#OH. big flash well writing that and than the thunders crash that followed.. i think the sky agrees

[lalaboy]

girls trip to the opera hope nothing Weird happens

[crazymangaluv]

Bakagou!

@hellomgann1296 my beautiful muse along with the talented fanfic authors I read helped to inspire me to write my 1st Bakugou fic. I’m not much of a writer so I’m sorry for any mistakes and any ooc-ness of the character. 

Warning: (slightly lemony: cursing, slight nudity, some steaminess). This is a Bakugou x female reader: I sincerely apologize to those who are left out when using female pronouns. 

Description: You and Katsuki are childhood friends and you have fallen for this hothead. Unfortunately, you overhear him say something hurtful and you did the first thing that came into mind: run. Not a smart idea in hindsight but run you did. Buuuut of course you run blindly during a thunderstorm (accident waiting to happen) and have a loose canon chasing after you aka Bakagou. Will your relationship mend? 

You attempt to focus on the sound of water falling heavily onto the ground as you took deep breaths in and out. You shiver and clutch yourself tighter. Your ankle is throbbing but you try to ignore it. The sound of the rain and the burning fire provides some comfort to your misery--

“Tch!” 

Your eyebrow twitches at the sound. You turn your attention back to the source. He’s sitting there in his boxers, arms crossed and a scowl adorning his handsome face. You disregard his naked state, your face contorting into a similar scowl as well. You try to find your inner zen -cute puppy…..no wait...a handful of cute puppies-. It was beginning to work but-- 

“Achoo!” you sniffle. 

“Tch…”

There goes your patience. “Would you knock it off Bakagou??”

His scowl deepens to a snarl at your remark and the emphasis on the former portion of his name. “Eh?? Knock it off? It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place!”

You scoff in disbelief. “My fault?? I didn't ask you to come after me, Mr. I’m-so-cool- with-my-bad-attitude!” 

He glances at your swollen, bruised ankle and your drenched clothes before reverting his glaring eyes to yours. You meet his eyes with a glare of your own, however, your vision begins to blur from the tears forming. He opens his mouth to retort but you continue: “I was trying to get away from you! You’re just a big fucking jerk! You don’t care about anyone other than yourself and you treat everyone like shit!” 

Your tears flow freely down your cheeks. You don’t bother hiding them from him, even if it makes you look weak. His scowl reduces to a frown, eyebrows furrowing. He feels a pang in his chest; he hates it when you cry. His face bears an expression of shame but something else you couldn’t pinpoint. 

You’ve been his friend since childhood, you would even say you’re one of his best friends. He does treat you differently than the rest: more mellow and less explosive, no verbal berating, etc. You couldn’t help but develop deeper feelings for him over the years. The two of you are older now and you have noticed an increase of intimate moments between you both when alone. The subtle soft touches, the caresses, the long hugs, the way his hardened eyes would soften with you, the movie night cuddles, falling asleep in each other’s arms...gestures where you felt that there was a possibility of reciprocated feelings. Guess it was all in your head, nothing but misinterpretation from a desperate fool. You feel like such an idiot. 

[Flashback]

You’re on your way to see him, smiling to yourself as you carry his share of the spicy dish you cooked. He seemed stressed the previous day so you wanted to cheer him up. He always looked forward to your dishes. You could hear their voices around the corner, and you smile to yourself, it seems that they were up to the usual shenanigans based on the volume of their voices. It appears they were teasing him about something, you shake your head at their antics. 

“Yeah Ochako is super cute! Haha why are you blushing Midoriya??”  

“N-n-n-nothing!!”

“What about y/n??” 

“Yeah! Y/n is pretty cute, you think she’s got a boyfriend?” 

“Oh yeah y/n sure is a looker. She’s pretty badass too.” 

“Wait she’s got Bakugou here.” *laughs* 

“Yeaah you two are awfully close...are you guys….ya know….,” *whispers* “doing it??”

Katsuki growls, “Shut up!”

“NO! THEY’RE NOOOOT! WHY WOULD Y/N WANT STUPID BAKUGOU ANYWAYS??!” Mineta cries out pathetically. 

You roll your eyes at the sound of his stupid whining voice. You shake your head and sighed. You’re ready with your retort and to kick Mineta’s ass just as you turned the corner.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! STOP BEING ALL GAH GAH OVER HER! Y/N AIN’T SHIT!” Katstuki shouts as he shoves Mineta aside. 

His gift slips from your hands onto the ground. It feels as though you’re punched in the gut. You stand frozen like a deer in headlights. He’s never said anything like that to you or about you before in all the years you’ve known him. The boys flinch at his booming voice before flinching again at your presence. They look at you in awkward silence equally as surprised. He turns at the sound, his eyes meeting yours and widening in shock. Thunder rolls in the background...tears form in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, your lips quiver. You turn and just run. You ran as fast as you could with no set destination in mind. You hear him shout your name but you didn’t care. You needed to get away from everyone, you’re so embarrassed and ashamed. 

It begins to pour, the water drenches you as you keep moving. Lightning flashes above you with the loud boom of thunder. The rain makes the floor increasingly slippery causing you to lose your footing. You careen down, curling into a ball as you tumble down a steep slope. You land with a *crash* and a *thump*. You turn over onto your back and let out a sob. You’re such an idiot...you angrily wipe your cheek. You have no idea where you are and it’s getting dark. You move to stand but fall over from the sharp pain at your ankle. Oh just great, a sprained ankle to make things even better.

He immediately had run after you following his brief state of shock. He loses you momentarily but he hears the crash in the distance. He quickened his pace in desperation and anger. “Y/n!”

You hear your name and you look up to see him gracefully sliding down the slope towards you. No no no no, not you. You stand and limp away ignoring the pain but he easily catches up to you. His hand gently and firmly wraps around your arm but you rip it out of his grip. The movement aggravates your ankle further causing you to yelp out in pain as you lose your balance. He reaches for you, swiftly catching and pulling you close. You squirm in his arms. 

“Quit squirming y/n!” 

You refuse to look at him,“No. Let go of me.”

He scowls and instead picks you up. “Your fucking ankle is shit and you know for damn sure you can’t walk right now.”

You cross your arms and huff in annoyance. No word is said between the two of you as he treks the terrain. The rain only falls harder with frequent flashes of lightning and rumbling of thunder. You’re both drenched and you tremble from the cold. His grip tightens, he needs to get you out of the rain fast. Your teeth are chattering; he tch’s to himself and quickens his pace. The sky grows darker, making it more difficult to see where he’s going. The flash of lightning provides him the light he needed, illuminating a cave ahead. He sets you down gently before stalking off to get supplies for a fire. He’s gone for no more than 2 minutes. He drops the branches and wood and starts a fire. You welcome the heat but refuse to move.  

“Your clothes need to dry. Take them off y/n, you’re going to get sick.” 

You ignore him and opt to hug yourself in all your wetness. You hear the squelching of tossed wet clothes and your face flushes. 

[Present]

Your trembling worsens, not just from the coldness of your still wet attire, but from your outburst as well. You look away and bury your face into your arms. You let out a quiet sob you couldn’t hold in. You’re cold, wet, in pain, angry, tired, embarrassed, ashamed, etc. All these feelings and emotions storming inside you. You didn’t hear him approach you but instead feel his warm arms pulling you close. Before you could pull away, his solemn voice stops you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You sit there in shock, he’s never said sorry before...in all the years you’ve known him not one sorry. 

He hugs you tighter, his head rests on your shoulder. “I’m a fucking idiot. I didn’t mean what I said. Please y/n...forgive me.” 

You sniffle. “You’re a jerk,” you voice out weakly. It didn’t hold the angry bite you wanted, but you couldn’t stay angry, you were just hurt. 

“I am a jerk…I’m sorry.” 

You sneeze again causing him to slightly flinch. He tchs once more and immediately picks you up and plops down by the fire. “You’re going to get sick y/n…”

You don’t respond. 

*Sigh* “...y/n please…”

You sigh in response. You move to shuffle away and his arms release you. The places where he was touching you are now cold. You miss his touch but you shake your head and take in a deep breath before removing your clothing. Katsuki turns away, refraining from turning around. You neatly place your drenched clothes on the rocks beside you. You shiver, it's still a tad chilly but the fire is helping. You glance over to him, the flickering glow of the fire dancing on his muscular back. He’s close enough to touch but you stop yourself by gripping your hands together. Your eyes travel up to the back of his head, his dripping blond hair glistening softly. You follow a droplet that falls from a strand of hair and slowly rolls down his spine. As if he felt your gaze, he turns his head slightly to peer at you from the corner of his eye. 

You twiddle your thumbs nervously at the silence. You furrow your brow and clear your throat. “Why did you say it if you didn’t mean it?”  

He looks away from you. “Because...because I’m an idiot.” His eyes return to yours. 

You frown. “Yeah you are an idiot.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I am an idiot...I just...I didn’t want them to know…” he trails off, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. 

You look at him expectantly, eyes narrowing. 

He puts his arm down and turns fully to face you, sighing. His eyes return to yours. “I didn’t want them to know how crazy I am for you. And--” he pauses. “I got...jealous. I didn’t want them looking at you the way I do.” 

You look at him quizzically, heart pounding in your chest. His eyes are burning with an intensity you haven't quite seen before. 

You blush but hold firm. “That still doesn’t make it okay to react like that. To be so quick to bring me down. It was still hurtful to hear...even if you weren’t talking directly to me.” 

His eyebrows furrow and he reaches a hand out to you. His rough hand lightly covers yours. “I know. I’m sorry y/n. I am, truly. I’m a stupid immature jerk. It won’t happen again....You’re not...you’re not something to possess, but someone to cherish...to love.”

You hear and feel the sincerity in his words. You look down at his hand, registering the words he just said...You can’t get your hopes up, interpreting a moment for more than what it was. You gather your courage to ask the one question you’ve wanted the answer to for years:

“Do you...love me?”

His breath hitches and he freezes. He’s not used to expressing his feelings, the ones that leave him vulnerable. He uses a wall of anger to prevent anyone from seeing him weak. Opening his heart to someone, he hasn’t, not even to his own parents. But you...you make him want to. You’ve gradually chiseled down those walls of his. He yearns to just hold you in his arms and never let you go. Loving you isn’t a weakness. He has realized over the years, his love for you has made him stronger. It was what fanned the flames within him, motivating him to be the best. Seeing these other men around you, ones who weren’t so rough around the edges, it made him feel jealous. You deserved better than him, one who’s not as explosively hot headed. It wasn’t right for him to try to possess you, to keep you to himself and chase others away from you.

He removes his hand from yours. You swallow painfully, the lump of your throat aching more so than your ankle. You close your eyes and steel yourself, preparing for the incoming rejection. But instead he inches closer to you, you can feel the heat radiating from his body yet you remain still. He tentatively raises his hand to your face to gently wipe a stray tear that fell from your cheek unbeknownst to you and rests his hand on the side of your face, thumb caressing your cheek in a comforting manner. 

“I love you y/n. With every fiber of my being, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, letting out the breath you’ve been holding. The tears flow down your cheeks and his warm thumbs wipe them away tenderly. He gently pulls you closer and kisses your forehead. You suck in a breath at the intimate action. You feel his lips on your right cheek, then your left...by the corner of your lips, on the right side, then the left side. It lingers there a bit, your lips tremble. Then, you can feel his lips, ever so softly, brush against yours. 

Your rapid thumping of your heart is ringing in your ears. You move your lips against his, unsure at first but soon with more confidence. His lips move against yours in a sense of desperation. His hands drop to your waist to pull you down with him. You’re pulled flush against him as he holds you on top of him. You gasp and blush further at how his half naked body feels against yours. He places his hand behind your head and tenderly brings you down to which you allow with no resistance. His lips envelop yours with gentle aggression you didn’t think was possible. The kiss is quickly deepened. His rough hands roam over your body, without venturing too far, and you let out a moan. 

He rolls you over beneath him without breaking the kiss and with a hand supporting your head. He’s nestled between your legs as the two of you kiss fervently. It's your turn to let your hands wander. Your hands gliding over his smooth skin, your fingers studying his hard muscles in detail. He detaches his lips from yours to suck and nip at your neck down to just above your breasts. You moan and wrap your legs around his hips to pull him further against you, paying no heed to the twinge of pain from your ankle. He moans into your neck from the contact and slightly grinds against you. You pull him back up to your lips and his tongue slides into your mouth, teasing yours. You grip his back tightly, moaning as you feel yourself growing hotter. His hand slips up your torso, fingertips brushing over your breast. You lean into his touch which causes his hand to grasp your breast. You gasp into his mouth and moan out his name. He withdraws his hand from your breast and pulls away from you. Leaning on his forearms, he hovers over you whilst panting and eyes burning with desire. 

“Katsuki?”

He leans down to kiss you, lips lingering before pulling away. His hand brushes the strands of hair from your face and he caresses your cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. 

“As much as I want you y/n...and believe me, y/n, I want to ravish you, to kiss, suck, touch every inch of your body...I can’t...not here, not like this.”

You blink up at him in realization. Cheeks reddening at his words, suddenly feeling shy. 

“I want you, sprawled on my bed.” He growls out. 

Your face flushes at the thought.

“I want to wake up to you in my arms...I want you there beside me, as my partner. I want to take you out on a real date, hand in hand, treat you the way you deserve.” 

Your lips quiver. 

“You’re the only woman I want, if you’ll have me.” 

You nod, speechless. You relish in the tender kiss he gives you before he sits up and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, enjoying the intimacy as you both sit there basking in the warmth of crackling fire and listen to the soothing sound of the pitter pattering of the rain. 

[Later]

Friends remain dumbfounded as they stumble upon the both of you emerging from the forest. He struts through, carrying you in his arms as he makes his way to the infirmary. Your friends follow, teeming with questions. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay y/n?”

“Y/n! Kaachan! Are you guys are okay?”

“Y/n, what happened? Did you guys make up?”

“What did you do to her Bakugou?”

“Y/n! Thank goodness you’re okay! Bakugou! You apologized huh? You’re truly embracing the manly spirit!”

“We were worried sick! We were about to go looking for you guys!” 

“You can’t just run off like that during a storm!! That was irresponsible of you both!” 

You smile awkwardly and apologetically. You’re attempting to answer the swarm of questions and apologize, but find no room to interject. Katsuki’s scowls, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. 

“Piss off! Get the fuck outta our way extras!” 

They scramble out of the way, momentarily ceasing their questioning. He holds you tightly as he kicks the door shut on their curious faces. They deemed it wiser to leave the two of you alone, opting to pester the two of you later. He places a chaste kiss your cheek before placing you down on one of the beds. He walks away tch-ing at the lack of staff. “Oy! My girlfriend is injured here! Move your asses!”

You smile and shake your head. You love this hothead. 

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 4 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“By any chance, are you two available after class?” Sakura asked her seatmates.

“No.” The reply, while simultaneous, delivered contrasting connotations with Sasuke being gruff, adamant, eager to be uninvolved while Naruto’s was dripping with disappointment and missed timing.

“I have practice.” The blonde sank further into his seat. “But whatever is it for, Pres?”

Sakura grimaced at the monicker. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s what everyone calls you now,” Naruto replied. “You’re the youngest president too so that’s like a really big deal, you know. So anyway, if our schedules free up and coincide, maybe you can join us in this cute café.”

Sasuke discreetly flashed him a glare which obviously just flew past across the blonde airhead, but it was caught by Sakura who knew where this opening was headed.

“They served the best sweets but grumpy here ordered a tomato dish. Like what’s up with that? They also gave us free food before we left!” Naruto grinned widely, unperturbed by his next statement. “Moreover, there’s a cute barista who looks just like you.”

And Sakura decided to deliver the curve ball. With her chin on her open palm, she looked at Naruto directly. “So you’re saying I’m cute?”

Sasuke swore that was the reddest he saw Naruto turned. He tried to hide the bubbling laughter with his head down and his hand on his mouth, reveling in the blonde’s embarrassed stuttering, but he slowly registered her amused glance at him, and he wondered briefly why his face was also turning hot.

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

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should have come home after classes ended and not be entranced with Naruto’s rare offer of free dinner. Obviously, by free dinner, that meant their coach paying for the entire team’s meal as well as the roster of honorary members, which unsurprisingly included him.

So he was just napping the time away in the classroom, away from their go-to hideout because of the noisy dragonboat power yells, when he heard a scream and an ensuing crash of what seemed to be books and stacks of papers. His feet was already at the door before he could think this through, his body moving on its own accord like an innate response to a familiar voice.

Loose pink strands were splayed on the floor, surrounded with likewise loose pages from the confines of the folders.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked as he crouched beside her. “You seem to enjoy injuring yourself.”

“I didn’t hit my head. I landed on my butt which hurts a lot right now but thank God I’m wearing sweatpants because you would have seen such outrageous grandma panties.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the TMI. “Try filtering.” He proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and files on the floor and gestured for her to stand up already.

“I need a hand though.”

“My hands are full with your documents.”

“Then let me get your back.”

He muttered an annoyed protest under his breath, but he squatted low enough for her to reach the back of his uniform and pull herself up with accompanying ow-ow-ow-ow. They walked like that until they reached the student council office, her box of files safely tucked in both of his arms, her one hand on the edge of his shirt and the other on her lower back.

“Thanks, Sasuke! And with this, I pronounce you and Naruto my official runners!”

“He’s not even here.”

“He’ll agree. After all, I look like his cute barista.” Sakura winked, riding on the comedic atmosphere.

“But I didn���t even agree?” Sasuke protested, falling into deaf ears as she quickly took the folders from his arms and exited the office with a wave. He was sure warning signs kept flashing inside his brain.

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

He was set on keeping his distance, thus despite her informal announcement, it was mostly Naruto who accompanied her in most errands except in instances when he had to stay behind after class to wait for the blonde.

His latest task was to help write support banners for the preliminary matches of the baseball team. Personally, he found the game season a nuisance, but of course, he wouldn’t admit it to himself that the trainings were eating up most of his time with Naruto. If they weren’t practicing pitches during lunch, the blonde would discuss game strategies, a topic he actually exceled in. Sasuke theorized his brain cells operated most efficiently when used for kinetics. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt sidelined – with his companion successfully finding something to keep the loneliness at bay – while he remained in the frontlines, waging an internal war between the thundering silence of his apartment, and the raucous chaos of his thoughts.

He stood there awkwardly on the side of the student council office as the rest of the council members hunched on the floor, painting the words haphazardly out of the outline patterns, the worst among them being Sakura.

Frustrated and driven by a compulsion, he grabbed a spare brush and blank canvas and started the lettering. Thank god for his childhood calligraphy classes. This feat earned him interested looks from the members.

“Wow Pres, you really reeled in a talented runner,” one member chided. “He’s still as grumpy as ever though.”

Sakura wasn’t entirely happy as she looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on. Our banners weren’t that bad.”

“If I were on the baseball team, I’d think you would want us to lose.” He finished one cheering banner and gave it to the nervous member beside him. Apparently, his presence intimidated them even though he was but a mere runner. “Can you give me the next one?”

“Why are we bothering though?” asked the vice-president. “Our school team never makes it past the preliminaries.” From the get go, Sasuke felt her slight annoyance of having been bypassed in the selection, and while this was valid, he also thought she shouldn’t project this to Sakura who was caught in the middle of the decision of the advisory board.

He needn’t worry however, as she carried the subtle dig effortlessly, her usual positivity dripping through. “Isn’t it better to put it your all and see everything through than to give up when the clock hasn’t even started running yet? I find regrets more troublesome.”

Flustered with her response, the vice-president shifted her gaze back to the canvas in front of her and started to paint again. Everyone didn’t see it, but he caught Sakura sticking her tongue out to her.

Such a child. He found himself smirking.

Naruto started skipping classes as the day of the preliminaries crept closer. A week of this behavior prompted Sakura to pry his address out of Sasuke. He found out days later that she started coming to his apartment and incessantly ring the doorbell until his neighbors in the complex complained of the early morning noise.

Sasuke’s part in this scheme was the notes he compiled and one-word reminders through texts when there were deadlines or assignments. Somehow, it evolved into a convoluted arrangement among the three of them to keep the baseball rookie MVP afloat in his academics. As compensation for their efforts, Naruto started to buy them convenience store rice balls for morning snacks.

“You idiot. You should save your allowance,” Sasuke said smugly to the blonde.

“And yet you’re swallowing it in full.” Naruto grinned. “You should chew, grumpy! Chew!”

Sakura took a sip of her cranberry juice and smiled fondly at them. “Are you ready for Friday?”

“We’re facing off a top ten school, and Captain Haru said we don’t have that much chance. I don’t believe it though. I think we’ll win,” Naruto replied.

“You have a strategy ready?” Sakura asked.

He shook his head and pointed to himself rather proudly. “No but the team has me.” Sasuke choked on the last bit of his rice ball at the latter’s pronouncement.

“I told you to chew!”

Sakura, in panic, gave her half-drunk juice carton to him, and Sasuke, also internally panicking, grabbed it and downed the rest of it.

“You okay?” Sakura patted his back and snuffled a laughter which Naruto joined with his loud, uncontrollable dry heaves. Sasuke glared at the two, but this only served to amuse them further. “Oh wow, that was the first time I ever saw you uncomposed.” She swiped the tears in her eyes with the back of her hand.

“But really, they have me so we’ll win,” Naruto insisted.

“I’ll wear a cheering uniform for you,” she chirped back.

“Gods, dumb and dumber,” Sasuke sighed, defeated.

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

On the afternoon of the game, Sasuke found himself surrounded with a large female following after Sakura got all the members and the runners cheering outfits, and by outfits, that meant olive green jersey tops and maroon sweatpants representative of the school colors. She also took advantage of his obligated presence by giving him the task to distribute the banners and flaglets to the benches. The genius orphan and the couldn’t-care-less Uchiha roaming the rows? That pulled the student crowd needed for the game.

“Go Naruto!” Sakura yelled beside him. A black bandana was tied around her forehead, and her ponytail was replaced with a high bun.

Sasuke inadvertently covered his eardrums. The noise was even louder when the student council started a yell routine in the bleachers. The side of the opponent was half-full, and surprise was transparent in the other team’s faces. Probably the first time that support with this magnitude was given to the baseball team. Also, it was his first time attending a ball game in person, not that he didn’t try asking his brother before.

He felt a light tap on his shoulders. He turned around to see a raven-haired girl behind him, dressed in a lilac midi dress and sporting the black bandana on her wrist. “Is this seat taken?” She motioned to the space beside him. Her face was familiar – he knew he saw her somewhere but also certain he never interacted directly with her.

“Ah Hinata?” Sakura’s voice squeaked in recognition. She gestured to him to exchange seats with her, and she immediately patted her to sit down. “Cheering for Haru?”

Ah, the Hyuuga, the captain’s girlfriend. They’re actually friends.

“I was actually planning to buy the whole team dinner regardless of the results,” she said to Sakura. He was not good at reading people, but this Hinata was soft-spoken and gentle with her mannerisms that he found it fitting for her to be with Haru. He was, after all, so steadfast and assertive with his members, and he could even get Naruto in line with a look. So much so like Sakura that this exact dynamic was playing beside him.

It was a weird thing though when he glanced at the two and saw that her eyes were not trained on Haru but on certain blonde bloke on the field.

“President Sakura.”

Great, another distraction. He knew that voice even when the entire field was already screaming.

Sakura whipped her head too fast he was afraid she was gonna break her neck. Even when she was already glowing, her face lit up brighter when Kakashi handed her two bottles of water. “Nice job rounding an audience. Here, Give one to your runner.”

It was evident she wanted him to stay as she started to look around and tried to find a space near her. Noticing this, Sasuke tried stand up and offer him his seat, but she placed a firm hand on his knee, followed by a slight shake of her head, and a soft disappointed sigh when Kakashi disappeared from the crowd.

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

He was walking out of the bathroom when the announcer declared the winner of the two-hour game. Of course, they would win. Naruto never backed down from his pronouncements, no matter how silly or unattainable they may be. He should buy him a stack of his favorite ramen as prize.

“Yo, Uchiha.”

Naruto’s bullies blocked the path leading to the bleachers – there were four of them, the same people who made fun of him in the hallway last time.

“Your people skills shot up after spending time with that orphan MVP and the chirpy pinky huh?”

“Birds of the same feather flock together.”

Normally, Sasuke would let these insults slide, if one could call them that. They were bigger and taller than him with faces that reflected experienced jabs in their scars and band-aids. To take them on alone, considering also the fact that he skipped gym for almost a year now, would be suicide. Nonetheless, he didn’t feel riled up as they expected him to be.

“Or should we say, they shot up in their society ranks because of you? After all, your dad was a member of the board.”

“Oooh my bad, dead dad.”

His hands started to clench into fists – an involuntary action out of their own volition. This slight shift in his body language gave them the go signal to surround him.

“Heard through the grapevine that it was actually your fault they’re dead. Imagine sleeping next to your dying parents and not looking for help?”

“Pathetic being.”

“Now he parades himself like an entitled son of a chairman.”

A kick to his shin. “Can’t really do anything to us, huh? Afraid to tarnish your dead daddy’s reputation?”

A punch to his side, and Sasuke clutched at the contact. Another right at the center of his stomach, and he doubled over, the water he drank threatening to hurl itself on the ground.

“You’re a better target than Orphan No. 1. You don’t really fight back.” The bully placed his foot on his hand, pushing him down further and making him bow. “You need to show you’re a model student. After all, your brother’s one of the shareholders of the school, and he has no need for trouble from his shunned sibling.”

Simultaneous kicks to Sasuke’s side. They were right, to an extent, but it was the whole process of explaining that would tire him out. Conversing with Itachi was a drag all on its own, like talking to the void, and hearing the senseless blame games all over again. This was all right, he assured himself throughout the whole encounter, since he was already numb. The other pain inside his head was stronger and sharper.

“Then again, you probably pulled some strings to get pinky that coveted position, didn’t you? Imagine a second year being president all of a sudden without going through the motions.”

The bile rose to his throat, and there was an entirely different metallic taste in his mouth. His fists were itching to fight back.

“Let’s destroy your pretty face this time, and we’ll come for the pinky next.”

Sasuke gained momentum to land a kick on the person’s crotch, the force and shock sending him reeling to the side. That was reckless, he knew that, because then he was exposed to the punches of the three others. And so he waited for contact but there was a flurry of bodies and that pink bright contrast in his line of sight.

One fist landed on Sakura’s face.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 5

[deejadabbles]

SPELLS OF DEFIANCE (ATEM X READER X YUGI) CHAPTER 8

EIGHT: BLOOD

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// Eight //// [Nine coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split? Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N: Sorry this took so long to get out, personal upheavals and writer's block has been kicking my butt lately. Anywho, I hope you guys like this update, but I do want to warn all of you that there are depictions of violence and an incident involving self-harm in this chapter. Please be cautious of reading this chapter if those are themes you're sensitive to. As always comments are greatly appreciated and help keep me motivated to continue writing, thank you for reading.  Oh, also, I made mood boards/edits for this series, in case any of your are interested in that <3

A crack so thunderous that it shook the walls around you sounded. Ears rang, blood spilled, and someone laughed. A sound cold and cruel bellowed as you were thrown back, senses reeling and vision blackening as skin made painful contact with the cement floor.

“Keith!” Duke’s eyes were wide as he watched you fly back, his own ears stinging even when he looked back to his fellow magician with a glare. “They said to take her alive, you idiot!” His fists clenched, eyes darting to the man’s arm. It still surged and flashed with lightning, flickers of electricity darting across his skin from his overpowered spell. His palm remained trained on you, and the seal on his palm still glowed from the magic.

Keith had the gall to chuckle again, “Relax, pretty boy. Even I know that wouldn’t kill her.”

Duke’s eyes widened again, and he looked back in your direction, finding you had managed to land on your knees, head bowed and arm holding you up as your shoulders shook with every labored breath.

“At least the attack broke down her defenses. Bitch always was good at keeping her armor up,” Keith added, sick grin glowering down at you.

