#although you can see in the second picture that his horn is straight instead of having that slight curve

[arttsuka]

Some little drawings I had lying around here and there

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.7k

Warnings: Smut, swearing,

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 4 Part 6

Part 5

I lived about 40 minutes away from Liam in the suburbs. I still lived in the house Andy and I had bought together, planning to have a family.

I kept thinking about the house on the way there. I remembered being so excited when we found out our offer was accepted. When we moved in a few months later, we did what I assume most young couples do, and we had sex in every room, including the laundry. I had joked that if I got pregnant from the laundry sex, we should call the kid Westinghouse.

After Andy died, I had used his life insurance from his superannuation to pay off the mortgage. I had decided against selling it and moving somewhere smaller. I couldn't do it as it felt like I was abandoning our dream.

When we got home, Liam said, "you live here? I expected you lived in an apartment or something, not a whole house by yourself."

I wasn't meant to be here by myself. I didn't say it, though. I just shrugged, opened the door and said, "You live in a huge place by yourself."

"Yeah, but I didn't pick it. A place to live close to the studio was part of the contract.".

We went in. Perrin came lumbering to the door to greet me and gave Liam a short bark. I scolded Perrin and patted him, telling him Liam was a guest. Liam was unfazed and knelt to pat him and had a chat. "You're just protecting your lady, aren't you, buddy? Well, don't worry, I'll take good care of her." Be still my beating heart.

I took Liam past the bedrooms, pointed out the main bathroom, and went to the open plan kitchen, lounge and dining room. I got out food for Perrin and fed him and found Liam hadn't followed me into the room.

He was in the hallway looking at the pictures on the wall. Well, one in particular. The one of me in my wedding dress, kissing Andy. Oh shit... this was awkward.

I didn't say anything, what could I say?

"I'm sorry." He eventually said. He finally looked at me.

"Why?"

"It must have been awful."

Don't cry! I just nodded.

He pulled me to his chest and held me. "I know you told me what happened when we first started chatting. It didn't really register until I saw this." He pulled back a bit to look at me but still had his arms around me. "Is that why you were so upset last night?" I didn't have to say anything. It must have been written all over my face. Shit.

"Shit," Liam said, echoing my thoughts. He let me go and ran his hand through his curls. They seemed to have dried now. "I'm sorry, I should have realised..."

"No," I interrupted him. "Look, I'd be lying if I said I was over it. I don't think you can ever get over it, but I'm ready to move on. I've been trying to date for a while now. It's just taking that last step and sleeping with someone..." I trailed off. I didn't know how to say what I was thinking without him believing I didn't want him. "I want to be sure it's the right person. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Sweetheart." Liam pulled me close again. "I'll try to control myself."

"Don't try too hard," I said. "I want you too."

Liam grinned, "You shouldn't have said that." He buried his face into my neck, kissing me and nipping at me until I started to giggle.

He let me go smiling. I said I had better go shower. His eyes widened a moment. "You ok to wait while I do?"

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I'll have plenty of thoughts to keep me occupied while you're in the shower."

I pretended to be offended, "You're filthy."

"Yes." He said. I ran.

I showered as quickly as possible and got dressed in some leggings and a t-shirt. I went out to find Liam playing on his phone, patting Perrin. He looked up when I came in, and the smile he gave me was so dazzling I stopped for a moment. Gathering myself, I walked over to him and sat on the lounge, not quite close enough to touch him but not out of reach either.

"What should we do today? Do you feel like being lazy, or do you want to go out?" I asked.

Liam hummed a moment. "I think a lazy day would be nice. I won't get many of them soon."

"We could watch a movie?"

Liam agreed. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything really. Except for romance or a tear-jerker."

"What? Why?"

"I hate crying, and I cry at the drop of a hat. I can't even watch Disney movies without crying. Once I watched Seven Pounds and cried for three days straight." Yeah, I really did. "Plus, I'm an ugly crier." Why, oh, why can't I keep my big mouth shut.

Liam laughed, "I find it hard to believe that you could ever be ugly." And I can't breathe. I think I need an oxygen tank. "Alright, we won't watch a romance."

"Ok, come with me and let's choose. I have a heap of Blu-rays and DVDs. I like director cuts, extended cuts, that kind of thing." I took Liam's hand and tried to pull him off the lounge. He didn't let me. Instead, he pulled me closer until I was standing in front of him.

"Not yet." Liam wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, so I was straddling his glorious thighs. "If we can't watch a romance, maybe we could..." He didn't finish the sentence, which I'm thankful for because I don't think even he could have said anything after that, which wouldn't have been cringe.

