Clint’s eyes went wide. “What?! What do you mean? Why did she stay in Wakanda?”

“She had them freeze her. She said that the letter would explain.” Steve set the envelope on Clint’s lap and stood.

Clint’s stomach was in knots as he slid his finger across the envelope and pulled out the letter. A weight in the envelope had him shaking out a white gold ring that he recognized. He cleared his throat to deal with the sudden dryness.

My Dearest Clint,

I’m so sorry that I cannot do this in person, but you’re in prison and I’ll be frozen by the time Steve gets you out. Loki is looking for the red book, the one that Zemo used to activate Bucky as the Winter Soldier. I’m 90% certain that my words are on those pages too. What I’m not sure of is who I will become when those words are said. Since it means I’ll be who Hydra wanted, I can’t imagine anyone would enjoy finding out. That’s why I’m going into cryo, because I can’t hurt anyone if I’m frozen. I decided it was the best course of action...and I know you’re thinking that I would never hurt anyone, but you have never been more wrong. I’ve been remembering things and I know that I have killed. I killed two SHIELD agents when I was a child and I killed a man just a few days ago. Who knows what else is hiding in my head?

I’m sorry to send the ring back like this, but it’s what you deserve. I never should have said ‘yes’. It was selfish of me. I wanted my happy ending so much that I lied...to myself and to you. But I’ve been pretending for so long and I can’t anymore. I can’t keep putting up this facade for you. I kissed Sgt. Barnes. He saw the real me, those parts that I’ve been hiding from you and something about that drove me to break your trust. You deserve better. You deserve the woman you thought I was.

Despite it all, I love you. Be well.

Cassandra Campbell (R.Q)

Clint crushed the letter in his hand, anger almost palpable in the small space. “Let me get this straight,” he snapped as he stood, stomping up to Steve as the others stared on in confusion. “While I was in prison for helping you, your buddy made out with my fiancée and then one of you convinced her to freeze herself, leaving her completely defenseless when Loki showed up to get her in the supposedly impenetrable fortress that is Wakanda?”

Steve looked up at the ceiling. “It was Bucky’s idea to go into cryo...and he isn’t the only one that she kissed,” he finished quietly.

Clint’s fist smashed into Steve’s left cheekbone, groaning as he pulled away cradling his hand. “Worth it!”

“You kissed her back?” Sam asked, as Scott tried to not look impressed and Wanda made no effort to hide her judgment of Cap.

“I…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “She...I didn’t know she kissed Bucky first and...she did say she was breaking up with you, Clint, and...I didn’t know if I was ever going to see her again. I’m sorry, Clint.”

“I know what you are thinking and she is not,” Wanda practically growled at Scott. “I could feel your judgment. You don’t know her like I do, like we do. She isn’t promiscuous.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause, I mean...evidence to the contrary, Wanda. How many other guys does a woman have to kiss before she gets labeled a slut?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lang,” Clint growled.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Get angry with me.”

“So what are we gonna do about Loki taking her?” Sam asked.

“We’re going to go to the U.S. and we’ll go from there. Coulson gave me the location of an old SHIELD black site where we can hang our hats. We’ll search for them from there,” Steve responded.

“Screw that,” Clint snapped. “I’m going home. You can find me on the farm.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint stood in the barn, launching arrows into a target made of hay. He was furious. He was dismayed. He was taking it out on the wall behind his target.

“What’d that wall ever do to you?”

Clint turned to the voice, immediately dropping the bow and bounding for the small blonde woman. “How’d you get away from Loki?!” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

“I fought back,” she answered. “Did you expect anything less of me?”

He pulled back, eyeing her warily as a feeling of unease settled in his chest. “You...you wrote me a letter. You said Loki was looking for your trigger words. It’s the whole reason you let yourself be frozen. You didn’t want him to let out the sleeper-”

“You think Loki’s controlling me?” she asked, incredulously. She scoffed. “He’s just an alien without his fancy scepter. I’m a super soldier.”

Clint drove his fist into her jaw and stepped back into a fighting stance. “You might be, but Cassie hates being called that. You’re Joanna again,” he accused.

She smirked as she straightened, her tongue darting out to lick at her busted lip. “Actually, Clint, I prefer ‘Cassie’. Joanna Schmidt is an obvious Nick Fury construct. It evokes uncomfortable feelings and images of the noseless abomination my father became.” She wiped at the blood leaking from her lip. “Cassie, though, that gives off a feeling of hope and love. It evokes images of a young woman crying over a holiday dinner because she finally has a family to share Christmas dinner with.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I was afraid you were going to be a problem. That you were going to see the change, recognize.” She hummed sadly. “Sad. I was praying to fool you.”

“You could never fool me,” Clint spat out.

“Because you love me,” she finished for him. “You, the man who watched through a scope as I tried to piece together some semblance of a normal life. But I couldn’t, could I?” She chuckled ruefully. “Not with Phil’s help. Not even with your help. It’s like I was trying to put together a puzzle with half the pieces gone. Joanna...she was a completely different puzzle, but she was missing the same number of pieces.”

“And you, what, you’re the missing jigsaw pieces?” Clint asked as his hand went to the tactical blade clipped to his belt.

Cassie lurched forward, grabbing the knife from his hand and punching him in the mouth with the handle. “The words are the pieces, you idiot. I’m the big picture, Clint. Pay attention,” she snapped. “I’m the image we’ve been trying to get to but haven’t been able to because we didn’t have the words to trigger the memories. The memories that Hydra and SHIELD decided I’d be better off without!” She kicked Clint in the chest, sending him backward into the barn door. She let out a satisfied sigh as the sound of cracked bones hit her ears.

“Because what good could come from me knowing that I killed my first enemy agents at nine years old?” she asked, with a bitter laugh. “Fury said he was afraid I’d look in the mirror and hate myself but he was terrified that I’d like it...and you know what, Hawk? I don’t.” Her smile faltered for a moment as a nauseated look took her face. “I don’t like it...but it feels right to be me. The ‘me’ I was bred to be.”

Clint coughed painfully and moved to sit up against the barn door. “This isn’t you. This is Loki.”

“Loki has nothing to do with this! I sent him packing a week ago! He wanted nothing to do with Hydra and since I am the future of Hydra, I sent his ass back to Asgard.” She squatted down in front of him, a sincere sadness gracing her pale features. “I knew this was going to be difficult for you to understand, Clint. Even before Loki made me...complete, I knew you’d hate this. I knew you’d hate me if I became this.”

Clint glared at her. “We won’t let you-”

“I know,” she interrupted softly. She nodded as she stood. “All of you would fight tooth and nail to get me back to being the person you think I should be. You’d send me off to SHIELD to be erased again. So, I guess I’ll just have to kill you all.”

Clint’s lip twitched into a sneer. “Harder villains have tried.”

“You’re right, they have...and we’ve overcome them all, but...see, Zemo had the right idea and he did half of the work for me.” She ran her hand through her hair and licked her lips. “The Avengers are strong because we work well to balance each other’s faults. The powered and the nonpowered, tacticians and geniuses and just plain strong heroes...but right now, we’re fractured. Those of that signed can come and go as we please and the rest of you, fugitives, you’re scattered. I heard Scott is even on house arrest. Are the rest of you even in contact with each other?” She shook her head. “I’ll have marched through the hidden Avengers before you all realize the rest of your team is gone...and then I’ll take the Compound.”

“You’ll never make it through all of us,” he groaned. “Even separately.”

“See, you forget, Clint, that I’ve known you all for quite a while now, so...I know your pressure points. I know your buttons, Clint. Like I know that just mentioning Bucky makes Steve stop in his tracks.” She smiled cruelly as Clint swallowed heavily. “I wish I could have been there to see his face when the Winter Soldier showed up at Fury’s old black site.”

“You didn’t,” Clint whispered.

She chuckled. “Of course I did. Why would I leave such a powerful Hydra asset on ice?”

“Why would you send him after Steve?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s Steve’s weak spot. I would be a fool to not use him. Especially since I know Soldat’s trigger phases. It’s the only Russian I know. Strucker taught me a long time ago. Did you know that Winter Soldier was supposed to be my right hand man when I came of age? When they put me at the head of Hydra, Bucky was going to be standing next to me.” Cassie examined the knife in her hand and smiled sadly. “I remember that now. I’m finally the person I was created to be, Hawk. I know you can’t be happy for me about that and...if it’s any consolation, killing you is really gonna hurt my feelings.”

A shock went through her as something hit her back but it didn’t put Cassie down. She turned to the redheaded intruder with rage in her eyes, then forced a tight smile. “Natasha! How unexpected. I didn’t think you’d be here. Did you know she was coming, babe?” she asked, stomping her booted heel down onto Clint’s hand.

“Steve sent me,” Natasha said, hand resting on the stingers on her wrist.

“Really?” Cassie growled.

“Bucky showed up at Steve’s new base and tried to kill him. Luckily, Sam was there. They were able to subdue him. When he came back to himself, he told them you sent him. He was adamant it wasn’t your fault though, so Steve called in to get you some help.”

“And you’re just here to stall until the help gets here, right?” Cassie rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek and scoffed. “Let me guess...my help comes in the form of Phil’s Zephyr 1, which will take me to Fury to be erased again.” She shook her head as she twisted her heel until she heard the crunch of Clint’s bones. Her lips twitched, attempting a smile as Clint screamed. “Someone’s not drawing a bowstring anytime soon. Something to remember me by, Hawk, since I won’t be able to.”

“It’s better this way,” Natasha said, matter-of-factly.

Cassie took her foot off of the archer’s hand and squared herself off with the Russian. “Says you. You’re not the one who has to walk around with a giant hole in your personality. You aren’t the one who gets to feel wrong every day and not know why.”

Clint cradled his broken left hand in his right and stood with a wince. “You don’t even like yourself like this!” he argued.

“I hit a wall, Clint,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I couldn’t deal with fighting myself anymore. Since Sokovia I’ve been trying to convince myself that this isn’t who I am, that remembering wouldn’t change me, but it did. I changed...and when I woke up, when Loki said those words, everything clicked. Who I really am flooded into me...so I let myself finally drown.”

“What, you’re tired so you just stop fighting? What happened to the strong woman I wanted to marry?” Clint snapped.

“She died in Africa,” Cassie snapped, looking from Natasha to Clint to the barn door to the hayloft. “About the time she killed a warlord and threatened to drown a little boy in the blood of his friends.” She bent her knees and vaulted herself over Natasha, landing on the ladder before jumping to the loft. “I can’t let you take me back, sorry.” She started toward the hayloft door but stopped in her tracks when an arrow hit her right thigh.

“Barney! What the fuck? You shot my-” Clint yelled as Cassie pulled the arrow from the soft flesh of her leg.

She turned and flung the arrow at the tall ginger man, who grabbed the arrow from the air. “What? You can’t shoot her so I did.”

“Barney Barton! Nice to finally meet you!” she said with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Unfortunately, I can’t stick around. You understand, I’m sure,” she said before jumping out the loft door.

Barney handed the arrow shaft to Clint’s good hand. “Great taste in women, bro.”

“That wasn’t Cassie,” Clint defended as Barney walked out the door. He threw the tracer-arrow shaft to the ground and followed.

“Yes, it was,” Natasha said, pulling up a map on her tablet and watching the retreating dot.

“How can you say that, Nat? You know Cass. You know she’s not-”

“Clint, I know what you wanna hear, but I can’t say it.” Natasha shrugged. “She was one person with those memories gone, but she is someone different when she has them.”

“Yeah, okay, but...you remember your-”

“And I fought to become someone better than what they made me in the Red Room,” she interrupted, following the Bartons across the field to the farmhouse. “Cassie doesn’t wanna fight so unless we can get her to Coulson to get those memories erased, your fiancee is gone.”

“Do you even want her back, Clint? Bitch just broke your hand.” Barney threw the bow on the porch swing as he walked through the door. “I mean, even if you got her back to being...what’s her name? ‘Red Queen’. Even if you get rid of the homicidal tendencies the Nazis gave her, she tried to kill you. It’s gonna change how you see her, how all of you treat her.”

“And we won’t be able to tell her why,” Natasha added.

“What does that matter? How many times have you tried to kill me, Barn? Nat was trying to kill me when we met!” Clint exploded.

“Different,” Barney said, pulling a beer out of the fridge with one hand and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer with the other. “This is the chick you said hadn’t ever killed anyone, right? That actively avoided doing more than incapacitating the bad guys, ‘cause her dad was a huge dick?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Now we all know that’s not true, don’t we?”

“You don’t seem too surprised by that, Natasha,” Clint said suspiciously as he put the ice pack over the back of his hand.

“I read the file. The Projekt Kind file. I knew she killed the agents in ‘99 before she did,” Natasha said, sighing as the signal on the tracer dulled. “She’s blocking the transmitter.”

“She’s a scientist,” Clint growled. “I coulda told you a tracker wasn’t going to work.”

“Shut up, man. I had to try something.” Barney popped open his beer and took a drink. “At least you know which direction was heading and she’ll have to pull whatever’s dampening it eventually to cut out the chip.”