You raised your head, vision finally coming back into focus after the attack. Your nose had broken from the impact, trailing red down your mouth and chin. However, to Keith’s obvious annoyance, the only other sign of harm were the glass-like cracks coating your face, your personal shield deteriorating under the force of his spell. He was right, you had always had a talent in armor spells, casting a constant barrier around your body, coating you in protection like a second skin. Your ability to redirect that shield to take the brunt of his attack was the only reason you weren’t a gory mess on the floor. It came at a cost though, and Keith knew it, you wouldn’t have the power to recast your armor spell for awhile.

You were vulnerable.

“Should have known they’d send their favorite dog after me,” you said, trying to make your form as steady as possible when you rose to your feet. Your jeans were rent, knees bloody and torn from the concrete.

Still, you stood tall.

Keith laughed again, “Well, not like they were gonna send pretty boy after you alone.” He shifted then, body moving into a combative pose, ready to fight. “Damn, I’m going to enjoy this.”

You actually smirked back at him, adrenaline kinking up your energy. Your eyes wandered past Keith’s shoulder, noting the wide cracks and barely stable wall just behind him.

Yes, that would do nicely.

A quick fluid motion and you reached out with your magic, grabbing hold of the crumbling stone, and pulled. The concrete followed in a thunderous cloud, and Keith barely had time to turn before the debris crashed down on him with a shout.

It wouldn’t be enough, you knew, but it bought time. You turned to Duke, grabbing a particularly large piece of rubble with your magic, just as your old friend’s face fell.

“Ah shit,” Duke muttered, then flung himself out of the way as you threw the debris.

Dust and curses were flung into the air, giving you the perfect cover as you jumped through a broken window of the nearest building, taking refuge behind the rotting walls. Let them chase you, they wouldn’t even realize the roles of hunter and prey were switched before it was too late.

You began your ascent to the top of the five-story building, climbing through holes in the floorboards and pouncing off rickety steps. Just as you cleared the third floor you heard a rumble and knew that Keith must have blasted his way out of the rubble. That was confirmed a moment later when you heard him scream at Duke, demanding to know where you went. Another yell at Duke’s answer, then Keith’s angry voice was ordering them to slip up, him taking one building, and Duke the other.

You grinned to yourself at the foolhardy decision- though you instantly regretted it when blood seeped past your lips at the act. You were definitely in for a lot of pain when this was over.

You were on the top floor now and heard the sounds of someone moving about below. He must have assumed you would go for higher ground, because the movements got closer a split second later; a teleportation spell. You looked up, finding the gutted state of this floor to your advantage despite the wide-open space. The ceilings were high, and the half-exposed rafters in those ceilings were dark, a perfect perch.

The footsteps grew closer as you jumped, climbing into the rafters with almost cat-like grace, and waited for whichever man had chosen this building. Unfortunately, you almost gave sigh when a whisper of a voice called out your name. Of course it had to be Duke.

He was within sight now, rising from the less than stable staircase on the other side of the room. His approach was cautious, eyes scanning the area with care as he called out to you again.

“I know you’re up here, so I’m going to ask you this now, come out and neither of us has to get hurt. I...I know this looks bad, but- damn it, you know I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hunt you like- like some fey monster. Just come back with me, come back home and I promise I’ll help you convince the Council it was a big, messy mistake. I’m not the only one on your side, either. Mahad, Mana, Ryou- we’re all worried about you.”

Despite your taut state, his words actually did send something sharp through your chest. Memories of a younger Duke winking and flipping his hair at you played in your head, alongside other memories of him curled up beside your hospital bed and his hand gripped in yours as you pulled each other to safety. Friends weren’t actually touted as something valuable in the Circle, but Duke was one of the few you considered to be exactly that.

He cursed, then said your name a third time, sounding particularly desperate now, “I don’t want Keith to find you first,” he said to the room, his eyes continuing to scan the area. “You know what he’s like, and I think...I think his plan is to kill you, and tell the Council he had no other choice. I don’t want that to happen...”

Your hands gripped the wood of the rafters as Duke walked right below your hiding spot. Then, with an exhale of breath, you jumped down. Before he even had time to turn you cast your quick spell and pushed. It was barely enough force to make him tumble, but it put enough distance between you two as he swung around and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry Duke,” you said, and took your battle stance, “but I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Something genuine filled his eyes, something hurt or desperate, but his expression was steel as he said, “Alright.”

Then his hands were moving, tracing a symbol in the air and it glowed with his magic. There was no use trying to dodge it, when his casting was finished an invisible force like a black hole began pulling you in, sucking in every loose object in the room. Your feet left the ground and you were practically flying towards the void his magic created- but you were ready.

Just as you were within range you flung an arch of fire, one that passed his black hole and slashed across his chest. With his concentration broken, the spell faltered, glowing sigil fading like a burnt bulb- though the power of its pull still sent you flying into the wall. Your bones ached in protest as you fell to the ground, but you didn’t- couldn’t miss a beat before springing back to your feet. Just in time too, because Duke was already on you. Your arms blocked his kick, before answering with an uppercut, and the moment he stumbled you shot another burst of fire that sent him falling.

Duke was an agile thing, though, and recovered before you could even fire another shot. A dance began, bursts of your flames soaring through the air one after another after another, and Duke using his own magic to cast them aside with graceful hands.

A full-on fire wasn’t what you were aiming for though, and you saw the pain twinge across his face when your strikes grazed his jacket. And finally, it was enough. Duke shouted in pain as the flames caught and spread across his coat. Much like you and Keith, magicians like Duke had their own armor, he just imbued the magic in a literal coat. Now, as Duke scrambled to pull the flaming garment off, his defenses were down, just like yours.

You didn’t let up, as much as you wanted to, and closed in on Duke as he threw his leather armor aside. A hard kick and he was sent to the ground, but his boot made painful contact with your sternum, shoving you away as he sprang back to his feet. Another flame, another shout of pain and you moved in for the proverbial kill.

He was fast, and threw his hand up, summoning a portal a mere step in front of you. You couldn’t stop your advance and fell through the portal with a shout. Suddenly falling through open air, you barely had time to register a pile of sharp somethings just below you, and cast flames to turn it to ash a moment before crashing into it.

Your senses reeled, coughing as ash flew down your throat and plumed about you, your body screaming in protest. You shook your head, opening your eyes to see that he had teleported you to the floor below. You had landed on a busted table or some other furniture that the old studio apartment was full of.

Just as you were standing up you heard a familiar sound, another portal- but a blow struck your ribs before you could react. You stumbled, knocking into another table as Duke closed in and tried for a second, but you jumped, landing on top of the table which his fist struck instead. You spun, landing the heel of your foot across his face with a resounding crack . The force was enough to slam him down hard on the table and later you would wince at the crimson that spat across the surface. Still he recovered, enough to knock into your knee and make it buckle, but it was a desperate move; one that allowed you to grab a fist full of his hair and slam him back into the table with even more force.

He went slack in an instant, sliding to the ground like a rag doll as you stepped back. A groan, and then stillness. You watched for a moment until you confirmed the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I’m- sorry, Duke,” you panted. He would hurt when he woke, and hot guilt prickled across your skin, especially at the sigh of his bloodied mouth. Still, you had to remind yourself that all in all, he would be fine, especially after the Sanctuary's healers saw to him. Besides, no matter how brutal the attacks seemed, it was far from the worst you’d dealt in a battle. And you did take a second to appreciate how much Duke’s combat skills had improved, he had grown a lot from the boy you used to sweep-kick into submission every time you two sparred.

You hopped off the table and knelt by his unconscious form, tugging at his belt until the spellbook that hung from it was pulled out from underneath him. You unlatched it and flipped through the pages until you found the right one. If you wanted to get past that barrier, you have to break the seal Duke used to cast it. You thought you had found the right one when you turned to the first glowing page, but to your surprise, that sigil was not for a barrier, but for a mute spell, used when you wanted no one outside a certain area to hear you. Well, you wondered why your fight hadn’t drawn Keith’s attention, apparently Duke had wanted privacy when trying to persuade you to surrender yourself.

You moved past the thought, not having time to dwell, and continued to turn pages until you found yet another glowing source. This time it was the right spell, and you hastily tore the page from the book, disrupting the magic that caged you here. You glanced out the nearest window-

But nothing happened. The glowing barrier didn’t budge.

A curse that was practically a scream ripped through your throat. Duke was smart, he must have made two parts, two seals, to his barrier. You had to destroy the other seal before you could escape.

And who else would have that second seal besides-

“Quit hiding, you bitch!”

You sighed as Keith’s taunt echoed, a quick peer over a window sill confirming that he was storming out of the other building and marching straight towards yours. You wouldn’t be able to escape without facing him. Time to take out the trash, as they say.

Only when you started rising to your feet did you finally take more notice of your injuries and you had to steady your breathing to calm the surges of pain. You suspected a fractured rib was dangerously close to becoming a broken one and the pain was sure to worsen by the minute. You had to end this quickly.

Before you moved to the other side of the room, you took a second to snatch something else off of Duke’s belt and tuck it in your own pocket. Keith was quickly bounding up the floors below you now. With a sudden plan blinking into your head, you slipped your jacket from your shoulders and using a chair for height, propped it up on a collection of loose ceiling beams. Judging by the way he was charging up the rotting staircase, it would be the first thing he would see when he got here, and you quickly slipped to the other end of the room.

Not a minute later that thundering crack sounded, an arc of lightning cutting through the air and striking the coat tucked between the rafters. And just as Keith stepped up from the stairwell a second later, you charged.

He hadn’t even managed to turn enough to cover his flank as your foot made contact with his knee- but it was like hitting steel, his barrier still protecting him even as he stumbled. With a spin your leg came up, knocking him hard in the chest and he let out a shout as he went tumbling back down the stairs. You couldn’t press the advantage though, he let off another shot of lightning, making you duck away from the stairwell in retreat.

How a lumbering muscle like him moved so fast was beyond you, but you didn’t get time to gain much distance before he was back up the steps and you were scrambling to avoid another cracking bolt- heat grazing past you even as you did. You crashed to the ground in the messy dodge, and had to roll to avoid his boot from coming down on your head as he closed in! You managed to spring back to your feet and even block one fist with your own- but his second made painful contact with your jaw.

He pressed his advantage, your ribs screaming as he wrapped his arms around your middle and threw you hard against the wall. Vision reeled as fingers gripped your hair, scalp burning as he pulled you back. Another painful wrack through your body as he slammed you again, back first, into the wall before clamping his hands around your throat.

The instinct to take in a gasp as he squeezed your windpipe was strong, but your eyes locked on his even as he chuckled.

“Told you I was going to enjoy this,” he hissed, his fingers tightening all the more.

You bared your teeth against his sick grin and focused, concentrating on channeling your magic to the palm that once bore your magician’s seal. It would take more effort than before, the magic that helped focus your attack gone, but your power was more than what the Circle had given you.

So wrapped up in his sadistic enjoyment, Keith didn’t notice your palm growing hotter- until you reached out and clamped your hand on his face. He screeched as the heat burned through the layers of his personal shield but even as his fingers recoiled to claw at your hand you held firm. A burst of glorious air filled your lungs, steeling your resolve as you rammed your knee into his groin. His knees buckled, only strengthening your advantage as your palm continued to burn against his face.

But before you could knock him further to the ground, Keith struck, a quick jab of his fist right to your injured ribs. Stars burst behind your eyes and you couldn’t keep your hold as he twisted your wrist back- though you did manage to catch his fist as he aimed to strike again. Fist and wrist caught in each other's hold, a moment-long stalemate ensued as you both struggled to get the upper hand on each other. His skin was an angry red as he growled at you, some fastly forming blisters making the faint imprint of your hand across his face.

The stalemate was broken when you slammed your forehead into his nose, something of his cracking even as your own broken bridge throbbed in pain at the motion. The moment he reared back you pushed out with your magic, the force sending him across the room. Much like you had with Duke, you kept pressing, flinging flames in a relentless onslaught that he had to dodge second by second.

He probably thought he was doing well, not a lick of flame doing more than grazing him, but then again, you weren’t trying to graze him. Each move to dodge brought him closer to your target and the moment he was lined up, you grabbed Duke's weapon from your belt. He must have expected more fire because he didn’t have time to change tactics as the end of a rope dart soared towards him instead of flames. The blade swung, wrapping the rope around Keith’s throat as his eyes widened but even as he made to tug at it, you were faster. WIth all the force you could conjure, you aimed your spell at him, sending him stumbling even further back. He didn’t stand a chance as you closed the distance at a run- and slammed your foot into his chest.

All that power sent him sailing through the window behind him with a shattering crash!

You had just enough time to hold your end of the rope firm before it was pulled taught by Keith’s falling body. You did stumble from the force of his stop, but you held tight and quickly managed to anchor the rope. Not a second later were you hopping through the window yourself and landing, with some effort, to the concrete ground below.

After getting your bearings, you stood tall and looked up, eyes landing on a struggling Keith as he squirmed against the rope wrapped around his neck. He was a good three feet off the ground, and you had to admit, you did take a bit of satisfaction watching him struggle. But, what now? Keith was as bad as they came when dealing with violent and untrustworthy magicians. But did you really intend to let the rope hang him?

Just as you stepped forward, Keith took the decision out of your hands, reaching to the back of his belt even as his veins started to pop across his neck and face. He produced a knife, and you couldn’t help but sighed as he reached up to saw at the rope.

It was quick work, and you once again readied yourself as he fell to the ground, coughing. This was, admittedly, bad, you could feel your stores of magic depealting, and the pain of your injuries was getting harder to ignore.

He recovered quickly enough to snap his head up and glare at you quite vehemently, “Bitch!”

“You really need to think of a better insult,” you sighed as he scrambled to charge at you.

You lunged to the side when he made to grab you around the middle again, but he was quick on the turn and something flashed in the sunlight as your hand came up to block him. He dropped the blade into his free hand and made to stab again- only to be thrown over your shoulder as you turned into his grip. Though he hit the ground hard, sprawling out with a grunt, he was quick with a kick and landed a hard blow on your shoulder. He took your grip on his hand to his advantage too, and hoisted himself back up while throwing you off balance.

Then a scream ripped through your throat! Hot pain sliced across your stomach, and you barely stepped back in time to avoid another slash of his knife.

You clambered further from him, hand reflexively covering your belly and assessing the damage. The cut was shallow, even as it burned and bled crimson, but it was a large gash. This had to end, now!

Red-faced, boil-covered, and blood-stained, Keith still managed to grin at you as he brandished his blade in a taunting threat. You were vaguely aware of more red wetting your shirt, but you had to push it to the back of your thoughts as Keith made to strike again.

A block, a lunge back, a jab in retaliation, but he didn’t let up on his attacks. You found that you were being corralled closer to the building, not good. A duck as he swung his blade and you managed to swing behind him. Still crouched, you landed another hit on his knee and it was enough to make him buckle. You sprang up to land another blow but he was quicker. Another scream as his fist made contact with your ribs and you were sent tumbling back.

You crashed to the ground as the world spun, waves of pain washing through you. Yup, definitely a broken rib.

Another sick chuckle had your vision clearing enough to see Keith stalking towards you, smile widening as he tossed his blade aside. “I’ll just tell the Council I had to fry you, not like they’ll care anyway,” he held his fist up at the claim, “A close quarter impact, yeah, they’ll buy my story if they think I acted on instinct.” A second later electricity was sparking around his knuckles. “And I’ll make sure to hunt down your boyfriends too,” he continued in a hiss, and the arcs started to spread, coiling down his arm as he charged his attack, “I figure I can make them suffer a lot more than you. Yeah, I’ll enjoy that too.”

Your teeth were bared again, and a growl rumbled in your chest even as you silently prepared your own counter. Keith was always his sloppiest when he thought he had the upper hand.

A threat about staying away from Yugi and Atem was hot on your tongue, but before you could spit it out Keith was lunging, ready for the kill! Your hand shot up, catching his fist in mid-strike that might have broken your arm if not for the magic coursing through you. His lightning arched and flashed- flickering as its tendrils slowly crept down your own arm.

He had meant to send the electricity through you like an overpowered thunderbolt, but your own spell was absorbing it! You growled as the effort to redirect the energy back at him took its toll through your already battered body. He was fighting you, cursing you as he tried to tear past your magic and finish his killing blow.

A fierce cry rattled your throat as you pushed on with all your might-

Thunder so loud it might have cracked the very sky sounded. Something tore- something broke between the flesh and blood of your arm as the power between you two reached its peak! Through the bright flash, you thought you saw Keith being thrown back, but the force pushing you into the hard concrete wracked your senses, almost as much as the searing pain pulsating in your arm!

Your ears were ringing, the world had lost any real sense of balance as the sky above reeled and rolled. You were vaguely aware of clutching your arm to your chest as you bit down on your tongue, trying and failing to stop the cry of agony from leaving your throat.

A few shuttering intakes of breath and the world slowly started to right itself. Your ears were still ringing, but you managed to roll to your side (the side not screaming in pain) and find Keith, slumped motionless against the cracked building. You almost chuckled in relief. You were battered, a little bloody, and much worse for wear, but you were still standing- so to speak.

After another moment of gathering your wits, you clambered to your knees and started to rise, only then taking stock of your arm. It wasn’t as bad as if felt, though some nasty purple was already forming under the skin. The sheer amount of power between you two had been too much, and the recoil of it releasing had probably fractured a bone or two in your arm. Still, you were the one who remained conscious. You would take a bit more gratification in that once your body felt a little less like a crash-test dummy.

You made your way over to Keith’s body, taking note that he was still breathing despite looking like death warmed over. After fishing around in his jacket pocket, you found the spell paper that had the other half of the barrier seal scribbled on it. With one arm basically useless, you had to grip the corner of the paper between your teeth, and a sigh that hurt a little too much left your chest as the shimmering dome around you started to dissolve the moment you tore the parchment.

You had just enough energy left to teleport back home, and the thought of Yugi and Atem’s reactions to your state was already playing in your head as you took another step-

And fell to the ground.

A hiss of pain as you hit the concrete, and it was only then that you finally noticed the cold, seeping, numbness.

Your mind raced, but you tried to keep your breathing steady as you rolled onto your back and pulled your shirt up, realizing the lack of feeling was spreading from your stomach. Sprouting from the shallow but wide cut across your belly, there were nasty, vein-like lines crawling their way over your skin. Your eyes flashed to the dagger Keith had discarded as the answer dawned on you: poison.

You were already losing feeling in your legs, and your pitiful drops of remaining magic with it. Breaths were coming in ragged now as you tried to grip the last threads of your energy, even as you felt it slipping.

This…

This was not good.

***

“Aibou,” Atem’s tone was firm as he cut through his boyfriend’s rambling on the other end of the phone. It was only when Yugi froze in the middle of the phrase ‘what if she’s allergic-’ that Atem could finally get more than a word in. “I’m sure what you ordered is fine. We have plenty of options she can choose from, besides, if she doesn’t like what you order her, I know you’ll be willing to share your meal.”

He heard Yugi give a little sigh on the other end, “Yeah, I know, I just wish I had thought to wait until she got home before ordering.”

Atem found himself shaking his head despite the fact that Yugi couldn’t see him. Yugi was acting like he was a creature of impulse, and that ordering their takeout dinner before asking what you wanted was a recurring crime and not a simple misstep from a usually over-considerate man. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you ordered for her, Aibou, you worry too much.”

“I know….” After the pouting pause, Atem heard a familiar bell tinkle on the other end of the line. “I have to go, be up in a bit.”

Atem said his quick “love you” before hanging up, again shaking his head at Yugi’s cute concern.

It was nearing the time for the shop to close, and Yugi had thought it a good idea to order-in dinner early, so you would have a fresh hot meal upon returning, and so the three of you would have plenty of time to follow up on any lead Bonz gave you after dinner. It was a good plan...until Yugi realized he still didn’t know all your food preferences until he was on the phone ordering said dinner.

“Too sweet sometimes,” Atem chuckled to himself, before setting the phone aside and returning to cleaning the dishes from his own mug-contained meal. Still, being reminded of the time, his mind once again traveled back to you. It was getting late. You had said it wouldn’t take long, but, exactly how long was that? He turned the knob to faucet off with a little too much force, something gory flashing in his mind as he watched the red remnants of his meal sliding down the sink into the drain.

He forced a sigh out through his nose and closed his eyes. It was hard not to worry, or, rather, to avoid that worry from stepping over the line into ‘overprotective’, as he was so known to do. Yes, it was late, but you likely had to walk, as you had mentioned you hated teleporting when it could be avoided. Maybe you had to make a stop on the way home, Yugi had mentioned some shops nearby where you could pick up essentials when needed, after all.

Atem scolded himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself until you and Yugi came home. He had already spent a decent amount of time pulling out the video games he knew Yugi would want to show you, as well as ones he thought you might like, in the hopes that the three of you could have some bonding time later that night. Maybe he could-

Crash

In a glorious burst of glass and thick curtains splitting into ribbons, something sailed through the closed doors of the balcony. Atem’s hackles were up in an instant, even as he leapt back to avoid the sudden rays of setting sun pouring in through the remnants of the glass doors. The metallic and sweet smell of blood assaulted his senses, making his fangs elongate as he heard something heavy collide with the floor.

Then his blood turned to ice when he saw what was curled up in the wreckage. Your hand reached out feebly for just a moment before it fell, your body going still among the glass and splintered wood.

In an instant he was rushing towards you- only to hiss in pain and rear back as the sun blazed across his skin like hot talons. He felt his fangs cut into his lip as he swore loudly, you were laying right in the middle of the sunlight! He wheeled around the room, mind racing for a plan even as his mouth watered at the smell of blood permeating the air. By the gods, how badly were you hurt for the room to smell so intense in just a matter of seconds?!

Atem ran to the hallway closet, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he threw it open. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the top shelf and started pulling it over his head and shoulders as he ran back to the living room. He barely took note of if his body was concealed in the blanket enough as he again ran to your side. Sharp shards split his skin as he tried to slide his hands under your form, and something was burning his legs as he worked. Finally though, he managed to get a hold of you good enough to pull you out of the sun and off of the debris. The moment he was out of the rays of fire, he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms and setting you on the couch as gently as he could, taking thankful note that your breathing was slow and shallow, but present.

A growl of anger and whine of concern caught in his throat when he saw the blood soaking your clothes. Colorful bruises were taking form across your skin and there were rips in your clothes sporting bloody abrasions. One was worse than the others though, and Atem found himself tearing the shirt in half so he could better see the cause of all the staining.

Another growl bubbled up as he saw the injury: a long cut right across your stomach. His hands were covering it in an instant, trying to stem the flow of red. The cut wasn’t deep and he might have wondered why there was so much blood if it wasn’t for the sickly markings crawling across your skin from the wound. What could cause this? Magic?

His mind raced for a course of action, even as it cursed his lack of knowledge in healing. What could he possibly do to counter whatever magic this-

The memory of purging the circle’s magic from your hand came flashing into his mind. You had said the curative coating his fangs must have some ability in negating magic. Could it possibly help here? He growled again as crimson continued to seep over the fingers clamped on your wound. Healing the magic or poison or whatever was afflicting you could wait, right now he just needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out!

Atem felt sick with the way his throat ached with need at the smell and sight of so much red. He knew the best way to seal the cut, but fear gave him pause. No matter how many centuries passed, no matter how long he honed his self-control, the memories of finding humans- innocent people, dead in his arms still haunted him.

Then his eyes darted up to your face. You were barely hanging on, breathing seeming to slow before his very eyes.

With all the self-control he could gather, he steeled himself against the thirst parching his throat, and pressed his mouth to the wound. He had but to graze his fangs across the torn skin so the curative on them took hold and started mending the flesh. He was painfully aware to be careful though, gentle as he moved his canines along the wound and not to worsen the cut.

As expected something like a shudder of relief (euphoria, even) shivered down his body as some of your blood seeped into his mouth. He ignored it, countered it with the self-loathing that writhed in his stomach, knowing that the thing he was could ever take any enjoyment in this.

His fingers gently followed his progress, making sure the skin was healing after the touch of his fangs. It was, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he pulled back and saw that only an angry-looking scar remained of the gash- well, of the gash itself, his brows furrowed when he saw that the vein-line markings around it were as sickly and deadly looking as before.

His mind was frantic again, searching for an answer before the sound of a door caused it to snap back to the world besides your injured form. His eyes darted up to land on Yugi, who had stepped inside only to have his smile vanish a moment later, his gaze landing on the living room.

“Help me!” Atem’s voice was raw in his throat and all but a yell, but Yugi snapped into action before he could blink.

The brown take-out bags in his hands spilled to the floor as Yugi ran to your side, “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, I think she barely managed to teleport home. I just sealed the cut that- that caused all this-” he waved his hands to indicate all the red- “but I think she’s been poisoned. Do you have anything in the shop that could heal her?”

Yugi didn’t answer, he was already fishing his phone out of his jean’s pocket as he looked over your form. One hand slid over the skin of your chest while the other frantically tapped at his phone screen, and it was only then that Atem realized the markings were still spreading.

“She’s burning up,” Yugi choked under his breath, even as the phone pressed to his ear started to ring. A moment later he was spewing a string of words into the receiver, “What could cause black marks under the skin? It might be magic, it might be poison, we don’t know which!”

After a stunned pause, Atem heard Anzu’s voice answer on the other end, hurriedly telling Yugi to send her a picture. Yugi did, snapping it as fast as he could and growling at his phone for taking too long to send it. Several long, agonizing moments ticked by as they waited for Anzu to answer, and when she did Yugi was scrambling to his feet and bolting back down the stairs to the shop. Atem almost ran after him, but the need to stay by your side anchored him, pulled him to stay right there. He looked back at you, chest clenching at the sight. Your skin was clammy, face taking on a bit of a hollow look as your chest barely lifted with each breath that had long pauses between them.

Atem found his hands reaching out to cup your face, the red staining them smearing across your cheeks as he tried to hold you. “Please- please just hold on,” he whispered.

A too-long moment later Yugi was bounding up the stairs and through the door again. Atem saw something flash in his hand as he fell to his knees beside the couch. A blade.

“You’re sure this will work?” Yugi panted as he tapped the speaker button on his phone and set it on the floor.

“It’s the best option you have,” Anzu’s voice snapped from the phone’s speaker, “but you have to put it on the same spot the poison entered.”

Though the remaining scar made that spot obvious, Atem pointed the wound out to Yugi, who looked pale as he hovered the dagger over your stomach.

“You’re going to need to hold her down,” came a shaky warning from the phone, just before Yugi pressed the flat of the blade to the scar.

An ear-splitting scream ripped through your throat and Atem flung himself to the other side of the couch, shaking hands gripping your shoulders as your body began to writhe. As gently as he could he pinned your shoulders to the couch, heart aching at the cries of pain spilling through your clenched teeth. Yugi, still holding the blade flat to your stomach, had to throw his body across your legs to keep them from thrashing and Atem thought he heard a distressed noise from the phone, but it was worth it as he saw the edges on the markings slowly begin to recede.

***

Yugi was fighting back tears. Now that the adrenaline was gone, stress and worry drug and tore at his senses, making it harder not to sob as he wiped the blood from your skin. The poison was purged from your body, thank god, but, if you had not already been passed out from the blood loss, the act of drawing the drug out of your body certainly would have knocked you out cold. Yugi was thankful, not for the first time, that his grandpa’s old collection of magic artifacts was full of unique pieces, including one blessed by patrons of healing from several religions.

For about the fiftieth time, Yugi dipped the washcloth into the bowl of hot water, wringing out the stomach-churning red. The apartment smelled like a crime scene and Yugi knew he’d have to shower for an hour to feel clean again, but at least you were alive. You looked sick, and Yugi watched you like a hawk to make sure your breathing didn’t stop, even though Anzu had warned that you’d probably look worse before you got better.

Once the washcloth was rinsed of blood he gently swiped it across your body again. He was trying to find a good balance between taking care of you, and not doing anything that might make you uneasy. He wanted to get the gore-soaked clothes off of you, put you in something clean, something comfortable so you didn’t have to wake in your own blood. He had even gathered a pair of his extra stretchy, soft sweatpants and oversized flannels to put you in, but the actual act of changing you felt too… Violating, too perverse despite the fact that no ill-acts were at work. As it was, he felt guilty that your shirt was nothing but a torn rag, leaving your chest bare as he tried to clean the red from your skin. Maybe you didn’t care, maybe you were used to this, being a warrior of sorts, but Yugi felt sick at the idea of crossing a line with you. In the end, he figured Anzu could change you, she was on her way there with a healer’s hut worth of herbs and spells to get you patched up, after all.