Liam's hands slid behind my hips to my bottom, and he gripped me, pulling me closer. Once again, I giggled at his strength. Sometimes I swear I want to slap myself. His hips moved upwards, and I slid further down until I could feel his hardness between my legs. Oh fuck, I don't know how long I can hold out. He put a hand on my neck and pulled my face towards his. His lips met mine. I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the moan that came from my throat.

"Fuck," he breathed into my mouth. "When you make noises like that, I just can't stop thinking about what other noises you can make."

I didn't respond, and I just kissed him back. I let my hands trail down his chest, savouring every curvature of his muscles. My hands reached under his shirt, and I felt my way back up his chest.

Although I was travelling blind, my fingers found the spot they were looking for. Liam hissed as my fingers trailed over his nipples. A self-satisfied smile came across my lips. As if in retaliation, he pulled his hands away and held the bottom of my shirt.

"I don't like this shirt. It covers too much." He grinned roguishly. I wasn't going to give in easily.

"But it's a Ramones t-shirt," I complained. "Don't get between Joey and me."

"Joey, huh?"

I nodded, "didn't you know I was a punk rocker?" I stuck my tongue out and did some devils horns.

"Do that again." Liam was grinning at me, so, like an idiot, I did. He whipped the shirt off over my head so quickly I couldn't stop him. I stared down at my chest. My bra was still keeping my modesty in check. I must have had a crazy look of surprise on my face because he laughed at me. "That's better." He said and started kissing the top of my breasts.

I put my hands into his hair, letting him have a small victory while I took mine. His hair was as soft as I thought it would be. Then I curled my hands into fists and pulled, so he had no choice but to pull back and look up at me.

"That was very rude," I said, trying not to smile.

"You loved it." He wasn't wrong.

"Maybe, but it's only fair if..." I trailed off and tugged at his shirt. He leaned forward instantly, and I pulled his shirt off. He was so broad in the chest I felt positively small next to him. I pushed him back against the lounge, well, he let me push him, and I leaned down to kiss his chest. His hair tickled my nose as I travelled my kisses across his chest to his nipple. I kissed it gently before flicking it with my tongue.

"Fuck me," I heard him say. That encouraged me, and I took his nipple in my mouth and gave it a little bite. His whole body jerked in response.

Liam growled, "Fuck it". Suddenly his arm was around my waist and the other under my bum, and he stood up, taking me with him. I squealed and wrapped my legs around his waist. He was stronger than I thought.

"Which one is your bedroom?" Liam asked as he started towards the hall. His eyes held mine, and his blue eyes seemed dark and hungry.

"Second on the left." I should have given my room a clean! Maybe he won't notice if I keep him occupied.

He took me to the door, and I reached behind my back and opened it. He took me in and put me down. He closed the door behind us, and I turned around, looking at my room. Embarrassment crept in.

I had a massive pile of dirty clothes hanging out of my laundry basket and a pile of clean clothes on a chair. My bed was unmade, pillows everywhere. My bedside table was piled with books and had an empty Ben and Jerry's tub on top. Ok, it's bad, but it could have been worse. Then I remembered something, and my eyes flew to the bedside's open draw.

I felt the blood leave my face. It was worse. The last thing I wanted Liam to see was my god damned vibrator. Fuck!

"So, what should we do now?" Liam stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my bare waist. He ran his hands up my side and kissed my neck, nuzzling into me. Although it felt amazing, all I could do was look at the pink silicone sticking out of the draw. I was as still as a statue.

"You're not into this." He stated, his hands dropped, "That's ok, I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do." I mumbled something, not sure what, and kept thinking about getting to the draw and hiding the vibrator without drawing attention to it.

Liam's voice came out strangled and about an octave higher. "Hide the vibrator?" His voice calmed, and he said, "Damn, Sweetheart. I would have been happy just to feel you up a bit. But if you insist."

I want to die. Liam saw it. I jumped to the draw and slammed it shut. "Umm, I didn't mean for you to see that." I still couldn't look at him.

"I didn't see anything until you said it." Oh. Well, I'm a fucking idiot.

I slowly turned and looked at him. I could see Liam's bloody lip twitching as he tried to hide a shit-eating grin. I wanted to hit him.

"Don't be embarrassed." His voice was deep again, his accent making each word soothing, "I'm not." He came closer to me, his head. He spoke softly in my ear, "I think it's hot as fuck."

I moaned, partly turned on, partly wanting to die. I could feel the heat between my legs grow, and a pleasant tingle radiated through me as I shivered. "No, it's not," I said. Why was I such a prude sometimes? I hid my face in my hands.

Liam didn't attempt to hide his grin. He took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his. "My rock hard cock disagrees." Oh, Lord, help me.