“If we even want to find her,” Natasha reiterated.

“Of course we do! What kind of-”

“Exactly what memories do we take, Clint?” Nat asked, calmly. “Just her childhood or do we take her memories of the things that made her start remembering? Do we take away Loki’s second attack? Do we take Austria? What about Wanda? Where do we stop?”

“Wherever we need to to get her back!” Clint’s hand reflexively started to clench, causing him to hiss in pain.

“But if we take everything, she’ll barely know you. She’ll still be terrified of Steve. She will be drowning in a bottle of whiskey and pining for Phil, who kinda still loves her and is currently very unattached.”

“Coulson wouldn’t.”

Natasha shrugged. “Man’s lonely. His last girlfriend was shot and bled out in his arms. He might.”

“And she’d have no memory of playing Avenger with you,” Barney said from behind his beer can.

“Why don’t you just turn the new Cassie?” Laura suggested as she entered the kitchen and all eyes fell on her. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to listen in, but Cassie’s a friend.”

“It’s not that simple, Lore. She’s gone over to Hydra. It’s not like we can just convince her to come be an Avenger again.”

“Also, Avengers are less a thing now,” Natasha finished.

“She loves you, Clint. You know she does.”

“She woulda been really sad about killing you, right?” Barney set the can on the counter and turned to his wife. “She may not be fixable.”

“But...you just bring her in, help her,” Laura argued. “She doesn’t have to be bad just because she was made to do some things when she was Hydra...right?”

Clint looked between Barney and Natasha. He sighed loudly as he heard the sound of a Quinjet landing in the yard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie Hero Tags - @atc74 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld

#cassie writes stuff #marvel fanfic #loki (marvel)#Steve Rogers #clint barton #Loki/OFC #steve/ofc #clint/ofc #red queen chronicles

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oldsoldierr · 5 years ago

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The Carnation ~ Part 7

summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?

art critic!bucky x artist!reader

word count: 2.1k

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With a shaky breath Bucky continued. “I love you.”

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the apartment complex, leaving your ears ringing. It took all your strength not to scream. You had squeezed your eyes closed, bracing yourself for the pain. When it didn’t come you opened your eyes and looked around. You weren’t bleeding.

The bullet had lodged itself in the floorboards. Bucky was collapsed on the ground, the weapon forgotten. You rushed towards his shaking figure and wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m so, so sorry. I just--a lot of things--and i don’t even know how--he’s gonna hurt her--” Bucky gulped in a breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now-- but I just couldn’t shoot you--i can’t lose,” A sob racked his body. “I can’t lose you. And it might be stupid--”

“Hey, hey,” you shushed him and pulled away from the embrace.

“What happened? Who’s ‘he’?” The distraught brunette took a deep breath and fell against the wall. You quickly followed suit next to him.

“He--he, Brock Rumlow, my agent. He was waiting for me in my car when I left the art studio.” you sucked in a breath. “He threatened to kill my sister if I didn’t--” he bit his lip. “If I didn’t kill you by today.” You looked at him trying to fully understand what he was saying.

“Is that why you haven’t been coming to art?” you thought out loud. He gave you a solemn nod.

“I don’t--I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said softly, with a new vulnerability.

“I just, I can’t lose Becca or… or you.” His winter blue eyes looked into yours. You bit your lip in thought. You two sat in complete silence, heavy and defeated for what felt like hours when you had a sudden surge of emotion. You stood up.

“Maybe you don’t have to. At least, yet. Get up Barnes.” You extended a hand to Bucky. He looked up at you with confusion.

“What?” he questioned.

“We’re not giving up, not just yet. We’ve still got what--” you looked down at your watch. “We’ve got an hour. Let’s save your sister. No one has to die tonight. You in?” Bucky stared at you like you were crazy.

“But how? All we’ve got is a gun. I’ve thought this over a billion different ways, there’s no way,” He reasoned. “He probably already knows I couldn’t shoot you. He’s got eyes all over the city.”

“Well, I wasn’t here before. And look at it this way, if we fail then--” you sucked in a breath. “At least we can say we tried. Deal?” Bucky looked hesitant but eventually clasped his hand in yours and pulled himself up.

“But I need you to be safe. If you got hurt because of me, I--I couldn’t forgive myself.” He brushed his hand across your cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” you responded. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“We can do this. Do you trust me Bucky?” He looked you dead in the eye.

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Then we gotta hurry.” You sprang into action and pelted down the hall, Bucky close behind you. You reached the staircase. After just a few steps you realized how much this would slow you down.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Before you could react Bucky swooped you up, wedding style and jumped over the railing. You yelped.

“What the fuck!” You both landed surprisingly safe. You kept descending the steps as fast as you could. Bucky looked over at you and grinned.

“I had a parkour faze when I was in highschool.” He looked a bit sheepish. You managed to heave out a laugh at that. It released a lot of the tension previously there. They reached the first floor in record time and got in Bucky’s car that had been carelessly placed in the middle of the lot. You clicked your seatbelt into place and asked, “How far is your sister’s place?” His eyes widened in realization.

“More than an hour,” he said as he started turning the car out of the parking lot.

“But if I speed it should be around 30 minutes.”

“Just for reference, how good are you at driving?” you tried, fearful of the answer. Bucky clicked his tongue.

“I guess we’ll see.” He pushed down on the pedal hard. Your head hit the head rest. You felt your breath leave your body.

“Bucky!” you yelped alarmed. He didn’t seem to hear you as he was focused on the road. The car sped along the road with the determination of someone who had nothing left to live for.

After only a little time, you heard the police sirens behind you. In the rear view mirror you saw the blue and red lights spinning. Bucky just went faster. It turned out he was a decent driver, but all the same, the car swerved harshly dodging vehicles left and right. You thought you might be sick.

The car was painted by the crimson and azure lights.

It was a good thing that it was late at night when there were less people out and about, because if this was during daylight you most certainly would’ve gotten into a crash.

The world flew past you in a blur. It began turning from tall industrial looking buildings to calmer suburbs. By now you had to be going at upwards of 90 miles per hour. It was terrifying but it gave you a rush. You heard the police speakers boom commands but you allowed yourself to relax a little bit.

As you got further, you seemed to lose the police cars. You had pulled out your phone and had been tracking the amount of time it would take to get to your destination. The minutes were steadily decreasing.

Only a little bit left to go, you thought to yourself.

What were you doing? The blinking icon on your phone screen was so close to the end of the line.

“Take a left, and in two blocks you will reach your destination,” the robotic voice informed. The car swerved hard again as your body slammed against the window of the car. You had never seen Bucky so determined.

In barely any time at all you heard the same robotic voice. “You’ve reached your destination.”

The car screeched to a halt. Bucky tripped out of the car and ran full sprint to the house. You followed him. He rapped on the door of the quaint white house.

“Becca! Becca, can you hear me?” He repeatedly pressed the doorbell. You stood behind him, craning your head to try and see anything through her curtained windows. You heard footsteps behind the door.

The door swung open, revealing a brunette woman. She looked to be a little younger than Bucky, but she had the same baby blue eyes. She was dressed well, with a ruby dress and her hair curled. She had a full face of make-up to match. Bucky didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead engulfing her in a hug. She returned it but looked confused.

“Hey Buck, what’s up? Why are you here at--” she turned her head to get a look at the clock “--11:48 at night?”

“Sorry--god--I’m so glad you’re okay. I can explain later, but right now I just-- we need to go.” Bucky attempted to push her towards the car but she pulled away.

“Um, I’m glad to see you, but I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she responded tentatively.

“What--?” Before he could finish a figure appeared behind Becca through the door.

“Hey Becca, what’s going on?” A low, gravelly voice asked, leaning on the door frame with an unforgettable smirk.

“‘S nothing Brock, just my brother,” she told him as she inserted herself by Rumlow’s figure.

“Bucky, meet Brock.” She gestured between them. “My boyfriend.” Bucky felt his breath leave his body and squared his shoulders, lifting his chin.

“We’ve met before,” the brunette grunted. Brock smiled.

“Indeed we have. Baby, I know this is our date but could we invite them in? They look cold,” he suggested, with a look on his face that was icy calm. This is when Becca noticed you.

“Oh, hi, I’m so sorry, nice to meet you! You are…?” She took your hand and speedily shook it with both of hers.

“Oh, yeah, um, I’m y/n. I’m friends with Bucky. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you too!” you attempted a fake cheery tone. It shook a little, being caught off guard.

“Sorry to bother you so late but um--” you glanced over at Bucky. “--you know what, it’s nothing--how was your day?”

“Oh, was pretty good. Thanks for asking,” she responded with an unsuspecting smile. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to come in. You nervously stepped inside.

As you passed Brock he whispered into your ear, “It better be nothing.” You could feel the heat from his breath. Even as he pulled back and you got out of his range, you felt his eyes follow you. Bucky seemed to notice as he pulled you to his side protectively. You didn’t miss the murderous glare that the brunette had given Rumlow.

All of you seated yourselves on various couches and chairs around a round, glass coffee table. You could feel the uncomfort radiating off everyone, excluding Becca. The room was awkward and tension filled. Rumlow and Bucky eyed each other hostily.

Becca seemed to sense this as she tried to start a conversation.

“So…”

“Hey Brock--'' Bucky interrupted, saying the other man’s name like a slur. “--How do you feel about backstabbing motherfuckers who try to murder people?” Yours eyes widened at the lack of tact.

Subtle, you thought. Rumlow’s eyes narrowed but his lips parted in a small smile.

“Haven’t thought much about it, unfortunately. Now tell me, have you ever lost someone you loved?” Bucky looked like he could’ve ripped out his throat right then and there. Becca looked between them with confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” she questioned.

“Nope.”

“Barely,” Both men said at the same time. Becca continued to observe them suspiciously.

“...Right.” The room filled with thick silence once more. She cleared her throat.

“Well, I’m gonna get something from the kitchen real quick,” she excused herself. Brock stood up a little too fast.

“I’ll come with you,” He told her.

“Oh, baby, you don’t need to,” Becca replied.

“No, no, I will,” He insisted.

Bucky craned his neck to make sure they were out of sight and hearing range. Once he was confident they couldn’t hear, he scooched closer to you.

In a hushed whisper he asked, “Okay, what’s our plan? How do we get her out of here? Brock’s not going to let her out of his sight and she seems to trust him.” You stared at the floor in thought and fiddled with your fingers.

You turned to look at him.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out,” you responded passionately.

Bucky’s winter blue eyes looked into yours, and neither of you seemed to be able to tear away.

“Yeah...we’ll figure something out...” He trailed off as he glanced down and bit his lip. He brushed your hair out of the way and grasped your neck. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered lowly. You sat there, frozen, yet you were impossibly hot. You parted your lips slightly. He leaned in as your eyes fluttered close. His lips grazed your. You could nearly taste him. A scream shook you from your trance. You and Bucky turned towards the sound.

“Becca!” he shouted and bolted to the kitchen. You ran after him but not before looking at the clock.

It was 12:00.

“Shit.” you followed Bucky into the kitchen.

There you saw Brock with his back against the window, preparing to jump out at any moment. He had a tight grip on Becca, one arm around her neck, nearly strangling her, and a large chef’s blade pressed to her throat.

Small droplets of blood were trickling down her body, disguised by her already scarlet dress. Her eyes were wide and panicked, but she didn’t dare move an inch.

Brock had a cold, sharp smile, which was somehow more terrifying than if he had a crazed one. All the color had drained out of the brunette next to you.

“I’m a man of my word, Bucky boy.”

sorry this took forever ahaha :’) also sike nvm not finale take that i have a problem

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@supernaturalwintersoldier @the-fifth-marauder101

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ricky-corderbro · 5 years ago

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It’s Raining Fish... Hallelujah ||Ricky & Morgan

Ricky and Morgan discover a new and weird twist on that disco classic, and more than they bargained for on the beach.

Morgan decided she’d rather supplement her income by selling crystals concocted with alchemy, she imagined herself wandering sandy beaches in a heavy knit sweater that billowed around her hips like an H&M photoshoot. She’d fill neat mason jars full of sand and, stop to sip wine and stare at the crisp sky and the rolling tied, and cart her fresh, beautiful resources back to her beachfront bungalow (because of course, with the wild money making wonders of online salesmanship, there would be a beachfront bungalow) in a weathered wagon rescued from an antique store and lovingly brought to a shine. Perhaps she had needed this fantasy in order to talk herself into doing something so ridiculous in the first place. How many of her other mistakes had started with ‘this is fine’ or ‘I got this’?

Today Morgan was sweating through her hoodie, prickling up to her knees in sand, and dodging broken debris and beached jellyfish from the rough tide. She had her picturesque mason jars, and a number of glass and plastic tupperware from Tookies, and was scrounging for any beach party scraps she could break down for packaging and flourishes. Maybe if she ever got around to breaking the curse and not worrying about her lease at the traveler’s rest, this would all feel the way it was supposed to.