Another sniff that threatened to turn into a sob later and Yugi was finally done wiping your chest and stomach clean. You were still covered in marks from your battle, but at least this was better. He grabbed a blanket that was discarded on the ground (had Atem used it to shield himself from the sun?), made sure it was clean enough for you with a quick look over, then tucked it over your body for privacy and warmth.

Next, he moved on to your face, which was not nearly as messy, but some ash dirtied your skin under thin smears of blood. The vague memory of coming back to find Atem desperately holding your face with red-stained hands floated through Yugi’s mind as he dabbed the cloth over your cheeks with care.

That cleaning didn’t take long, and when he was done, Yugi suddenly found himself at a loss. What else could he do? Should he get you a glass of water for when you woke? Run a hot bath so you could slip into it at a moment’s notice? Tuck another blanket around you so you felt safe and protected while you healed? Hold you so you didn’t have to wake alone and pained and-

Yugi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes with a tired, defeated groan. He hated feeling useless, feeling like he could do nothing while the people he loved suffered. Again he had to swallow the sour taste of tears, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good now.

Then, before he could even think, he found his hands reaching out to gather yours. Your right arm was badly damaged, swollen and bruised, but your left seemed fine, and Yugi leaned in, lay your palm on his cheek as he silently thanked you for having the strength to come home to them, for surviving long enough for them to take care of you. An odd thing to think, perhaps, but Yugi allowed himself the moment of thanks, even moving his lips to press against your palm in gentle affection.

He lingered there for a few moments, comforted by the feel of your no longer fevered skin against his and watching your breaths get stronger and more even with every moment. Soon enough though, he forced himself to tuck your hand back under the blanket and get back to making himself useful. The living room floor was still a mess of broken glass and splintered wood, but first he took the bucket of blood-tinted water to the kitchen, and it was only when the red was streaking down the slope of the sink that he remembered someone else in distress.

Atem had taken off not long after they purged the poison from your body, his face looking sickly and pale. Yugi knew Atem might need space, and besides that his mind was preoccupied with taking care of you first, something Atem would understand. Now however, now that you were sleeping as soundly as you could, it was time to tend to his vampire.

It didn’t take long to find him, Yugi heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and padded over to the open doorway. Atem stood over the sink, steam pluming up from the hot water to fog up the mirror and porcelain and-

And Yugi froze when he saw scarlet coating the sink.

Atem was scrubbing his hands under the scalding water, nails digging in so much that the skin was tearing and healing rapidly before Yugi’s eyes. Not fast enough to stop the bleeding, though, and the ferocity of which Atem was scrubbing his hands and arms was causing red to pour like a waterfall.

“Atem!” Yugi rushed forward, “Stop- STOP!”

He tried to pry the vampire’s hands away, so desperate he almost dug his own claws into his lover’s skin. Atem only jerked out of his hold, eyes wild and panicked as he shied away from the incubus.

“What...what are you doing?” Yugi’s words were panted, trying to stay calm and only half succeeding as he approached Atem like a scared, injured creature.

Atem’s eyes were locked on his own hands, reproachful almost, but mostly enraged. “I can’t- I can’t get it off!” he raised them a little, still raw and bloody from the abuse, “No matter how much I try it won’t go away! I can still smell her blood on my hands, Yugi!”

He snatched a towel from beside the sink and started scrubbing at his hands again, but Yugi rushed forward and gripped them with as much gentle force as he could manage.

“Enough,” he said in a whisper, “that’s enough, Atem, please, please don’t hurt yourself.” With a tug, he pulled Atem close, held his vampire’s healing hands to his chest as he peppered reassuring kisses over Atem’s face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not, Yugi!” a sob marred the words, and Yugi felt his heart break. “I can’t stand it, it makes me sick, just like the others.”

Yugi knew what ‘the others’ meant, remembered calming Atem down from nightmares, holding a sobbing vampire who was still haunted by the memories of killing when he wasn’t in control of his blood lust. It didn’t matter that it had been over a century since the last time he woke with a dead human in his arms, Atem still remembered them, still told himself he was a killer with blood on his hands that could never be washed clean.

Just like on the nights filled with those memories, Yugi held Atem close, whispered assurances in his ear, told him it wasn’t his fault, ignored the stabs to his heart when Atem told him it was.

“We almost lost her, Yugi.”

“But we didn’t.”

“I had her blood on my hands, in my mouth-”

“You saved her, Atem.”

Silence followed that, and for a long, long while they just stood there, clinging on to each other like a life line. Yugi tried to put forth some more gentle words, but Atem said nothing more, only pressed his face into Yugi’s chest with a sob so tired that Yugi had the urge to tuck Atem into bed too. He even suggested it, said that Atem could rest in the living room with you while he tended to you both, but the vampire just shook his head and held Yugi closer. That is until he finally pulled away with a sniffle.

Atem tucked his hands closer to himself, self-conscious, unsure. “You should get back into the living room, I think Anzu is here and she’ll want your help healing her wounds.”

He was right, not even a second later they heard the front door open and Anzu's worried voice calling out to them before she spotted you on the couch with a gasp. Still, Yugi stood there, eyeing his boyfriend’s hands with concern.

“Atem-”

“I’m okay, Yugi,” he assured, then sighed and gestured at the sink, “I won’t try that again, I promise. I just...I just need a minute to collect myself, that’s all.”

Yugi had learned to tell when Atem was lying long ago, but he knew Atem was being truthful now, so, he just stepped forward, cupped his hands to Atem’s face, and said, “You know we’re here for you, right?”

Atem actually managed a slight, tired, smile, “I know, Aibou, I know.” He leaned in and pecked Yugi’s lips, “Now go, help her.”

Finally somewhat assured, Yugi nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, back to the side of someone else who needed him. Still, Yugi was only fully assured when Atem joined them a few minutes later and started helping him and Anzu dress your wounds with poultices and spells.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch36: I Bid You Farewell And Good Luck, Morons. Part 1- It’s Like A Pirate Had A Baby With An Angel.

Intro: Thor wakes up on a strange ship, surrounded by even stranger people, a talking tree and a rabbit. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the fight to save Vision is won and the group make their way back to the compound to understand what exactly it is that they’re facing. 

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chapters too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! Once again, I can’t thank @angrybirdcr​ enough for her edits, they’re awesome!

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

Chapter 35

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Thor wasn’t dead. But he felt like it. Every inch of his body ached and when he was jerked back to consciousness for a moment, just one split moment, he thought he saw Little Stark. Only it wasn’t her. The woman had dark hair, yes, but as he focussed he realised she looked nothing like the woman he loved dearly as a sister. This wench had huge eyes and antenna dangling from her forehead. And, whilst he knew it had been a while since he had seen his friend, she wouldn’t have changed that much.

Finding his feet he looked around, chest heaving, at the band of people stood in front of him; a woman with green skin and red hair, a man with grey/blue skin covered in red designs, a tree creature- a Flora Colossus unless he was mistaken- which was off to the side draped over a chair, some kind of furry, animal thing- a rabbit maybe- and finally a man who appeared to be a normal, human being. That was until he opened his mouth and Thor realised he was probably the most stupid human being he had ever encountered.

His rescuers had offered him soup, and then when he had explained about Thanos, the green skinned lady called Gamora had told Thor what the Titan wanted the stones for.  Which she knew, because she his daughter.

Thanos had a daughter. Interesting.

“Families can be tough,” Thor spoke wisely, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Before my father died, he told me that I had a half-sister that he imprisoned in Hell. Then she returned home, stabbed me in the eye so, I had to kill her.” He shrugged. “That’s life though isn’t it I guess? Round and round, but I feel your pain.”

The human, Peter Quill, pushed his way between Gamora and Thor, and looked at her “I feel your pain, as well, because, I mean it’s not a competition, but I’ve been through a lot. My father killed my mother, and then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I, came out with both of my eyes.”

Thor wasn’t paying attention. The man was clearly a moron, and he’d just noticed he had bent the spoon in the bowl of soup and was having a flashback to the time he had tried to bend the Captain’s shield. Little Stark had laughed so much at how annoyed he had gotten when he failed that she had cried. And then, to make it worse, a few days later the Captain had managed to move Mjolnir. Just a fraction, but it moved. No one had seen it, bar Little Stark of course, but there was something there, Thor was sure. Steve Rogers was a man worthy of a lot of things, but his hammer was complicated. You have to prove your worth. That had been explained to him by his Father the day he had given it to him. Of course, he hadn’t realised then that Eitri had actually made it for Hela first.

Eitri… Oh, yes!

“I need a hammer, not a spoon.” Thor mumbled, as the idea took hold and he looked at the pod at the back of the ship. “How do I open this thing?” He began pressing random buttons on the screen next to the door. “Is there some sort of a four-digit code? Maybe a birth date or something?”

"What are you doing?” the rabbit animal, Rocket asked.

“Taking your pod.” Thor replied nonchalantly.

And then there was an argument in which the moron Quill tried to imitate Thor’s deeper voice telling him he could not take the pod, but Thor was going to take the pod anyway because he was the God of Thunder after all, and then the lady Gamora cut them off quite rightly directing the focus back to Thanos by stating they needed to find out where he was going next.

But Thor had already thought of that. “Knowhere,” he answered as he brushed past Quill and over to the refrigerator he had seen Gamora get his soup from.

“He must be going somewhere.” Mantis argued innocently.

“No,” Quill shook his head and Thor noted his stupid voice was back to normal. “Knowhere? It’s a place. We’ve been there. It sucks. Excuse me, that’s our food.” He jabbed,  suddenly noticing what Thor was doing.

“Not anymore.” Thor shrugged, stuffing it into a backpack he found.

“Thor!” Gamora cut across the pair of them again. “Why would he go to Knowhere?”

“Because for years, the Reality Stone has been safely stored there with a man called the Collector.” Thor stated.

“If it’s with the Collector, then it’s not safe.” Quill snorted. “Only an idiot would give that man a stone.”

“Or a genius.” Thor shrugged.

“How do you know he’s not going for one of the other stones?” Gamora asked.

“There’s six stones out there.” Thor began to explain, “Thanos already has the Power Stone because he stole it, last week, when he decimated Xandar.”

He didn’t missed the shocked and horrified look the group shared with one another.

“He stole the Space Stone from me, when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people. The Time and Mind Stones, are safe on Earth. They’re with the Avengers.”

“The Avengers?” Quill asked.

“They’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

“Like Kevin Bacon?” Mantis called out.

“Errr he may be on the team now, I don’t know.” Thor shrugged, having no idea who the man named after a breakfast meat was. “I haven’t been there in a while. And as for the Soul Stone, well no one’s ever seen that. No one even knows where it is. Therefore, Thanos can’t get it. Therefore, he’s going to Knowhere. Hence, he’ll be getting the Reality Stone. You’re welcome.”

“Then we have to go to Knowhere, now.” Gamora stated, looking around.

“Wrong. Where we have to go is Nidavellir.” Thor picked up the backpack.

“That’s a made up word.” Drax, the blue man countered.

“All words are made up.” Thor smiled, slinging the backpack onto his back.

“Nidavellir is real?” The animal called Rocket’s eyes grew wide and he jumped up onto the table and looked at Thor. “Seriously? I mean, that place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there, please.”

“The rabbit is correct.” Thor grinned at Rocket’s excitement. “And clearly the smartest among you. Only Eitri the Dwarf can make me the weapon I need.” He turned to the furry animal. “I assume you’re the captain, Sir?”

Rocket grinned and nodded, “You’re very perceptive.”

“You seem like a noble leader. Will you join me on my quest to Nidavellir?”

“Let me just ask the captain. Oh, wait a second, it’s me!”  Rocket grinned. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wonderful.” Thor beamed.

“Uh except that I’m the captain,” Quill chipped in

“Quiet!” Thor was now beyond bored of the moron.

“And that’s my backpack.” Quill continued pointing to the bag that Thor was stealing.

“Quill, sit down.” Rocket tapped at the pad and keying in the digits to open the pod.

“Look, this is my ship. And I’m not going to - wait, what kind of weapon are we talking about here?” Quill looked round.

“The Thanos-killing kind.” Thor smiled.

Boy, was it going to be a big, fucking weapon like no one had ever seen before…

“Don’t you think that we should all have a weapon like that?” Quill frowned.

“You lack the strength to wield them. Your bodies would crumble as you minds collapsed into the madness.” Thor shook his head.

“Is it weird that I wanna do it even more now?” Rocket asked.

“Erm, a little bit weird. Yeah.” Thor looked down at him, frowning.

“If we don’t go to Knowhere and Thanos retrieves another stone, he’ll be too powerful to stop.” Gamora stepped forward.

"He already is.” Thor shrugged.

“Look, I got it figured out.” Rocket interrupted, looking at Gamora. “We got two ships, and a large assortment of morons.  Me and Groot will go with the Pirate Angel here, and the morons will go to Knowhere to try and stop Thanos. Cool? Cool.”

“So cool.” Thor grinned before he climbed into the pod.

“For the record,” Quill said leaning down to Rocket, “I know that you’re only going with them because it’s where Thanos isn’t.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk that way to your captain, Quill.” Rocket smirked, walking backwards and gesturing outwards with his arms. “Come on, Groot. Put that game down. You’ll rot your brain,”

As Rocket sat down Thor nodded out of the pod to the rest of the people on the ship. “I bid you farewell and good luck, morons. Bye.”

******

It wasn’t hard for the team to track Wanda, her red power flashing bright against the dark sky over Edinburgh City Centre, and as the jet followed her movements, the four friends saw her spiralling through the sky with Vision and crashing through the train station roof, just as Sam put the jet on the ground.

Within seconds the Ex-Avengers were sprinting off the jet.  

“Katie, Nat, take the side!” Steve yelled, as he vaulted over the railings at the edge of the road running down onto the bottom half of the concrete ramp which led to the station. “Sam, up high and remember, we protect Vision at all costs!”

“Got em.” Sam spoke over the coms. “Platform seven, near the café.” 

Steve vaulted over another set of barriers, the station now deserted thanks to the evacuation taking place by the local police. As he ran onto one of the walkways over the lines, he was just in time to see two of the aliens crash through the station roof. Weighing up his options, he realised it was going to be quicker for him to hop down onto the platform he was currently overheard, and jump across the lines to help. He swung his legs over the railings and landed easily, looking up. Across from him he could see Natasha and Katie emerging to the right, as Wanda stood and moved protectively in front of Vision, building power in her hands. An express train whizzed past him and he stood still, waiting and it wasn’t long before the taller, blue looking woman spotted him, and she launched her spear over the platform. Steve easily snapped his left shoulder back whilst leaning over his body with his right, catching the staff in his hand.

“Heads up.” Sam muttered, and as Wanda and Vision turned to see Steve step out from the shadows, fury lining his face, Sam swooped in and kicked one of the aliens across the platform and through a closed café’s security gate, causing tables and chairs to go flying, before he spun and started to fire on the other alien.

Steve launched the weapon he had caught across the tracks where Natasha caught it and stabbed the second assailant in the gut as Katie moved in to head off the other who was stalking back towards them. The weapon Natasha had been using flew back into the alien’s hands and Katie ducked as she swung, jabbing her in the back of the leg with an electric powered escrima stick. The alien let out a yell, stumbled slightly and Steve cleared the platform in an easy leap, rolling and scooping up the second assailant’s staff from the floor, holding it up to block the blow that the creature aimed at Katie. He grit his teeth, planting his legs to absorb the power of the hit, as Katie rolled to the side, jumped up and the two of them began to fight the alien, joined shortly by Natasha. Steve had to admit, the woman (if you could call her that) was a force to be reckoned with, but the three of them were just about getting the upper hand when they heard Sam yell.

“DUCK!”

The three of them did so and Sam flew in hard, kicking the woman backwards where she fell and scuttled over to her fallen friend. Sam landed next to Katie, drawing both his submachine pistols on the couple.

“Get up” The alien instructed to her fallen partner, her voice was deep.

“I can't.” His gravelly, robotic voice replied.

“We don’t wanna kill you.” Natasha spoke coolly “But we will”.

“You’ll never get the chance again.” The female levelled them, with a cold glare and with that a beam shot down from the hole in the station roof and the two were transported upwards. The weapon Steve was holding also shot out of his hand. He frowned in surprise for a moment, looking at his hand then upwards as the beam of light disappeared and the ship sped off.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked Vision as Katie replaced her sticks and walked towards Wanda and the android. When Vision shook his head, Sam moved forward to help him up.

Supported by Wanda and Sam, Vision looked over at Steve, Natasha and Katie, electricity shimmering over his surface. He’d been badly damaged in the fight, and as he spoke his voice distorted.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. His face stern, but his eyes were much softer than his expression and Katie knew why. It had been a while since anyone other than Sam, Nat or Wanda had called him Captain.

Steve looked at the android, he might have been damaged but they had the stone, and that was the main thing. Nodding, he spoke. “Let’s get you on the jet.” His voice was soft and he moved to let Sam and Wanda support Vision on their way past him, Natasha following.

Katie hung back a little, trying to stop the light-headedness she was feeling from washing over her.

“You okay?” Steve turned to her as she blinked.

“Yeah, just took a whack that’s all. “I’m fine.” She assured him as they took up the rear of the group, her fingers lacing into his.

Once Vision was safely settled in a seat at the side, Sam dropped into the pilot’s seat. Katie hit the button to close the ramp as the Jet rose into the air.

“I thought we had a deal.” Natasha spun angrily to Wanda. ”Stay close, check in. Don’t take any chances.”

“I’m sorry. We just wanted time.” The younger woman said gently.

Katie glanced at Steve, he was stood up in the middle of the jet, hands on the buckle of his utility belt, staring seemingly at nothing but clearly contemplating something.

“Where to, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up, he glanced at Sam then locked eyes with Katie as he spoke one word, one simple word that they had all been waiting to hear for almost two years.

“Home”

*****

After a few hours, with the morning sky being the only thing in sight, Sam started to lower the jet through thick white clouds and Katie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when the compound began to take shape as she watched out of the front window. It looked the same. The buildings, the grounds…she wasn’t sure why she had expected anything to change, maybe because it felt like everything had changed for them, but either way, there it was. The exact same as the last time she had seen it.

Steve noticed her demeanour change slightly as they landed. She stood up straight, her shoulders squaring as if she was about to face an onslaught. And they were, in a way. On their way Steve had called Bruce to tell him that they had Vision and were heading back, but had had no idea what they were heading back to, nor did he care. Be it Ross, police, the army, whatever, Steve was done bowing to anyone’s will, he was over playing other people’s tunes. The two years they had spent hidden had shown them all that they could operate on their own if required, and he wasn’t afraid to fight anyone who got in his way.

They stepped off the ramp and strode over the lawn, Katie taking a deep breath as she looked around. So many emotions flooded her system, she couldn’t explain or identify half of them. Memories flashed in front of her eyes, visions of long summer nights spent outside in the garden and on the BBQ patio until sunrise. Laughs during team dinners. Sam and Wanda collaborating on pranks. Training sessions with the team and Vision reading Tolkien aloud to Wanda before asking questions about humanity’s love of fiction. Walks and picnics and other things in the ground, just her and Steve. Their wedding, God their wedding! Frequent visits from Tony, bringing in new ideas and improved gadgets. Getting back safe after being out on a long mission. Feeling relaxed and at ease.

Feeling at home.

Steve’s arm curled round his wife for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head as Vision opened the door.

“Still no word from Vision?”  

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.”

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals.” “You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir? “

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

The sound of the call between Ross and Rhodey echoed down the corridor reaching the group that were making their way through to the lab.

“If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would’ve been right here.” Rhodey shot back and Katie glanced back at Vision as the sounds the voices grew louder as they neared their destination.

“I suspect it will be a Hollo Call.” Vision said gently, answering Katie’s unasked question.  His suspicions were proven correct as they rounded the corner and the lab came into view. Rhodey was stood across from where the holographic image of Secretary Ross was facing off against him.

"You have second thoughts?” Ross was challenging Rhodey, who smiled simply as his eyes shot sideways. Steve strode forward, his presence as intimidating as ever, and the first thing Rhodey noticed was just how dark he looked. Gone was the upstanding, All American Hero, and in its place was someone much harder, far rougher round the edges. Kiddo looked different too. Her hair was shorter and she looked slimmer.

“Not anymore.” He grinned.

The holographic Ross followed Rhodey’s gaze and his eyes fell on Steve who was stood next to Katie at the front of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Vision behind them. Steve raised his chin a little defiantly and moved to take his power stance, feet apart, hands on his belt, before he greeted Ross politely.

“Mr. Secretary" 

Katie couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched Ross attempting to cover up the shock he had clearly felt at the group of outlaws turning up again. She locked eyes with Rhodey who gave her the smallest of winks before he glanced back at Ross who was shaking his head slightly as he approached Steve, his holographic form almost trying to square up to him.  Steve simply raised his chin further and looked down from the steps he was stood on.

"You got some nerve.” Ross sniffed, staring up at him “I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now.” Katie shot back bluntly, Ross turned his head to face her for a second. She held his gaze and arched an eyebrow until he turned back to Steve.

“The world’s on fire.” Ross said incredulously. “And you think, you can just walk back in here and all is forgiven?”

Steve levelled the secretary with a firm gaze. “I’m not looking for forgiveness.” his voice took on a threatening tone as he spoke “And I’m way past asking for permission.”

At that point the smirk on Katie’s face grew even wider as she stole a glance up at her husband, pride swelling in her chest as he continued, stoic and unyielding. 

“Earth just lost her best defender, so we’re here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way,” he stepped down to be at level with the hologram, and stared it square in the eyes “We’ll fight you, too.”

Ross was practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes went to Rhodey and he spat out his order, “Arrest them.”

“All over it.” Rhodey promised nonchalantly before shutting off the hologram, shortly after a beeping noise sounded from the computers.

“That’s a court-martial.” He informed the group as he slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm, though his tone said told Katie that he blatantly couldn’t have cared less for Ross’ demands. There was a short pause as the group glanced down at their friend, Steve smiling softly, before Rhodey’s face split into a huge smile of his own.

“It’s great to see you, Cap.” He stepped forward.

“You too, Rhodey.” Steve answered, taking the last two steps down before he shook Rhodey’s hand. Katie threw herself at her brother’s best friend and he gave her a huge bear hug before he looked down at her.

“You do something to your hair?” He teased.  Katie smiled, stepping back from his embrace while he looked the rest of the group over.

“Well. You guys really look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of years.”

Steve looked round, an amused smile on his face as he glanced at his wife then to the rest of the team.

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star.” Sam quipped back cheekily, the banter flowing between them like no time at all had passed.

“Uh, I think you look great.”

Steve turned at the new voice to see Bruce inching his way into the room nervously wringing his hands together.

Steve and Katie remained silent, exchanging a glance. In the rush around and the fray of the fight, we’d forgotten to explain exactly who it was that called.

“Yeah. I’m back.”

Katie glanced over at Nat, she had her gaze fixed solely on the scientist as she spoke “Hi, Bruce.”

“Nat.” Bruce answered inclining his head towards her slightly as he fidgeted.

“This is awkward.” Sam piped up. Steve and Katie looked at one another, before they both smiled and looked back up at Sam.

“Any news on Tony?” Katie asked gently, interrupting the silence that had fallen.

“Not yet no.” Rhodey said. “FRIDAY lost him when he left the atmosphere. We got NASA running scans and we’re trying to track his trail but…” He shook his head. 

“Typical Tony.” Katie rolled her eyes “Always has to go one bigger and one better doesn’t he?”

Her blasé tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Banner.” Steve said gently, looking across the room at the scientist. “Can you fill us in on what we’re up against here?”

“Yeah sure,” Bruce said nodding hesitantly.

Without so much as another word, the group all started to make their way out of the room. As Katie turned to follow Natasha, Steve’s hand gently fell on her shoulder. Without looking at him, she reached up and gently wrapped her fingers round his, giving them a squeeze before she left.

Steve took a deep breath as he glanced around the room once more, before he too followed on, that sick feeling in his gut was getting worse.

**** Chapter 36 Part 2

[gingerwritess]

Hi um...... the song thor by push baby....... that is all

oh yes that was a perfect inspo boost, have some sad/jealous boyfriend loki for your weekend !!

It’s raining, and you’re happy.

Cuddled on the window seat in his office, shoes kicked off to nothing but fuzzy socks and a mug of coffee, you gaze out at the courtyard through the thunderstorm.

Loki tried not to let it bother him, but you’re entranced.

Any other day he would be thrilled to see you so content, but this isn’t some rainstorm—it’s a thunderstorm.

You grin with every crack of thunder and every flash of lightning and each one sparks a little deeper into that part of his mind that taunts him plenty.

Just to top things off, Thor crashes through the doorway, a little out of breath and beaming.

“Look to the north,” he nearly shouts, “wait for it, this’ll be the biggest yet—”

“Amazing,” Loki snaps, a sour look painting his features. “None of us have actual work to do, we can ogle over you all day.”

Thunderstorms do make Loki a bit of a sourpuss, you’ve noticed, and after discovering the part that his brother plays in making them, you…kind of get it.

They’re rather loud and imposing things, aren’t they?

The thunder crack is in fact the biggest yet, followed by a bolt of lightning that stays in the sky nearly ten seconds.

You clap and laugh for Thor while Loki sulks, miserable at his desk with nothing grand, nothing jaw-dropping of his own to amuse you.

And when he walks into his office the next day to find you and Thor already in the room, laughing and chattering and happy, he can’t even bring himself to be jealous anymore.

It just hurts.

“My brother,” Thor beams, always so exhaustingly cheery. “Come with us, we discovered a new coffee shop—you know coffee, yes?”

Blindly open-hearted, he doesn’t always catch how his words come across.

“Yeah, I know what coffee is, dimwit.” Loki just shrugs off his coat and waves a hand at the two of you. “I’m busy. Enjoy yourselves.”

“We were waiting for you,” you pipe up, offering him a gentle smile. “Can’t you spare half an hour?”

Half an hour listening to Thor talk about himself, having to walk next to Thor in that excuse of a shirt—it’s ready to rip at the seams, and there’s really no point in wearing it with how see through it is.

He can’t blame you.

Who wouldn’t want to be on that arm?

“No, I have work I should do. Thank you.”

“We’ll bring you back something,” you promise, leaning over the desk to plant a kiss on his cheek.

You’re gone for close to an hour, leaving Loki with tapping fingers and an anxious mind racing with the worst; you’ve gone and done it, run away with his brother, never to be seen again.

Or even worse, you will be seen again, ruling Asgard by Thor’s side.

With cups of coffee in hand.

He drops his head to his desk with a thud and groans.

Minutes later, you peek your head past the doorway to find him still slumped onto his desk, eyes tightly shut and occasionally lifting his head only to bang it back against the wood.

“Chin up, buttercup.” You hurry over before he can bash his head again. “Brought you a little pick me up!”

“Go away,” he moans into the desk. “I’m working.”

“It’s caramel, mocha, and sea salt,” you continue anyways, setting the cup by his head. “You liked the caramel last time, so wait ‘til you try salted caramel.”

“I can’t drink that.”

He pushes it away without bothering to lift his head.

“What–why not?”

“I should be dieting,” he quietly replies. “Losing weight. Trying to tone my physique. Gain muscle, not fat from sugars.”

Combing your fingers into his hair, you gently tug his head up from the desk.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His eyes only narrow as he looks at you, red and slightly puffy. “How was your date with my brother? Have fun?”

“Yes,” you answer with a frown. “I had fun getting to know my boyfriend’s brother, what’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all.” Loki plasters on a phoney smile and sits up, ducking his head away from your hand.

He simply goes back to work, plopping a stack of papers on his desk and burying himself behind them. Only the scratching of his pen breaks the silence, the coffee on his desk untouched and steaming.

Thor thought he’d like it, too—he’d told you of Loki’s affinity for caramel ever since he was a child, how it had even gotten him in trouble a couple times with the cooks.

Apparently he’s not such a big fan anymore.

“Can we at least…get lunch together?” You try a gentle question, head cocked and waiting for him to peek back up at you.