"Really?" I asked. I hadn't always been like this. Ten years ago, I would have pulled the vibrator out of the draw and put on a show. I knew lots of guys liked to watch a girl orgasm. Just picturing myself doing it now was cringe-inducing.

"Fuck, yes." Liam took my hand. He was gentle and moved slowly as if I were his prey, and any sudden movement would make me bolt. Liam placed my hand on his jeans between his legs. He groaned, and his forehead leaned against mine. "That's what you do to me."

A thrill flowed through me. I wanted to touch him so much. I cupped my fingers around Liam's balls and pressed my palm against him. I moved my palm slowly up, trying to find the end, fuck it was big.

Liam put his hands in my hair and kissed me roughly. I kept moving my palm up and down slowly and firmly against him, my own excitement growing. I was getting so turned on, I lost control for a moment and bit on Liam's lip. Liam growled.

I couldn't stand it anymore; the desire to feel him was too much. I undid his belt. Not wanting to take the time to undo each button, I pulled his jeans apart, each button popping as they came undone. Liam looked down and watched as I slid his jeans down his thighs. I gripped him through his underwear and explored his length. Liam stood there still, watching as my hand moved over the fabric.

It felt so good, but I wanted more. I wanted to hold in my hand what I had glimpsed the night before. I put a hand into his trunks, but before I could touch anything, Liam grabbed my wrist and removed it from his underwear.

"As much as I want this and believe me, I fucking want this. I need to make sure this is what you want." Liam's voice was strained. I looked at his face and could see the effort it took for him to have stopped me. His desire was plain.

"I want it." Liam closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes, they seemed on fire.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

Please don't make me say it. The shyness was back, or shame, I can't tell. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. "I want to touch you," I whispered.

"Tell me where." His voice was hoarse. It was such a fucking turn on.

"I want to touch your cock." I felt his pants move at my words. I looked down and saw the tip almost peeking out of his underwear. I put my hand in and held his shaft gently, and his skin felt soft and velvety. Liam shuddered against me. At that moment, I felt powerful watching this huge man tremble at my touch. I moved my hand.

Liam bucked his hips against my hand, moving slowly at first, but his rhythm increased as did mine. I couldn't stop watching his body move, the muscles in his abs contracting with each thrust, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. It was so fucking erotic.

I felt Liam's hand move over my face, and I looked up and realised he had been watching my face. His thumb moved over my lips. I parted them, and he put his thumb in my mouth. I let my tongue rub over the pad of his thumb and sucked. His eyes went wide, and his hips stuttered. I kept sucking and jerking him, syncing them into the same rhythm.

"Fuck, Lana, stop." I released him slowly and took my hand out of his pants. I let him withdraw his thumb, but I still sucked. It made a slight pop as it left. He leaned into me, catching his breath a moment. I think I nearly made him orgasm. I tried to keep the triumphant smile from my face. I didn't try very hard.

"You're..." Liam was shaking his head. He didn't finish the sentence.

"Terrible Muriel?" I suggested. Way to kill the fucking moment, Lana.

Liam laughed, thank god! "Not what I was going to say." He flopped onto the bed and laid on his back. "Fucking good at that is what I was thinking." He pulled his jeans and shoes off and closed his eyes, his breath slowly returning to normal. I wanted to jump his bones.

Instead, I laid down next to him on my tummy, leaning on my elbows.

Part 6

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XI]

Word count: 5,131 

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

Author’s note: My beta reader gave me a few suggestions and it's truly something that's been bugging me, so I decided it would be better to check with you guys, my readers. I'm writing this story purely for fun so I don't mind changing things. I'm not well versed in writing Character x reader stories and I'll admit the whole concept sometimes escapes me (ahem, fully does) and my beta pointed out that it's become an OC x Dracula fic. This chapter in particular touches into something that may upset some people if they're really invested into the reader POV, which is religion. You may not agree with the reader's thoughts regarding christianity, and I don't want to needle anyone's beliefs because this is a reader insert. My question is: would you guys prefer if I gave the reader a name, in which case she becomes a fully realised character? I'll still avoid describing her because then you can picture her however you like. Longwinded question, I know, but I thought it deserved some explanation. On a more positive note, I made two spotify playlists; one is oriented towards alternative songs (mostly) and the other one is purely made up of classical pieces.

Regardless, ENJOYYY

________________________________________________________

The rest of the trip would have been completely silent if it wasn’t for Portishead’s music. 

I barely looked at Dracula as he dropped me off at the Airbnb I had rented. He parted with a promise to meet me at the wedding tomorrow and an indifferent goodbye, although when I made it all the way to the flat’s second floor, his car was still parked at the front door. When I turned around to throw my backpack on the bed and looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone.

Not even the wide array of DVD stacks inside the Airbnb managed to keep my mind off of Dracula.