Though most of the town of White Crest tended to avoid the beaches in the middle of January, this was the time Ricky felt like he enjoyed it the most. Sunshine and beach beer was all well and good but in the middle of winter it turned into an almost alien landscape; wet sand sculpted by the frigid wind and small drifts of snow painted a picture of bleak desolation that spoke to the tremendous power of the ocean. He found himself wandering the beach with no real goal in mind. He had half an eye out for the sea glass, driftwood, and bone he used for work but mostly it was a day to take in the salt air and try to forget the flooding and the karkinoids and the rest of White Crest’s nonsense.

As he strolled along the cold sand he saw a figure in the distance, apparently scrounging through the beach for something. It’d be rude to walk by and not say anything so as he got a little closer he waved and called out over the wind, “Morning!”

Morgan toppled out of her crouch and landed splayed in the sand. So far she had managed her supply runs without an audience, something she hadn’t realized made the whole thing less shame-inducing. But Mr. Cheerful passing by her didn’t need to know that. “Morning!” She called. “Fancy seeing you or...anyone out here, really. Aren’t you afraid of the tides?”

Ricky rushed over to the woman and offered his hand to help her up, “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you. Brushing the sand from his hands he looked at the beach and shrugged, “As long as you know them and what they’re doing there’s nothing to fear from the tides. What about you? What brings you down here to this little slice of the Arctic?” It was a little surprising to see someone else there, but, she seemed to be looking for something, so it wasn’t the strangest thing Ricky had seen on a beach.

Morgan accepted the helping hand and wiped the excess sand from her back. “Thank you. And I’m just, you know, enjoying the scenery! Beaches look kind of picturesque when they’re wind-tossed and and brooding. It makes you feel like you’re in a Bronte novel, right?” As she spoke, the wind rose and the waves crashed forward, splashing their way rather un romantically. Morgan edged out of the splash zone, but not before the next wave reared and crested again. “So uh, what was that you said about knowing how tides are gonna work?”

“Not quite as picturesque as wandering the moors, but it has the same desolate charm. All we need is a lone rider on horseback looking pensively over the surroundings.” Ricky neatly backstepped away from the wave as it crept closer to them, “I mean… they’re on a pretty set schedule. You can always have at least a general idea of when they’re coming and going. Like now. Tide’s coming in. There’s gonna be a lot less beach in awhile.”

The guy was right, with each wave the sea came closer to her Tookies wagon. Morgan hauled her tupperware up in one armload, then scooped a cup or so of seawater with one of her empties. There were a lot of helpful minerals in seawater and it would make her life so much easier to have them fresh on hand. “Don’t mind me, just collecting!” She said. Actually, a second jar wasn’t such a bad idea. Morgan held up a finger--just one second!--and waded up to her knees to take a good briny scoop. As she did, she knocked into something hard and heavy. “Oh, shit!” Oh god sharks swam up in high tide didn’t they? Was this what shark felt like? Or what about turtles? Had she killed a sea turtle? Did they have sea turtles in Maine? Morgan stumbled back, her errand forgotten. The tide curled away, revealing--a treasure chest? Morgan looked over at her new beach friend. Was he seeing this too?

Ricky watched with a bemused smile as his apparent new beachcomber friend waded into the surf to collect sea water. It had to have been absolutely freezing, since even he could feel the chill of the waves and he was usually fine with water that was all but frozen. He’d been in the middle of reserving a table at The Artesian for his meeting with Deidre when he heard the woman give out a shout. Fearing that some brazen karkinoid or even worse aipaloovik had crashed out of the surf he turned quickly to see her standing in front of what appeared at first to be a mammoth piece of barnacle and seaweed covered driftwood until he looked closer and saw that it was in fact, a giant chest. “The fuck?”

“Okay, so that’s not just me! Good!” Morgan looked back at the trunk. “Second question: does this happen here often? Is the kind of place where buried treasure just casually comes up over the weekend?” Morgan half expected a demon to pop out of it and go ‘boo!’ That was much more the White Crest way. But still--it was kind of exciting. She’d have to tell, well, someone about it online later. She leaned in conspiratorially. “...Do you think we should open it?”

“Well… i’ve been on this beach regularly for 23 years and never seen anything like this so I”m gonna go out on a limb and say no. Definitely doesn’t happen often.” 23 years on the beach had, however, instilled in Ricky a healthy fear of things that just magically appeared on the sand from within the bottomless maw of the deep. He took several cautious steps toward it and hummed pensively, “On the one hand… treasure potential. On the other…. Body parts from a drug deal gone south. Seems like it could go either way, and with the week the town’s been having it doesn’t seem likely it’s that first option.”

Morgan nodded. Much as she wanted to believe she was about to fuck the universe and her stupid curse with a boatload of cash, she knew sea boy was probably right. “Okay, granted, but we should at least haul it in, right? And uh, fifty-fifty split if it’s buried treasure?” She winked, enjoying the absurdity of the wish. She crept back into the ocean to get a good angle on the thing. She was at least snapping a good picture. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to be captioned something like, taken just before Morgan Beck was eaten my mysterious sea creature! That would be a terrible way to find out krakens are real.

Nodding pensively Ricky approached the chest to get a closer look, pulling some of the seaweed and ocean grunge off of it. He could faintly see some sort of writing carved into it, but it definitely wasn’t in any language he knew or had seen before. “Looks like there’s something carved into it.” He called as he cleared away more debris. As his fingers touched the wood of the chest he had a sudden shiver run up and down his spine, the rough wood catching on the pads of his fingers as he traced the symbols. Weird he thought to himself as he followed his new friend’s lead and started taking pictures. Definitely weird. “Of course we’ll split it fifty-fifty. If it’s treasure and not the rotted corpse of someone who crossed the mob.”

As soon as Morgan touched the trunk a wave of no clammied up her body. That was definitely not a million dollars. Or if it was, it was the kind of million dollars that made you wish you’d never seen it. But Morgan didn’t know how to explain that to beach boy. She kept her smile on and gave the trunk the ol’ heave-ho until it was out of the water. Christ almighty on a cracker this thing looked terrifying. It looked like it had been sitting at the bottom of the ocean longer than the Titanic. “Um, maybe you should do the honors!” She said. She tried not to sound like she was freaking out, like some of the gunk growing on the lid had slid inside her, but her voice jumped an octave or three as she gestured to the lid. “You got the uh, guy muscles for it, right?” So help her, if this thing was cursed…

It didn’t seem likely to Ricky that they could get the chest out of the surf and up onto the drier dirt, but somehow between the two of them they managed. Every single time he touched the chest to push it or pull it his body rebelled at the action. The truck was cold, the kind of cold he could feel in his fangs and it almost seemed to pulse with it. “This is totally why I go to the gym daily, to open strange runed treasure chests that wash up mysteriously on the beach.” He scraped more of the detritus off, shivering with every touch of the chest. “Have you ever seen this writing before? I may speak three languages but they all use the same alphabet and this ain’t it.” As he cleaned more and more he came to a strange conclusion. “I don’t think this thing opens….” He made a full circuit around the chest and came back frowning, “No crack where the lid meets the body, no hinges, nothing. I guess it could be the world’s largest puzzle box but it doesn’t seem to have any pieces that move.”

“There has to be something,” Morgan said. She crouched down and took a closer look at the markings. Nothing really stuck out as particularly alchemical or magical. “Maybe you just have to...pop the lid off straight up?” But where was the lid? It was just..box. Morgan fished out her phone. She could try turning the box into something that was already open, but as she scraped her fingers along the sides, looking for something, anything, she lost interest in putting her magic anywhere near...whatever this was. She backed away slowly. “You know, maybe we’re better off just calling the police, or the neighborhood watch or--” Morgan didn’t finish. The clouds overhead grumbled with thunder and a wave of fish hailed down.

“I’d be inclined to agree with you and go get the crowbar from my truck… but I don’t even see a seam at the top. It’s just solid gross damp wood.” Ricky tried to do exactly that though, no harm in trying, but as soon as he gripped the wood tightly to try to pop what was supposed to be the lid off he was hit with a gut-punching wave of nausea and he doubled over in pain, retching slightly, “Okay. It’s not coming off like that. Definitely not like…” before he could finish his sentence the sky murmured with the sound of a far off storm and Ricky felt himself get hit, not with raindrops as might expect, but with what appeared to be a halibut. “Okay what the fuck.” The sky opened up and they were suddenly pelted by a wave of fish, “This. Is not. Supposed to happen!” Ricky shouted out.

#morgan #chatzy #potw

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dazeyrains-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Fall-ing - Hayffie Summer Week

As promised!

Apologies for the lateness...

Also, it may read rushed.

Katniss POV but totes Hayffie :) Enjoy!

#HayffieSummerWeek

....

In typical Effie manner, she promised to visit Peeta, I and our little one not every week, not every month but every season.

"I don't want to overwhelm you all with my presence" she had joked once Olivan had been born "You all know how excited I get around little ones, I'm afraid I'd be too much for you all"

She was right of course. As much as they all loved Effie and adored her visits, she never did come without a million stories, over generous gifts for all of them and about a whole new wardrobe designed especially for Katniss and Peeta at her very own studio.

That's what she did now. She designed and she was actually very good at it. She had an edge to her couture and and eye for what was up and coming and also for what suited people. Katniss hated to admit it but she actually loved the pieces Effie would bring for her...even the dresses. Not that those were worn much.

Oli was born in Spring, Effie last visited in the summer.

She'd bought us the biggest paddling pool I've ever seen in my life without even thinking that Oli was nowhere near big enough to swim in that yet. We'd laughed about it but we'd had a ridiculously hot summer so Peeta and I took turns in it and it ended up being a godsend. I suppose that's what Effie always was. When you needed her the most, she was there.

She asked about Haymtich again that season, she she asked about him every season but I always had to give her the same reply.

"He's still traveling"

And he was, as far as I knew.

He'd call to check in now and again but Peeta and I hadn't seen him for almost two years now. As mayor of 12 and one of the heads of the Panem council, he spent his days traveling district to district, assesing the progress, the challenges and bringing updates back to President Paylor and the rest of the council.

I told him he was going to wear himself out

He told me it was the only thing distracting him from the drink, so, we let him be and we miss him from afar.

Effie misses him too, surprisingly. I can tell. Her eyes look distant and sad whenever I mention he still hasn't returned. I think she takes it worse when I tell her he's been in the Captiol because he never looks her up. I think that upsets her. I stop telling her things like that.

"Yeah, he's still just...traveling around"

....

Fall had begun. The first of the leaves had just begun to drop, this was my favourite season.

The gentle way the breeze blows through the trees always reminds me of Prim. I feel closest to her during fall.

The phone rings and I already know who it is, no one else calls this phone...

"Hi Effie, happy fall, when are we expecting you?"

But it wasn't her.

"Mrs Mellark, this is Dr Daviid Hapern, I am calling on behalf of my recent patient Mr Haymtich Abernathy"

"Recent patient? Is he ok? What's happened!?"

"Mr Abernathy was admitted six days ago..."

"Six days!?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, we had trouble finding the name of his next of kin. He is awake now and he asked us to call you"

"He's awake...oh thank God. What hospital?"

"That's why I am calling, Mr Abernathy is currently in the Captiol Central infirmary but we will be transferring him to the District 12 infirmary today"

"Today!?"

"He will be admitted until the doctors there see fit to let him return home but we need to make sure he will have regular visitors to check in on his progression if he is to rest at home"

"Absolutley" Katniss assured "What time will he be transported?"

"The medical craft will leave within the hour, Mr Abernathy should be admitted by midnight tonight"

"Midnight, got it. Ok. I'll be there"

....

They had released him a few days later and Peeta and I drove him back to the old Victor village.

"I'll be here in the morning at 7:30 to make sure-"

"7:30!?" He grimaced at me "Can't a sick man get a lie in these days"

"You're not sick, you're in recovery. You need to be up at 7:30 to do your morning excersises like the doctor told you, a healthy breakfast at 8 and then you're taking a morning walk with me and Oli"

"Fan-fucking-tastic" he grumbled but I knew he didn't mean it viciously. He was fed up. We might have been being over cautious. The doctor said after a few months of a similar routine, healthy food and excersise, he would be out of danger and fit to go back to work.

....

As we left him to it for the day, I promised I'd be back at dinner with a bowl of hot rabbit stew. As we neared our own home, we recognised the bright pink luggage on our steps.

"There you all are!" Effie beamed, returning from the back of the house "I worried that me coming unannounced meant I'd missed you going away somewhere!"

She drew Peeta and I into a hug

"You never called?" I said, to which she apologised. Apparently her visit was a last minute desicion after a gap came up in her work load.

"I just jumped on the earliest train! I called but there was no answer so I thought I'd get here and just hope for the best. Oh my darlings I've missed you all so much"

She reached out for Oli and I handed him over to a shower of Effie kisses

"He's so big!"

"He's growing at lighting rate, soon he's going to be bigger than Peeta"

"And stronger! Look at him! Oh he's so gorgeous I could eat him"

She didn't.

We ate pie instead, rhubarb and cherry, fresh from Peetas bakery.