“Can’t.” He doesn’t even look up.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, “want to come over later? We’ve gotta watch Lord of the Rings, if we start tonight we can binge the originals this weekend!”

A large hand flits over his eyes and he sighs quietly to himself. “No, thank you.”

“Okay. What’s your deal?”

He’s a generally sad kind of guy, you know that much, but today, right now, this is different. Not so angry or bitter or jealous, just…sad.

And he doesn’t answer. His pen hovers over the paper, but he’s not actually writing anything—he assumes you won’t notice.

Too caught up in your daydreams with Thor, no doubt.

“Hello…?”

A blur of flesh breaks his train of thought as you wave a hand in his face.

“Don’t ignore me,” you state flatly. Offended. Stating the obvious.

His heart falls.

“I’m…I’m not,” he caves, posture slumping with a slow exhale. Not wanting to meet your gaze, he glares at the case record unsigned on his desk. “Look, just tell me. Don’t try to hide it, you’re only rubbing salt in the wound.”

“Tell you what?”

He sinks lower into the desk chair.

“About your–your feelings.” A wave towards the door. “For Thor.”

It didn’t sound so bad in his head, but now, with the words actually out there…he cringes, suppressing a shudder.

A laugh cuts through the uncomfortable silence.

Your laugh, and he bites back a scowl.

“You’re an absolute idiot,” you giggle, and push off his desk to come stand by his chair. “Really? Me? And Thor?”

“I don’t blame you,” he mumbles, dropping his head to his hands. “He’s…he’s perfect.”

“Nope.” You give the edge of his chair a shove to swivel it towards you and take his face in his hands. “Look at me, Loki.”

Reluctantly, his gaze meets yours.

“I love you. Not Thor. I love you and your body, and your personality, your mind, your voice, your everything.”

“How can you not want Thor?” He asks, voice breaking. “The man’s a tree, I’m–I’m a twig—”

“Hey, hey, I’d much rather pick up a twig than climb a tree!” you assure him with a grin. “Come on, Loki. You know you’re the only one for me.”

He blinks up at you, a hand coming up by his cheek to hold onto your wrist. “I don’t understand how.”

“It’s really easy.” Leaning down, you press your forehead to his and give him a smile. “You’re the strongest man I know, and you’ve suffered more than any being should have to. You crave honest love and you deserve it, so if I play any part in that, I consider myself the lucky one.”

“But Thor—”

A firm kiss on the mouth stops the words in his throat.

“Enough about Thor,” you murmur when you pull away just a smidge. “He’s your brother and whether you’ll admit it or not, he’s important to you. Which means he’s important to me. That’s it.”

The beginnings of a soft smile tug at his lips, and you kiss them again for good measure.

“Thank you.”

It’s soft and barely audible, and you more feel it against your lips than hear it.

But it’s there, and you eventually pull away with a happy sigh.

“Well. That was fun.” You pat his flushed cheek and grab the probably cold coffee off his desk, holding it out to him. “Drink it. You could use a few extra pounds, anyways.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you but takes the drink, taking a hesitant sip—

“Oh, norns.”

“Good?”

He gives his head a little shake, licking his lips. “That’s sweet. And strong.”

“I know,” you laugh, stealing the cup back and taking a quick swig. “It’ll keep you up for our Lord of the Rings marathon, trickster.”

His eyes narrow playfully. “Mhm…and here I thought you simply cared for me.”

“What??” You blow him a kiss and a wink. “Then you’re an idiot, love.”

You don’t call Thor an idiot, and he doesn’t think you ever have.

Watching you flounce our the door, leaving him with his coffee and newly-lifted spirits, Loki grins to himself as he goes back to his papers.

Yes, Thor is an idiot. Everyone knows that much.

But Loki gets to be your idiot, and that is something special.

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

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[split-n-splice]

OH BOY, STRESS WRITING~ It's not exactly shippy, sorry not sorry. Just kind of... *shrugging* Posting before wildfire prevents me from doing so. For Prompt #6 “Thunder” from @drakgoprompts. An attempt was made.

[FFn]

“Thunder”

The past week had been spent settling in and setting up shop at their latest mountaintop lair. Of course, the move wasn’t complete without bringing the dog home from grandma’s – which was, admittedly, something that had been overlooked before, though probably for the better.

The pooch had escaped being dyed any glaring shades this time, and for good measure Drakken had had the poodle sheered short and even throughout before dropping him off with his mother to prevent the woman from trimming the dog to plump round perfection like one of her hedgerows.

Pink dye and froufrou haircuts had never embarrassed Commodore Puddles before, and Shego knew better than to believe the dog was embarrassed now, but it didn’t stop her from cracking jokes about the pooch’s nakedness now that he’d spent all afternoon cowering under the computer mainframe where Drakken had practically grown roots in front of.

“He is not humiliated, Shego,” griped Drakken for the umpteenth time as the glowered up at the endless scrolling code devising for a new set of bots. “He’s a dog. He can’t be humiliated. He must have just missed me.” Without even tearing his eyes away from the humongous screen, he stooped over to pat the dog at his feet.

In reply, the miniature poodle let out a low growl and Drakken quickly withdrew his hand.

“At least put the sweater on him,” suggested Shego from her sidelong perch in an easy chair across the lab, magazine spread across her lap as per usual. “Maybe he’s whining because he’s cold. Or turn up the heat. It’s freezing in here. I can see my breath.”

“It is turned up,” Drakken grumbled. “If you want to help, you can figure out where that draft is coming from.”

“Dr. D, just put the sweater on him.”

“It’s embarrassing!” With all the interruptions and distractions, his patience was wearing thin.

Of course Shego saw fit to push him past the breaking point. “You just said he can’t be humiliated!” she fired back.

Drakken smashed a button – a glaring ERROR! alert flashed across the screen in ominous red – and he released a guttural noise of frustration as he jumped up and slammed his fists on the desk, biting back the curse. Nostrils flared and teeth grit tight, he whirled around, fuming as he stalked past Shego. A moment later, he was stomping by again, clutching an ugly little yellow sweater his mother had knitted just for Puddles with big pink P’s on the sides.

The dog growled and bared its teeth and bit him at least once, but Drakken wrangled the shivering pooch into the doggie sweater regardless of his canine companion’s bad attitude. Though the pet’s shivering had subsided, the whites of his eyes still flashed and his ears still pinned back as he hid beneath the desk once more.

Drakken gestured to the dog with a grunt. “See?” he snapped back at Shego. “He’s not cold!”

Unmoved by Drakken’s doggy dilemma, Shego simply shrugged. “Maybe he has to go out.”

Ignoring the babying voice the blue villain turned on the mini poodle was easier said than done, and Shego watched from the corner of her eye as Drakken cooed to Puddles and patted his lap, trying and failing to coax the dog out of hiding. He didn’t have to try for five solid minutes, but the man was nothing if not determined and Shego was happy to let him make a fool of himself for as long as he pleased. Finally Drakken forfeited with a weary sigh before dropping to his knees and crawling under the desk with the unhappy dog. Clearly, his dog did not need to go out for a tinkle.

Shego peered over her magazine again. “What’s wrong?” she called over. “Is he sick or something?”

“I’m not sure,” muttered Drakken thoughtfully as he pulled the grumpy little dog into his lap. “I think he’s afraid—”

She scoffed. “Of what? You haven’t brought anything new into the lair you shouldn’t have, have you?”

“No!” Drakken snapped in defense, not unlike a petulant child.

Her first impulse wasn’t to believe him. There had been times before when the dog had sensed something it didn’t like in the lair. And as much as Shego despised it, there had been times before that Drakken had done things without her knowledge, like bringing home a new pet with too many legs or building dangerous toys that were effectively ticking time bombs, which Puddles had clued her in on.

So she raised her brow at her partner in villainy now, skeptical.

Drakken saw fit to whine in defense, “I haven’t!” as he climbed out from under of the desk, cradling the miserable poodle in his arms.

Still unconvinced, Shego folded her magazine and swung her legs off the armrest of her easy chair. “Right, well—”

As soon as her feet met the floor, she felt the deep rumble vibrate through the heart of the lair. The dog lost it, wriggling frantically out of Drakken’s arms as the faint boom resonated through the cavern. The pooch hit the ground running and bolted out of the room and into the next, fleeing for the next hidey place, likely under the sofa.

Drakken hummed, looking about the cavern as the rumble faded away. “That had better not be the reactor blowing,” he grumbled, turning to skulk out.

Shego dropped her magazine on the floor and sprinted after him. “Reactor?” she echoed, a little more concern than she meant to allow entering her voice. “Dr. D, if this is another of your secret plans—”

The man gave a dismissive grunt. “Relax, Shego. You’ve seen it before.”

She’d seen a lot of things before. Whatever it was, if it was capable of shaking the lair to its foundations, then it was bound to blow up in their faces sooner or later.  “I don’t keep track of all your crazy inventions,” she all but groaned as she followed after him, to which Drakken grunted indignantly.

As they were passing down a long corridor to one of the outermost towers of the lair, a blinding flash spilling in from the wall of windows caused Drakken to jump and crash into Shego as he tripped over his own feet. His yelp was lost to the roll of thunder, and as it rumbled away, she dropped the startled man. He fell to his rear, hand over his thudding heart, and Shego turned to glower down at him.

“Mystery solved,” she said tersely, nodding to the roiling thunderhead the mountaintop lair was all but submerged in. “Now what was this about a fusion reactor you think might blow up?”

Realizing he’d put his foot in his mouth, Drakken’s relief was short lived. His face fell and he fidgeted with his fingers. “Oh. Uh…you know,” he said with a meek smile as he picked himself up. “I don’t believe I’ve even turned the silly old thing on yet. We’re running on, uhm…wind…power.”

Shego gave him one long withering look, another flash of lightening and crash of thunder scarcely enough to make her blink though Drakken flinched once more. Wish an exasperated shake of her head, she turned back for the heart of the lair, intent on finding the frightened little poodle. At least the dog’s healthy fear was in Mother Nature alone tonight.

Drakken, meanwhile, snuck off hastily just to double check that the malfunctioning devise was indeed powered down.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch36: I Bid You Farewell And Good Luck, Morons!

Intro: Thor wakes up on a strange ship, surrounded by even stranger people, a talking tree and a rabbit. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the fight to save Vision is won and the group make their way back to the compound to understand what exactly it is that they’re facing. 

But there’s no sign of Tony, and the more they heard, the more they start to wonder if this is a battle they stand any chance of winning. 

Warnings:Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist 

This is a bit of a longer update than normal, but I wanted to explore IW using all 3 of the perspectives that were shown, for no reason other than I had favourite bits in them all! And I LOVE writing for Thor and Tony!

As always tags are open and I’m taking suggestions for that lovely 5 year gap post snap/pre time Heist so if you have any ideas or wants, hit me up!

 “It’s like a pirate had a baby with an angel…”

Thor wasn’t dead. But he felt like it. Every inch of his body ached and when he was jerked back to consciousness for a moment, just one split moment, he thought he saw Little Stark. Only it wasn’t her. The woman had dark hair, yes, but as he focussed he realised she looked nothing like the woman he loved dearly as a sister. This woman had huge eyes and antenna dangling from her forehead. And, whilst he knew it had been a while since he had seen his friend, she wouldn't have changed that much.

Finding his feet he looked around, chest heaving, at the band of people stood in front of him; A woman with green skin and red hair, a man with grey/blue skin, bald head, and red lines all over his body, a tree creature- a Flora Colossus he thought- which was off to the side draped over a chair, some kind of furry, animal thing- a rabbit maybe- and finally a man who appeared to be a normal, human.

They had offered him soup, and then when he had explained about Thanos the green skinned lady had told Thor what the Titan wanted the stones for. Which she knew, because she his  daughter.

"Families can be tough," Thor said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Before my father died, he told me that I had a half-sister, that he imprisoned in Hell. Then she returned home, stabbed me in the eye so, I had to kill her." he said, shrugging "That's life though isn't it I guess? Round and round, but I feel your pain."

The human, Peter Quill pushed his way between Gamora and Thor, and looked at her "I feel your pain, as well, because, I mean it's not a competition, but I've been through a lot. My father killed my mother, and then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I, came out with both of my eyes."

Thor wasn’t paying attention. The man was clearly a moron, and he’d just noticed he had bent the spoon in the bowl of soup and was having a flashback to the time he had tried to bend the Captain’s shield. Little Stark had laughed so much at how annoyed he had gotten when he failed that she had cried. And then, to make it worse, a few days later the Captain had managed to move Mjolnir. Just a fraction, but it moved. No one had seen it, bar Little Stark of course, but there was something there, Thor was sure. Steve Rogers was a man worthy of a lot of things, but his hammer was complicated. You have to prove it. That had been explained to him the day it had been given to him. Of course, he hadn’t realised then that Eitri had actually made it for Hela first.

Eitri…

"I need a hammer, not a spoon." Thor mumbled, as the idea took hold and he looked at the pod at the back of the ship. "How do I open this thing?" he began pressing random buttons on the screen next to the door. “Is there some sort of a four-digit code? Maybe a birth date or something?"

"What are you doing?" Rocket asked.

"Taking your pod." Thor replied nonchalantly.

And then there was a row in which the moron called Quill tried to imitate Thor’s deeper voice telling him he could not take the pod, but Thor was going to take the pod anyway because he was the God of Thunder after all, and then the lady Gamora cut them off quite rightly directing the focus back to Thanos by stating they needed to find out where he was going next. But Thor had already thought of that.

"Knowhere," he answered as he brushed past Quill and over to the refrigerator he had seen Gamora get his soup from.

"He must be going somewhere," Mantis argued innocently.

"No," Quill shook his head and Thor noted his stupid voice was back to normal, "Knowhere? It's a place. We've been there. It sucks. Excuse me, that's our food." he said, suddenly noticing what Thor was doing.

"Not anymore," Thor shrugged, stuffing it into a backpack he found.

"Thor," Gamora cut across the pair of them again "Why would he go to Knowhere?"

"Because for years, the Reality Stone has been safely stored there with a man called the Collector." Thor said

"If it's with the Collector, then it's not safe.” Quill snorted. “Only an idiot would give that man a stone."

"Or a genius." Thor shrugged.

"How do you know he's not going for one of the other stones?" Gamora asked.

"There's six stones out there." Thor began to explain, "Thanos already has the Power Stone because he stole it, last week, when he decimated Xandar.”

He didn’t missed the shocked and horrified look the group shared with one another.

“He stole the Space Stone from me, when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people. The Time and Mind Stones, are safe on Earth. They're with the Avengers." Thor stated.

"The Avengers?" Quill asked.

"They're Earth's Mightiest Heroes."

"Like Kevin Bacon?" Mantis called out.

"Errr he may be on the team now, I don't know.” Thor shrugged, having no idea who the man named after a breakfast meat was. “I haven’t been there in a while. And as for the Soul Stone, well no one's ever seen that. No one even knows where it is. Therefore, Thanos can't get it. Therefore, he's going to Knowhere. Hence, he'll be getting the Reality Stone. You're welcome."

"Then we have to go to Knowhere, now." Gamora said

"Wrong. Where we have to go is Nidavellir." Thor said picking up the backpack.

"That's a made up word," Drax, the blue man countered.

"All words are made up." Thor smiled, slinging the backpack onto his back.

"Nidavellir is real?" the animal called Rocket’s eyes grew wide and he jumped up onto the table and looked at Thor "Seriously? I mean, that place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there, please."

"The rabbit is correct." Thor grinned at Rocket's excitement, "And clearly the smartest among you. Only Eitri the Dwarf can make me the weapon I need. I assume you're the captain, Sir?"

Rocket grinned and nodded, "You're very perceptive."

"You seem like a noble leader. Will you join me on my quest to Nidavellir?"

"Let me just ask the captain. Oh, wait a second, it's me!”  Rocket grinned. “Yeah, I'll go."

"Wonderful." Thor beamed.

"Uh except that I'm the captain," Quill chipped in

"Quiet!" Thor said, now beyond bored of the moron.

"And that's my backpack," Quill continued pointing to the bag that Thor was stealing.

"Quill, sit down," Rocket said, tapping at the pad and keying in the digits to open the pod.

"Look, this is my ship. And I'm not going to - wait, what kind of weapon are we talking about here?" Quill looked round.

"The Thanos-killing kind." Thor smiled. Boy, was it going to be a big, fucking weapon...

"Don't you think that we should all have a weapon like that?" Quill frowned.

"You lack the strength to wield them. Your bodies would crumble as you minds collapsed into the madness." Thor said.

"Is it weird that I wanna do it even more now?" Rocket asked.

"Erm, a little bit weird. Yeah." Thor looked down at him, frowning.

“If we don't go to Knowhere and Thanos retrieves another stone, he'll be too powerful to stop." Gamora said, stepping forward.

"He already is." Thor shrugged.

"Look, I got it figured out," Rocket interrupted, looking at Gamora. "We got two ships, and a large assortment of morons.  Me and Groot will go with the Pirate Angel here, and the morons will go to Knowhere to try and stop Thanos. Cool? Cool."

"So cool." Thor said with a smile before he climbed into the pod.

"For the record…” Quill said leaning down to Rocket “ I know that you're only going with them because it's where Thanos isn't."

"You know, you really shouldn't talk that way to your captain, Quill.” Rocket said, walking backwards and gesturing outwards with his arms. “Come on, Groot. Put that game down. You'll rot your brain,"

As Rocket sat down Thor nodded out of the pod “I bid you farewell and good luck, morons. Bye."

******

It wasn’t hard for the team to track Wanda, her red power flashing bright against the dark sky over Edinburgh City Centre, and as the jet followed her movements, the four friends saw her spiralling through the sky with Vision and crashing through the train station, just as Sam put the jet on the ground.

Within seconds the Ex-Avengers were sprinting off the jet.  

“Katie, Nat, take the side!” Steve yelled, as he vaulted over the railings at the edge of the road running down onto the bottom half of the concrete which led to the station. “Sam, up high,and remember protect Vision at all costs!”

“Got em.” Sam spoke over the coms “Platform seven, near the café.” 

Steve vaulted over another set of barriers, the station now deserted thanks to the evacuation taking place by the local police. As he ran onto one of the walkways he was just in time to see two of the aliens crash through the station roof. Weighing up his options, he realised it was going to be quicker for him to run down the platform he was over and jump across the lines to help. He swung his legs over the railings and landed easily, looking up. Across from him he could see Natasha and Katie emerging to the right, as Wanda stood and moved protectively in front of Vision, building power in her hands. An express train whizzed past him and he stood still, waiting and it wasn’t long before the taller, blue looking woman spotted him, and she launched her spear over the platform. Steve easily snapped his left shoulder back whilst leaning over his body with his right, catching the staff in his hand.

“Heads up.” Sam muttered, and as Wanda and Vision turned to see Steve step out from the shadows, fury lining his face, Sam swooped in and kicked one of the aliens across the platform and through a closed café’s security gate, causing tables and chairs to go flying, before he spun and started to fire on the other alien.

Steve launched the weapon he had caught across the tracks where Natasha caught it and stabbed the second assailant in the gut as Katie moved into to head off the other who was stalking back towards them. The weapon Natasha had been using flew back into the alien’s hands and Katie ducked as she swung, jabbing her in the back of the leg with an electric powered escrima stick. The alien let out a yell, stumbled slightly and Steve cleared the platform in a leap, rolling and scooping up the second assailant’s staff from the floor, holding it up to block the blow that the creatured aimed at Katie. He grit his teeth, planting his legs to absorb the power of the hit, as Katie rolled to the side, jumped up and the two of them began to fight the alien, joined shortly by Natasha who had stabbed the other one in the gut, taking him out of the fight. Steve had to admit, the woman (if you could call her that) was a force to be reckoned with, but the three of them were just about getting the upper hand when they heard Sam yell.

“DUCK!”

The three of them did so and Sam flew in hard, kicking the woman backwards where she fell and scuttled over to her fallen friend. Sam landed next to Katie, drawing both his submachine pistols on the couple.

“Get up” she instructed to her fallen partner, her voice was deep.

“I can't” his gravelly, robotic voice replied.

“We don't wanna kill you.” Natasha spoke coolly “But we will”.

“You’ll never get the chance again.” The female levelled them, with a cold glare and with that a beam shot down from the hole in the station roof and the two were transported upwards. The weapon Steve was holding also shot out of his hand. He frowned in surprise for a moment, looking at his hand then upwards as the beam of light disappeared and the ship sped off.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked Vision as Katie replaced her sticks and walked towards Wanda and the android. When Vision shook his head, Sam moved forward to help him up.

Supported by Wanda and Sam, Vision looked over at Steve, Natasha and Katie, electricity shimmering over his surface. He’d been badly damaged in the fight, and as he spoke his voice distorted.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. His face stern, but his eyes were much softer than his expression and Katie knew why. It had been a while since anyone other than Sam, Nat or Wanda had called him Captain.

Steve looked at the android, he might have been damaged but they had the stone, and that was the main thing. Nodding, he spoke “Let's get you on the jet.” his voice was soft and he moved to let Sam and Wanda support Vision, Natasha following as Katie dropped behind to stay with him as they took up the rear of the group, her fingers lacing into his.

Once Vision was safely settled in a seat at the side, Sam dropped into the pilot’s seat as Katie hit the button to close the ramp as the Jet rose into the air.

“I thought we had a deal.” Natasha spun angrily to Wanda. ”Stay close, check in. Don't take any chances.”

“I'm sorry. We just wanted time.” The younger woman said gently.

Katie glanced at Steve, he was stood up in the middle of the jet, hands on the buckle of his utility belt, staring seemingly at nothing, clearly contemplating something.

“Where to, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up, he glanced at Sam then locked eyes with Katie as he spoke one word, one simple word that they had all been waiting to hear for almost 2 years.

“Home” he said, looking round the jet.

*****

After a few hours, with the morning sky being the only thing in sight, Sam started to lower the jet through thick white clouds and Katie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when the compound began to take shape as she watched out of the front window. It looked the same. The buildings, the grounds…she wasn’t sure why she had expected anything to change, maybe because it felt like everything had changed for them, but either way, there it was. The same as the last time she had seen it.

Steve noticed her demeanour change slightly as they landed. She stood up straight, her shoulders squaring as if she was about to face an onslaught. And they were, in a way. On their way they’d let Bruce know that they had Vision and were heading back, but had had no idea what they were heading back to, nor did he care. Be it Ross, police, the army, whatever, he was done bowing to anyone’s will, over playing other people’s tunes. The two years they had spent hidden had shown them that they could operate on their own if required, and he wasn’t afraid to fight anyone who got in his way.

They stepped off the ramp and strode over the lawn, Katie taking a deep breath as she looked around. She felt a wave of that many emotions she couldn’t explain or identify half of them. Memories flooded in, the long summer nights they sat outside in the garden and on the BBQ patio until sunrise. Laughs during team dinners. Sam and Wanda collaborating on pranks. Training sessions with the team and Vision reading Tolkien aloud to Wanda before asking questions about humanity's love of fiction. Walks and picnics and other things in the ground, just her and Steve. Their wedding, God their wedding! Frequent visits from Tony, bringing in new ideas and improved gadgets. Getting back safe after being out on a long mission. Feeling relaxed and at ease.

Feeling at home.

Steve’s arm curled round his wife for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head as Vision opened the door.

“Still no word from Vision?”  The holographic figure of Ross looked up from where he sat at a table and glanced at Rhodey.

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.” Rhodey replied. He knew they were on their way to the compound, but hadn’t told Ross deliberately. 

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world's most wanted criminals.” Rhodey felt his temper beginning to flare. “You know they're only criminals because you've chosen to call them that, right, sir? “

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.” Ross said as he stood up. The sound of the call echoed down the corridor reaching the group that were making their way through to the lab.

“If it weren't for those Accords, Vision would've been right here” Rhodey shot back and Katie glanced back at Vision as the sounds of Rhodey and Ross’ voice grew louder as they neared their destination.

“I suspect it will be a Hollo Call.” Vision said gently, answering Katie’s unasked question.  His suspicions were proven correct as they rounded the corner and the lab came into view. Rhodey was stood across from where the holographic image of Secretary Ross was facing off against him.

"You have second thoughts?" Ross was challenging Rhodey, who smiled simply as his eyes shot sideways, as Steve strode forward, his presence as intimidating as ever, and the first thing Rhodey noticed was just how dark he looked. Gone was the upstanding, All American Hero, and in its place was someone much harder, far rougher round the edges. Kiddo looked different too. Her hair was shorter, she looked slimmer too, but her upper body looked stronger. 

"Not anymore." he grinned.

The holographic Ross followed Rhodey’s gaze and his eyes fell on Steve who was stood next to Katie at the front of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Vision behind them. Steve raised his chin a little defiantly and moved to take his power stance, feet apart, hands on his belt, before he greeted Ross politely.

"Mr. Secretary" 

Katie couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched Ross attempting to cover up the shock he had clearly felt at the group of outlaws turning up again. She locked eyes with Rhodey who gave her the smallest of winks before he glanced back at Ross who was shaking his head slightly as he approached Steve, his holographic form almost trying to square up to him.  Steve simply raised his chin further and looked down from the steps he was stood on,

"You got some nerve." Ross sniffed, staring up at him "I'll give you that."

"You could use some of that right now." Katie shot back bluntly, Ross turning his head to face her for a second. She held his gaze and arched an eyebrow until he turned back to Steve.

"The world's on fire." Ross said incredulously. "And you think, you can just walk back in here and all is forgiven?"

Steve levelled the secretary with a firm gaze. "I'm not looking for forgiveness.” his voice took on a threatening tone as he spoke “And I'm way past asking for permission.”

At that point the smirk on Katie’s face grew even wider as she stole a glance up at her husband, pride swelling in her chest as he continued, stoic and unyielding. 

“Earth just lost her best defender, so we're here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way," he stepped down to be at level with the hologram, and stared it square in the eyes "We'll fight you, too."

Ross was practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes went to Rhodey and he spat out his order, "Arrest them."

"All over it." Rhodey promised nonchalantly before shutting off the hologram, shortly after a beeping noise sounded from the computers.

"That's a court-martial." He informed the group as he slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm, though his tone said told Katie that he blatantly couldn’t have cared less for Ross’ demands. There was a short pause as the group glanced down at their friend, Steve smiling softly, before Rhodey’s face split into a huge smile of his own.

"It's great to see you, Cap." he said, stepping forward.

"You too, Rhodey." Steve answered, taking the last 2 steps down before he shook Rhodey's hand. Katie threw herself at her brother’s best friend and he gave her a huge bear hug before he stepped backwards.

“Hey Kiddo, you do something to your hair?” he teased.  She smiled, stepping back from his embrace while he looked the rest of the group over.

"Well. You guys really look like crap." He said lightly. "Must've been a rough couple of years."

Steve looked round, an amused smile on his face as he glanced at his wife then to the rest of the team.

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star." Sam quipped back cheekily, the banter flowing between them like no time at all had passed.

"Uh, I think you look great."

Steve turned at the new voice to see Bruce inching his way into the room nervously wringing his hands together.

Steve and Katie remained silent, exchanging a glance. In the rush around and the fray of the fight, we’d forgotten to explain exactly who it was that called. "Yeah. I'm back."

Katie glanced over at Nat, she had her gaze fixed solely on the scientist as she spoke "Hi, Bruce."

"Nat." Bruce answered inclining his head towards her slightly as he fidgeted.

"This is awkward." Sam piped up. Steve and Katie looked at one another, before they both smiled and looked back up at Sam.

“Any news on Tony?” Katie asked gently, interrupting the silence that had fallen.

“Not yet no.” Rhodey said. “FRIDAY lost him when he left the atmosphere. We got NASA running scans and we’re trying to track his trail but…” He shook his head. 

“Typical Tony.” Katie rolled her eyes “Always has to go one bigger and one better doesn’t he?”

Her blasé tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

"Banner.” Steve said gently, looking across the room at the scientist. “Can you fill us in on what we're up against here?"

"Yeah sure," Bruce said nodding hesitantly.

“We’ll use the living area.”  Rhodey said, “Slightly more comfortable”

They made their way to the lounge, the same lounge they had all sat in discussing the Accords. Not much had changed; the furniture was different, there was couple of new sofas and the TV was larger, but that was it. 