After settling in and having a shower, I occupied myself with sitting in front of the TV in the living room and analysing the owner’s collection – an impressive one at that – however, when I picked up a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could almost hear Count Dracula laughing as I sang along to Frank N Furter and immediately put the disc back to where it belonged. So I chose something harmless to watch.

As Mulder and Scully bickered about aliens on the television in another episode of The X-Files – really, props to the Airbnb owner for supplying his entire collection to guests – I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. 

Would Count Dracula be a Scully or a Mulder? Such a silly thing to wonder about, nevertheless I was curious about it. Perhaps if he was here with me, watching TV and making his remarks about what was going on, I would manage to concentrate on the episode playing. 

It had worked out fine last time. Well, for the most part. As long as we didn’t watch anything with sexual undertones such as Interview with the Vampire, I would be fine. For how long, was the question.

I frowned as I rewinded the last 10 minutes on the DVD player. Scully was lying in a hospital bed while Mulder screamed at a doctor when just two minutes ago Mulder had been talking to their boss. Obviously, I had missed more than two minutes, too stuck in my thoughts about the Count.

I glanced at my phone again. 

He’d be gone tomorrow. And I needed to know if he would like Scully or Mulder better.

I took my phone between shaky fingers.

A small part of me, one that was still thinking straight, suggested that maybe I shouldn’t do this on account of that kiss earlier. But nothing of what had happened during that trip mattered anymore, not when I would never see him again. Whatever I did today would have no consequences.

 Are you there?

Count Dracula replied just as Mulder screamed at the doctor, and I still had no idea why.

 Yes.

I typed a message as quickly as I could before I regretted this.

 I can’t sleep. 

I chewed on my lip as I waited for a response but when none came, I started typing another text and then erased it. Inviting him over might develop into less innocent things than simply watching TV. 

I curled my toes. I came this far. I resisted him this long. There was no reason to jump ship at the last second. 

Tomorrow he’d be carted away by the Foundation and while I would very much like to do more than kiss Count Dracula, the idea of giving myself to him and then never feeling his touch again seemed unbearable. 

 Do you want to take a stroll through Gloucester?

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His reply came so quick that he must have been staring at his phone, waiting for me to send another text.

I rushed to change from pyjamas into jeans, jacket and boots. I had just finished fixing up how I looked when my phone buzzed. Without bothering to read the text, I left the flat, heart beating like a hummingbird’s as I went down the stairs to the building’s front door. 

Count Dracula wore the same leather jacket as earlier, waiting for me just as he had waited hours ago in London.

“Did you walk all the way here?” I asked as soon as I noticed the BMW’s absence.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He smiled.

“Exploring?”

He smirked but said nothing.

“Eating, then,” I concluded. “Drinking, sorry. I forgot you get stuck in the technicalities.”

“You get used to it,” he said, extending a hand for me. 

I gasped when I placed my hand on his. Someone else’s blood had made his temperature rise from cadaveric cold to match my own but I was too fascinated by how plump his flesh felt to care about an unknown person’s death. 

“You don’t feel like a statue,” I said, squeezing his hand to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“You get used to it,” he repeated. “Come. I found a lovely place to break into.”

He pulled me to him so fast that my stomach lurched. I almost lost balance but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me. 

“May I remind you that I’m human and next time you do this I might throw up in your shoes?” 

My vision was still swimming and I had to lean my body on his until I could see properly. 

“I’ll warn you next time.”

I craned my neck to look up at him, noticing absently that I had my arms around him in a hug. Light coming from a neighbouring house glowed behind his head likening a saint’s halo. Horns would be more suitable, and more alluring. 

“Will I like this place you intend to take me?” 

“More than I will,” he said, securing me in an inescapable hold, one I had no desire to fight. “It’s a cathedral.”

“Gloucester Cathedral?” I loosened my arms around him. “It’s a holy place,” I said and he cocked an eyebrow. “Can you even set foot in there?”

He snorted.

“I can waltz with you in there while reciting biblical verses as long as I don’t look upon the cross.” 

“I’d like to see that. A healthy dose of blasphemy is always fun.”

A slow smile spread on his lips.

“Then you’ll love it.”

To my dismay, he untangled himself from me but still kept an arm around my shoulders in a half embrace. Instead of avoiding him, I circled his waist with my arm, basking on how uncharacteristically warm he felt in comparison to the chilly night. 

Dracula looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, though a grin creeped on his mouth. For the first time, we had exchanged roles – he, doubtful that I was so willing to touch him, and I, sure of what I was doing ever since I struck that deal. 

Pity it wouldn’t last long.

“Lead the way,” I told him. 