"I was about to wrap some up for Haymtich" Peeta said "But best not in his condition"

I looked at Peeta as Effies form fell to her plate

"Haymitch...is here?"

I couldn't tell if she was excited or nervous

"Yes. Finally" I confirmed, "He's...home"

"Condition?" She asked "What condition?"

And when we eventually told her the whole thing we couldn't have stopped her going over there if we tried.

....

It was getting late. The rabbit stew was still hot.

"You think I should go over now?" I asked Peeta "Theres been no word?"

I was concerned. After years apart and knowing their firery history, I imagined them biting each other's head off and that definitely wouldn't be good for Haymitchs recovery.

"I think you better" He replied, equally as concerned. Although, I think he worried more about Effie. "He's got a real temper on him at the moment, I dread to think what's going on over there"

That settled it. I spotted some stew and made my way over as Peeta watched Oli.

I couldn't hear any raised voices as I stepped onto the porch, maybe they'd killed each other already. I didn't bother to knock, I never did, I just walked in and that's when I saw them.

Stood by the fire

Arms around each other

Kissing.

"Oh god! I'm- I'm so sorry!"

Holy hell, what the- I placed the pot down and turned around.

"Sorry, I ah... I didn't realise you were- you would be- "

Oh god this was awkward!

"Its ok Katniss!" Effie announced, clearing her throat. "Haymitch and I were just...um...just saying goodnight" Effie lied.

"I realised I'd been here quite some time and you'd be wondering where I was so..."

I turned back around slowly. Effie was flushed, Haymitch, obviously, had a smirk on his face.

"Brought you both some stew..."

"Oh! How lovely!" Effie exclaimed, she was being overly chirpy and it was only making this worse. "Why don't we leave that here for Haymitch and I'll escort you back, I'm not hungry right now"

"That's not what you said a minute ago, sweetheart" Haymitch teased. I cringed as Effie jabbed him in the gut.

"Come along" she ordered, taking me by the arm "I'll see you tomorrow Haymitch"

"Can't wait"

We didn't speak the whole walk across the court yard. It wasn't til we ascended the stairs to the door that she stopped and turned to me.

"Perhaps we don't need to tell Peeta about what just happened..."

"What 'did' just happen?"

Effie shook her head "all in good time..."

I didn't argue for an answer

"I'm going to stay a little longer than usual, if that's ok... you and Peeta have enough to deal with, with the bakery and the baby..."

"Ok..."

"So, I'll be helping out...with Haymitch, until he's out of the red"

"....great"

"Good. That settles it. Shall we?"

We went inside.

I told Peeta everything as soon as we went to bed that night.

...

The following morning, I cleverly guilted Effie into watching Oli for an hour whilst I had 'errands' to run. Really, I wanted to speak with Haymitch alone.

"I've been avoiding her" he confessed after much persuasion "for two years"

After digging further to understand why, he admitted it's because she confessed feelings for him, not long after the war. Told him she had missed him more than she should and that it meant something.

That terrified him.

Of course it had. And what had he done, the only thing he knew, burried himself into something. Luckily this time it was work and not the drink.

"And now?"

"Now..." he spoke honestly "Everything's in a different perspective. I almost died... never really admitting to anyone that I felt something too"

I was proud of him. It took guts admitting you loved someone.

"Is she going to stay?"

"She said til the snow falls..."

But winter season came, as did her assistants, back and forth, keeping her buisness ticking by as she remained at Haymitchs side.

Winter turned to spring, spring to summer and still, she spent most of her days in 12. With us. With him.

They never officially announced they were together. I suppose they never needed to. It kinda just...worked.

They wed the following fall and Effie now stays here for all seasons.

#hayffie summer week #hayffie #keeping the tag alive #haymitch and effie #effie and haymitch #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy

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rwbyremnants · 6 years ago

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WARNING: A little Weiss/Neon. Rape threat (not carried out), some mild violence, (implied) minor character death.

Whoooooo... so THIS was a big one. Hope you guys enjoy the reunion!

=Chapter 35

"Focus, focus…"

No matter how often Weiss muttered the word to herself as she paced around her dressing room, glancing at her reflection to make sure she still looked pristine, it didn’t quite take. She could hear the thumping bass even this far away from the opening act – Sky Lark, some newly-famous guy whom she didn't particularly care about - and it was making it marginally more difficult to concentrate, to run through her usual pre-show prep in her head.

It mattered so much more tonight, since Neon and Neptune were going to follow her; she had to give the audience something to remember. Convert them all to being her fans, and not just remembering her as "that girl we put up with because she was there". She wasn’t delusional; she knew not all of them would wind up digging her. And that was okay. But if she didn’t go out and give 110%, she would stand no chance of winning them over at all.

But that pre-show meditation was interrupted by a knock at her dressing room door, only to have whoever was there immediately burst in, shutting the door behind them. Thankfully, it wasn't anyone to worry about if they were going to see her undressed.

It was Neon, dressed in the usual raver outfit that Weiss was so used to seeing before she got to know her, along with her signature pony tails and long “tail” hanging from her belt. Today's show she had added a special surprise: roller blades on her feet to incorporate into her dance moves. But she was more concerned about the ever-quiet Weiss who had been MIA for the past week, with no news other than “I'm at Berkeley for a while”. While Neon didn't mind that, she was worried her mood hadn't picked up yet.

Maybe she needed a pep talk. "So, you excited?!"

"H-hey," Weiss sighed with a weary smile. Just looking at Neon looking her best made her pace forward and wrap her arms around her, kissing her softly and enjoying the now-familiar sensation. "Yeah, if you mean 'terrified'. Oh, why did I agree to do this?! There's so many people out there!"

Even though she cuddled her back, she let a smirk pull at her lips. "Yeah, duh. But think about what that means: you're moving up in the world. Means you're amazing."

"No, you." One more kiss, and then she pulled back and ducked her head. "By the way… I'm really sorry about running off the way I did. I should have called you first."

Seemed they were going to talk about this after all. Letting her out of her grasp, she instead held her hands, idly swaying them side to side. "What'cha sorry for? Doesn't matter to me. I just assumed it was family shit or whatever."

"Well…" Weiss came very close to chickening out. After all, Neon didn't care, wasn't pushing. She wouldn't be a bad person for letting the topic drop, especially given how busy they were that day.

But she owed her more than that. "Close enough to family. You know my friend, Ruby?"

"Vaguely?" She tilted her head. The name was very familiar, but it took her a while to realise why. But then she suddenly lit up. "Oh yeah! The girl with the glasses, likes hoodies a lot, right?"

"Right, right," she laughed. "Well… I don't think I ever made it clear, but she's my ex's sister. You know… the, um…" Her voice dropped into a whisper. "The video."

"Which one? 'Changes come' or the sexy…" But as soon as that slipped out her mouth, she began to blush, and also look to one side. "Right, they're both the same girl. Sorry, that was dumb. But yeah, what about it?"

A smirk pulled at Weiss's mouth. "You want a copy of that, don't you?"

"Look, just because I thought your ex was hot doesn't mean I wanna get off while watching her porn. That's kinda… creepy territory for me." Even though she was completely red while saying that entire sentence, she shook her head to try and get herself out of the daze, immediately returning to the topic. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question; what about it? I thought she fucked off and left you."

Then Weiss's smile fell. "Well… she really did almost fuck off… forever."

“What?”

As casually as she could, and trying not to be too specific or make the story longer than needed, Weiss explained what had happened to Yang, from her sister's interference up through the phone call they had accidentally shared in Ruby's dorm room. All the while, it left Neon entirely speechless. At the beginning, she didn't seem to quite grasp what she meant, but as it went on, she grew even more worried and questioning by the minute. For more reasons other than Weiss's story. Piecing things together, Neon had managed to grasp the important factors; Yang was forced away, there was no break up.

Not only that, but the feelings Weiss still had for Yang were probably mirrored in Yang herself. Where Neon had just thought she was dealing with a dumped Weiss on the rebound, it was fast becoming a danger of losing her completely; that Neon really was just a rebound girl to fill the gaping hole in Weiss’s heart for a while. But that was selfish to think at this time, and she quickly shook off such thoughts. Weiss clearly needed her, and she was going to put her own feelings last.

But still, as she leant against Weiss's dressing table, she stared out in awe. "I can't believe your own sister would do that to you… It's just… just-"

"Just disgusting." Shaking her head bitterly, she growled, "And she'd better not come after you next, or she is going to get a real earful. Honestly, who does she think she is?!"

"Oh she'll catch hell from me, too, don't you worry! I get enough shit from Adam, don't think I'll let myself be bullied by her that way." Despite being angry toward Winter, she started to realise what she just said, and backtracked. "I-I mean… I'm not implying Yang’s a coward for leaving, that's not what I meant! Just, like… outing someone as trans is even more damaging than outing someone as gay, I guess, and I wouldn’t let her get away with it. I dunno."

"You're fine," Weiss reassured her with a weak laugh. "But I don't really think I'll be getting much grief from her anymore. I disowned her. She can be judgemental to someone else now."

"Don't blame you. But shit… I'm glad Yang's okay…" She continued to stare out blankly, tapping her fingertips against the wall to try and distract herself.

That brought a louder sigh from Weiss. "I just… can't believe it. I've never had anybody in my life who almost… who even thought about…" Frowning at the girl by her vanity, she said, "I feel like I failed her, Neon. I should have known, I should have figured it out, it's… how stupid am I?"

"Don't even go there, babe," she told her firmly. "How could you know? Winter manipulated you into thinking she had just… just ran away. That's an abuse of trust in your sister, not you messing up."

"You know what's really messed up? She seemed to think that just because she told me, a couple of months later, that somehow that made everything okay! Just because she had a guilty conscience when she found out she almost-" Again, Weiss cut off. Seemed she couldn't directly mention it so easily, even after a few days.

But Neon knew anyway. Pacing away from the wall to stand back by Weiss's side instead, she held the back of her chair. "You're way better off. And Yang's okay… obviously it could have been way worse, so it's a bittersweet ending, right? Sucks it came to this, but at least she’s alive."

Weiss's hand reached over her shoulder to one of Neon's on the back of her chair, holding it tenderly. "You're pretty awesome if you can be glad my ex is okay, with our history and all." Then she looked up at her with an oddly contemplative expression. "I… did think about calling you, asking if you'd go with me… but since the whole thing was about Yang, it seemed weird. Did I make the right decision?"

For a moment, she hesitated. That was the question that was haunting her. If Weiss was being secretive about Yang already, what was it going to be like further on in their relationship? What if she and Yang were to arrange to meet up, start ffresh? She couldn't compete with all that history. Maybe she wanted to fight for her hand, but their relationship was still in its infancy; she barely had a toehold to start from. Her prospects were grim.

Still, not telling Weiss of her worries just yet, she sighed. "I think it would'a made that phone call even weirder if she knew you had a girlfriend, babe."

"Well, the phone call wasn't something planned, but… you're probably right." She turned around in the chair, knees bracing herself up as she touched Neon's neck gently. "Thanks for understanding. I'm so lucky."

Starting to smile lightly, she pressed a small kiss up against Weiss's cheek. Even if Weiss's words meant well, it didn't particularly fill her with much confidence about her worries. The worries that no matter what, she would come in second place to Yang. Even if she didn't show it on the outside.

"Just feel glad it worked out okay, and sorry something so fucked up happened."

But their conversation was interrupted by a knock at Weiss's door, a voice calling up. "Five minutes, Weiss!"

"OKAY!" she yelled back. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Then she turned to Neon and pressed their lips heatedly together, quickly teasing Neon's with the tip of her tongue. There was a slight squeal of joy in the middle of that kiss as she pulled away, finally leaving with a more self-assured grin. Even if she was worried, that didn't stop her flirting – and it quelled some of her fears. At least temporarily.

"Save some for after the show, sweet cheeks. How about a quickie during the intermission?"

"What?! Don't be disgusting!" But Weiss was grinning and blushing. "I prefer to take my time with you. However… we'll see." As she got out of the chair, she gave Neon a quick swat on the backside as she asked, "Is my makeup still okay?"

"Nope. Ruined, start over," she teased. But the giddy grin was enough to give away that she meant the opposite. Finally heading toward the door, she winked back at her. "And I'll get you back for that little swat on stage in the overlap."

"Will you? How are you planning to-" But she cut herself off. The whole insane situation had depleted her of her ability to worry about her future, to give much credence to other people's opinions of her. She still wanted to be respected, but respected for being herself rather than just a statuette of "the perfect good girl."

"You know what? Surprise me." Then she joined Neon at the door and grabbed her ass again - really grabbed it and held on, fingers digging into the flesh. "Go ahead; open it."

Another delighted squeal followed, as her rear was deliberately groped and squeezed, making her turn around and smirk at the 'purer' if the two of them. Barely. "You better be glad you gotta go on in five minutes, otherwise I'd be making sure you can't walk, Schnee."

"Open the door, Katt. Or are you scared they'll notice I have a handful of your booty?"

Glaring right back at her, she started to turn the doorknob, raising one eyebrow as she slowly began to bring it backward to open it, testing both her own and Weiss's bravery at the same time. And the wider open it was getting, the more she smirked. Not that she expected their notions to be viewed.