“So start from the beginning.” Steve looked at Bruce where he stood near the window, one hand on the back of a chair, the other on his hip. He nodded encouragingly, he could see the man was nervous “Who took Stark and what are we up against?”

“I’ll give you the short version and we can plug in the gaps later.” Bruce sighed, “His name is Thanos. He’s a War tyrant, from a planet called Titan. He goes from place to place, destroying worlds, taking what he wants, when he wants. Loki’s attack on New York?” Bruce looked around “Thanos was the one who sent him to attack Earth,"

"But what does he want?” Katie asked.

“All six Infinity Stones…” Bruce supplied.

“Infinity Stones?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, so erm… the big bang, when it happened, it sent six of these crystals out across the universe. They each control an essential aspect of existence. Space. Reality. Power. Soul. Mind. Time.” Bruce said, rubbing his temple.

“Thor told us about them, after Ultron.” Katie looked round and her eyes fell on Steve’s “He said there were three out there unaccounted for, and three that he could locate. One was with some collector or something, one was housed in the tesseract which was locked in a vault in Asgard and the other…”

"Viz." Wanda murmured, glancing at the Stone in Vision's forehead.

Bruce nodded again. “Thanos came to our ship for the tesseract, which means he already had the Power and Space Stones before he came to Earth looking for the rest. Just that alone makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe, if he gets his hands on all six he could destroy all life as we know it."

“Hang on, the Tesseract was on your ship?” Katie looked at Bruce, “I thought it was on Asgard?”

“It was, but right before Ragnarok…” “Ragnarok?” Katie frowned, her mind whirring “But that’s…that’s the fabled downfall and the destruction of Asgard, I mean....” “I know.” Bruce looked at her. “Asgard was destroyed as part of a battle between Thor and his sister. So was his hammer.” “What?” Steve let out a breath as Katie felt her mouth drop open.

“Thor has a sister?”

“Look, that’s a whole different story.” Bruce said, his tone slightly frustrated. “All you need to know is that Loki –yeah, surprise, not dead, -stole the tesseract from the Vault before we left. Thanos boarded the ship and took the stone. Just took it.” he said, his arms swinging out to his sides before returning with a slap.

The room fell silent.

“So Thor.” Katie took a deep breath and asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to “Where…”

Bruce dropped his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head, looking downwards. He glanced up and saw across the table that Katie had her right hand against her forehead the heel of which was pressed hard into the space between her eyes in utter dismay.

Thor. Gone.  

“He was no match for Thanos, not when he had those stones.” Bruce said gently. A single tear trickled down Katie’s cheek and fell to the floor and Steve watched as she took a deep breath, furiously wiping at her face.

“So the two we fought came for the mind stone.”  Sam spoke for the first time “I’m assuming the ones you fought were after another one that’s located somewhere in New York?”

"The Time Stone.” Bruce nodded “It was being protected by some mystical arts guy, or a Wizard as Tony called him, Dr Steven Strange.” Katie’s head whipped round to Steve and he took a breath and straightened up, before he glanced over at Sam and Natasha and the four of them shared an instant understanding, they’d heard that name before on top of a multi-storey parking garage in DC.

"A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future.”

“But he was taken along with Tony.” Bruce finished.

Katie didn’t even want to think about that right now. She had to trust in her brother’s quick mind and sharp resilience, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

"Well, we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Rhodey said and Steve looked down again, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything Bruce had said.

"And they can clearly find us." Wanda added.

"We need all hands on deck," Bruce said pacing, "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal," Natasha explained, "It's too tough on their families. They're on house arrest."

"Who's Scott?" Bruce frowned.

"Ant Man," Steve answered.

"There's an Ant Man and a Spider Man?" Bruce looked around in confusion, but it was Rhodey who nodded, simply, like it was just perfectly normal. Bruce shook his head, realising that it didn’t really matter at the moment before he continued. "Thanos has the biggest army in the Universe. And he is not gonna stop until he gets Vision's stone." He said the last part softly, almost reluctantly.

"Well then, we have to protect it," Natasha said stepping forward but Vision immediately corrected her.

"No, we have to destroy it," he said resolutely, his gaze focussed on something out of the window as everyone turned to him.  He turned to face them and gestured to the stone in his head. "I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something very similar to its own signature, perhaps" he made his way over to Wanda and held onto her upper arm, "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and you with it," Wanda looked at him, shaking her head "We're not having this conversation."

"Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it."

Katie noticed Wanda’s eyes flash as she glared at Vision. "It's also too high a price."

"Only you have the power to pay it," Vision said quietly.

Steve shifted slightly. He knew that Vision was right, but the idea of losing someone else in their group didn’t sit well.

"Thanos threatens half the Universe.” Vision persisted “One life cannot in the way of defeating him."

"But it should," Steve argued, his eyes were diverted to the floor as he spoke gently, and it was right. Who were any of them to decide one life was worth less than anyone else? He took a deep breath and looked up and around the room before landing back on the android "We don't trade lives, Vision."

"Captain, seventy years ago you laid down your life to save how many millions of people? Tell me, why is this any different?"

Steve took a sigh and stepped towards Vision, unable to answer because he knew the android had him, but then Bruce did it for him.

"Because you might have a choice," Bruce answered, and Steve could see the Scientist had suddenly had an idea, "Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays. Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, me, the stone. All of them mixing together. All of them learning from one another."

"You're saying Vision isn't just the stone?" Wanda asked.

"I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts."

"Can we do that?" Natasha asked looking back and forth between the android and the scientist somewhat impatiently.

"Not me. Not here."

Steve suddenly began to think, maybe not Bruce, but could Suri? She had fixed Bucky after all, surely she could do this. T’Challa would be happy to help. And with his defences, maybe Wakanda was the safest place for Vision to be.

"Well you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodey pipped in.  "Ross isn't just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back."

Steve nodded to himself, his mind made up before he raised his head to look up around the group. "I know somewhere."

His eyes momentarily locked onto Katie’s and he watched as the realisation crossed her face, she knew instantly where he meant.

“Wakanda?” she asked.

He nodded, turning to Sam. “Can we get wheels up in 20?"

Sam nodded and Steve turned to Rhodey. "That enough time for you to load up your suit?"

"Yeah. Should be."

“Ok. “Steve looked round “Banner, I suggest you grab what you need. The rest of us, back to the jet.”

The team began to bustle about and then Katie remembered something.

“Rhodey?” she asked, hopping down off the table, “Where’s Steve’s shield?”

Rhodey paused in the doorway and turned to face her. “I don’t know, sorry Kiddo. Tony never mentioned it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve said gently. As Katie opened her mouth to suggest they had a look for it, he cut her off “And we don’t have time either, we need to go.”

Truth be told he didn’t want the shield back. It wasn’t his, not anymore.

“Fine.” Katie said somewhat stiffly. “I’m going to raid the armoury anyway, pick up a few things…” “Katie!” he called after her as she hurried out of the room. He let out a frustrated groan.

“I’ll go.” Rhodey said, patting the Captain on the shoulder. “I need my suit anyway.” The directions ingrained in her memory forever she headed to the armoury on autopilot and once inside she stopped dead. It had all changed. To the left were the usual lockers, although they now held no names she would lay odds on all the original seven of them still having kit in there. The guns, arrows, widow bites, shock batons were all still there on the racks. Rhodey’s War Machine kit stood in the corner, but what wasn’t was an Iron Man suit, or a Nova suit, of any description. Instead, in place of the the usual glass cabinets that held them were rows of smaller capsules.

“What the…” Katie mumbled, heading closer to examining “FRIDAY?”

“Welcome home Mrs Rogers…” The AI spoke, a hint of amusement in her voice “I believe Pod Seventy-Six is one of yours”

“Tony’s been working on upgrades” Rhodey spoke from behind, making her jump. “Nano-tech, courtesy of some work with Helen Cho.” “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Katie frowned as Rhodey made his way to the War Machine suit.

“Sevety-Six you say?” Katie’s eyes scanned the wall. “OK, FRIDAY hit me up.” One of the capsules opened and a smaller capsule flew out, opening in mid- air and then out of nowhere a suit formed around her body.

“Woah…” Katie said, as the familiar heads-up display lit up.

“The suit is held in a simple bangle” FRIDAY explained. “I’ll show you once the calibrations are done.”

As FRIDAY rattled through the new features, including a shield, new weapons Katie stole a glance in the mirror. It was much sleeker and less bulky, almost like wearing a cat-suit in a way. It was dark blue and gold, as always, with her Supernova Star in the middle of the chest. She gently reached up to touch it and the suit melted away to a silver cuff with the star in the middle which she tentatively placed around her wrist.

“Impressive huh?” Rhodey asked as he stepped into the War Machine suit.

“One word for it.” She said softly, tracing the outline of her bracelet with her fingers. “I can’t… why did he make it?” she looked up at Rhodey who slid his face plate back up to look at her.

“You know what Tony’s like.” Rhodey said, “Just because you left doesn’t mean he stopped caring.”

Katie looked down at the bracelet on her right wrist.

"Was- Was he okay, you know...after?" She asked, her voice cracking.

"He was as okay as he could be…” Rhodey hesitated slightly “To be honest, nothing was great though. The team was split and…”

Katie looked down “I had to go, I couldn’t stay, not after what he said to me.” Rhodey looked at her. “And have you ever considered why he said what he did?” “Because he hates me?” “No, because he loves you.” Rhodey took a deep breath “He knew full well that whatever choice you made it was going to kill you, but he couldn’t see you sat in a jail, he just couldn’t Kiddo. So he did what he had to do make sure you stayed away.” Whatever she had been expecting Rhodey to say it wasn’t that. His words hit her like a tonne of bricks and she felt her face screw up as she blinked back the tears. 

“Shit…” she managed to mumble out. “I could, you know we could have called him, or he could have called us, tried to …” “You’re both as obstinate as one another” Rhodey said, shaking his head as he started to walk to the door of the armoury “Which is why I know he’s still alive. He’s too much of a stubborn asshole to die. “

*******

Tony was pissed, really pissed. Not only was he stuck on this fucking ship, the kid was still here too. Peter Parker was almost as much of a pain in his ass as Katie had been when she was his age. The thought of his sister brought a pang to his heart, especially when he knew she was more than likely at the compound now after Bruce will have called them. He hoped anyway, he’d thrown the phone down before the fight after all, he just hoped the scientist had found it.

He looked around and glared at Peter before his shoulders fell. Well the kid was here now, might as well use him.

“Come on.” Tony sighed “We got a situation” He lead Peter over to a viewpoint to see the torture going on below. Peter crouched to study the situation, with that damned cloak leaning over his shoulder. “See him down there? He's in trouble.” Tony continued “What's your plan? Go.”

“Um. Okay, okay... uh...” Peter and the cloak popped back up suddenly, a smile playing on Peter’s face. “Okay. Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

It was a dumbass plan, but dumbass enough to work. Tony blew a hole in the side of the ship which caused a huge depressurization and as such the alien was sucked out of the side. A quick struggle and Dr Strange was rescued from drifting off to space, Tony repaired the side of the hull with nanites and that was that.

“We've gotta turn this ship around” Strange looked at Tony who rolled his eyes. .

“Yeah. Now he wants to run. Great plan”. 

“No, I want to protect the stone.”

Tony walked towards the expansive front view-port and from the way things were moving out there, he assumed they were travelling at some kind of hyper speed. The wizard was irritating him though, if he’d just agreed to get the stone out of the way they wouldn’t even be in this mess. 

“And I want you to thank me now. Go ahead, I'm listening.” he turned to glare at him.

“For what?” Strange snorted, “Nearly blasting me into space? 

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me.” Tony looked at him. “

“I seriously don't know how you fit your head into that helmet��. Strange shook his head as he eyed the billionaire up and down. 

“Admit it.” Tony said, for some reason he felt the need to make this guy admit he was wrong, just like he used to try and do with Rogers. No particular reason for it, other than being the one to come out on top “. You should have ducked out when I told you to. I tried to bench you. You refused.” 

“Unlike everyone else in your life, I don't work for you”. 

“And due to that fact, we're now in a flying doughnut billions of miles away from Earth with no backup.” Tony gestured around him.  

“I’m back up.” Peter said, raising his hand. 

“No, you’re a stowaway.” Tony said, waggling his finger between himself and Dr. Strange “The adults are talking”. 

“I'm sorry, I'm confused as to the relationship here. Wh-- what is he, your ward?” Strange frowned.

“No. I'm Peter, by the way.” Peter said, holding out his hand. 

“ Dr Strange.” Strange replied, looking at him.

“Oh, we're using our made-up names. Um. I'm Spider-Man, then”. 

Before Strange could respond, Tony piped up. “This ship is self-correcting its course. Thing's on autopilot.”

Strange walked closer to where Tony was stood. “Can we control it? Fly us home?”

Home…Thanos…home. 

They’d almost flattened New York once, and then there was Sokovia…no, home was most certainly a bad idea.

“Stark?” Strange’s voice cut across his thoughts. “Can you get us home? 

Yeah I heard you. I'm thinking. I'm not so sure we should.” he said, honestly.

“Under no circumstance can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos.” Strange warned “I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here”.

“No. It's you who doesn't understand, that Thanos has been inside my head for six years since he sent an army to New York and now he's back!” Tony said, stalking towards Strange, jabbing a finger in the air as he pointed towards the ground. “And I don't know what to do. So I'm not so sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor. Do you concur?“

Strange had to admit, the guy had a point. Let Thanos destroy his own place, not theirs. “Alright, Stark. We go to him. But you have to understand... if it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone... I will not hesitate to let either of you die. I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it”

“Nice. Good. Moral compass. We're straight” Tony nodded. Stepping over to Peter he tapped each of the kids shoulder with the edge of his hand, dubbing him as is done at a knighting. 

“Alright, kid. You're an Avenger now”

Tony couldn’t look at him as he spoke, because he knew what he was signing the kid up for. 

******

The jet was filled with chatter as Rhodey, Bruce and the rest of the team were catching up but Katie wasn’t listening. She wasn’t feeling great either, that damned sick feeling was back, most likely this time down to utter fear about what was to come. If Bruce was right, she wasn’t convinced this was a battle they were ever going to be able to win.

“You know,” she said, looking up at Steve and voicing her fear softly, “if he’s already killed Thor, and it’s going to take us, plus a royal army to attempt to fight this guy off what fucking chance does Tony stand?”

Steve didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Because what he was thinking wasn’t going to provide her any comfort. Instead he merely tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was a couple of hours later before they hit Wakandan airspace.

"We're coming up." Sam spoke as Steve focussed his attention out of the front of the jet, one arm hanging lightly against the grab rails on the roof.

"Drop to 2600, heading 0-3-0." Steve instructed.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder before he spoke, "I hope you're right about this, Cap. Or we're gonna land a lot faster than you want to."

Katie gave a small smile as she drew up next to Steve, wrapping her arms around his waist. They both stood, waiting as Sam flew the jet right into the trees, and swore with a loud ‘holy shit’ as it passed right through the hologram barrier into Wakanda. Everyone on the jet moved to get a better look at the beautiful mountains, lakes, buildings as the jet circled and Steve directed Sam to the runway.

They disembarked and Katie strolled off shortly behind Steve, followed by Natasha. Vision and Wanda stayed put, Steve telling them he would get them some help soon.

Bruce, who was at the rear with Rhodey whispered as he shrugged his arms into his jacket, "Should we bow?"

"Yeah, he's a king." Rhodey answered casually without missing a beat.

Steve ignored their banter instead smiling warmly at T'Challa as he reached out to shake his hand. "Seems like I'm always thanking you for something."

T'Challa smiled back and he shook Steve's hand before embracing Katie in a warm hug. “Mrs Rogers, it is a pleasure to see you.” “And you.” She smiled softly, before she stepped back and T’Challa nodded to the rest of the group. The clearing of a throat caught Katie’s attention and she turned just in time to see Bruce bow forward towards T’Challa.

"What are you doing?" Rhodey asked, looking at him.

"Uh, we don't do that here." T'Challa said kindly waving a hand to stop Bruce’s bow. Everyone smiled in amusement expect for Bruce who turned and shot a disbelieving but amused look at Rhodey who grinned back at him, nudging him with his elbow.

Then they turned serious again as T'Challa asked, "So how big of an assault can we expect?"

His guards moved as he spoke, opening up a path that T'Challa took, leading them away. They followed quickly while Bruce piped up politely as he explained, "Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault."

"How we looking?" Natasha added, addressing the king with a similarly concerned frown on her face.

"You will have my King's Guard," T'Challa listed, "the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and-" He gestured to the side just as a familiar, dark-clothed man stepped out of the building to greet them by the door.

"A semi-stable, one hundred-year-old man." Bucky grinned. Katie smiled back and then glanced at Steve as he walked forwards, that familiar boyish grin on his face as pulled the man into a hug clapping him on the back a few times.

"How have you been, Buck?" he pulled back to look at his friend. He looked as well as he’d seen him in years. Healthy and dare he say it, happy.

"Not bad," Bucky shrugged looking down at his new black vibranium arm, "For the end of the world.” Katie stepped forward to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look good Buck.” she said, standing back to look him up and down before smiling, something that didn’t escape Steve’s notice. And yes, he knew there was nothing in it, and this was the most inappropriate time to get jealous but still…

“I feel it.” Bucky smiled as Steve slid his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Goat farming suits me.” With that, Bucky turned to Sam. “Hey man.”  

“Frosty.” Sam responded with a jerk of his head.

They left Rhodey, Sam and Bucky with some of the guard to keep watch, and the rest of them followed T'Challa up to the labs where the person who was said to be able to safely remove Vision's stone was waiting. Steve could tell that the rest of the group weren’t expecting that person to be T'Challa's sixteen year old sister, Shuri. But T'Challa had full faith in her, as did Steve after she had managed to remove Bucky's programming.  

"Whoa." Shuri blinked as she stared at the hologram of Vision's brain and the stone in awe, "The structure is polymorphic...”

"Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially." Bruce nodded and Shuri glanced at him with a raised brow.

"Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?" She asked looking at Banner. Vision also glanced at the doctor in question.

"Because... we didn't think of it." Bruce admitted sheepishly.

Shuri smiled and Katie had to fight the laugh that was brewing at the Princess’ playful nature "I'm sure you did your best."

"Can you do it?" Wanda asked stepping forward anxiously.

Shuri's smile dropped as she became more serious. "Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures." Her gaze moved to T’Challa “It will take time, brother."

"How long?" Steve asked, straightening up slightly.

Shuri shook her head. "As long as you can give me." She answered honestly and worryingly.

A loud warning siren suddenly started and instantly Katie looked around. General Okoye tapped at something on her bracelet and she looked over at T’Challa."Something's entered the atmosphere."

Seconds later, Sam's voice called over their coms, "Hey, Cap, we got a situation here."

Katie moved over to the floor-length windows of the lab to look out, Steve stood close behind her as everyone followed to see what was going on. In the distance, they could see the plains all around as far as the border stretched to the city. A giant ship descended from the sky and as they watched it exploded high above the city as soon as it touched the shield, causing Katie to jump back slightly. Steve gently caught her, his hands going to her shoulders as his focus remained on the exploding ship which dissipated above the invisible barrier they had flown through.

"God, I love this place."  Bucky’s contented sigh rang over their coms.

"Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome." Rhodey warned.

More ships came crashing down to Earth just outside the Wakandan barrier disturbing the dust and sand on the ground as they landed. The lab they were stood in shook slightly and Vision sat up.

"It's too late."  he whispered and both Steve and Katie turned to look at him as he sat up. "We need to destroy the stone now."

"Vision, get your ass back on the table." Nat replied snapping her head back to look at him as she made her way to the door.

"We will hold them off." T'Challa said motioning to his guard.

"Wanda," Steve spoke up, looking at the young woman, "As soon as the stone's out of his head, you blow it to hell."

Wanda nodded with promise, "I will."

Steve turned his attention back to the window, watching the space ships which at the moment were doing nothing. T'Challa meanwhile, turned to his General and her warriors and began barking orders, "Evacuate the city. Engage all defences."

Steve turned to look at him as the king pointed in his directing before adding firmly. "And get this man a shield!"

Steve gave a small nod before he glanced back out of the window. For 2 years his fighting days had been focussed on simple people. Small groups of nobodies. Now, they were being thrown back into the crazy world of Aliens, AIs…and he knew they were going to look to him for leadership.

He might not be Captain America anymore, but he was still Captain Rogers, still that dumb kid from Brooklyn. And he still wasn’t going to run from a fight. 

 Tags

@the-omni-princess

@momobaby227

@geekofmanythings16

@angelofhell-666

@thewackywriter

@marvelfansworld​

@cobalt-gear

@asgardlover75​

@jennmurawski13​

@jtargaryen18​

[everestv-themuse]

the wheel of fortune: optimism, success, luck;

“We did it! I can’t believe it!”

possible AUs/settings/ideas: genie au, chance/fated meeting

Thanks for the prompts! I definitely didn’t plan on this getting so far away from me, but it was so fun to write! Here’s an alternate, chance first meeting (before the Conclave/Inquisition) for Shaelin Cadash x Sera with special guest nonbinary BFF Lantos for @apostatetabris @alxxiis @alxxiiswrites​ @dadrunkwriting​

“In and out,” Lantos whispers the promise for the umpteenth time that night. Shaelin just rolls her eyes and continues working at the locked door. “We go in, get the—”

“You mean you go in. Someone has to keep watch,”

“Oh, uh, sure, good point.” Lantos admits, continuing to pick at their warhammer’s grip absently as their eyes dart up and down the hallway. “I’ll go in, get the cut, we get out, we’re big fucking heroes and that asshole gets stiffed. Just like he deserves.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I agreed to,” Shaelin says with a released breath as the lock clicks open. She puts away her tools and steps aside with a nod to the other dwarf. “Your turn, partner.”

“Right, um,” Lantos stares at the door slightly ajar. “Yeah. My turn. No problem. Totally fine. Super easy.”

“Lan, this was your idea. But if you’d really rather get out of here now and just—”

“No, no, I’m going, I’m going, shut up.” The warrior gives the door one last look over and steps inside.

“Fucking soft,” Shaelin mutters under her breath as she leans against the wall to keep an eye on the hallway. She shivers, though, at the expanse of it. For such a rich noble, the asshole’s castle was dark and cold, void of any life or warmth. She had been surprised to notice no real furnishings besides stiff statues of armor and the occasional Fereldan banner. There weren’t even paintings or fancy vases or whatever else rich people liked to collect, just empty walls and spotless floors and—

She shivers again. There’s that feeling again. Like she’s being watched. She slips into stealth on instinct but stands her ground, feeling the shadows wrap around her to the point of functional invisibility. Silently, she unsheathes her daggers and crouches in a ready position.

“Lantos, you idiot, this would be a really good time to—” Her mumbled plea cuts off at the sound of a crash behind her and then a very familiar, hissing curse.

“Fuck it! Lin, run!” Her partner yells one second and the next second, they’re zooming past her and tossing a comically large gemstone over their shoulder at her. She barely manages to juggle it and her daggers in hand before racing after them.

“What the fuck did you do?! What did we say about ‘in and out’?!”

“Listen!” Lantos growls as the two sprint down the dimly lit corridor, hearing the shouts of pursuing guards close on their heels. “I got in and now we’re getting out. How was I supposed to know the guy hired security?! You did catch the cut, though, right?”

“Yeah, shit, barely!” Shaelin shouts back, really wishing there were fancy vases around to topple in their wake and slow their pursuers. “What, you can’t hold it?!”

“I’m a two-handed warrior, Lin! My hammer’s enough to run with!”

“And you didn’t think to bring a pouch to carry the cut in?!”

“No, okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I fucked everything—”

Something whizzes past Shaelin’s ear and she barely has time to flinch. Then there’s a thunk, a clatter of armor, and she glances back in time to see one guard with an arrow through his helmet topple to the ground and take two of his cohorts down with him.

Shaelin shivers.

And then someone grabs the two dwarves and jerks them around the corner, throwing them both against the far wall. Lantos wheezes and Shaelin covers their mouth with a slap, staring at their sudden rescuer and then at the remaining guards racing past their hiding spot. The three wait for another silent moment, listening for the sound of thundering footfalls of guards none the wiser in the distance.

“Hey. Thanks,” Lantos pants after Shaelin removes her hand. “That was too close. Where, uh...where did you come from?”

The stranger whips around, bow in one hand and dagger in the other, moving to press the blade against Lantos’ neck before Shaelin could react, all while staring her down. “You. You’re gonna put that gem back, got it? That, or your friend gets a slower death than that guard back there.”

“Wh-what the fuck?!” Lantos splutters, dropping their hammer with a clang. “Who’s side are you on?!”

Shaelin’s gaze holds steady and so does the stranger’s, eyes hard and steel grey behind the bandana she wears to hide her face. But it’s not enough to cover her ears. An elf. A damn quick one too.

“I’m not bluffing, redhead! Get walking!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lantos interjects. “What exactly do you want here? Because you obviously don’t work for the rich asshole of this place and let’s all be honest here, we stole that gem fair and square.”

“Fair and square?! I’ve been casing this place for weeks! And then you two burst in and my whole plan goes to shite, that’s what’s square!”

“Your plan?! Well listen, lady, first come, first serve, alright?” Lantos hisses back and Shaelin is suddenly tempted to just let them both at each other’s throats. Leave it to her best friend to argue with the very person holding a knife to their neck. “And it’s not like we picked the guy clean! There’s plenty of other shit for you to steal, believe me!”

“That’s not the point!” The stranger huffs, as if exasperated by the obvious stupidity. “You steal that, the asshole’s most prized shiny thing, and it won’t just be the guards who get their pay docked. He’ll take it out on his servants too! You get away with your big score and the little people left behind get treated like dirt, even more than they were before.”

“Yeah? I can see why that’s not my problem, so why’s it yours?”

“Because they came to me to fix this for them!”

“How? They paying you to kill him?”

“Don’t have to pay for that,”

“Oh, how noble of you!”

“Right, coming from the petty thief,”

“You were going to murder a guy!”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Shaelin’s eyes flash a warning to Lantos before turning back to their captor. “Look. We don’t even want the gem. We were going to sell it. But more importantly, I can already hear the guards circling back.”

“You can?” Lantos’ eyes widen and as the three fall to silence, the unmistakable clangs of approaching armor could be heard. “Oh shit...”

“Exactly. So,” Shaelin slowly sheathes her daggers but keeps the gem firmly in hand. The stranger watches in hesitant silence. “You clearly know your way around the place. I hold onto this while you lead us out of here. Then, you can take it, sell it, and give the money to those little friends of yours for their trouble. Everyone gets out of here alive but the asshole is still out one shiny thing.”

“You...you don’t even want a cut of the profits?”

“We don’t really need the money. Apparently, we just couldn’t stand hearing the story of how the guy won it at an auction for the millionth time. I guess it’s about the principle of the thing?”

“It is!” Lantos pipes up. “The cut is clearly Dwarven craftsmanship and the guy flaunts it in our face every single time we come to drop off a lyrium delivery. It’s insensitive and cruel when you think about it.”

“Whatever. Fine.” The stranger drops her blade and shoves Lantos toward Shaelin. “I’ll agree to your stupid plan, but only if your friend shuts up the whole way.”

“Deal.”

“Whoa, hey, I don’t get a say in this?!”

The stranger slinks off down the hall and Shaelin follows with a roll of her eyes. “It isn’t up for debate. That was the deal. She’s leading us through certain death right now, so whatever the mystery lady says, goes.”

“Pfft. Mystery lady?”

Shaelin turns away from Lantos’ pouting to meet the gaze of the woman in front of her, eyes meeting a much softer grey this time, more playful. “Well I didn’t get a name, did I?”

The woman arches an eyebrow before blending into the shadows like it’s second nature, leading the way through an empty bedchamber and out again through a servants’ door. “Didn’t hear you asking,”

“I’m asking now,” Shaelin says in a hush, crouching at her side as they wait for a patrol to pass by before continuing down the hall. “I’m Shaelin, my friend is Lantos. I don’t normally throw the name Cadash around, but maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Carta, yeah. Your uniforms gave you away the second I saw you picking the lock.”

“Knew there was someone watching,” Shaelin chuckles softly. “I’m impressed it took me so long to notice you, I’m usually better about these things.”