  _______________________________________________________

Except for a couple of stray cats and a dog, Count Dracula and I were the only ones wandering through Gloucester’s narrow streets and quaint façades. The moon was hidden but with how bright it glowed, even beneath a swath of cotton clouds, I would guess it was full. 

I relied more on Count Dracula’s eyes than on the unsteady old street lights that seemed to hail from the 18th century, but I didn’t need his vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of a towering Gothic building, concealed behind a row of modern restaurants and stores, all closed now that it was closer to dawn than to dusk, wedged inside small houses stylised in Tudor architecture. 

“Here we are,” said Dracula just as we rounded the corner and faced Gloucester Cathedral.

It was an enormous and monstrous thing yet beautiful all the same in all its complicated detail of spiking roofs and pointed narrow glass that composed huge windows amongst blocks of stone. Sculptures of saints and kings stood watch at the front, arching above the intricately woven entrance. 

“Is there an alarm this time?” I asked as we approached the door. 

“What for? Christians trust their god to keep it safe. There is someone sleeping inside, though. A priest if I had to guess, so we’ll have to be very quiet.”

“There goes my plan,” I said, although I had none. No space for calculated words and carefully measured tone there. All I had left was impulsivity, and saying things without really meaning them provided me with a rush unlike any other. 

“What plan is that?” Dracula questioned, side-eyeing me.

I shrugged.

“What does it matter if I can’t be noisy now?” I snickered. I would have tried being reckless more often if I’d known I would earn so many bewildered looks from Count Dracula. “Open the door.” I bidded, staring at him. “Please?”

Something crossed his gaze, something that made me wish that he would press me against a wall and demand that I tell him about my sordid plan. But he did no such thing.

“Since you asked nicely,” he said, just as he had done earlier during our trip.

Dracula forced the door open with the same ease I would have opened an unlocked door.

My mouth was a little dry but the thrill of doing something forbidden still made my heart thud, despite the fear of being caught. Perhaps I’d been developing a new habit of doing dangerous things such as making deals with vampires, and getting excited at the prospect of desecrating a church with one. I would have to find a substitute to that after he was gone but I couldn’t think of anything that could compare. 

I followed Count Dracula into the cathedral’s nave. 

The massive round pillars surrounding the aisle took away some of the simplicity of the ribbed vaulting, which derived from early Gothic architecture if I remembered my art classes correctly. There weren’t any pews positioned in usual rows as most churches did, and from where I stood I couldn’t spot an altar. The place seemed bare without them but it was still imposing, as most religious things were, I supposed.

The ground's yellowed stone, that one day may have been white, was dappled with a luminescence of blue, red and purple. I whirled around, looking up to find out where that variety of colours came from, and grinned upon finding a stained glass window that extended all the way up to the ceiling. 

“I never liked churches as a child,” I whispered to Dracula, ignoring that he probably knew it. “They creeped me out. I couldn’t understand how some people felt love inside them, when all I felt was judgement. And like I was being watched by saints, angels and Jesus.” I grimaced as I admired the pictures on the glass. Saints looked back at me with their saintly stare. Jesus Christ was pictured at the centre pane. “My parents weren’t very religious but my grandmother was one of those fervent catholics, full of guilt and fear. She used to take me to mass every other Sunday at Westminster Abbey until one time when I started arguing with the priest during his sermon about how illogical the bible is at some points.” I glanced at Dracula and saw him chuckling soundlessly. “I was 13. My grandmother was so humiliated and angry at me that she never took me to mass again.”

“And you were relieved to never have to go back again,” Dracula supplied. “How do you like churches now?”

“I like them as long as I’m just visiting. And I’m not scared of them anymore, not since I won that argument with the priest.” I looked at him. He was making a point of observing the rest of the church instead of gazing at the stained glass as I was. “You were raised christian, too. And if Wikipedia is right, you fought in the name of God.”

“In another life.” He bobbed his head, lacing his hands behind his back as he wandered down the aisle. “Not the foolish, gullible and fearful catholic as Justina was.” Dracula cast a brief glance at me. “My late wife.” He explained but I had already surmised as much. 

Since he had mentioned her without my needing to ask, I felt the urge to goad him with more questions. The urge to see that odd semblance of grief in his face as I had seen weeks ago. The reminder that he was capable of emotion, still. But I left it alone. It was possible he would shut down and assume that distant and impenetrable façade, and then our last date would be over much faster than I was ready for it to be.

“No, you were more the type to rip people to shreds when they didn’t condone your faith.” I lowered my voice mid sentence when my words echoed. 

Following him down the aisle, I noticed that a big apparatus was raised up in a wooden structure ahead of us and it looked like an organ. Had we been alone at the church, I would have climbed up the stairs to knead a few keys just to hear the resounding, spine-chilling noise it would make. 