"Good kitty," Weiss goaded very slightly, still flexing her hand, still teasing. "Nice kitty."

"You… are so getting… a million and one hickeys when today's ove-"

The clearing of someone's throat was enough to stop that dialogue in its tracks. Neon suddenly propelled herself forward, away from the offending hand – and for good reason. Stood before them was the same man that Weiss had encountered the first time she went to Neon's. In fact, the scratch across his face was still there.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Oh…" Recovering from her shock, Weiss's voice dropped into a lower register. "Oh. It's you."

"Aren't you supposed to be on stage?" Adam snapped toward Weiss, barely giving her any attention and immediately looking back to his own star instead, not even waiting for an answer before he asked, "A word? I have a solution that'll benefit us both, in regards to your contract."

"You don't have to talk to him alone," Weiss told Neon without mincing words. "Come backstage with me; you can watch my show until time for you to go on."

"Oh, I think I will. I'm ready to go on, anyway; no need to go back to my dressing room." Neon began to smirk instead, folding her arms. "And I think Adam and I should keep our conversations to public spaces from now on."

"You're making a huge mistake." He lowered his voice, hands clearly balling into fists as he glared at the two of them. "Trust me, a recording contract will be the last thing you need to worry about if you cross me. Just do what I tell you, and we’ll both be rich and happy, and I can quit having to put up with your annoying ass soon enough."

That was far enough; Weiss no longer felt any need to be kind to him. She stepped closer and glared up into his smug face. "Listen to me. You had better let go of the idea that you have any right to control what either of us do, you… thug! Neon might talk to you after the show, and she might not. Don't worry about it for now. But stop threatening her, or I will make your life hell. Do you understand me?"

He only glared straight back at her, not saying another word, moving another muscle. The two stared one another off for what felt like forever, until eventually Neon tugged at Weiss's arm, gesturing down the hallway. "Come on, Weiss. We'd better get going."

"You're right." But as she followed Neon, she glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the jerk. She'd had enough of men thinking they could dictate people's lives, were entitled to women's bodies. It was disgusting to her.

"God, that asshole," she went on in a quieter tone once they were out of earshot. "Do you want to come with me afterward and avoid him completely? I'd be happy to wait for you."

"Please."

But as they turned the corner to head to the stage, eavesdropping was the last of their worries. Adam remained still for a moment longer as he glanced around the hallway. No one present, no cameras. Perfect. No one noticed as he walked down the hallway, nor when he entered the girl he was intimidating's dressing room…

This was it. The moment of truth.

Four days of mental preparation and practice had lead them to “the master plan,” as Winter had put it. Ruby and Penny were already there, having watched the few stars at the beginning of the concert before they withdrew at the back end of Sky Lark's act, giving them enough time to meet Yang outside the venue and exchange Penny for her instead. A hug good luck from Blake, Sun, and even Winter later, and she was heading into the crowd with her little sister.

She was dressed in the best way Weiss could notice her; the same outfit she'd bought for her on the first date of the tour. The brown leather jacket, yellow tank top, and black short shorts. The only thing missing was the completing feature, the snood which was in Weiss's possession. And if that wasn't enough, she made sure to carry her guitar on her back, on the off chance she could get backstage and play the same song to her. It was a vague chance, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Not that security was crazy about the guitar, but once they had checked it for anything dangerous they let her through – on warning that she not play it at random. The disturbance would get her thrown out. Ruby whispered that they probably were assuming she wanted to get it signed by one of the acts, which did make more sense than the truth.

Yang allowed Ruby to drag her on through the crowds, back toward their designated seats. And already she could hear the middle of one of Weiss's later hits. That was when she was starting to breathe heavier. Fear was creeping in.

"Don't act so nervous, sis," Ruby urged her, squeezing her hand in support as they got closer to the stage. They truly were incredible seats; Weiss had not skimped in the slightest. "Even if this doesn't work today, we'll have a couple more days to try something!"

"I know, I know! I'm just… What if she doesn't wanna see me? What if it hurts her too much? Oh geeze what a dumb idea this whole thing was!" she squeaked, having to raise her voice the closer they got toward the stage. But by now, it was all coming into view…

The Weiss herself was just leading into a Madonna cover, strutting confidently from one side of the stage to the other and singing her heart out into the mic leading out from her headset. Today's outfit was a knee-length sparkling silver dress with a slit halfway up the thigh and a train of lace leading down from the sash around her waist and fluttering behind her, feather-light. Matching platform sandals and three little silver stars on each cheek completed the look, along with her trademark side-ponytail.

"Oooohhh god she's right there…" In a turn of events, it was Yang who was the one feeling faint now that she realised who she was about to see, and possibly about to talk to. She swore her heart would jump out of her ribcage with how fast it was beating, how much faster and deeper her breathing was becoming. Even as Ruby continued to pull, she felt herself slowing down, quickly reaching her spare hand into her hair and pulling. "I-I can't do this. I'm still… I-I-"

"You're my big, strong, awesome sister, and you're not gonna let the girl you love get away just because… because of some flashy lights!" Ruby could feel her still resisting, so she stomped around behind her and began shoving into the small of her back, hoping to get her the rest of the way.

Biting her lip again, she continued to gaze out as Weiss's song was coming to a close. Between each number, she was taking a moment to talk to the audience, even if it was something as little as telling them it was a great crowd, or that she was happy to bet there. But hearing her voice again spoke volumes to her. The Weiss. Her Weiss… she missed her, missed her voice so much. All she wanted was to hear it at a reasonable volume again, speaking to her as they were cuddled on a sofa, about to fall asleep at night. In the end, that desire was enough to power through her fear.

"Okay." She finally nodded. "Okay!" And as she heard Weiss introducing the next act for their double performance together, a dubsteppy cover of Katy Perry's 'I Kissed a Girl', Yang finally began to walk forward willingly, pulling Ruby along so she could guide them to their seats.

"This was never the way I planned," Weiss began singing, bending slightly at the waist to let her hand trail through the wake of fans and besotted preteens, touching them all very briefly and thereby exciting them to no end. Of course, not all of them were that enthused; some were only there for Neon, or else Neptune at the end of the concert. But they still seemed at least vaguely pleased to be so close to a beautiful, talented woman such as she.

Even if Yang and Ruby weren't to be right at the very front, among them to be touched, it didn't matter. The seats they had gave them a good vantage point. From there, they could easily be spotted from Weiss's eye level, for when she stopped to speak to the crowd again. Neither of them took their seats, only watched as Weiss continued to belt out her notes, and occasionally interact with Neon, who skated across the stage with ease.

Each of them shared half the verse each, teaming up to sing the chorus together. In fact, said chorus also had various planned dance moves together, both mirroring one another. Apart from something that certainly didn't seem like it was a part of the dance at all: in the gap between the chorus and the next verse, when Neon leant right in and pressed a kiss against Weiss's cheek, along with clearly placing her hand on another cheek a little lower to give a firm squeeze of its own. Live in front of everyone. What gall!

And the crowd went crazy, not sure what to expect from the prim and proper diva — but instead of gasping in shock or slapping Neon, she only raised her hand to cover her mouth as if she were a 1950's pinup girl, arching her back to press her rear even more firmly against the errant grope.

"No, I don't even know your name," Neon continued as if it was nothing, casually skating away from Weiss once that action was done, even flicking one of her knees up as if she were a ballerina skating away. Clearly her mischievous nature was showing again, the typical flirty visage of Neon that everyone knew.

But for Yang, it was something that twigged a small nerve of jealousy. Even when it shouldn't. Of course, she had no clue as to Neon and Weiss's situation; Ruby hadn't the heart to tell her in the brief time they had been together, and the others thought it best to keep silent, as well. However, she did turn to Ruby.

"Well damn, they're really going all out for the song, huh?"

"Uhhhhhh yeah," Ruby half-laughed back, scratching her head. "You know Weiss! Always trying her best!"

"It's not what, good girls do," Weiss sang pointedly, winking at the crowd. She knew that was an important line for her to say, given her image when contrasted with this particular performance. "Not how they should behave!"

Then, as Neon went whizzing past her again, she timed it perfectly to flash her hand out and smack her just below the tail.

As Yang continued to watch their performance, the movements and dances seemed to get more and more suggestive. "Just… a bit…" More occasional spanking, more winks and exaggerated swaying of hips, even Weiss being the one to kiss on the cheek on another chance. The two were close. They'd either rehearsed this a lot, or something deeper was going on.

But on the last note, both of them harmonized the last note together, and raised an arm in the air to encourage a loud cheer from the audience. In the midst of that cheer, Neon even chanced one more movement, grasping Weiss's chin and pulling her in for a quick kiss on the lips. Instant, but enough to make the already loud screams even louder. Once that died down however, she gave a quick wink toward one of the cameras, speaking clearly into the mic.

"Well, I liked it."

Again, Weiss affected the exaggerated image of a suburban housewife from seventy years ago as she giggled and let out a "Well, golly!" and began fanning her face with her hand. "Neon, you're supposed to buy a girl dinner first! Oh, that's right… you did!"

"Well, that's the first time I'd consider McDonald’s a date, but whatever floats your boat." And the audience laughed. Of course, on stage she was still in the closet, at least despite the flirting with anyone that moved. As much as the comment was an actual reference to one of their dates, they still needed to keep it hidden from the public. For the sake of both of their reputations, Weiss's father, and Neon's contract.

At least, she thought that was the plan. But Weiss seemed to have something else in mind for the rest of this little interlude.

"Speaking of boats floating," Weiss began, and the crowd calmed very slightly when they realized she had more to say instead of just leading into Neon's next song before she left the stage. "Some people have been asking a lot of questions about me lately. About what kind of boats I like to float. And it's really none of their business, but here's my thing.

"It doesn't matter, does it? However you choose to love, whoever you choose to love. That's all you. And you shouldn't let anybody boss you around, tell you that any love between two consenting adults is 'wrong' or 'offensive', or 'sin.' Even just the little kiss I shared with Neon; some Bible-thumper in the Midwest is going to throw away my album because that happened. One little kiss! So what?"

As most of the crowd cheered wildly for what Weiss was saying, she scanned them… and her eyes alighted on Yang.

And Yang noticed. How could she not? She'd been watching her like a hawk after all, just waiting for that brief moment where she was spotted. It felt like her heart stopped, or that time had slowed in that brief moment as she looked back at her. The time was right to prove it was really her, give her a gesture to show her it had to be. Which came in the form of her slipping the guitar off her back, and instead holding it in front of her instead, like she would play her a song if she could.

"If you ask me, someone like that doesn't deserve your album," Neon joined in, oblivious to what she must have just seen as she stared at the audience instead. "But you guys out there, in our audience today… Whether you're gay, bi, ace, pan – otherkin, or whatever the hell you identify as, don't you let anyone tell you what to do. Because you are you, and if you feel like no one loves you, I can tell you now that we do! We love you for who you are!"

"We really do," Weiss echoed quietly, smiling warmly down at Yang. Her Yang, the beautiful, perfect person that she was — she had made it! Come all this way, just to show that they weren't completely broken forever, that they could see each other again.

And she had the guitar. There was only one thing she wanted to do… one stupid, ridiculous thing, but the moment she thought of it, she knew it had to happen.

"And now, without further delay… I think we have something for you up next that a lot of Snow Bunnies and bloggers will probably be excited about, and I hope Neon will try and join me for the chorus… if she's game?"

"What?" Ruby breathed, squinting up at her. "Bloggers? That's me! But… but I don't know what she's talking about!"

But Yang was drawing the guitar closer toward herself, beginning to grow nervous once again. Not enough to completely run, but the hints Weiss had dropped were enough for her to begin piecing together what Weiss was trying to do, and she knew it would make people recognise her.

"If I'm game for what?" Neon asked with a grin. The audience laughed; but that prompted her to quickly cover the microphone with her hand, mouthing to her. "Seriously, what thing is this? I don’t remember it from rehearsal."

Weiss did Neon the same courtesy, covering her mic to say, "That video from the blog, the acoustic song? All over the news?" Then she glanced down at Yang. "I want to sing it with her. She brought the guitar; it's…" There was some remorse in her eyes when she looked back at Neon. "Are you gonna be okay with it if we do? Like, I want you with me, and the chorus is pretty simple, but if it's too sudden-"

"Yang is here?!" she nearly shouted, struggling to keep the volume low enough for the microphone to pick up.

But when she glanced toward the audience to where Weiss was looking, and only just spotted the messy blonde hair in the audience, she grew quiet, only able to nod. This was everything she feared… and yet, everything Weiss wanted. It would be a crime to ruin that. Maybe her own feelings were in turmoil but if she cockblocked Weiss just because she was jealous, it would make her worse than Adam.

"No yeah, go for it. If I forget a line, I can fake it with like, humming or whatever."

"I'll make it up to you later, with my tongue," she whispered back, clearly still in the mindset that she was with Neon. Not ‘ditching’ her just because her old girlfriend was in the arena. It helped Neon feel way less like an afterthought.