“I’m impressed you were bullheaded enough to steal from your employer,”

“Buyer,” Shaelin corrects. “And it wasn’t my plan. Can’t stress that enough.”

“Right.” The woman’s lilt gives way and Shaelin can hear a smile in her voice. Her chest tightens and it feels like a victory, even if she’s not sure why. Lantos gives her a shoulder nudge and she realizes she’s falling behind, staring too intently at the way the woman’s eyebrows furrow and her ears flick towards her voice, anything that would betray the emotion hidden behind a red bandana.

“Still,” Shaelin speaks up once she matches pace with the woman again, making their way outside and into a small courtyard. “You didn’t answer my question. Can’t call you mystery lady forever.”

The woman glances back at her and it’s a guess, but Shaelin could swear there’s a smirk in her eyes. “How about Red Jenny then?”

“Red...I should’ve known,” Shaelin shakes her head as she watches the woman rifle through a nearby bush before revealing a coil of rope. “Red Jenny is a hydra, that’s hardly an answer.”

“You’ve heard of us then?” The woman certainly sounds surprised, but she doesn’t pause. She throws the lassoed rope up over the hanging roof of the courtyard and pulls it taut when it finds purchase.

“The Carta has to know about all the players in the game,” Shaelin answers as she watches the woman scramble up the rope to the roof and then lean over the edge to wait, eyes alight but silent. Finally out of the shadows and in the open, moonlight glints through the woman’s hair and the pale gold of the strands freezes Shaelin to the spot as she stares. Lantos gives her another nudge and she splutters out a cough. “Is that really the only answer I’m gonna get, Red Jenny?”

The woman laughs and Shaelin can’t climb the rope fast enough just to be close enough to truly witness it. In her rush, she almost slips on the shingles, but a nimble arm reaches out to grab and steady her. It’s the closest she’s been to the woman, as she’s caught staring into silver eyes, and then a hand reaches up to pull the bandana down to hang from a slim neck.

Shaelin shivers.

There’s no need to guess now, she’s definitely wearing a smirk as she answers, “For now,”

[enter-remiges]

Me: I shall write a small idfic! 

Also me: *accidentally writes 1.8k* 

Anyway, here’s Kris/Flower at a wedding (not their own) + dancing in the rain, enjoy!

Kris' rental breaks down on the side of the road four hours into his trip to the lake house. It's not a big deal—someone's going to tow it, and he's got a car coming to take him to whatever the nearest hotel is. He's not on a schedule, since it's the beginning of summer, but it's just… aggravating. He wishes he had someone around to commiserate with, but everyone he knows in this area is either traveling or training or… wait. 

hey, whats your gate code, he texts Flower. He's pretty sure today is the wedding Flower had been telling him about, one of his cousins or something like that, but it shouldn't be too far to the house he has up here. Flower won't mind him crashing for a while, and Kris doesn't need to be at the lake today, anyway. He'd been planning on stopping to see Flower on his way back, but he's flexible. 

He's just rounding up his stuff when his phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see Flower's calling him. 

"Hey," he answers, surprised. "Sorry, I thought you were at that wedding today?" 

"I am," Flower says, his voice slightly muffled. "What's up?" 

"My rental broke down, I thought I'd hang at your place for a bit. But if you're busy—"

"No, where are you?" Flower interrupts. "The wedding's not that far from my house." 

"Outside of Tamville?" Kris tries. He remembers the town sign, a hideous monstrosity of red and gold, but that's about it. "Tadville? Something like that. But you don't need to come get me, I've got a car coming." 

"No, I'll get you," Flower says. It sounds like someone is yelling in the background. "Near Tamville, you said?" 

"Yeah, just past town, but—" Kris says, only to be greeted by the dead air of a disconnected line. "But of course I expect you to drop everything, including your cousin's wedding when I call, that's obviously how I was going to finish that sentence," he mutters. "Obviously.

He cancels the car and goes to sit on the trunk and wait for Flower, because while it's not that sunny out it is still hot. He'll take the chance of a breeze over sitting in the heat of a car without air conditioning any day. Flower pulls up maybe twenty minutes later and doesn't even get out, just waves. Kris hops off the trunk and makes sure he has his keys and wallet. He throws his bags in the backseat, then gets in. 

"I didn't mean you had to abandon your cousin's wedding and come get me," is the first thing out of his mouth. 

"You're welcome," Flower says, rolling his eyes like Kris is the one behaving strangely. "Seatbelt. And the wedding didn't." 

Kris squints at him, fastening his seatbelt. "Didn't what?" 

"It didn't go," Flower clarifies, putting the car in drive. "At least, I'm pretty sure it didn't. I guess we'll see when we get back." 

Kris watches the scenery speed past outside the window in a green-brown blur, and out of all the questions flooding through his mind, what comes out is, "We?"

Flower's cousin's wedding—and Kris really should have asked what her name is, because now it's just embarrassing—is an outdoors affair, featuring a picturesque red barn, rows of white folding chairs, and an aisle scattered with rose petals. There's a huge sycamore tree to the left that must be great for pictures, as well as catered food under tents and a dirt space that's obviously intended to be a dance floor, judging by the live band. 

There's also a veil lying on the ground near the front. Some of the chairs are overturned. The cake has a chunk out of it, like someone grabbed a handful and threw it at someone else. The bride at the groom, Kris learns from a friend of a cousin of a cousin of the bride. 

"It hit him square on," she enthuses, apparently unconcerned with this turn of events. "Like, pwoosh." Her hands form an explosion of icing and cake, and Kris nods along while trying to keep a straight face. Flower, the asshole, has no such compunctions. He's laughing silently behind her, and seems to share her blasé attitude toward the whole thing. 

"Excuse me," Kris says, as politely as he can. "I just need to…" 

"Oh, of course," the woman says, patting him on the arm. She's apparently as unconcerned with his shorts and t-shirt combo as she is with the lack of vows being exchanged. "The drinks are in that tent, if you want some," she continues, voice conspiratorially low. "I think the bride and groom took some bottles when they left, but there's still some good stuff." Then she winks. 

This is officially the strangest wedding Kris has ever been to. 

"Thanks," he tells her, then heads toward the tent she'd pointed out to see what's still on offer. Flower's disappeared somewhere among the milling guests who are taking advantage of the reception-but-not, but Kris finds him without much trouble. He's sitting at a round table in the tent that dinner would have been served in. The mangled cake lists at the front next to warming pans and baskets of rolls. 

"So," Kris says mildly, hooking a food around a chair and spinning it around before sitting down. "Care to tell me just what the fuck is going on here?" 

Flower rolls his eyes. "Ruth—" and that must be the cousin's name, thank god Kris hadn't led with Priscilla, that had been his first guess, "—and Harry are just like that. Tumultuous, I guess you could say." 

Kris thinks of the chunk taken out of that cake, and barely refrains from snorting his purloined beer out his nose. "You don't say." 

"This is the second wedding I've been invited to for them," Flower confesses. "Not counting the first time they got married, which I wasn't there for."

"They've been married before?" Kris asks. "To each other? And they want to get married again?" 

Flower shrugs. "They're probably eloping right now, if I had to guess. I think they like the drama of it all, don't ask me."  

"Wow," Kris says, leaning back. "I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but your extended family is wild." 

Flower nods, looking unperturbed. "You get used to it." 

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, Kris occasionally stealing macarons off Flower's plate and getting halfheartedly smacked for his troubles, until he hears a trumpet play a riff. A guitar joins in soon after, though it sounds like they have a bit of a disagreement over what song they should be playing before they get it straightened out. 

"Dance?" Flower asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kris nods definitively. "Dance." 

The band sounds like they'd taken the opportunity to start drinking, but the music is still passable. A couple of other people are on the square of dirt as well, the women kicking off their heels and the men loosening their ties. There's an elderly couple swing dancing, two women in matching green dresses and ivory hair. They look like they're having a great time, orbiting each other as various other guests clap. 

"We're not doing that," Kris says, nodding his chin at where the women have finished their song and are bowing to the crowd they've attracted before they start swaying together, arms around each other, even though the next song isn't a slow one.

"Are you sure?" Flower asks, grinning at him. "I've got some moves." 

Kris laughs in his face. "I've seen your moves, you've got no secrets left from me." 

"Oh yeah?" Flower challenges. "Show me how it's done then," and Kris is helpless to turn down a dare like that. They dance their way across the square, trying to one-up each other while at the same time avoiding running into the other dancers. There's a group of teens who must be double-jointed to pull off some of their moves, and Kris only briefly thinks about trying to imitate them. Very briefly. 

A couple of songs pass, and he and Flower settle into a rhythm. The sky is turning dark faster than the approaching dusk should warrant, and Kris looks up at the clouds rolling in. It doesn't take long before it starts to sprinkle, and the other guests start for the cover of the food tents.  

"You said they'd been married before, when you weren't there?" Kris asks making no move to follow them, and Flower nods. "Are you sure it's not you? Because from what you've told me, the only common factor in them not being able to get married at their own wedding is you. You're bad luck." 

"Shut the fuck up," Flower laughs as the rain turns from a sprinkle to actual drops. "And I left to get you, didn't I? If your hypothesis was right, they should have tied the knot while I was picking your sorry ass up." 

"Ah, but you were still here," Kris points out. "The damage had already been done." 

They bicker back and forth for a bit until the rain gets harder and the music cuts out, one instrument at a time.

"Never would have made it on the Titanic," Kris says, watching the band scurry for cover. 

"Do you want to show them how it's done?" Flower asks, and when Kris turns he's right there, bright eyes and mischievous smile, bending the world to his will through the force of his personality. Kris is getting soaked, and the wind is picking up, his socks are going to start squelching pretty soon. He doesn't even think about saying no. 

"Mr. Fleury," Kris says, mock-bowing. 

"Mr. Letang." Flower holds out his arm, and Kris can't even muster up much of a glare at being left to follow instead of lead. Flower doesn't even count them down before his hand on Kris' waist is guiding him into a spin.

Flower's dress shoes slip in the mud, and Kris' shirt is sticking to his back, and together they fumble their way through a franken-waltz that would make a dancer cry. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the white of Flower's teeth flash in the dim light as he grins. Kris runs his hand up to cup the back of his neck, Flower's skin damp against his palm.

"Come on, you have a house around here somewhere, don't you?" he asks, leaning in closer than he needs to be heard. He's rewarded by the swell of Flower's adam's apple dipping as he swallows. 

"I think something can be arranged," Flower murmurs. Above them, the sky flickers with lightning, distant but moving closer. 

"Well then," Kris says, leaning back and trailing a hand down the damp fabric of Flower's button-up. He thinks he can see a hint of nipple through the sheer material.. "Lead on. You're driving."  

The cake is soaked, but they take a bottle of champagne for the road.

[jayjay1665]

Where Would You Go?

Written for @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale​  writing challenge. Day #18 Thunderstorms.

Summary:  Young Violet comforts Brody during a thunderstorm

Word Count: 1081

A03

Wattpad

~

11-year- old Brody sat one her bed, huddled into a corner of her room. With her hands pressed firmly against her ears, she did all she could to block out the deafening boom of thunder.

Her blue eyes were squeezed shut so she wouldn’t have to see the blinding flash of lighting that followed shortly after its loud companion.

She hated thunderstorms.

Why did they have to be so loud? Why did they have to make such a mess? Why did this storm have to happen at such a late hour?

 BOOM! CRASH!

“AHHH!” Brody quickly covered her mouth just as the piercing scream left her lips. She prayed no one heard, but she knew someone must have.

Tears began to cloud her vision. She clutched her stuffed bunny closer to her. Holding it usually made her feel better. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and rested her head on them as she sniffled softly.

The sound of her doorknob jingling soon caught her attention. The door opened to reveal 12-year-old Violet dressed in an oversized T-shirt and mint green shorts with a sleepy and slightly annoyed look on her face.

She tried to rub some of the sleepiness out of her eye before talking.

“What’s with all the noise, Brody? It’s hard enough trying to sleep with the thunder. I don’t need you screaming like psycho on top of that.” Violet questioned as she leaned against the door frame.

Brody felt her cheeks heat up. “Oh…I…I’m sorry, Vi…I just- “she was interrupted as another burst of thunder boomed sounded from the sky.

“AHH!” Brody screamed once again as she covered her head with her pillow.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Your actually scared of the storm? C’mon, Brody, you can’t be seri-.”

The faint sound of Brody whimpering cut her off.

 “Wow,” Violet thought as she stared at the quivering lump of blankets, “She’s actually scared.” She pushed herself off of the doorframe with a sigh and made her way over to Brody’s bed. She sat down in the edge and stared down at the sheets a moment before speaking.

“It’s ok, Brody. There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just noise. It can’t hurt you.” She explained.

“I-I know,” Brody stuttered in a quivering voice, “It’s j-just so loud…usually during storms, m-my Ma or Pa would sit with me…” she clutched her bunny closer. “But kn-know I’m here…a-and they’re not…and wh-who knows when I’ll ever see ‘em again...” she struggled to speak through the coming onslaught of tears.

Violet’s eyes slightly widened in understanding.

“So, it’s not just the storm.” She thought.

Violet awkwardly scratched the back of her neck as Brody continued to cry and. She wasn’t all that good in situations like this…but she couldn’t just leave her like this…

She hesitantly reached out and gently rubbed Brody’s back in what she hoped was a soothing motion.

“It’s alright, Brody. It’s gone be ok. The storm will stop soon, and then the sun’ll come out…and then you’ll be able to see the sun again.”

Brody sniffled and slightly raised her pillow off of her head.

“And when the sun comes out…” Violet racked her brain for something to think about.

“We…we uh, could go to the beach.”

Brody wiped her eyes with her polka dot pajama sleeves and propped herself up on her elbows. “The beach?”

“Yeah…yeah, the beach.”

A soft smile grew on Brody’s lips. “I like the beach.”

“Yeah? What do you like about it?” Violet asked, figuring that it would be best to keep Brody’s mind off of the storm.

“Well, the sun always feels good. And, the water’s always the perfect temperature...”

Another book of thunder roared through the sky. Brody flinched slightly, but continued.

“And... oh! You can build sandcastles! I always used to do that together. I would always forget not to build too close to the water and a wave would come by and nearly knock the whole thing down.” She giggled. “But I wouldn’t mind startin’ over.”

Violet smiled as she nodded her head.

Brody sighed. “I really do like travelin’. I’ve lived in this town forever, and I’d really like to see something new every once in a while.”

“Yeah, me too.” Violet agreed as she directed her gaze out the window.

Brody sat up and crawled to the other side of the bed so she could sit next to Violet. They both sat in silence for a bit, the only noise to be heard was the pitter latter of rain since the thunderstorm outside had diminished to a typical rainfall.

“Where would you go?” Brody asked after a while.

Violet tilted her head up to the ceiling.

“Uhh...I don’t really know. To be honest, anywhere sounds better than this boring, dumb town.”

Brody nodded in agreement. She puckered her lips as she thought of a something Violet might enjoy.

After some thinking, she came up with an idea. “Oh! I know!” She said. Violet tore her gaze off of the ceiling to look over a Brody.

“What if we went on a road trip together?”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “A road trip?” She asked.

“Yeah, just think about it.” She lifted her arm out in front of her as she began to envision. “The wide-open road, a comfy car big enough to hold us and our friends- “

“None of is can drive.” Violet deadpanned with a smirk.

“Well yeah, but we’d be able to in a couple of years.” Brody argued as she nudged her on the shoulder.

Violet rolled her eyes once again, but this time with a smile.

“Anyway, we’d be singing along to songs on the radio and munchin’ on our favorite snakes as we travel to our first destination…” she gestured at Violet, wanting her to pick.

“Uhh…The...Grand Canyon?” Violet shrugged as she picked the first place that came to her mind.

“The Grand Canyon!” Brody exclaimed as she through her hands in the air. “Doesn’t that sound like fun? What’dya  say Vi? Would ya join?” Brody asked, a sparkle in her eye.

Violet snorted a laugh. “Yeah sure, I guess. As long as I get to pick the songs we listen to.”

Brody giggled. “Alright, fine. It’s a deal.” She offered her hand out for Violet to shake to which the blond-haired girl returned. As the two continued to discuss their plans late into the night, the storm clouds parted allowing the moon and stars to finally became visible overhead.

[a-literate-snail]

Chapter One

It was a dark and stormy night. It sounds cliché, I know, but it simply couldn't be helped. It was night, for one, so "dark" was rather the norm. As for "stormy," well, a cold front hit a warm front or something. I don't know, I'm a narrator, not a weatherman. Weatherperson. A- oh, what do you call it- a meteorologist. It was raining something awful, is what I'm trying to say.

Anyway. It was a dark and stormy night. Clio rather liked dark and stormy nights. She was thirteen, and while she had half a mind to be self-conscious about a great many things, clichés were not yet among their numbers. Someday she'd be a proper creative writing major and avoid clichés like the plague, and the word "said," to boot, but today was not that day. Or, tonight, rather. Thunder rumbled threateningly, and lightning split the sky. Clio appreciated the drama of it. It was the sort of night that resulted in clutched pearls and whodunnit mysteries. Clio didn't have any pearls, being a thirteen-year-old and a begrudging participant in the twenty-first century, but she had a locket that would have to do the trick. Her father's new wife, whom Clio liked more than she'd intended, had given it to her, and Clio found the oval pendant rather elegant. It contained a picture of her stepmom smiling at something off to the left, in the direction of the locket's flat, hinged edge. Clio turned it over in her palm absently.

Thunder cracked suddenly, and by the flash that followed Clio could be seen clutching her necklace in shock, or an approximation of it. She was of the sort that longed in secret for an adventure. If someone were to be murdered tonight, she could hardly complain (save the token protestations of a distressed heroine). She considered thoughtfully the character she'd most like to portray. The gumshoe detective was awfully exciting, but had minimal pearl-clutching opportunities; the damsel in distress was far more dramatic, but she had to be, Clio reflected, as she was terribly boring besides. The femme fatal was far more interesting, but Clio wasn't sure she had it in her. Deceit was never a strong suit of hers, not like stories were. Different sorts of non-truths, she reasoned. She couldn't put a finger on why, though she'd later suppose it was for the same reason she and her father didn't always agree on what constituted a joke. It would make family dinners somewhat tense when she was older.

"Well, I think it's high time we cut the cake!" Speak of the devil. The mention of cake snapped Clio from her reveries. "I know Clio will want some cake. Big eater, for a girl her age," he chuckled. Remember the jokes I was talking about? Yeah. Clio's face burned, but she would not let him get the better of her. She pressed her fingers together in a steeple, something she'd heard gave an air of authority, and forced unflinching eye contact with her father.

"Dibs on the first slice!" She smiled, eyes cold.

So, perhaps family dinners were tense already.

Dinner parties like these were even worse. Her father's work associates (not friends, never friends) tugged at their stiff collars and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One man, she noticed with marked satisfaction, steepled his fingers in an envious mimicry of Clio's. Her smile grew a touch more genuine, though she didn't allow her eyes to soften. The power dynamic was ever-so-slightly off. It wasn't a big shift, just one joke falling flat, really, but with that flat the universe went just out of tune. Clio's father shrugged, touching the tip of the knife to the cake.

Then all was dark.

When the universe goes out of tune, a great many things may happen. The grass can go a funny shade of green, for example. One might discover that the guillotine was used in France as recently as 1977, which has no business being true. Or the power may go out, creating an opportunity for someone of nefarious intentions to become someone of nefarious actions.

Thunder crashed, a beat passed, and the lights came up again. Clio clutched her locket for good measure.

"Oh my god,"

"What happened?"

"I'll go get some bandages,"

It's strange, the way tragedy exposes people.

"Someone call 911!"

"Are you okay?"

"What's happening?"

Sitting at that austere dining room table moments before, you would have seen eight slimy businessmen and a child.

"Oh my god!"

"Somebody call 911!"

"I'm calling 911, I'm calling 911!"

Sitting at that dining table after the lights came back up, you would have seen nine human beings.

"Are you alright? No, no, of course not, sorry,"

"Hello, yes, my fr- my associate, he's-"

"Oh my god! "

They were a little rusty, some of them. They hadn't been human beings in quite some time, save Clio, and tension mounted as the room fell into chaos,

"What the hell is happening?"

and,

"My colleague, rather, he's- god! A man's been shot! He's been shot,"

and,

"What happened to the gun?"

Sirens. Strangers. Talking, so much talking. Everyone talked to each other, and then to the police, and then to each other again. Clio felt very small, and very tired.

Eventually, finally, she was alone. And she felt so alone, but solitude was all she could stand. She dragged herself to bed, and she did not sleep.

Chapter 1/?

[truthofherdreams]

home, love, family

my darlings @emmabeauchamp and @nightspires are celebrating their birthdays tomorrow and the day after, and I love them very much. to the point of writing them smut about our current obsession :D (ao3)

“Where to?” he asks her once they have traded her gown and crown for something less ostentatious, his purse full of coins. She looks more like herself in a simple, brown dress and black coat, her hair braided, her face plain. She looks more like herself when she grins, and raises on her tiptoes to kiss him, and tells him she wants to see Rome.

They stop in Lyon first, after a journey in train that has nothing to do like the first one. Her French is perfect, coming back to her faster than the memories do, and she teaches him, one day at a time. She smiles at his harsh accent and laughs every time he forgets the articles in front of the nouns, and speaks for him in restaurants and hotels until his vocabulary is good enough for him to order some croissants in a small bakery.

They rent a room in the Vieux Lyon, the streets so tiny and the building so tall it makes Dmitry’s head spin. He doesn’t do well with staying indoors for too long, but there is something to be said about a hot bath and a comfortable bed. He could get used to it, which means he will soon have to find a good job to afford it. Soon, but not yet, enjoying this little adventure of theirs as long as it lasts.

It is one such day, Dmitry waking up when the sun is high in the sky after a night of fine dining and kissing and walking along the riverbank, when he finds Anya sitting on the window sill, silent and wrapped in a blanket. She barely reacts when he comes behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, doesn’t lean against him the way she usually does. Instead, she remains quiet and unmoving, even when he kisses the side of her head.

“What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer. Not at first, hugging herself more tightly, sighing a little when he holds her closer. He gives her time, knows better than to push her by now. She will either snap at him or retract further back into her mind, and neither of those options are good.

Outside the window, a woman is hanging her laundry on a rope between the building, the white sheets waving in the wind. A man loudly sells fruits and vegetables in a shop around the corner, and a dog barks after a laughing child. Such a sharp difference with the streets of Russia, with people walking fast and minding their own business, head in their shoulders every time a soldier passes by.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” Anya asks at last, her voice so small he wouldn’t hear it but for how close they are.

And, yes, here it is at last. He had been dreading this moment ever since she found him on the Pont Alexandre III, every since she kissed him and took his hand. How could she not regret her choice, when he’s but a lowlife criminal with no job, no future, nothing to offer? How could she agree to run away with him, when she could have chosen the lavishing life of a duchess, the fancy hotels and expensive operas and the time spent with her Grandmama? He’s been fearing this moment for a week now, but still the weight in his stomach, the tight hold around his heart, hurt more than he expected.

“It is not for me to decide,” he replies, his voice stiff, his words careful.

She tenses at his words, or tone, or both. Which, he realises, is exactly the reaction he expected of her. Especially with the way she turns around in his embrace -- now looser -- and stares at him, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. Yes, let her be mad at him for it. It is so much easier that way, more familiar. Let her have her go at him, instead of that soft, broken act she has going on.

“Dima…” she starts, way too gentle for his liking. Her eyes are big, the compassion in them verging on the edge of pity, and that is what gets to him, ultimately. He doesn’t need her pity; he’s not her charity case, never has been, and the bitter taste on his mouth is enough to keep him going.

“That’s fine,” he replies in a voice that makes it obvious it is everything but. “I was waiting for it to happen.”

He lets go of her, ignores the hurt flashing in her eyes, before he turns around. Their room is so big and luxurious it has its own living room space to the side, and he walks toward it, stops a few feet away from the couch. This is all too much, the money and the expensive life and the everything. All too much, and he feels like his body isn’t fitting him anymore, not comfortable in his own skin. Like he’s been playing pretend for too long, and the second shoe finally decided to drop. Painfully.

She will break your heart, Vlad had warned him once, and Dmitry had been too naive to listen. How he wished he had, now.

“What do you mean?” Anya demands, in this ‘I don’t like to be contradicted’ spoiled princess voice of hers. Which, all things considered, might be the worse tone to use in such a situation, because everything in Dmitry screams for him to rebel against this voice. And he does.

“Don’t think me more stupid than I am, Nastya!” The nickname cracking in the air like a whip.

“Do not call me that!” She finally stands up, walking toward him with fury in her steps. No, not toward him, he realises. Toward the coffee table right next to him, so she can step on it and look down at him, hands on her hips. Her eyes are hard, her jaw set.

Dimitry had missed this, in some sick and twisted way. He’d missed how easily he can antagonise her, how fast it is for her to get upset. He’d missed this particular fire in her eyes, like she could strangle him this very minute and yell in frustration while she’s at it. There’s something to be said about looking death in the eye and living to tell the tale.

“Isn’t it your name?” he asks with a sneer. “Or would you like me to call you Your Highness, instead?”

“I would like you to stop being an idiot.”

“Why?” he challenges. Always challenges her, in everything she does, since the very beginning. “So you can let me down more gently? So I can make it easy for you?”

Her chest puffs, her cheeks turning crimson, and for a moment Dmitry wonders if she will slap him. It’s a miracle she doesn’t, maybe. “And why,” she replies, her voice colder than a Russian winter, “would I do that?”

The sarcastic chuckle falls out of his lips before Dmitry can even think of swallowing it down. One hand running through his hair, he turns his back to her, refusing to look in her eyes any longer. Refusing to see a new wave of pity while he lays it all out for her, throws his insecurities and fears at her. “Why wouldn’t you? You could live as a queen in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, have all the gentlemen swooning over you while you’re having tea with your Grandmama and have the perfect life any orphan dreams of. Get a pick of the best dresses, best museums and shows and fine dining. Be with the woman who loves you more than anything in the world. So tell me why, exactly, you’re following a lowlife thief all over Europe, if you regret your parisian life so much.”

“Because I love you, you big oaf!”

He stills.

Hand in his hair and breath in his throat, he stills.

Slowly, painfully, he turns around to face her again. She remains standing on the coffee table, hands on her hips and anger in her eyes as she keeps glaring down at him. Dmitry blinks at her, once, twice, the confusion written all over his face.

She sighs, and throws her arms up in the air. “Oh don’t act so surprise. It’s not like you didn’t know.”

For the first time in his life, Dmitry is speechless. Maybe if the situation were different, he would ponder on how uncomfortable that is but, as of right now, he can focus on little more than the way his heart is thundering against his ribcage. Royal mess, she had called herself once. Now more than ever, Dmitry understand the feeling.

Silence lingers just long enough for Anya to falter. “You didn’t know.”

He takes a hesitant step toward her, then another, until he’s standing right in front of her. She’s barely taller than he is, standing on this coffee table, but just enough for him to tilt his head up if he wants to meet her eyes. Just the perfect height for her to run her hands through his hair and lean into his personal space until their breaths mingle and he can see nothing but the grey of her eyes.

“Say that again,” he asks her, almost ashamed of the vulnerability he can hear in his own voice. She’s always been his weakness, from the moment they met. She will be his downfall too, someday.

“Dima… Of course I love you.”

She presses her forehead against his, and Dmitry closes his eyes. He forces himself to take a deep breath, if only to keep the tears at bay -- they are prickling behind his eyelids, but he refuses to shed them, and it turns into a shuddering sigh. It doesn’t help that he has to swallow around the knot in his throat, too.

“Princesses don’t fall in love with con men,” he says, and doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince.

“But orphans fall in love with each other all the time.”

One breath, one beat, before his lips crash against hers. Her gasp is muffled by his mouth as he grabs her hair, wraps one arm around her waist, and pulls her against him. She is still warm from the blanket she had put around her shoulders, soft and delicate in his arms. A sigh escapes her as she deepens the kiss, and all Dmitry thinks is she loves you, she loves you, she loves you.