“Precisely.” Dracula laughed.

“Did you ever do it for fun?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

He turned around, stopping at the centre of the aisle a few metres away from me. 

“For fun, for boredom, but most of all to instill fear into my enemies’ hearts. Does it still bother you?”

I stopped.

It had when I first found out about it. And although he had just admitted torturing people simply for the fun of it, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as before. I ought to have been disgusted or disapproving, at the very least. It was a little worrying that I didn’t feel any of those things, like I had just discovered a part of me that was capable of terrible cruelty.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Dracula’s grin was all teeth as if that answer was everything he had been longing to hear. 

“You’re not nervous tonight.” He was still grinning. “You’re usually nervous around me.”

“Usually,” I agreed, smirking. 

Was this how it felt? Not having to worry, not caring about what could happen, not being cautious about every little thing, not minding that he had done horrible deeds and I still wanted his lips on mine?

This foreign feeling swelled inside my chest and my smirk became a grin. 

“Let’s see the rest of the place,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “There is a door back there and I think I saw something interesting.”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow and simply turned around, heading to my right where I had seen a long corridor dappled with more colourful light from stained glass. Through an arched portal, I could see the extent of the corridor but it still didn’t prepare me when I crossed the threshold. 

What I thought was only one corridor, was actually two positioned in an L-shape and I stood at the cusp of both. Elaborate lines composed patterns on the vaulted ceiling and walls, fanning into long and curved designs etched in stone and ending in what resembled flowers. Light poured from a collection of stained glass windows and with the way each corridor bent at their ends, I supposed the structure continued until it formed a rectangular. I squinted past a clear glass on a windowpane, and smiled. I could make out shapes of trees and what looked to be a fountain outside. These weren’t corridors but covered walks surrounding a square. Westminster Abbey had something similar.

“Gorgeous,” whispered Dracula.

I turned around to see what he was admiring. His stare was fixed on me, and I had a feeling it had been the same way when he spoke. He moved towards me and the stained glass bathed his face in red. Dracula placed one of my hands on his shoulder and took the other one into his own, extending our joined hands up in a dancing stance.

“I’ll step on your feet,” I warned as he splayed a hand on my back. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you. Waltzing is easy, and I told you we would waltz.”

In a hushed voice as to not wake whoever slept inside the cathedral, Count Dracula instructed me how, his knees touching mine ever so slightly to point me in the correct direction as I stared down at our feet rasping on the floor, his hands pushing and tugging gently as we swayed to silence. 

After a little while, I felt confident enough not to step on his feet, although I had done it a few times during his lesson, and looked up at his face. We were both a mess of colours and blurry features clouded in darkness as we danced out and into the stained glass light. The air was so chilly that my lungs burned with the effort of dancing, his hand so unrealistically warm on mine as we danced pointlessly – it was surreal, and filled me with an unusual melancholy that I wouldn’t experience something like that again and happiness because I had let myself experience it.

“I dare not ask for love–” Dracula’s words cut through the silence and I drew a sharp intake of breath for what he was about to say. His next words were accompanied by the cadence people used to recite something, which removed some of the impact of what he had first said and I relaxed. 

“ I dare not ask for love – with all

My many sins, both great and small,

I am perhaps of love unworthy!

But if feigned love, if you would

Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,

For happily would I, believe me,

Deceive myself if but I could. ”

I held my breath halfway throughout but continued to dance. The mention of love completely escaped me when he spoke of deceit and I could not help but wonder if he suspected me of it. Did he know I was leading him on and did not care? Or did he know about me and Zoe and this was just a fancy way of telling me so? My heart raced. I hoped he took it not as panic but exhilaration instead.

“Is that in the bible?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It’s Pushkin. I’ve been reading Russian literature again, old and new and it’s stuck in my head. Pushkin remains a favourite of mine and Anna Akhmatova is a close second from the new generation. Well, old generation, for you.” He chuckled. “The Pushkin stanza sounds better in Russian. Most things sound better in Russian,” he said in an even voice. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he recited the verses in Russian, and although I understood none of it, it did sound better. “This, however, is from the bible. I don’t remember from which book but I remember that I liked it when I was human. I’m translating directly from Latin, though, because that’s how I studied the bible, so I’m taking a few liberties here to make it sound better, and less ridiculously holy. It goes like this:  Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.”

“It could very well be Pushkin,” I offered. 

“It could. Ironically, I prefer these verses more than Pushkin’s.” He laughed lightly and I fully relaxed. He sounded like himself, not at all as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. 