Then Weiss lowered her hand and walked forward a couple more paces, calling out to the audience, "Everybody, we have a special guest, and she needs a little encouragement. Can you give it up for my guitar-playing friend here?" Instantly, the audience grew more deafening, cheering and stamping their feet, clapping tremendously. Even the ones who had no idea what was going on were out of their minds with excitement, merely catching it from their neighbours who had cottoned on.

"OH! Oh my God, she wants you to go up there!" Ruby was squealing, actually jumping up and down like a little girl. "Yang, you have to do it! This is your chance - for them to know how good you can play the guitar AND for you to win Weiss back! It's so perfect, you can’t NOT go!"

"Oh… oh fuck…" Yet again, her heart was beating faster and faster, even more so when one of the lights pivoted in her direction, shining directly onto her as she held the guitar. No doubt now the cameras would be on her, and the four-gathered outside would be hearing everything in the radio. She could hear now the ridiculous voices of Winter and Blake telling her to go in her head.

Swallowing the last of her fear, she took a deep breath. And giving a brief nod to Ruby, she finally moved from her seating area with the guitar in her hand. She didn't just walk, she ran. Ran as fast as she could past the other audience members, past the security. In this case they allowed it, seeing as one of the stars herself invited her up there. The standing was reasonable enough to let her by, some even patting her back and wishing her luck.

"Come on, Yang," Weiss was saying into her microphone, eyes watering. She was really alright. The shock of her suddenly being there, in the last place she expected to see her, had finally worn off enough for her to be overjoyed that she was apparently alive and intact. Hearing it over the phone was enough to help her stop beating herself up every other second, but seeing her in person? She couldn't describe it.

There was a loud, piercing "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" from where Yang had been sitting, and Weiss winced and spared Ruby a little wave before turning back to where the staff were helping Yang onto the stage, guitar and all. Her heart thudded in her throat. They were really going to do this; going to sing their song in front of God and everyone, and her new girlfriend was even going to join in! Could this be any more perfect?

But just as she was lifted up, and when Yang's hand was inches away from Weiss's as she was about to help her onto the stage… everything took a horrifying turn.

There was a deafening boom. One that came from two different directions: behind them, in the general area of the dressing rooms off the stage; and more worryingly, above. One of the fireworks holsters had exploded incorrectly, causing huge damage to the lighting rig above them both, and completely destroyed its secure anchors to the ceiling above.

Thankfully when it fell, it narrowly missed the diva who was leaning out to try and pull Yang up. It had decimated the stage, destroyed the trap door in the middle that Neptune was going to use for his big entrance, and caused panic among the crowds. The security staff had dropped Yang back to the ground as they went to do their bit instead, guide everyone to safely.

"SHIT!" Weiss let out, hearing her voice echo over the entire stadium. How had all of that insanity and destruction not cut the feed from her microphone? "Everyone, please, just- just remain calm and exit the building!" She didn't know how she knew exactly what to say, but it sounded correct. "Follow the authorities!"

Then she looked wildly around for Neon and Yang; neither were in sight. Glancing down into the crowd, she saw Ruby's red hoodie was already moving far off toward the nearest exit. That was good, she was safe. Now… where should she go?!

"WEISS!"

There was the panicked call of Yang below, who seemed to be attempting to jump at the stage despite the obvious fact she wouldn't be able to get up on her own. She needed to get up there, fast. That was her job, right? Looking around frantically for a moment, she spotted one of the camera towers at the side of the stage. It wasn't the most stable of things, but given the situation, it would do. Just before she sprinted toward it, she dropped the guitar to the ground, and shouted as loud as she could.

"Stay there! I'm coming up!!!"

With all the sparks showering outward from the fallen lighting rig, Weiss wasn't inclined to argue; she wasn't sure which way to go to escape the worst of it, and didn't want to try to run only to find herself scarred and burning. "O-okay!" she called back in a shaky, shrill voice — still broadcast all over the place. "I'm right here, waiting!"

Sprinting as fast as she could toward the camera rig, Yang leapt up onto it, attempting to shimmy herself up the scaffolding as best as she possibly could, despite how much she could feel it tilt and rock. She had no time to worry about that, not when Weiss was in danger. She lost her once, and wasn't about to do it again.

Not knowing what powered her, once she was high enough, she managed to launch herself toward the stage, able to hear the camera collapsing in her wake. That was an exit route gone. But still, she quickly ran toward Weiss as fast as she could, immediately putting herself between the principal and any incoming sparks. It was part of her job previously, of course, but she knew she had to protect Weiss, protect her from anything. Even if she wasn’t technically employed by the Schnees anymore.

"Where's Neon?!"

Startled out of her gratitude that Yang was standing in front of her again, she lowered the hand that had been raising to touch her, to somehow reconnect. "I… I don't know, I didn't see her fall over the side! She must be backstage!" When she heard her own voice echoing, she angrily ripped off the headset and threw it out into the seats. "ENOUGH! I can’t think with that thing on!"

"Shit… Okay, that might be our exit, we gotta get there." But how was another question. Half of the stage was partitioned off with the huge lighting rig in the middle of it, which even though it appeared stable at the moment, didn't seem like a fun option to climb through. But they had no choice.

Grasping Weiss's wrist, she said “Follow me!” as she headed to the side away from any fireworks. Managing to lift one of the lights up out the way to create a path for her, she grunted, "You… First…!"

Heart pounding in her throat for about a thousand reasons, Weiss obeyed, ducking underneath what her ex-bodyguard had lifted and trying not to argue even though she was terrified of what might happen next. Why had this happened? Was it merely a technical failure, or was someone out to get her? Or get Neon? It might even have been Winter, given how horrible she had been of late. But she tried not to concentrate on that as she found the path offstage and followed it.

But just in her range of hearing, there was a loud scream from someone she had come to know oh so well over the past few weeks. Just to the side of the doorways to backstage, Neon was trying to shuffle herself away and out from some of the cables she'd managed to get herself tangled in. And trying in turn to shuffle away from the haunting man above her, the very same who had interrogated her earlier.

"What did I tell you?!" Adam shouted. "I told you I'd make you pay! None of this had to happen, and it's now all your fault! How do you feel now, miss high-and-mighty?!"

"No…" Her hands were frantically scrabbling at the cables, trying to free herself. “Y-you stay back! I’m sorry, okay? I’ll… just don’t do anything crazy!”

Weiss raised a hand to cover her mouth as she watched Neon retreating from her intimidator, and she felt her pulse quicken. This was terrible. The man was at least six feet tall, and would squash her like a grape if he was given half a chance. And she knew what she had to do.

"You get away from her, you fucking JERK!" she shouted, picking up the nearest thing she could reach — a folding chair, as it turned out — and hurling it in Adam's direction.

By the time he'd turned to face her and see what she was doing, the chair was striking him right across the face, impacting hard enough that when he fell to the ground, he didn't get back up. Only remained there as he lowly groaned out. It was totally a lucky shot, but Weiss knew it was only because he was so completely focused on Neon. In a fair fight, neither of them would stand a chance against a guy like that.

Maybe that should change. ‘Self defense classes,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Gotta sign up for those. Soon.’

But by then, Yang had managed to shift her way through, rejoining Weiss again. That was until she noticed Neon still down on the ground, tangled up in the wires. Pulling Weiss to come with her, the two ran as quickly as possible to her side, and tried to get her untangled.

But when Yang touched Neon's foot, she immediately winced. "My ankle… I think I twisted it, really really badly…"

"You get her out of here," she told Yang bravely, eyes full of fear for her costar and girlfriend, whose shoulder she touched affectionately. "I'll go see if Neptune and everybody else is clear and then I'll join you."

Nodding, she leant down and took Neon into her arms, lifting her easily and starting to pace toward the exits. But before she ran at full speed, she turned back for a moment longer, just enough time to shout out, "I'll be right back!"

But as Yang fled from backstage, avoiding the destroyed dressing rooms and heading straight to the fire exits, the groaning of Adam had only gotten louder. To Weiss's terror, he had started to fetch himself to his feet, slowly bringing his knees up as he pushed up to stand. A bloody nose seemed to be the only damage, along with the odd sway as he walked toward her.

"Weeks of meticulous planning," he growled out, wiping away some of the blood as best she could. "Weeks! And paying off security not to check bags, sneaking around and planting the explosives! And I'm not about to let some bible-fucking dyke ruin this for me!"

"Well, too bad – you already failed, you reject!" she snapped at him as she darted to and fro, trying to see if anybody else was back there. Every room seemed to be empty. At the last second, she ran into her own and grabbed her snood, tugging it over her head. That was probably a horrible use of her time, but she absolutely refused to leave it behind. Not ever.

But as she made her way back toward the stage, Adam was continuing to limp toward her, continuing to laugh to himself. "You know… This works out better." He grinned, and it was not the grin of a sane man. "Now the tragic accident that's taken the life of the darling Weiss is gonna be something Neon has caused. I wonder how she'll react to that… that's way better than letting her off with just dying. She can suffer first this way!"

But Weiss was already laughing at him. Hands on her hips, she walked right up to him and glared upward, face set and eyes steely. "Really? You're going to kill me just because I'm more important to her than you are? So pathetic! You are literally the most pathetic waste of space I've ever known if you can't handle life without Neon - whom you abused repeatedly, you- you complete jerk! I just don't understand why you can't let it go!"

"Shut your little MOUTH!"

He exaggerated such a word as he swung his hand around at full force, backhanding the side of her cheek as powerfully as he could. It was far more than enough force to have her on the ground, where he paced around menacingly.

"O-ohhhh…" She was a bit dazed from having the stuffing knocked out of her, so she didn't have much of an ability to respond. But she knew she wouldn't have to; in seconds, her knight in shining armour was going to swoop in and save her from the raging dragon. That she hadn't got there in time to stop him from landing a single blow was of no consequence to her; she would take a thousand slaps to the face if it meant being reunited with her. She had to have faith.

"Maybe you wanna take her place, huh?! Maybe I should take you back into the dressing room, instead! Is that what you want, you stupid little slut? God, all you starlets are all the same – you want to be sluts, but want to be treated with respect, and you don’t seem to fucking understand those two things don’t fucking go together! Why are you all so stupid?!"

But as he began to rant and rave at her, the bodyguard had returned. Hands empty, only curled into tight fists as she moved forward as quietly as she could. Cold fury burned in her eyes. Weiss had never seen her in such a state ever before. And an almost bloodthirsty smile crept onto her own face when she realised what would happen next.

"J-just try it!" she screamed up at him, desperate to keep his attention fixated on her just long enough for Yang to close that distance. "You filthy pervert, just you try and touch me! You'll be sorry!"

"You want me to try?! Because I will, darling! I'll screw the gay out of y-"

Before he could continue the disturbing monologue, or take another step closer, Yang managed to suddenly pick him up by his hips. Similar to the very first action she did to Weiss when they first ever met. Only this time, she didn’t bother resting him on her shoulder, or to restrain him; frankly Yang no longer cared what happened to the human scum. She threw him hard toward the open trap doors leading to the area beneath the stage, watching as he bounced on the floor once, before a panicked scream followed while he fell down.

And though Weiss was not at all sad to see him go, she did notice something fall from his open hand as he plummeted. Something glinting and metallic, with glowing buttons on it.

"Yang, we have to go!" she shouted as she scrabbled at the floor with her platform heels; they weren't exactly made for running but there wasn't time to take them off. "NOW!"

Everything in the next few seconds happened in what seemed like slow motion.

All Adam could do was watch as the small glowing device was landing elsewhere, and then look at the multiple rigged fireworks cases he'd set up under the stage. Even though he was in extreme pain, and no condition to move, he spared two words:

"Oh fuck."

But for Yang, she'd just managed to catch a glimpse of the metal as it fell to the ground. There was just enough time to either save herself, or do her job as Weiss's bodyguard. And it was no contest. Dashing forward, she managed to grab Weiss into her grip, pull her into her body as tightly as possible, arcing her back in an attempt to shield her with her own body as she stood with her back to the doors.

That turned out to be the right choice. There was a louder, even more deafening boom than the first that originated from below and the centre of the stage, sending the two girls flying. The entire time, Yang didn't let go. Even with all the shrapnel in the air that ripped her clothes and cut her skin, even as they were thrown against one of the on-stage camera rigs, her head and arm colliding with it incredibly hard. All that while, she shielded Weiss from the worst of it. Needing to save her, even if the cost was her own life.

Definitely the most shocking finale to a Beach Fest anyone had ever seen.

#White Noise #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

5 notes · View notes

juicifeur · 6 years ago

Text

Passing Through (Final)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Summary: As you recover, Sam begins to realize that leaving you alone was the worst mistake he ever made.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: so this took way longer than expected

“You alright Sammy?” Dean walked into the library and his brother looked up, broken. Dean brought soup, hoping that he could bring Sam some sort of comfort.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay...” Sam lied. He had been wringing his hands non-stop since your body collapsed into his arms and your blood covered his chest. He still hadn’t changed his shirt.

“If you want to talk-”

“I don’t want to talk, Dean.” Sam sighed and glanced down at his button-down again.