He was a gone man long before he knew her real identity. Somewhere between Germany and France, after long hours of travelling that left them all sore and grumpy and starving, he’d looked at her and the initial bitterness was gone. And then there had been the opera, and the dress he had picked for her. Lily wanted something pink and frilly, but he knew Anya. He knew she would like the deep blue of a Russian night, the softness of the fabric around her legs. He knew her, and the realisation that he was losing her was too painful to cope.

But here she is now, loving him back and putting her hands on his shoulders to jump in his embrace. He laughs when her legs come to circle his hips, the sound amused and broken all at once when he remembers she wears nothing but her thin nightgown, the fabric of it bundled at her waist now.

“Take me back to bed,” she asks. Demands.

Although he’s always been one to say no to her -- a little too easily, perhaps -- this is one thing he can’t deny her. Not when her body melts against his, not when she dropping hot, searing kisses against his nose and cheek, not when his heart is so full it could burst. So he walks the short distance separating them to the bed, and unceremoniously drops her on the mattress. She bounces, and laughs, and opens her legs when he comes to lie on top her her.

Her hair is like a golden halo around her face, shining in the late morning sun, and Dmitry finds himself grinning like a fool at the glorious sight. She smiles too, and brushes a thumb against his cheek, where the stupid dimple is. He’s never had set feelings about this feature of his, but Anya seems to love it and so does he now.

He kisses her again, more purpose and determination in the gesture this time. Her cold fingers reach the hem of his undershirt, tugging at it and making him hiss when they brush against his stomach. Still he leans back just long enough for Anya to pull the piece of clothing above his head, then kisses her again. Her hands settle on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin until they leave half-crescent marks. His are feverish, willing to touch and caress every inch of her body. He pulls on her legs until they cage his hips, grabs her waist, brushes against her hair, explores her sides. Always eager to explore, always afraid to let go.

“Dima,” she moans when his lips close on the pulsing point on her neck, her voice begging and broken. It stirs something new in him, has his hips stuttering against her until she gasps loudly.

When he leans back on his forearms, it’s to look at her in the eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips reddened by kisses, but it is the softness in her gaze that gets to him. That and the way she caresses his cheek, so gentle, so caring.

“I never thought you would choose me. Not even in my wildest dreams,” he admits in a whisper, as if afraid saying it louder would make him even more vulnerable than he already feels. “You would stay with her and…”

“Dima,” she says again, and pulls on his hair, makes him hiss with pain. “I really don’t want to talk about Nana right now.”

Her other hand travels down his back, settles even lower, and Dmitry finds that he very much doesn’t want to have that kind of conversation right now, either. So instead he kisses her again, kisses the smile away from her lips until he leaves her breathless and panting. Then his mouth travels down, sucking at her jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling her collarbone. He will never get tired of marking her with bruises, of the rush of adrenaline when his eyes find the purple shade of her skin. Anya isn’t an animal to be tamed, will never belong to anyone, but there is something to be said about claiming her body as his. This part of her nobody, ever, will see but him. This part of her only for him to enjoy.

The nightgown soon becomes a pile of fabric on the floor, the flush on her face blossoming to her neck and chest. She arches her back, as if offering her body to him, and Dmitry isn’t one to deny such a gift. He grabs her hips and kisses her breasts, her stomach, her hip. She wriggles under his touch, curses him in a sigh. It makes him smirk, how impatient she can get.

So he takes his time. Grabs her leg and drops a kiss on her knee, laughs at her huff of frustration. He is slow in his ministrations, kissing and caressing her tight, ignoring her centre to do the same with the second leg. By the time he reaches her hip once more, the foul language is tumbling down her mouth, and she grabs his head once more, pulls him where she needs him the most.

“So demanding,” he comments with a roll of his eyes.

She is about to shoot back something, refusing to give him the last word, but then he’s licking his way up between her folds and her sarcasm turns into a loud moan. So he does it again, and again. He knows what she likes by now -- the three first days of their little escapade spent behind close doors until he knew her body as well as he knows his own, until he could unravel her with only one touch, one kiss. Dmitry doesn’t want to be smug about it, but. Yes, he is.

Her hand tightens its hold in his hair, keeping him in place as much as she guides him, while the other grabs the sheet for support. He adds one finger, then a second, and ignores the tightness in his trousers even as his hips rub against the mattress in rhythm with his tongue and fingers. She is begging and demanding and cursing, legs shaking against his shoulders, body quivering beneath him, until her words stop making sense, until only his name is on her tongue, until she unravels against his mouth.

Her head falls back against the pillow with one last sigh, her eyelids heavy from pleasure. A sight to behold, as he crawls up her body and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He lies on his side next to her, one hand on her waist. Bliss and content surge through his veins at how peaceful her features are, even more so when she opens one eye and offers him a dazzling smile. She may be a brat, and infuriating half of the time, but he wouldn’t trade her temper for anything in the world if it means having her next to him for the rest of his days.

(She’s turned him into a soppy mess, now…)

“I love you,” she sighs as she moves to snuggle against him.

“I shall never tire of hearing you say that,” he replies with his nose against her temple.

She laughs, a small giggle of a sound. “Look at you with your posh talking.”

“Someone’s rubbing on me,” he says with a frown, but the smile is obvious in his voice.

Another laugh escapes her as she moves closer to him still, her leg moving up until her thigh is pressed to his erection. When she kisses him, it’s with a tiny smirk, and only then does he understand the wordless pun. Vixen.

She pushes on his shoulders until he’s lying on his back, sits on his hips, and Dmitry forgets all will to laugh. His tongue darts out to lick his lips are his eyes travel up and down her bare body -- the hair tumbling around her shoulders, the creamy expense of her stomach, her bouncing breasts. He’s so busy admiring her he barely notices how she pulling the trousers down his hips and legs, barely notices anything at all until her hips move against his and a broken groan escapes his lips.

She will break your heart, Vlad had warned. He hadn’t said anything about how she would ruin him for life, too. Nothing can ever top that, not that Dmitry wants anything else. Those Petersburg girls are nothing but a memory long gone, nothing but smoke when Anya lines herself against him and steals a moan from him as she guides him inside her, inch by inch.

He loses track of anything and everything after that, only aware of her body around and above him, of his hands on her hips and her breath against his mouth, of her bruising kisses and wordless moans. Nothing but Anya, Anya, Anya, nothing but her and her body and her love, until he comes inside her with a groan and a silent prayer to the universe.

Dmitry doesn’t know how long it takes for him to start breathing properly against but, when he does, Anya is still lying on top of him. Her legs are caging his hips and her arms are folded on his chest, her chin resting on top of them, and there is no doubt she is the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I love you,” he says with such an ease it would have scared him only a month ago.

She smiles. “It’s the bliss talking.”

“No. I love you. I’ve loved you since I was ten. I’ll always love you.”

Her laugh is church bells to his ears, Kazan Cathedral on a cold afternoon. She moves until she’s flush against his side, one leg above his and one arm around his chest. Dmitry wonders how ridiculous it would be to spend the day naked in bed. Again.

“You’re so mawkish after sex.”

He frowns at her, just a little. “I feel like there is an insult hidden there somewhere in your big word.”

She doesn’t reply, but her smirk and how she kisses his nose speak volume. Ah. She can have this one. Dmitry is too content to care about her insults right now, pulling her closer and kissing the side of her face. She sighs, and he closes his eyes, fingers combing her hair. Silence settles comfortably between them and, were it not for his knowledge of her breathing patterns, he would believe her asleep again. As a matter of fact, he knows her too well, knows how deep in thoughts she is once more.

“Nobody ever asked you to choose,” he comments. Then, before she even has time to open her mouth, “She asked you to choose between life as a Duchess and a commoner. That’s what you chose, but… You didn’t have to choose between her and me. I think -- I would like to think we’re both your family now.”

She puts her chin in her hand, leaning above him, a frown on her brows. “You really are more clever than you look,” she quips, having Dmitry roll his eyes, but she seems to actually be thinking about it. How it hadn’t occurred to Anya before, he will never know, but he is glad that it is a step in the right direction. He couldn’t bear to witness her transformation into a miserable person simply because nobody ever told her that she was allowed to have the best of both worlds. “Would you mind? Going back to Paris?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but a moment of doubt and confusion has him frown. His heart does something strange and new in his chest at the realisation that his opinion actually matters. That someone will take his wishes into consideration. That what he wants is important, for the first time in his life.

Perhaps it should frighten him, how easy the answer comes to him after that. “I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together. Rome, Berlin, Paris… It’s all the same to me. And if I have to live alongside aristocrats who look down at me all my life, then so be it.”

He wouldn’t mind going back to Vlad, truth be told. The man has been like a second father to him for years now, after all. He could even find a honest job, whatever that means, and save for a nice apartment in the capital. Perhaps even save for a pretty ring and… He’s getting ahead of himself.

“Tell you what,” he goes on, knuckles brushing against her cheek. “Let’s go to Rome, enjoy the sights. Write to her in the meanwhile, and then we’ll go back. How’s that for a plan?”

“It’s barely a plan,” she quips. “More like an idea.”

“How’s that for an idea, infuriating woman?”

She grins, god helps him. “Yes. It does sound lovely.”

“Paris it is, then.”

Paris it’ll always be, or so it seems.

Dmitry is fine with that.

[questionofdarkness]

Hi, could i get a match-up? I'm 5'4", with long black hair and brown eyes. I love to act and sing and my hobbies involve drawing, playing video games, and playing the clarinet. I'm shy and quiet around new people but I am sarcastic and talkative around people I know. I suffer from anxiety and like to spend time by myself after being with a lot of people. I'm a pet lover(especially dogs) and I love to eat sweets. I'm a Virgo with and INFJ personality. Thanks :)

Hello, @ziziblueblur!

I am so awfully sorry for letting you wait for so long. I wish I could have replied sooner. But I finally found the time so sit down and write some matchups (although I’m procrastinating studying for my upcoming latin test doing this). I hope it was somewhat worth the wait…

I match you with… Satou Rikidou!

You didn’t exactly know what to think of him at first, but really, who would? It wasn’t especially normal to get caught in a villain attack that causes the ground to split open, float above everyone’s head in pieces and crash back to the ground, setting of the alarm of nearly every car close-by, the shrill beeping mixing with the confused and scared screams of other civilians as they duck for cover and the thunder of breaking cement. It was even less normal to find yourself lying on the ground, unable to move in shock, staring wide eyed at one of the lager debris pieces heading straight for your skull. Neither did you have many experience with last minute rescue and tall, bulky boys, covered head to toe in yellow fabric. The rock plunged on his back, he let out a loud groan but held himself upright, his big lips twisting, his eyes fixed on you. “Are you ok?”, he asked, his voice somewhat weary, eyes blinking rapidly. You silently nodded, he gave you a thumbs up, smiled, and then collapsed onto the floor. You shrieked in alarm, thinking he had lost consciousness, but then he started snoring and that was probably the part that confused you the most.

The villain had been captured shortly after, the police took him into custody while the media started to besiege the pro hero and his sidekicks that apparently had rushed to help. You sat there on the ground, your heart still beating heavily, staring at the yellow man in front of you. You didn’t know what to do – you couldn’t just leave him after he’d saved your life, or at least spared you from a stay in the hospital. Maybe you should go get help? But your legs didn’t want to move, so you stayed, wondering how so many things could happen to you of all people in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t before long a few of the reporters started pointing at you – or rather him – the flash of their cameras stinging in your eyes as they took one photo after the other. It was only then the police seemed to notice you two. An officer with long, brown hair and four arms stepped into the space between you, ordering the news people to get out of the affected area before turning to you. She was very nice, asking for you name and checking if you had suffered any injuries. You wondered why she decided to go to the police – she probably would have made an excellent hero.

You didn’t recognize the pro that spoke to you once the fuss had died down a bit. He looked like a weird mixture between an owl and a hedgehog and his voice was high and squeaky. You learned yellow boy apparently was a UA student on an internship, his sleepiness a side effect of his quirk. You started to feel very uncomfortable with all the attention surrounding you. You therefore were more than glad once you got the official permission to go back home.

The following days, the incident was all over the news. By miracle, no one had suffered any serious injuries. It was in one of the smaller magazines, you couldn’t even recall how you ended up reading it, that you found the picture. It showed yellow dude, sleeping amidst the debris on the street, the headline of the article reading “Sweet dreams hero – Sugar man!”

After scrolling to around five different forums about lesser known and soon to be heroes, you had enough. Yellow dude had been made fun of in every one of them, although people had shown much more humiliating side effects than falling asleep on mission, and no one seemed to care how he had been prepared to risk his own life and participate in such a dangerous mission on his first day of internship. You found yourself burning with rage, the whole thing not leaving your mind for a single second. Was there any way you could restore his good name? Although… since this seemed to be his hero debut, he didn’t even have much of a name to be saved!

In the end, you wrote the magazine an anonymous message, telling the whole story from you perspective, asking them to please rake down the article. They didn’t – of course – but a new item popped off shortly after. They must have been short on stories to find such an interest in the student, since they published your email, calling you “his #1 fan”. In the end, you didn’t restore his pride – but you managed to change the discussions on the only forums on his potential, rather than his humiliation. You stopped thinking about it then, but the whole thing never really left your mind.

A few days later, you were asked to drive to a police station an hour away from your house and testify. As one of the key witnesses, your testimony was important, although it was more of a formal procedure as the villains quilt was already undeniable. You were more than surprised to find yellow dude sitting in the station, nervously fumbling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, a box on his lap that radiated a wonderful sweet smell. Once his gaze fell on you, his whole face turned red. He stood up, nearly letting dropping the box, and quickly bowed to you. “I am so sorry to show up here like this, but I heard about what you did for me and I am very grateful and I wanted to thank you in person!” The blush on his face had grown bigger and redder and you probably looked just as bad. “Ehm… how did you know I was…” “I told him.” The nice police officer with the arms stood in the door and waved at you. “He came in here, asking about you after he’d read that message to wrote to the newspaper. I couldn’t resist.” She smiled, then turned around and left again. You didn’t really know what to say, so you just awkwardly stood there and looked at the floor. “Oh, right, I made you these.” He held out the box. “I know it’s not much but… it’s kind of the only thing I know how to do. I really appreciate what you did.” You looked back up and noticed a certain sadness in his eyes. It couldn’t be easy to have a debut like that. “I should be thanking you”, you murmured, “You saved my life.” Now he smiled, looking a bit less awkward. “That’s what a hero does.” You timidly smiled back and finally took his gift. Inside was a bunch of different cookies, all perfect in shape and smelling heavenly. “These look amazing!”, you said excited – you love sweets. The blush returns, he nervously scratches his neck and smiled shyly. “I’m Rikidou Satou.”

The pastries were fantastic and didn’t last very long, although you didn’t get to taste them until after you testimony. He really seemed to have poured his heart into them – as well as the perfect amount of sugar – and you couldn’t help feeling disappointed once they were gone. You texted him – because you exchanged numbers after your talk – and he seemed very flattered you liked them. Apparently, he wasn’t exactly aware of his own skills.

Satou isn’t exactly outgoing, though he’s neither the quietest guy. It took a while for him to actually open up to you, but once you got to know each other, you quickly grew very close. He understands your need for space and never asks twice if you tell him you’d rather spend the evening alone. He does care about you very much though, often texting you on a daily basis, asking how your day was or if you had gotten to finish that drawing you told him about the day before. You can’t see each other very often, as his hero training takes up most of his time, but you make sure to talk over your phones and stay up to date. It turns out he’s very insecure about his looks and how unflashy his quirk is compared to others, but he tries to work through it with everything he’s got. The two of you love to play video games together, sometimes being joined by other class 1A members if you’re in the dorms. They quickly accepted you into the class as though you were also a UA student – especially Toru and Mina who told you they “desperately needed more female power in their class”. You get along especially well with Jirou, who shares your interest in music, and Kouda, who is somewhat Satou’s best friend. It took a long time for the animal hero especially to grow comfortable around you, but once he did, he told you about the time between the incident and yours and Satou’s second-first meeting. Apparently, he had been “ill” for almost a week, hiding in his room, not really talking to anyone. The media’s jokes had really brought him down and he feared for his future as a hero. By the time you two became a couple, he had mostly gotten over it though. Kouda’s rabbit loves you, by the way.

Satou isn’t your typical “cool guy”, he can be rather timid and doesn’t have much confidence to show. He is a very good person though and his heart is pure. He shows you affection as much as he can, mainly by always bake you a share whenever he gets around to work on that hobby of his. He is supportive and always ready to try out new things if you feel like it. The other people of 1A don’t actually admit it, but they’re really glad he met you. You really bring out the best in him, make him smile more often and encourage him to become the hero he aspires to be. You give him the support he desperately needed and he gives you the love and understanding you deserve.  Altogether, the two of you fit well.

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Multiverse is a Curse Word (1)

Aaaargh! Just take it, I can’t stand to keep it any longer!

This is a Gravity Falls fic that is sort of a crossover between the Adrift AU, created by @the-subpar-ghost (although not based off the Drifting Stars fic they wrote for it), and the Dimension Jumper AU, created by @hntrgurl13, starring her OC Adeline Marks of whom I am in love with. I guess that kind of makes it a Drifting Dimensions AU, also a creation of hntrgurl13, however it does not follow the plot of that either. All in all I really have no idea how to describe this. Whatever, it’s some Portal!Ford, Portal!Mabel, and Portal!Addi adventures, with a lot of angst, fluff, and family bonding included.

The Addiford ship, which will of course eventually make an appearance, is credited to @scipunk63, and it ruins me. 

Just be aware, I have not read Journal 3, so blame any incongruities with canon on that. Even if they do not relate to Journal 3. 

@deadpool-demon-diva and @thejesterlyfictionista you said you wouldn’t judge me for writing this and I hold you to it. Love you guys.

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

Chapter 1: The Trash Monster

The sky was green in this dimension. It glowed at night, turning the buildings of the city black. Ford speculated that it was probably due to radiation rather than a natural luminescence. He decided they would move on to a safer place tomorrow; there would surely be a portal appearing nearby soon.

A slap on his hands brought him out of his thoughts.

“Grunkle Ford! Attennnnntion! I don’t see those hands moving mister!” Mabel drilled.

Grinning, he replied, “Sorry sir, I was planning out tomorrow’s route so we can avoid sleeping in an alley again,”

They had indeed set up for the night in a back alley among several dumpsters. Mabel inclined her head as she looked around from their position on the ground.

“Well, it’s not too bad, I suppose. I mean, look! Weird, gooey substances!”

Ford eyed the viscous liquid near them with barely concealed disgust.

“Alright, no lying on the floor,”

“Are you gonna be my pillow tonight?”

“Definitely.” He leaned back against the brick wall of a nearby building and opened his arms for his niece to clamber into. While he was arranging the blankets around them, Mabel jerked up once more.

“Wait! I didn’t finish teaching you tick-tack-toe,”

Smiling, Ford eventually appeased Mabel and convinced her to sleep with the promise that they would resume the lesson in the morning.

“Okay then.” She snuggled back into the makeshift nest and nudged him slightly, indicating she wanted more warmth. Happy to comply, he wrapped his arms around her. Ford felt guilty allowing even the merest trace of the thought to cross his mind, but at times like this he was indescribably grateful that Mabel had fallen into his life. He could not imagine it without her now.

“’Night,” Mabel murmured.

“Goodnight,” Ford responded softly.

“Don’t let the trash monsters bite,” his niece continued. The quiet laugh that answered this sent her off to sleep.

⃝

“Dammit,” Adeline said, banging the transmitter against her thigh. The blue pulse that was supposed to be emitting from the screen resolutely fizzled yet again.

Crap signal, flitted through her mind. She was too tired for this.

Sighing, Addi crossed the street, alternating between keeping an eye on the transmitter and the few citizens still shambling around at this late hour. The device crackled slightly, its light strengthening as she moved. She stepped into an alley and the signal picked up considerably.

“Yes!” A little further along and she could read the message clearly.

Let’s see what they have to say …

Movement. Behind her, something was moving. She was certain of it. Trying to act casually, as though she was absorbed in reading, she reached over her shoulder under the pretence of scratching her neck and tapped a button on the hilt of her wicked sharp sword. At the same time her eyes flicked up to the dumpster she was facing. Its metallic surface dimly revealed a figure standing up slowly behind her. They were drawing their gun.

Okay then.

In one smooth movement Addi drew her sword, whipped around – and stopped dead in shock as the past glared back at her.

“Stanford?”

His hair was grey now, but that was no surprise. It had been thirty years after all. As he moved around so that his back was no longer to the wall, she could tell he knew exactly how to use the weapon he kept trained on her. He had traded in a scientist’s suit for a more practical fighter’s trousers and boots, which was also not entirely unexpected – you had to adapt to life on the other side of the portal. He was clutching a child tightly to his side. Now that was very different.

“Who sent you?” Adeline’s old boss demanded.

“I – no one. What are you doing here?” The reply was unpredictable enough to cause him to falter.

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’” he recovered. “This alley isn’t private property! How do you know who I am?”

A flash of annoyance shot through Addi.

“I’m sorry? The person you built the first ever interdimensional portal on Earth with has escaped your memory?”

The girl next to Stanford gasped. “Mr McGucket? How did you find us? Wait a minute, you look a little different.” She frowned critically at the athletic blonde woman.

Now completely nonplussed, Addi stared again at Stanford. He looked no less hostile, but there was some confusion on his face now, too. How could he not know her? There was no way in the multiverse that she would ever forget –

The answer hit her like lightning.

“Multiverse.” She cursed. “You’re not from my dimension, are you?” Their blank looks were enough of an answer.

Bitter disappointment coursed through her. It was stupid to think that. Stupid to think she would ever catch a break, that something would go right for once. Stupid to hope there might be a way home.

Angrily swallowing a lump in her throat, she stowed away Big Bertha. She wanted nothing more than to just talk to this version of her old friend a little while longer. However, Stanford was not about to let down his guard and decide to trust a complete stranger on nothing but their word that they were friends in another dimension. Especially not if he had a kid to look out for.

She stared at him a moment longer before turning away. Every step crushed her.

⃝

Mabel felt Ford relax his grip on her only after the woman had walked away, leaving behind a tight apology.

“She had a cool sword,” she remarked.

Ford nodded his agreement. “It was very unique,”

“Who d’ya think she was? She seemed kinda sad,”

“I have no idea. However, I think we can rule out Fiddleford McGucket,”

“Yep. No southern charm at all.” Mabel shook her head.

Ford made an amused sound. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow,”

“I bet I can bring in more money than you,”

⃝

“How are you doing that?” Ford exclaimed in amazement.

The brightness of the crowded market square was such a contrast to the gloom and quiet of the night before that Mabel might have believed they’d fallen onto another planet – that is, if the sensation of going through portals wasn’t impossible to ignore.

She was sitting on the countertop of one of the gambling stalls, playing a game with the owner while Ford stood beside her and watched. As far as she could tell, she’d won the last eight rounds and the owner was getting antsy.

“I have no idea!” she replied happily. “No really, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Well, you have a talent for it.” Ford scooped their winnings into a pocket. That coat of his never seemed to run out of space.

“Uh huh. Grunkle Stan taught me well,” This time there was only a slight tremble in her voice when she mentioned home. She was getting better.

The stall owner made a frustrated sound. Ford quickly thanked him and took Mabel’s hand, heading into the crowds. Mabel waved a goodbye, but the large, red, five-armed being only glared.

“I don’t think that guy liked me winning all that money off him,” she said slightly nervously. Ford tightened his grip on her hand when he looked back and saw the gambler examining the dice Mabel had been using.

“Let’s get out of here quickly. Gamblers don’t like to lose, and I have seen some accuse their opponents of swindling them simply as an excuse to take back their money. You don’t want to know what they do to the actual cheaters,”

A cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of Mabel’s stomach. Unfortunately, her uncle noticed her unusual silence and looked down at her. She was too late to wipe the guilty expression from her face. Ford’s eyebrows shot up.

“You were cheating?” he said in disbelief.

Mabel swallowed. “Um … I think so?”

An enraged roar from behind them was followed by the sound of thundering footsteps.

“RUN!” Ford shouted, shoving her forwards while drawing his gun. “Get back to the al-”

He was tackled by a murderously snarling blur of red, all six orange eyes fixed on Mabel. Heart in her mouth, she sprinted away. The sound of Ford’s laser gun thinned out the crowd like magic.

Why the heck had she cheated? It had been so easy, sure, but she was usually fine without it. What had she been thinking? What if Ford couldn’t take that guy, what if he got hurt, what if –

Her breath was hitching in her chest and terror was pumping through her veins. She’d been running for a while, and oh no, she couldn’t stop now, she needed to get help, but she didn’t know anyone –

She skidded around a corner and collapsed to her knees, looking around wildly. If she just asked, someone was bound to help, right? She looked desperately around the new square she was in, but no one seemed to care about the gasping kid on the ground or the sounds of laser fire coming from a few blocks over, sweet Moses she could use a familiar face …

With a startled “HEY!” she saw one.

Mabel crashed into the blonde woman’s side, succeeding in getting her attention but failing Step Two in that she could only cough and cling desperately to her sleeve.

“Kid? Are you alright? Where’s Stanford?”

Still valiantly trying to retake control of her lungs, Mabel gestured helplessly towards the sounds of yelling and gunfire. The woman seemed to understand immediately. She drew her sword and took off running, Mabel right behind her.

They arrived just in time to see Ford get thrown against a wall.

⃝

Various swear words swam through Ford’s mind, echoed vehemently by his aching body. He could taste blood, and purple flashes were obscuring his vision. His ears were ringing. He also could not get his legs under him in order to stand up. The dislocated shoulder though, he could feel clearly.

The gambler, now in possession of Ford’s gun, levelled it at him.

Shit.

He reached for a piece of rubble with his good arm, which, if thrown, might just be enough to injure and/or distract the man while he got to his feet …

Yes. All his other attacks so far had failed but if he used a rudimentary projectile –

The treacherous thought did not get the chance to go to completion. Sword flashing, a tall blonde woman stepped between them just as the red giant fired, although instead of the laser burning straight into her it … fragmented. It seemed to break before it reached her, into pieces that dissipated in the air.

Not seeming to believe his eyes, something Ford could not blame him for, the attacker fired again, only for the same thing to happen. With that, a physical hand-to-sword assault was attempted.

Mabel crouched down in front of him, blocking the view.

“Grunkle Ford! Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise,”

Unable to coherently reply, Ford was forced to make like a sack of potatoes and have his good arm slung around his twelve-year-old niece’s shoulders while the rest of him was heaved halfway off the ground. He was impressed Mabel managed to do even that much. An absurdly-timed flicker of pride blew through him.

While trying to coerce his legs into taking some of his weight, Ford found himself facing the fight. Blearily, he watched as the woman fended off a blow with one hand, her sword somehow not breaking under the impact of the being’s punch, but also failing to penetrate his skin, just as lasers had.

“Wait!” she called out sharply. She made a quick signal with her free hand. After a tense moment, the red gambler lowered his fists and walked away, all hostility disappearing like smoke. Breathing a sigh of relief, the woman turned and hurried towards them.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hazel eyes meeting Ford’s as she pulled his dislocated arm around her shoulders.

With an agonised groan, Ford thought that it would be acceptable to now fall into unconsciousness.

[babybluebanshee]

Heavy Rains - Chapter 1 (TF2)

Being stranded at Teufort during a raging storm with a gaggle of homicidal mercenaries isn't Miss Pauling's idea of a relaxing vacation. The group tries to make the best of it, but when a mysterious illness starts making its way through the barracks, it's a race against time to find a cure before it's too late. And that's not even bringing the emotional baggage into things.

Rain was not a common occurrence in Teufort. The town got around fifteen inches of precipitation a year, and even then, most of the townsfolk blamed that on a witch’s curse.

Most of the time, it was bone-dry and hellishly hot, a barren wasteland only fit for a few determined souls and the likes of the Mann. Co mercenaries, men too tough and too damn insane to register things like heat stroke and dehydration.

So naturally, when the local radio weather station predicted bizarre torrential rains headed directly for the small New Mexico town, accompanied by thunder, lightning, and winds reaching at least sixty miles an hour, the townspeople blamed the witch and burned effigies in their front yards. The Mann Co. mercenaries were simply confused.