I did wonder, though, why he chose those verses out of anything else to declaim. Pushkin was a hopeless romantic through and through from what I had read of him. Of Anna I knew little but what I did know spoke of bitterness, death and failed, tragic love. Why suddenly speak of love? He could’ve quoted something else from the bible. Perhaps something to do with Samson and Delilah, since we had joked about it in the past. Anything else would have made more sense, even the parts that made no sense at all and had driven me to argue with a priest years ago.

Was Count Dracula attempting to tell me something? No. Couldn’t be. He was as forward as one could be. And the idea of him feeling anything remotely close to love seemed a little silly. 

He had loved Justina; more than he thought he was capable of, he’d said. But that had been centuries ago in another life. 

For a moment my determination in being reckless faltered and I felt at loss for what to say. 

Dracula let go of me briefly to spin me around in a move I wasn’t as deftly trained in as he was, causing me to squeal at the velocity and trip over my feet. I thought I would fall but he caught me and started moving again in the waltz pattern he had taught me. Laughter bubbled up to my throat in my hurry to catch up with him and the sound of it was amplified by the long walls. Dracula’s laughter joined mine until it became a song for which we danced.

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters.  I thought as I gazed up at him.  He’ll be gone and whatever I say doesn’t matter anymore. I can entertain even the wildest of things because they’ll never happen. Nothing will happen, for the rest of time.

“I’ve got one for you,” I breathed as we spun in a dizzying pace. “The Devil’s hands directs our every move; the things we loathed become the things we love.” It didn’t come out nearly as expertly as his declamation but I was out of breath, spinning and spinning as he commanded. Like a ballerina in a music box. Dracula simply stared at me, the corners of his lips in their own fight of tugging upwards or downwards. “It’s Baudelaire. Have you read it?” I wasn’t sure if I saw him shake his head. Suddenly, we were dancing so fast that I could barely see my surroundings, much less his face. “I know Baudelaire as you know the bible, only the parts that matter, but I know them from heart. There’s one phrase that I particularly relate to, especially now.” I gulped as if I was looking down a cliff. “What can an eternity –”

Dracula stopped abruptly and I gasped, strands of my hair landing on my face as my head reeled at suddenly being motionless. The world still whirled around and I swayed on my feet as if I had forgotten how to keep myself standing up still, but the Count’s grasp kept me in place. 

Interrupting our dance, I realised not a second later, was for the best. I’d been about to quote something very dangerous, something that could land me with both feet on a grave for all eternity with Count Dracula. And I would’ve said it out of sheer wickedness, just because I was tempted about what could happen if I broke a few rules. 

I looked up at his face, heart teetering on the verge of stopping in fear of what I would find in his expression. But Dracula wasn’t paying attention to me. His eyes were focusing past my head. And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Our laughter must have woken up whoever had been sleeping inside the cathedral.

“What -?” A male voice drifted from behind me, sounding panicked and angry. “You can’t be here at this hour!”

“Shit,” I whispered to Dracula. “What now?”

He gave me a lopsided grin.

“This is your warning,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice now that we had been caught. I had time to frown at his reply before both of Dracula’s arms pulled me into an embrace, my feet swinging beneath me. I emitted a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle. “Hold on and please try not to throw up on my shoes, they’re rather expensive.”

I had one valuable second to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest before we moved faster than I thought was possible. My insides tossed inside of me, suddenly demanding for a way out of my body’s cage. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, too frightened of opening them. I had never gone on a roller coaster ride but I supposed the feeling was similar. 

Gusts of wind assailed my hair and threatened to steal the breath out of my lungs. I was afraid the feeling would last forever until we finally stopped and I landed on safe ground.

“You can let go now, Y/N.”

“Can you give me a second?” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “I think my soul is still trying to find a way back into my body.”

Dracula’s laughter tickled my ear and I tightened my hold on him. He did, too, his fingers pressing gently on the flesh of my back. Slowly, as if in a limp, my senses caught up with me and my stomach settled on what felt like an appropriate position. 

I opened my eyes tentatively and turned my head to the side. Startled, I realised he had brought me all the way from Gloucester Cathedral to the street where my Airbnb rental was located. And he’d done it in a span of two minutes, if not less. 

I tipped my head to look at him, resting my cheek on the cold of his leather jacket. Dracula’s eyes were closed, sets of black eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face, and he was breathing steadily. Not because he needed to, I presumed, but because he was taking in my scent. My lips tugged up automatically; it was odd perceiving that as something sweet but I did.  

His throat moved, drawing my attention. A most devilish thought occurred to me and before I gave myself too much time to dwell on it, I stretched up and nibbled at the skin of his neck. It lasted no more than five seconds but the sound that came out of Dracula would be seared into my memory forever. Raw, rapturous, and chilling at the same time. Satisfied, I let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. Too fast for me to react, he took my hands and placed them where they had been, and then trapped me into his embrace again.