“At least change your shirt, man. It’s been-” Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time.

“It’s already eight.” Dean set the device down on the table and put his hands on his hips.

“Y/N’s gonna be okay. Nothing else can happen while we’re here.” Dean sat across from Sam and looked him in the eyes, making sure that he got the message. Unfortunately, Sam would not think about anything else until he knew you were okay.

The tremendous guilt he felt could not be cut loose. Sam’s mind drifted to his memories. The soup that his brother had provided turned cold as his mind wandered.

As you lay half asleep and bare-skinned in his arms, half-empty mugs sitting forgotten in the kitchen, Sam spoke to you.

“Dean said that I shouldn’t keep coming back here. He said it’s not safe for either of us.” Sam recalled as his arms seemed to pull you closer by themselves, he kissed your forehead. His lips quivered like he had to say something else, but he held his tongue and just laid with you under the covers as the exhaustion finally settled in. The snow outside drifted silently to the ground outside, covering the earth and making it seem like everything was peaceful.

The exchange he’d had with you earlier was still fresh in his mind, he kept replaying it over and over. His hands brushed gently across your skin as you lay against his chest. What Dean told him about what he needed to do to keep you safe was eating at his thoughts like an acid. Sam hated it, but in the back of his mind, he knew his older brother might be right.

He needed a way to tell you. But he knew he would be heartbroken at the look on your face. He knew that in the morning he would be in the kitchen with you. Maybe you would make him coffee. And maybe he could find the courage to tell you the whole truth and say a proper goodbye. He realized then, as he was stroking your hair gently in the bed that he’d spent too many nights in, that it was the first time in his life that he felt afraid to break someone’s heart.

Whenever he’d been in any sort of relationship, having the occupation that he did, he always knew that one way or another he would have to leave and cut off all contact. He usually didn’t have a problem with it, he knew it had to be done. But this time felt different.

His cell phone rang on the nightstand in the wee hours of the morning, the sun was barely up. Quickly, he rolled across the bed and stretched his arm. He grabbed the phone before it could wake you.

“Dean?” He answered quietly, standing up and pulling on his boxers.

“Hey Sammy, I’m parked out front. I know I said you had the whole night but Bobby called, something’s up with the end of the world. I’m sorry, man.”

“Uh- it’s alright. Be right out.” Sam hung up the phone and gripped it tightly in his hand. He pressed his fist to his mouth and gently bit on his nails, a nervous tick of his. In a twisted way, Sam felt relieved that he now had an excuse to get the hell out. Did that make him a horrible person?

Without thinking it all the way through, Sam Winchester quietly packed up his things and kissed you gently on the forehead. He fought back emotions, he knew this might very well be the last time he saw you. With the apocalypse looming, who knew what could happen?

He left your home minutes later after tidying a few things in the living room and putting the mugs in the sink. Stepping outside into the cold winter air, he felt an ache in his chest, it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind, and with it a piece of his happiness. As he slowly walked to his brother’s 1967 Chevrolet Impala, he refused to let himself look back. At least he wouldn’t have to look at the heartbreak in your piercing, telling eyes.

He got into the car silently, nose red from the cold and red-rimmed eyes from the pain he felt.

Dean looked at him, concerned for a moment before he spoke.

“You alright?” Sam nodded.

“Just drive...” He let out a breath as the engine rumbled to life and they pulled away from the curb, leaving fresh tracks in the thin sheet of snow.

He couldn’t help that his eyes glanced back at your home in the mirror on the passenger door, and then he turned them away, forcing himself to forget, or at least bury anything that might put you in danger.

Your street was left in silence as the snowflakes floated down, tiny specks of white in a dark purple, early morning sky. Sam didn’t look back again.

It was like he had never been there.

As midnight drew nearer, Sam left his spot at the table in the library and went to his room to rest his eyes, which undoubtedly would turn into a deep sleep.

He walked over slowly to the sink near his door and ran the water, washing it over his warm face. The cold water dripped off of his chin and he stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, his eyes lingering on the blood on his shirt.

When he next turned around, he was surprised by the presence standing at his door.

“Hi, Sam.” Your voice was soft and broken and almost unfamiliar to him. You had a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders and your eyes looked sunken.

“Y/N. You’re awake...” He stared at you in shock and then came closer, taking your forearms in his hands, supporting you as you seemed to sway. The place you were in looked like some kind of old bomb shelter, but with more pizazz. Your eyes trailed around the room trying to make sense of something.

Anything.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked softly, giving you a once over. You shook your head, staring right back into his eyes with a terrified expression.

“I don’t know what the hell happened to me, Sam. I couldn’t talk by myself, I couldn’t scream for help-”

“I know, I think Dean and I have some things to explain.”

Dean slid you a tumbler, half full of whiskey as they stared at you, awaiting your reaction. You weren’t a big whiskey drinker, but right now you would take what you could get. You gulped it down and took in a few deep breaths.

“So...you chase down monsters?” You looked up at the brothers as they nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

“And that was a-”

“A demon. Yeah.” Dean stood against one of the large pillars in the room you were in. There were hardwood floors and bookshelves and three long tables, the room led down two steps into another where a huge set of stairs sat. It would have been impressive if you hadn’t just been possessed; and their whole story would probably be causing you a lot more stress if you weren’t in so much pain.

“I didn’t think any of that existed...I mean I’ve been to a few fortune tellers but I thought that was all-”

“Bullshit. Yeah, most of it is.” Sam said, with his hands clasped between his knees as he hunched over and kept looking at you. His hair fell slightly in front of his eyes and he brushed it away smoothly.

“There are a few who are the real deal, but we keep a close eye on them.” He nodded slowly, reassuringly, as you processed everything you’d just heard.

“This is where you went when we were together. On the road going after other peoples’ nightmares?”

They both nodded.

“Why don’t you just tell people what you do? You could have normal lives.” You stood up and the boys watched you, sighing.

“No, we really can’t. With all the shit we’ve seen, if we tried to get out something would pull us right back in, and kill everyone we loved..” Dean said solemnly.

Dean gently ran his fingers over his eyes, exhausted.

“I’ve been keeping you two up, haven’t I?” You felt terrible that you were causing them to lose sleep, God knows how much they got anyway.

“Please, I’ll be okay. Get some rest.” You smiled softly at Dean and he hesitated, looking at Sam before finally retreating down a hall to where you assumed his room was.

When you were alone with Sam, an awkward silence fell between you. You hugged the blanket you’d found a little tighter around your shoulders.

“Um, can I get you something non-alcoholic to drink?” He asked gently, standing up but not letting his height be intimidating.

“Tea would be nice.” You smiled softly.

“Any preference?” Sam smiled back, knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Peppermint.” “Peppermint.” Both of your voices chimed in at the same time and your smile got brighter as you looked down on your lap. Sam chuckled and left the large room.

He was still as kind as you remembered him. And all the questions that had seemed to have been burning away in your mind since he left were suddenly gone.

“Sorry, we don’t have any honey, but I brought sugar,” Sam said as he walked slowly back into the library-like room with two steaming mugs in his hands and a small cup of sugar under his arm. He set the mugs down on the wooden table and then added sugar to his tea.

“Thanks, Sammy.” You smiled softly and took one of the cups as he sat across from you. It was a comfortable silence this time and you felt the painkillers finally kicking in. Yes, your limbs and head and ribs still ached, but at least you knew you were safe.

It was a good thing that you didn’t remember how you got here or what had happened while the demon had control of your body. After all, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. But now that you were aware of everything that went bump in the night, you weren’t so sure that was true.

You took turns sipping your hot drinks and eventually he spoke.

“I feel like I need to apologize.” He sighed softly and his eyes met yours.

“I didn’t leave any sort of explanation. and you deserved one. I’ve been regretting that night for a long time...”

“Thank you for saying that, Sam.” You smiled softly.

“You’re not as mad as I thought you’d be.” He noted, taking another long drink from his mug.

“I was. For a long time, I was mad. But, I just lost God knows how much time out of my life...It’s like I get to start over.”

Sam nodded.

“Well, you’ll be safe here. Stay as long as you need.”

He gave you a comforting smile.

Always Tags: @knightofmischief @potato8queen @sherlock44 @too-much-winchester @krista200022 @mcdoyle22 @lezbianlovebitez @leiassorganaa@katestiel @kylorentrsh @trashbutnotforyou @angel-allie-golcha-aroha @thedamnchesters @kickasscas67 @hoe-zier @kyara2015@trustnobodyshootfirst @all-ur-friends-r-dead @rhae-winchester @one-shots-supernatural @spn-ayyy @abigrumple @livelovelike555@missdestiel67@lemonadegazeelle @elsatxx @superhero-lover101 @jadepc@becs-bunker

Sam Tags: @commitmenttosparklemotion @carbonated-beverages@galaxyllamaftw @pilaxia Passing Through tags: @agentmstark If you are crossed out, either you changed your url and I can’t find you or you don’t exist anymore Message me if you want to be tagged/untagged Always accepting tags for Always Tags, or tags for a specific character REBLOGS, LIKES, and COMMENTS are much appreciated<3

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #winchester brothers #spn #writing is hard #writings of juicifeur #supernatural reader insert #yn x sam #sam x y/n #dean winchester #men of letters

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problemsofabooknerd · 7 years ago

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My Personal Sexuality Journey

Pride Day 6!

Check out the intro to my Pride project here.

For the past few days, I have mainly been discussing books on this blog. Which is, hey, the topic of the blog so that makes sense! But today I want to get a bit more personal. I identify as a lesbian, but that has not always been the case, so today we’re going to get into the nitty gritty of my sexuality journey. It’s... long.So, I hope you’re all ready.

So, to begin with, I am not one of those “well, I’ve just always known” sort of people when it comes to being hella queer. I grew up in a hyper-religious area in Utah, and we were not exposed to a lot of queer content in any variety. My parents were always cool with The Gays, but it wasn’t a topic that was really openly discussed. I think Glee was possibly my first exposure to a visibly queer character, and that show started when I was in high school. So, basically, I didn’t have any inklings I might not be straight until college. But first, let’s go back to high school a bit.

When I was a junior in high school I managed to nab a boyfriend for about a minute and a half. The thing about being attracted to girls when you don’t really know that’s an option is that, at least in my experience, you start to assume attraction must just feel like ah, I would very much like to be friends with that person. This is probably what a crush is. I’m not saying that’s not an authentic way to crush, because I definitely think it is, but when I was young and sure of my heterosexuality, I rationalized that the desire for friendship and hanging out was actually me wanting a relationship.

I hung out with lots of guys in high school. They were cool, awkward, nerdy guys and I liked being friends with them. I also knew they liked me, so I was willing to go on dates or to dances should one of them ask.Which is how I wound up with my high school boyfriend. He was sweet, we shared a sense of humor, and I loved being around him. Shockingly, it was whenever he wanted to move past friendship activities that I felt stifled and uncomfortable. I didn’t understand what it was at the time, that fear or that resistance, but I knew that I couldn’t continue forwards in a relationship. I ended it, frustrated because I felt like I was losing a close friend rather than a romantic partner. It was a ridiculously confusing and frustrating time all around.

After high school, I went on a date with a friend’s cousin. He was what I perceived as my type, awkward and nerdy, and I knew he liked me. We went to his place after dinner and he tried to make out with me while I argued that he was missing important plot points of the first episode of Sherlock. He was shoving his tongue in my mouth and I was upset because they were dropping hints on screen that would be revealed later and oh my god when they break down the mystery at the end you are going to be so confused.

So.... that was one of the gayer situations of my gay life.

In college, I moved out of Utah and across the country to New Jersey where I attended an exceedingly queer liberal arts college. The new friends I was making were - at least I assumed at the time - the first gay people I had ever met. This later turned out to be absurd, as I’m not the only person at my high school who has since come out. But here they all were! Queer, vibrant, and proud. And I was so excited to be a part of a world where you could be who you are, even though I knew I was definitely, absolutely, without question the Straightest™ person I knew.

Cut to me meeting a girl my second day of orientation. Cut to me suddenly being thrust into a friendship a lot more intense than any other friendship I had been a part of. Cut to the end of Freshman year.

My second year, I became roommates with The Girl. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll stop being all weird and secretive. Most of you know I fell for my roommate, and that her name was Janel. But my college self, who was confused by attraction and by what the intensity of certain feelings towards people meant, had no idea.

Despite the fact that the people around me were telling me that what I was describing was clearly romantic, I didn’t want to admit to myself they might be onto something. I was even confronted a few times about how I identified at school. Here I was, this girl with short hair who was super close to her roommate. Like, we held hands. It was, um, super gay. It was super, super gay and I wouldn’t talk about it.

I knew I might want to kiss her. I also knew I didn’t want to be one of Those Girls that makes out with their queer friend and then backs out immediately.

See, because the thing was, I knew she wasn’t straight. And that added whole other levels to the situation. I knew if I kissed her she wouldn’t mind. And that was a big, open possibility that scared me right to the back of the questioning closet.

What if I kiss her and I don’t feel anything?