And although Miss Pauling counted herself among the confused, she had very little time to dwell on it. She was currently overseeing the shipment of various supplies to the men at the Teufort base, to tide them over until the storm had passed. She had put them to work loading the boxes off the truck, so they could sort them in the loading bay later. It was best to keep the nine men occupied during something like this. Each one was a volatile whack job in their own special way. Something about being stuck together in close quarters brought all that out in full, destructive force.

She didn’t need another incident like the one in Coldfront. It’d taken three days to clean up the mess, and most of the mercs still complained about ringing in their ears because of the explosion.

With black clouds looming on the horizon, the project couldn’t be completed fast enough for her liking. Sadly, the mercenaries seemed to be in no big hurry, and kept distracting themselves by bickering and trying to loot through the boxes like a bunch of excited kids, eager to see what they’d gotten for Christmas.

“I ain’t lifting that one,” Miss Pauling heard Scout shout. Looking over the rim of her clipboard, she saw him standing next to a large box, and staring up at Soldier. Scout’s face was scrunched up in what he probably thought was an intimidating glare. Miss Pauling thought he just looked constipated. Soldier carried two boxes, one on each of his shoulders, and didn’t look too happy to have Scout in his face, managing to pull off a legitimately intimidating look, even with his helmet obscuring his eyes.

“That box weighs twice as much as me. I try to lift that, I’m gonna snap in two,” Scout continued.

Soldier snorted like an angry bull, and said, or rather yelled, “Back in my day, we didn’t have Sallies like you running around. We were strong and lifted boxes all damn day. And then we threw those boxes at the Nazis and we LIKED IT.”

“Pardon me if I ain’t gonna take my history lessons from a certifiable head case like you,” Scout yelled back, jamming his tiny body as close to Soldier’s as possible. It wasn’t exactly the dominant stance he’d hoped for, since he did only come up to the bottom of Soldier’s chin, but he held his ground nonetheless.

“Oh, son, your mouth is writing checks your butt will find uncashable. Uncashable, you hear me!?” Soldier growled, lobbing the boxes he carried to the ground. He shoved himself even closer to Scout, and continued his tirade. “Insinuate that I am crazy one more time, and your butt will be escorted from the bank, am I understood, private?!”

As the two men continued to scream in each other’s faces, Engineer, Heavy, and Sniper walked by them, each carrying a box on their shoulder. Engineer cast a look between Scout, Soldier, and the three boxes lying on the ground, and then, shaking his head, picked up one with his free hand and slung it under his arm. Heavy and Sniper quietly did the same.

Miss Pauling felt a headache coming on as thunder rumbled in the distance.

It was soon drowned out by a loud, celebratory “Woooooo!” that sounded from inside the loading bay. Suddenly, Demoman came rushing out, a bottle of Mann Co. beer in each hand, and a few on the bandolier that usually held his grenades. Miss Pauling didn’t want to think about where the grenades were now.

“Feast yer eyes on this, lads,” Demo called, using a thumb to pop off the cap of a bottle and take a swig. “The lass was good enough te bring us a whole case of the stuff. This wee squall will pass in no time if I have my way about it.”

“Ya best take it easy there, partner,” Engineer said, setting his boxes by Demo’s feet. “Otherwise that case ain’t gonna last you two hours, let alone the entire storm.”

Demo paid him no attention, simply tipped his head back and drained the open bottle. After he’d gotten every last drop, he let out a long sigh of satisfaction before he pointed to Miss Pauling and said, “Bless ye, lass.”

Miss Pauling gave a small smile and said, “I figured you guys might as well have some small comforts while you’re shut up during the storm. It’d get pretty boring around here otherwise.” After a moment’s consideration, she added, “Just please don’t overdo it. I do not want to come back to another Coldfront.”

Medic came up behind her, carrying a box of bottled water in front of him, and huffed, saying, “It was not so bad, Miss Pauling. I managed to reattach Scout’s thumb completely after all.”

Before Miss Pauling could register that nobody had ever mentioned any thumb reattachments, another rumble of thunder, much closer than the last, made the ground tremble beneath them. “Alright, you guys,” she said, taking her lavender pen from behind her ear. “Looks like the rain is ahead of schedule. We need to get these last couple boxes in the base before we all get soaked. Heavy, Engie, can you bring them in? There should only be a few more, mostly more water and stuff.”

The two men nodded and started their way back over to the truck. Miss Pauling continued, “Medic, Sniper, get inside and help Demo, Pyro, and Spy sort through all that stuff. Try to keep Pyro away from the paper products until Engie gets back in there to distract him.”

Medic and Sniper did not look at all happy about their assignment of dealing with the firebug, but they obeyed without a fight, although Miss Pauling swore she heard Medic mumble something she knew for certain to be a German swear. She didn’t bother herself with it at the moment. Soldier and Scout were still arguing a few yards away, and Soldier had managed somehow to find his shovel. This needed to be taken care of before first blood. Tucking her pen back behind her ear, Miss Pauling walked over to them, and managed to catch more of their ridiculous argument insults layered on top of each other so only snippets could be heard at a time.

“...think your shovel scares me, ya lunkhead?”

“...and we lived on falcon eggs and rocks…”

Miss Pauling’s head ached harder. “Guys, that’s enough!”

“He started it!” Scout said, jabbing an accusatory finger right into Soldier’s helmet.

Miss Pauling saw Engineer and Heavy out of the corner of her eye. Their arms were loaded with boxes, and they cast a wary look up at the sky before dashing inside, the added weight of the supplies nothing to them. She heaved a silent sigh through her nose. “I don’t care who started it,” she said evenly. “I’m here to finish it. Now quit screaming in each other’s faces and get inside. If you don’t hurry, you’re gonna get -”

There was a blinding flash of lightning, following by a deafening crash of thunder. Then, the sky almost seemed to open up, and the torrential downpour hit them like a tidal wave beating the shore. All three of them were sodden in a matter of seconds.

“...soaked.”

Soldier and Scout looked at Miss Pauling like a couple of scolded children. Miss Pauling merely jabbed a finger in the direction of the loading bay, and they both began marching toward it. Miss Pauling followed behind them, regretting with every step that she’d decided to wear pumps that kept getting stuck in the sucking desert mud.

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

As soon as Miss Pauling was inside, a towel was draped over her shoulder courtesy of Engineer. She gave him a smile, set her clipboard (which had thankfully managed to stay mostly dry) to the side, and furiously started rubbing herself down. As she pulled off her glasses to wipe the rain off, she saw Sniper throw a couple of towels to Soldier and Scout, managing to hit Scout directly in the face. The towel muffled Scout’s indignant yelp, which Sniper was ignoring anyway to pull down the loading bay door.

Throwing the towel back over her shoulders, Miss Pauling slicked back the strands of hair that had come loose from her bun and pulled out her pen. “Okay, guys, time for some inventory. Just wanna make sure that everything is here. I can already check off the beer…”

Demo gave another hearty “Woooooo!”, before throwing back another bottle.

“So let’s crack open the rest of these and get them put away.”

To her side, Heavy nodded and grabbed a nearby crowbar, jamming it under the lid of the nearest crate and jimmying it open in one swift motion. He tossed the lid out of the way, and it landed with a thick clunk. Engineer tapped Pyro on the shoulder and motioned for him to help him sift through it, while Heavy moved along the line of boxes, cracking each of them open like a powerful machine for a pair of mercs to dig through. For once, Miss Pauling felt as though things were going to go smoothly.

Another crack of thunder made her jump. The noise was as clear as if they didn’t have concrete walls surrounding them, and that made Miss Pauling nervous. She didn’t like being nervous. Nervousness meant a lack of control.

“Sure would be nice if we had a radio,” she said, thinking out loud more than anything.

“Oh yes,” Spy suddenly said, pulling himself away from the box he and Sniper rifled through. “I almost forgot.” He ducked down, and pulled up a small, beat-up black baseball radio. “I’m sure this will be sufficient. Assuming it still works.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” Scout shouted as soon as he set eyes on the radio.

“Don’t be such a child. I merely borrowed it for a greater purpose,” Spy said, setting the device on a nearby chair. He flicked a switch on the side, and a small burst of static began emanating from the speakers, nearly drowned out completely  by the rain beating intensely against the metal roof.

“You coulda just asked,” Scout said, the pout evident in his voice as he went back to pulling paper towels and toilet paper out of his box. “Didn’t have to go through my room and swipe my stuff.”

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized. I go through everyone’s rooms,” Spy said dismissively as he fiddled with the knobs. For a minute or two, it seemed that the radio wouldn’t be able to do anything but spit static at them because of the rain. They got snippets of a drawling political discussions and a very garbled classical music station (which seemed to disappoint Medic immensely), but finally, Spy managed to find the Teufort weather station, although it was quite faint, and interrupted by the occasional burst of static.

  “...citizens wisely preparing for what promises to be a very brutal storm, possibly the *bzzzzzt* of Teufort has ever seen. There *bzzzt* reports of mass flooding, especially along the road leading out of the town and to the highway. All *bzzt* redirected, and many of the roads closed down until the end of the storm. Civilians are advised *bzzzzzzzzt* leaving Teufort, as it is currently incredibly unsafe.”

Miss Pauling’s headache returned with a roaring vengeance.

She was stranded here. She was stranded with a group of nine mercenaries who, last time they’d been cooped up together, had caused explosions and apparently lost thumbs.

“Well, ain’t that a kick in the teeth,” Engineer muttered. “I’m real sorry, Miss Pauling. Looks like you’re stuck with us for the next couple of days.”

The rest of the mercs looked up at her apologetically. Well, except for Scout, who looked quite pleased at this turn of events. In an obvious attempt at smoothness, he said, “Yeah, that’s definitely too bad. But hey, I’m sure we can make the most of it.” He flashed Miss Pauling a crooked smile that made him look like an excited puppy. Miss Pauling had to bite back a frustrated groan.

Spy, letting out a quiet huff, rolled his eyes and shut off the baseball radio. Taking two long strides, he reached Scout’s side and shoved the radio into the boy’s hands. “Yes, we’ll certainly make the most of it,” he said, his tone borderline scolding. “Which is why Miss Pauling will be staying in my room. On the opposite end of the base from yours.”

A titter rippled through the group of men. Scout’s face reddened, and he shot Spy a glare very suited to a sullen teenager.

“Oh, Spy,” Miss Pauling said. “I don’t want take your room.”

“Nonsense,” Spy replied, waving off her concerns. “I insist. I’ll stay in my smoking room. The chairs there are as comfortable as any bed.”

Miss Pauling gave him a grateful smile. “Well, thank you, then. I appreciate that.”

Another crash of thunder made the base tremble around them. Engineer nearly dropped the case of Bonk he was pulling out of a crate. “Sheeeoot,” he muttered. “Always hated storms. Got the worst back home. Least you don’t gotta worry about twisters here. If we had to deal with one of those, I’d be heading for the hills.”

As soon as Engineer set down the case, Scout tore into it, pulling out a can and popping it open. It fizzed merrily. He tipped it back, draining the contents in seconds. Crushing the now-empty can in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, he said, “You think a twister is bad, hard hat? Try a hurricane. Not only do you got rain, thunder, and lightning 24/7, okay? But you gotta worry about floods too. I remember when I was nine, we got hit with a really bad one. Any of you guys ever heard of Hurricane Esther? Worst one that I’ve ever been through. We got stuck inside for days. Couldn’t leave, couldn’t nothing. Made one of my brothers cry. That was actually the one bright spot of the whole thing.”

Scout’s light-speed chatter tapered off as he pulled out another Bonk and cracked it open. The other mercs seemed to deflate with relief at the silence.

The reprieve did not last, as the loudest crash of thunder the storm had offered up yet once again shook the base. It felt like a bomb had been detonated right outside the loading bay door.

And then the lights went out.

“Well, hell…” Miss Pauling heard Engineer grumble.

From somewhere in the dark, Pyro let out a frightened whine. Engineer once again spoke, this time in a much gentler tone “It’s okay, Smokey,” he said. “I can get those back on, no problem. Just gotta find a flashlight…”

There was a sound of something heavy colliding with a body, and someone let out an “oof!”

“Shit, sorry, uh, whoever that was…” Engineer said.

“No worries, mate,” Sniper ground out. “Ain’t like I need all me ribs anyways…ow...”

There was a sound of footsteps, then a cry of pain from Spy. “That was my foot, bushman!”

“You try getting a metal arm to the gut, ya bloody spook,” Sniper hissed back. “Think it’d take your mind off your shoes getting a bit scoffed.”

“I doubt it, considering these shoes cost more than that repulsive van you sleep in.”

Someone fell backwards into one of the crates, apparently grabbing Medic on the way down. Miss Pauling heard him cry out, “Scheisse!”

“Jesus, hard hat,” Scout grumbled. Miss Pauling heard him scrambling to get back to his feet. He must have been the one to fall into the boxes. “You’re gonna kill somebody with that thing.”

“Well, it’s damn dark, son. I don’t know what to tell ya.” Another thud of metal against flesh, but this time the flesh sounded much more solid. Engineer must have hit Heavy. “Sorry, big guy…”

“Is no problem,” Heavy said casually.

“Did anyone actually see a flashlight in any of the boxes?” Miss Pauling asked. She stood as still as she could. There was no need to contribute anymore to this unfolding chaos.

No one answered her. They were heading towards another Coldfront at full speed.

Then, suddenly, a tiny light filled the space. It drew everyone’s attention simultaneously. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, sat Pyro. In his hands, his lighter, burning brightly.

Engineer grinned and said, “Well, ain’t you a smart little bug?”

Pyro merely let out a sheepish giggle.

Miss Pauling did a quick survey of things - Sniper was still gingerly holding his ribs, though he looked like he wasn’t in too much pain. Spy, now that he was actually able to see them, seemed to be inspecting the damage done to his shoes. Scout hoisted himself back up into a standing position, while Medic glared daggers at him for pulling him down. Engineer was roughly an inch from Heavy’s gargantuan torso. Demo took advantage of the light to pop the top off another bottle of beer, which he handed to Soldier. Both watched the others fumble over each other from a safe distance. Miss Pauling heard them chortle.

She took a deep breath. Things were okay. No one was injured. No one was dead. She could work with this.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Engineer slap Pyro’s hand away from a roll of paper towel stick out of a crate, which he’d been slowly moving the lighter closer and closer to. Pyro let out a defeated whine.

She could mostly work with this.

--------------- It took Engineer two and a half hours to restore the power. “Would have gotten it sooner,” he said as he came back into the loading bay, wiping the sweat away from under his hard hat, “but there were a few times when I had to back off ‘cause of the lightning. Don’t wanna get cooked if it strikes here again.”

“I thought lightning didn’t strike in the same place twice,” Scout said. He’d found his baseball and was lazily tossing it in the air and catching it as it came back down.

Engineer grinned a bit and replied, “That’s just a myth, son. Been through enough storms to know that lightning tends to do strike wherever it damn well pleases.”

Scout seemed unimpressed by this fact. He merely turned his attention back to his baseball, his expression bored and, oddly enough, sleepy. Miss Pauling didn’t even know it was possible for Scout to run out of energy.

Then again, looking at the seven other men lounging around the loading bay, she couldn’t say she was surprised. In the two and a half hours Engineer had been fiddling with the power, they’d been cleaning out the crates of supplies and putting everything away, seeing only by flashlight. It had surprisingly taken a lot out of them. Demo and Soldier were both on the edge of sleep, sitting back to back, still holding bottles of beer in their hands as their heads dipped every so often. More bottles were scattered around their feet.

Sniper had pulled his hat over his face, and she noticed his body slackening every so often as he dozed. Spy took a lazy drag of his cigarette. Medic had fetched his chessboard and had coaxed Heavy into a game. Pyro was practically curled up on the floor like a kitten, napping.

The rain had eased up a bit, though it still hit the roof with rigid consistency. Miss Pauling listened to it for a minute. She supposed that the sound would be enough to lull even hardened mercenaries to sleep after a stressful day of work.

“What about the rest of the stuff in the control room?” she asked. She tried not to yawn. Confound that rain, it was soothing.

“It’s pretty much all shot,” Engineer replied. “Communications are down, and the respawn is just...out. And crawling in there to fix it while this storm is still raging is outta the question. Lightning strikes while I’m in there, I come out looking like bacon left on the skillet too long.”

Miss Pauling couldn’t help the groan that escaped.

No communications. No respawn.

Normally, that wouldn’t bother her. As concerned as she was about the mercs eventually snapping from the confinement and inflicting bodily harm on each other, she at least trusted them enough to not kill each other. They feared Medic and his particular brand of “healing” enough to try and keep themselves in one piece for the next few days.

It was just one more thing to worry about. One more thing that could make things worse. One more thing out of her control. One more thing that she’d have to write up in the mountains of paperwork that were inevitably going to follow this whole debacle. Her head throbbed again.

Spy stood up, pulling her from her increasingly anxious thoughts. Taking one last drag of his cigarette and stamping it out against one of the discarded crates, he said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, gentlemen, but I find myself all ‘funned’ out. And if no one is interesting in cooking dinner…”

A collective groan rose up from the exhausted pile of mercenaries.

“As I expected. With that, I believe I shall retire for the evening.” He turned on his heels until he was facing Miss Pauling. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning towards the hall.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she replied. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she’d almost forgotten Spy offering his room. She found herself a little too wired for sleep just yet, but she honestly couldn’t think of anything else to do to kill time until she was. Maybe she could just lay down, stare at the ceiling, and wonder what antagonistic gods had thought it amusing to strand her here.

She let him lead down the hall, past the dining hall and respawn room, and into the barracks. They passed eight doors, one for every man in the base - except, generally, for Sniper. Like any outdoorsman, he preferred sleeping outside, and made a habit of sleeping out in his camper van whenever the weather permitted. Weather was most definitely not permitting now, and Miss Pauling had gently persuaded him to remain indoors for the remainder of the storm. Although the suggestion had made him stare at her like she’d grown another head out of her abdomen, he’d grumbled an agreement.

And Miss Pauling’s mother wondered why her daughter seemed so lukewarm on the idea of children.

She nearly collided with Spy’s back as he stopped in front of the final door, near the end of the hallway. They had reached his quarters. Miss Pauling made no comment about how close it was to a large exit sign, leading out of the base.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask me,” Spy said as he opened his door, motioning for Miss Pauling to enter ahead of him. Ever the gentleman, even when motioning a lady into the spartan barracks of a military base.

Looking around the room as she stepped in, she realized “spartan” might even be too generous for Spy’s room. The place was almost completely bare. She knew for a fact that most of the other mercs had some personal things in their rooms - photos of family, posters, calendars, even the occasional pin-up picture in Scout’s case.

Spy’s room was completely spotless. His thin bed was made, blankets smooth and pristine, pillow propped against the wall and looking like a human head had never made contact with it. Minimal personal effects. Hardly a hint about what kind of man lived here, as much a mystery as Spy himself.

The only indication a person was ever in this room was the desk, which held a line of books, pressed against the wall. Moving closer to them, Miss Pauling realized they were very well-thumbed, having obviously seen multiple readings. One book was set aside from the others, a scrap of paper stuck between the pages to act as a bookmark - A Pocket Full of Rye by Agatha Christie.

Spy was reading a cozy mystery?

A quick look at the other books on the desk revealed similarly unexpected titles, at least the ones that weren’t in French - seven books all featuring “Austen” embossed in gold lettering on the spine. A few more Christies thrown in. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Even a dime store copy of The Andromeda Strain.

“You are more than welcome to read those.” Miss Pauling jumped a bit. She’d almost forgotten Spy was in the room, and with his infamous cat-like quietness and grace, he’d walked up to her side to see what she’d been gawking at. He’d pulled out a cigarette in that time, and had managed to silently light it.

“I simply ask that you be careful with Mr. Crichton,” he continued. “A few of the pages are falling out. Cheap glue does not last in New Mexico heat, as it turns out.”

“Yeah…” Miss Pauling muttered, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks and ears. “Um, sorry for being nosy. I just...ya know, never pegged you for much of a reader. Let alone Miss Marple.”

Spy chuckled a bit. “Things can be tedious around here when there are no battles to fight. And Dapper Cadaver is only a monthly subscription, after all.”

Miss Pauling smiled back. Though she’d never say it to Spy’s face, these books offered a look at a side of him he did his best never to show anyone - a human side. It was strangely endearing that this man, who prided himself of his suavity and mystique and ruthless efficiency at putting knives in backs, could be content with reading a quaint story about a spinster turned amatuer sleuth.

She cast another glance at the books. “I don’t get much time for reading these days,” she said. “Demands of the job, ya know? I don’t think I’ve sat down and read a full book since I was in college.”

“I would go mad,” Spy said, pulling a face of mock horror. “Surely we must catch you up. After all, you have plenty of time to fill presently.” He ran a finger down the line of books, humming curiously to himself as he did.

“Really, Spy, it’s fine,” Miss Pauling said. “I’m sure I can find something to do to pass the time.”

“Oh yes,” Spy said. He didn’t look up from the line of books. “I’m sure that Scout would be more than willing to let you ‘hang out’ with him. Sounds positively riveting.”

“...give me the damn book.”

A sly smile spread across Spy’s lips as he pulled out one of the Austen books and held it out to her. Gold lettering on the cover read Pride and Prejudice. She recalled being threatened with the book in high school, if she had chosen to take the AP courses. All the upperclassmen girls had complained loudly about it. She’d stuck with the regular English course and only had to read Huck Finn.

“I dunno, Spy…”

Spy gently set the book in her hands and closed her fingers around it. “Just give it a try, and if you don’t care for it, bring it back. I have many more in my smoking room to choose from,” he said. “I know it seems daunting, but believe me, she is worth it. Besides, I believe you’ll find...a bit of kinship with Miss Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Yeah?”

“She too often finds herself the only voice of reason amongst less than sane persons.”

Miss Pauling couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Excellent,” Spy said. She didn’t miss the excitement evident in his voice. “Perhaps we can even discuss it once you’ve finished?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Ah, well, it was a noble effort, no?” Spy said, his grin slightly devilish.

Miss Pauling chuckled again.

Spy’s grin softened a bit as he said, “I realize this was not the way you intended to spend the next few days. And I know the others and I...we can be a bit overwhelming.”

“That’s not…” Miss Pauling trailed off, the bare-faced lie dying on her tongue.

“I appreciate you not thinking you had to spare my feelings,” Spy said. “Although we may not act like it, all of us are fairly self-aware. We are forced to spend every day around each other. We know what we are like. I promise you, Miss Pauling, I will try and make this as uneventful as I can.”

Miss Pauling felt a warmth rise in her chest. She clutched the book a little tighter as she said, “Thank you, Spy. For everything.”

Spy bowed slightly at the waist. “You’re quite welcome. Goodnight to you, and enjoy the book.”

And with that, he grabbed up the Agatha Christie and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.

Miss Pauling looked down at the book in her hand again. It didn’t look too terribly long, and besides, Spy had offered other stuff if she didn’t like it. There was no harm in humoring him, not after a promise like that.

Especially when a glance at her watch showed it was only a little past nine, and she didn’t feel in the slightest bit tired. Who knew, maybe a boring book would be the best way to help her fall asleep.

She sat down on Spy’s bed and removed her mud-caked shoes. She tossed them under the desk, so they’d be out of the way. Then came the nylons, which she pulled off gingerly and folded neatly. At two pair for a dollar, she wasn’t taking any chances with them.  She pulled out the four bobby pins and the rubber band that held her bun in place. She tossed them onto the nearby desk. She gave her now-free hair a quick tousle. Then she pulled her arms into her blouse and undid her bra clasp, pulling it out and tossing it on the floor with the shoes.

Fuck it, she was basically in for the night, and she liked to think no one would come in without knocking first. She was willing to put up with a lot of things, but sleeping in her bra wasn’t one of them.

She laid back, propping herself up a bit on Spy’s pillow, and nestled the book on her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something small and white at the far end of the desk.

Upon further inspection, she realized it was a bottle of aspirin. A water bottle sat on the desk next to it. She hadn’t even heard Spy set them down before he left.

Well, now there was no two ways about it. She’d have to read the book. It would only be polite.

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

Medic felt his eye give an involuntary twitch when he heard Scout’s loud, obnoxious groans just outside the doors of his lab. And here he’d been hoping to spend the evening in relative peace and quiet, cleaning up around the lab or doing paperwork or tinkering with some Uber upgrades, to the tranquil sound of the rain outside. Another groan, obviously meant to sound piteous, echoed through his lab as Scout stumbled in, slamming the swinging door so hard it banged into the wall and frightened many of the nearby doves into fluttering, in search of less dangerous perches.

Medic’s eye twitched again. He pushed his glasses up and said, “What is it Scout?”

He lifted his head to look at the younger mercenary, who stumbled over to his desk, clutching his stomach as if it were ripping him apart from the inside. “Doooooooc,” he moaned. He sounded like a toddler crying for it’s mother when it wasn’t getting enough attention. “I’m dying, doc, you gotta save me.”

Medic rolled his eyes. Scout was, to be perfectly frank, the biggest baby he’d ever known when it came to physical maladies. Skinned knees got him grinding through clenched teeth that he was sure to bleed out in moments. A black eye had him wailing that he was blind now, worse off even than the black Scottish cyclops. Stomach cramps got him in the fetal position, crying out that it was cancer, it had to be cancer, tell his mother he loved her. Every time, Medic checked him out, submitting him to a full physical exam if that’s what it took, simply to silence the bellyaching. He never found anything more wrong with Scout than the typical bumps and bruises that befell every other man in this God-forsaken base.

He wasn’t about to entertain Scout’s incessant whining tonight, not when the weather already had him in a less than ideal mood.

“Scout, I do not have the patience for you tonight,” he grumbled, standing from his chair and walking out from behind his desk. Perhaps if he put distance between himself and the little twerp, Scout would get the message and leave him be.

“Aww, come on, doc!” If anything, Scout’s whining got even more pathetic. “Feels like I’m gonna keel over any second. Have a little sympathy, will ya?”

“I rarely have sympathy for the idiot who comes in here every time he stubs his toe,” Medic snapped.

Scout opened his mouth, probably to plead his case again, but he quickly shut it and let out another choked moan. His arms pulled even tighter around his abdomen. If Medic hadn’t known better, he’d almost call that genuine pain on Scout’s face.

Medic didn’t have any illusions about his position. He was not what many called “a caring professional”. To him, the healing was a rather tedious side effect of his experiments. After all, it was easier to poke someone’s atrophied liver if they weren’t in danger of dying on you before you could put it back. But you just didn’t figure out the secret to cheating life-threatening injuries by being a bleeding heart to every whining toddler that came limping through your door with stomachaches and broken bones and the entirety of their blood on the outside of their body. It just cut into the amount of hours you could spend finding reasonably priced Loch Ness hamster hearts.

But he wasn’t entirely without compassion. While his comrades tended to give him funny looks when he asked for volunteers for his more...ambitious projects, they did still volunteer. The wild success of his Ubercharge was proof of that. And the biggest reason for it was because he tried his damnedest to do it as painlessly as possible. It didn’t take a dubiously achieved medical license to know that people didn’t like pain, not even mercenaries who were used to be shot, stabbed, and blown to bits.

Medic was many things, but a sadist was not one of them. It just wasn’t conducive to his curiosity.

Which is why, after another pained groan from Scout, he sighed heavily, opened one of his desk drawers, and pulled out a bottle of white tablets. He tossed them to Scout and said, “Take two of these tonight and get some sleep. If you don’t feel any better in the morning, come back. Then I’ll see what else I can do, ja?”

Relief blossomed on Scout’s face. “Thanks, doc,” he said. He turned the bottle over in his hand, the tablets clacking together against the glass. “So, these penicillin or something?”

“It’s aspirin, Scout,” Medic said, turning his attention back to his papers. “You probably will not need penicillin any time soon. Unless you have a case of syphilis you haven’t mentioned. In which case I have been working on a super vaccine from some spare bits of the bread tumors. You will never guess where that gets injected…” For added effect, he looked up slightly and gave his best maniacal grin.

What little color was left in Scout’s face drained away, and he muttered a “Night, doc” before tucking the bottle in his pocket and stiffly walking out.

Medic chuckled once he was alone. He may not have been a sadist by nature, but he seemed to becoming quite cunning in his advancing age.