What if she wants to kiss me back and I hurt her?

What does it mean if I want to kiss her?

What if I kiss her and I do feel something?

Am I gay?

Am I bi?

Is it just her?

What if I hurt her what if I hurt her what if i hurt her?

That’s basically the first semester of sophomore year in a nutshell. And then, one night, things reached a tipping point of sorts. We were playing Friends trivia and drinking absolutely foul sweet tea vodka and lemonade. We were beyond drunk, and when she asked how I would feel about her kissing me, I said she should.

When I woke up the next day, I was scared. And I panicked. Because it had definitely meant something, but that meant I wasn’t straight. And I didn’t know how to deal with a self that wasn’t straight. I had no blueprint for that, so I said it didn’t mean anything. And I hurt her.

The thing is, I always take time coming to terms with things. I’m not necessarily scared of change, but I’m scared of becoming someone new. Because I don’t know that person, and I’m intimidated by people I don’t already know. I’m scared of telling others the ways I have changed, and forcing them to relearn me. It feels like a process, changing part of your identity, and that process was too big to conceptualize. So I made bad choices, I ran, and I spent a month and a half of winter break trying to decide who I was.

When I came back to school, I felt like I had a new version of myself I could live with. My personal identity, the words I used, they didn’t matter. What mattered is that I loved her, and I wanted to be with her. Thus began the portion of my life where I identified as idk I guess I’m just attracted to pretty people. I think I stole that one from Orange is the New Black, probably because that show is terrified of saying the word B-I-S-E-X-U-A-L. Shhh, don’t let the showrunners know that it’s real and out there!

After a while, I got into the bi pride side of tumblr. It vibed with me and how I felt about myself. Part of being able to accept my same gender attraction came from Korrasami - two bi girls who fell for each other in Legend of Korra. It came from reading miles of Dean Winchester is bi meta. And finally, after a few months, I was able to accept that label for myself. I had a boyfriend in high school and I thought David Tennant was pretty, which meant of course I still had to fit my relationships with men somewhere into my sexuality. I was bisexual, and I wore that word with pride.

It took a really long time to not identify as bi anymore. I mean, when I semi-came out to my grandmother I was still using the word “bisexual” to describe myself. I wouldn’t tell anyone else that word, anyone but Janel, but it felt like maybe it was a place for me to meet in the middle. To still know myself, but to know myself better. I could be the person I was, but I could also be someone new.

For a while on YouTube I was like ~undercover gay~. Like, in a “everyone knows” way but also in an “I don’t talk about it” way. My family watched my channel, and I wasn’t ready for that conversation. I adored my girlfriend, but there was still this constant underlying terror that I would hurt everyone around me if I changed again. If I told my family my identity, and it changed, I didn’t know how anyone would be able to deal with it. I didn’t know if I would be able to deal with it.

I was also terrified of the word “lesbian”, but like that’s a whole other list of internal shit I don’t want to get in to because this post is long enough as it is.

When I finally started to use the word “gay”, it felt like a step in the right direction. But it was also a tiptoe. I said it, terrified people would come out of the woodwork asking about my past relationships and interest in men. That they would confront me for thirst posting about popular tumblr dudes on my fandom blog. I whispered the word and it maybe felt right, it maybe felt like a little zing in my chest, but it also felt like leaving a part of myself behind. Maybe a part I wasn’t comfortable with and never had been, but still this definite chunk of who I had been was just no longer a part of how I was identifying myself.

And that’s fucking terrifying.

Gradually, lesbian became my word. It became a word that encapsulated why I never felt fully comfortable around men. Why I didn’t want relationships with them. It became an affirmation for the fact that I had always had an underlying attraction to women. I felt more confident when I saw Willow Rosenberg, a girl who had a boyfriend in high school, identify confidently as a lesbian in college. Because that was my story and it was ok for that to be my word. It helped me feel more confident in my attraction to women in general, and in that confidence I was able to recognize a difference in how I felt about men.

My sexuality journey was long, and it was difficult. It involved trying things that were scary, and stepping out of a self I knew to find a self I loved so much more. The confidence I found in grasping and being able to explain new parts of my identity made me happier and stronger than I had ever been in my life. Lesbian is my word. I use gay, I use queer. They are all me. But when I walked at Pride this year, it was a lesbian flag I had pinned on. Because it encapsulates me and makes me feel safe.

It makes me feel proud.

Now, real fast at the end here, a couple of notes. Bisexual was a stepping stone word for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s a stepping stone sexuality. It was a word I needed to help me figure out who I was, but that does not remotely encapsulate what being bisexual is. I have known girls who used lesbian and then knew that the word bisexual was more theirs. I have seen people who always knew that bisexual was their word. So I am in no way putting my experiencing of identifying as a person with multiple gender attraction on some kind of all-around temporary status. Bisexual peeps, your word is valid and so are you.

Also, my word doesn’t mean I eliminate trans folks. The word lesbian includes trans women, and I’m not here to have an asinine argument with anyone about that. Just putting it out there.

This was a long one, but sexuality is so goddamn difficult and it took years for me to start to learn about myself. And I’m still learning. Maybe I’ll find a new word someday that fits like a glove, and that will be scary but it will also be okay. And if you don’t have your word yet, and maybe you don’t want a word, that’s okay too. The most important thing is finding a way to be happy with yourself, whatever way you choose to package it. It’s about doing research, trying scary things, and maybe feeling like you can find a way to know yourself a little better one day at a time.

Alright, that’s where I am going to wrap up. Thanks so much for reading about my messy process of self discovery, and feel free to share your own stories too - in a reblog or a message. You are all beautiful and your experience is valuable. I’m just here to share a little bit of mine.

#pride #pride 2018 #coming out #lesbian #queer #lgbtqia+#about me #my post

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desdemonafictional · 6 years ago

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The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea (pt. 1)

A follow up to @chokopoppo‘s JTHM fanfic “The October People”

Johnny/Edgar/Jimmy, because I’m a romantic bastard who’s horny for ot3 content

pt 2

When the starlight calliope plays its black-eyed lullaby, Edgar thinks he can hear the echo of another life flashing and fading with each note. The lights of the merry-go-round flash their cotton candy colors deep inside the bell-cap above him, a note striking each light to life. He is sitting on the back of a fantastical beast sculpted in fiberglass, a screaming mare that ends with the tail of a fish curled heavily in the middle of a thrash.

He is watching the black abyss above the carnival swirl with fog. The machinery sleeps beneath him, dreaming of lights in its bell-cap. In the stillness, he feels more than sees Nny watching him from the yellow grass.

“Little bird, little bird,” the ringmaster whisper-calls, a countermelody to the delicate whirling of the calliope. “Where will you go when the winter has taken your home?”

Edgar looks down at him. Under his hand, the post of the merry-go-round is cold and smooth, twisted like a golden rope. He doesn’t know the song. He doesn’t know if it’s even a real song. Maybe you spend this long listening to the calliope and you start to breathe it like air.

Johnny Sea glides along the autumn ground, one slow step after another, his hands folded behind his back. “Your bones are in the cookpot, your grave is in the leaves…”

The tips of his black glove light on the railing as he leans up, the delicate bones of his skull glowing in the eternal light, beneath his skin. He lifts a hand, reaching up for Edgar, cloth and bone, the fingers curled with longing.

“Come down to me, little bird,” Nny sings, in his voice like the dry rasp of leaves, “Make your home in my eaves.”

The first dawn that Edgar passed with the carnival passed in a daze, a dreamlike scattering of memories. He swears he remembers Nny laying him down against stiff silk, gentle but pitiless fingers, a chaise or a coffin; he remembers laughter, whooping with delight as other voices, farther away, cawed like crows.

There’s a room for him here, among the tents of the October People, pitched all along the far end of the fair grounds. It is all blue and blackening silver and glows with broken pearls, with the reflection of his face watching him uncertainly from the foggy mirror. He can feel that there is something different about this place, his place, cool in the bloody golden chaos of the carnival.

One side of the tent is a dressing area. The other side is a bedroom. He turns from the rough hemp net that holds his curtain in place, twists of the netting caught between his fingers. “Why all this?” he asked Nny, the first or perhaps second night, while the ringmaster watched him hungrily from the corner of the space. “Why not something like Tess has, with all the…” he waved an uneasy hand, heart twanging. “The chains.”

Nny tilted his head. The silver-green circles of his predator eyes flashed. “You made your deal,” he said. “Tess made hers.”

The first night, or perhaps the second night, Sharktooth came to get him. He appeared at the entrance to Edgar’s tent in his heavy boots, his hand impatiently perched on his hip, scowling in his skeletal makeup.

“Look alive, Dollface,” he said, scattering the dreamy shadows that had held Edgar in their sway for countless hours before his arrival. “Bossman wants me to give you the tour.”

Looking at the young man—the scarlet slash of his coat, the glint of his buckles, all of him stark and hard—Edgar blinked away a fuzziness he hadn’t known had overtaken him. Reality seemed to crash in on him all at once, leaving him exposed and startled in its wake. In the cool gloom of his new home, he pressed a palm to his naked chest and winced.

“Oh,” he said, “um—sure, let me just—”

“Hell’s bells,” Sharktooth said, as Edgar went stumbling over to the little chest of clothing. “Get out here now or I’m gonna drag you out myself. I ain’t got time to watch you put your face on.”

Edgar paused, something gauzy and completely unfamiliar to him suspended in his hands. “Well that’s a bit rich,” he said, “coming from someone who was doing his makeup during our first conversation.”

Sharktooth pointed a talon at his cheek. “This is my job.”

The billow of white fabric was a long jacket, fitted at the wrists, which Edgar hastily pulled on. It did not do anything about the fact that his chest was bare, but for fear of making his guide any testier, he resigned himself to it and scrambled out of the tent. “Did you give Tess a tour as well?” Edgar asked, tugging futilely at the collar of the jacket.

Sharktooth made a derisive little noise. “That pity party was a feature figure here a long time before I ever bought a ticket. Come on, I got rehearsal soon.”

He moved fast, marching across the damp earth, and nearly leaving Edgar alone beneath the swirling fog. Edgar followed the scarlet slash of his coat through the twilight, between dark barrels and under sagging canvas signs.

At the heavy wooden edge of something half-tent and half building, its back pasted with posters for a hundred sickly miracles, Sharktooth stopped long enough to slap a palm hollowly against the wood. “Freak show,” he said. “Pretty soon this baby is gonna fill up with desperate housewives and failed con men just itching for one last gamble. Should carry us through the rest of the season.”

“Oh,” Edgar said, uneasily. “Is that where most people who make deals…?”

Sharktooth flashed his terrifying incisors, pearly and razor sharp. “Wouldn’t you have liked to be the amazing living candle, hot stuff? One night only, a show to remember.”

Edgar pulled his jacket close around himself, shivering against the cold wind that stirred the twilight.

For a moment the young man’s eyes flashed like his pearly teeth, laying Edgar bare beneath them, and then all at once the look was snuffed out. He turned on his heel and set off again, calling back, “Hurry up!”

In the foggy maze of the carnival, Sharktooth showed Edgar the exhibition tents and the strange games and the carousel with its baroque mirrored ceiling, alive with lights. Each time he drew Edgar close to show him a detail, he withdrew just as quickly.

“It seems awfully quiet here,” Edgar said, peering into the darkness of a tent where a beautiful and sullen woman was practicing contortions, “you must need more hands than this, to pack up the tents and the rides.”

“It ain’t that kinda show,” Sharktooth told him, something almost like pride lighting his barely-human face. “The world comes to us.”

“But,” Edgar said, “when we found it, in the arboretum, there was this—”

“I know, Jesus fuck, you don’t gotta tell me your whole sob story again.” He jerked the flap the tent closed in front of himself and turned on Edgar, expression sour. “Don’t be so literal. If you wanna survive around here, you’re gonna have to get wise fast. The boss might like you, but that don’t mean shit if you stick your hand in the wrong dark crevice.”

Edgar licked his lip. “Right,” he said. “Um…”

Sharktooth narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“Well. You said earlier you bought a ticket…”

Sharktooth flung open a hand in a dire warning. “No,” he said. “I know what you’re gonna ask and you can save your breath.”

“I just thought,” Edgar said, “if you were like me, we’d have some common ground.”

“Having a mother is not common ground,” Sharktooth snarled. “A trailer in Missouri is not common ground. You and me, we don’t got common ground! I tracked this monster across six states and I worked my ass off to get this life. You’re just another mark!”

Edgar took an involuntary step back, heel hitting a stack of crates.

“You’re a pretty bird somebody stuffed in a cage,” Sharktooth said, bearing down on him, “and they wanna keep you cause you sing so pretty, but me, I know what you’re good for when the curtain comes down.”

He reached out, twisting his taloned fingers in the sheer fabric of Edgar’s jacket, and pulled him close. His every edge was relentless and intent, and in his grip Edgar felt lightheaded.

“You cause me any trouble and I’ll crunch your little bird bones like fucking popcorn,” he said. “I will eat you alive, Edgar Vargas.”

#jthm #mmygar #etc

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