I had just blurred some very important lines with what I had just done, and yet part of me only cared about the thrill of it.

“Your scar has faded,” he said, and my heart hammered madly. A hand delved into my hair, grabbing a mass of it to expose my neck. “You didn’t really think you could get away with what you just did, did you?”

“Not really. But if you bite me without my consent, then the deal is off.”

“And I have no intention of breaking my word. Don’t think of this as reprisal. It’s more of a gift, such as you’ve just given me.”

Dracula bent his head slowly towards my bare neck, like he was giving me time to protest. I remained silent. It was imprudent, this need to know what he would do, but I wanted to garner every possibility of my time with him to cherish in my heart, forever. And the uncertainty of it made me all the more excited. I stared up at the sky and then his lips touched my throat where he had bitten me, softly, so very softly. And then again, not softly at all. Riveting pleasure sparked to life as if the scar was still fresh and I choked on my breath. Dull teeth nibbled the skin there and a flash of pulsating warmth coursed down my chest and back, spreading gradually in the same way spilled blood spread on the ground: trying to encompass everything in its wake, tainting it with inevitable appeal and fear of what it meant. I held on to Dracula forcefully, more forcefully than one would judge to be adequate, and he laughed against my skin before giving it a long lick. 

“Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “I may interpret your willingness as consent. And I know you well enough to know you won’t give it to me easily. Will you?”

“No.” The word was automatic and I thanked the part of me that still harboured a sense of self-preservation above my heedless desire for him. However, I still leaned all of my weight on him and made no attempt to put distance between us, as I should’ve. “Not easily at all.”

Dracula, showing way more restraint than I had all night, disentangled my hair from his fingers and stepped back. It took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms again but I let my hands drop to my sides.

“You’re dangerous,” he accused.

“Not as much as you are.”

“A different kind of dangerous.” He licked his lips. Could he taste my skin in his mouth? 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I smiled. Being called dangerous filled me with power. Power over him. I was delighted for only a second before wondering if he would think the same thing tomorrow when I stuck a needle with sickly blood in him.

“The cathedral was a good idea,” I said. “Defiling a church has always been in my to-do list, plus I learned how to waltz. So thank you for that.” I sighed. “I should really go to bed now, and so should you. Isn’t the sun almost coming up?”

He nodded. 

“Before you go–” he looked behind me with obvious disdain at the building I was staying at and then back at me “–what were you quoting before the priest came upon us?”

I gulped.

“I don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, shifting closer.

“You’re lying. I thought we had established that you don’t lie to me.”

“You established that.” I stepped back, conjuring a cheeky smile. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll regret it,” I admitted. “And I prize my sleep. I prefer not to go to bed with a heavy heart.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I waited under his scrutiny, doing my very best to keep it together.

“Tomorrow, then,” he finally said. “Tell me tomorrow.”

But I wouldn’t tell him tomorrow. I would tell him nothing at all. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Dracula.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I realised I still didn’t know if Dracula would like Scully or Mulder better. And would never know.

 .

.

.

Taglist: @rheabalaur​ @festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @deborahlazaroff​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @girlonfireice​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @dreamer2381​ @apocalypsenowish​ @saint-hardy​

[sleep-i-ness]

Immortal (Part 1) (Maria Hill x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/N hasn’t quite told her girlfriend about her immortality and her past with Tony Stark; which causes a lot of tension whilst the Avengers is being formed. Set in 2012 during the first Avengers movie. (brief Loki x reader)

Immortal Masterlist

“Maria, darling, please explain to me your thinking behind chasing after a GOD instead of fleeing the explosion caused by the Tesseract.” Maria glanced at the tapping foot and folded arms before turning back to the files open on the screens in front of her, flicking through the latest stats on said god and the team Fury was expecting her to somehow pull together.

“I was doing my job. Something I am meant to be doing right now but you are distracting me.” 

The woman sighed, walking so close to Maria that she could almost feel their bodies touching. “Trust me, I can be a lot more distracting,” she breathed, pressing a soft kiss on Maria’s temple.

“Y/N, honey, please. Let me finish up on this. Then you can distract me all you like.” Maria’s head was aching and all she wanted to do was sit down for a bit, maybe have a rest and then deal with the situation. But being Deputy Director of SHIELD meant she could rarely have a break.

“Don’t change the subject. I was terrified when I heard you’d been trapped under a collapsed tunnel, what if you’d been seriously injured? What if...” Y/N trailed off, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. What if you hadn’t made it back to me?

“I’m fine.”

“But what if you hadn’t been? Maria, love, please. Look at me.” Y/N placed two fingers on Maria’s chin, guiding her to make eye contact. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“This is our job!” Maria finally exploded. “If you can’t handle the fact that one of us might get hurt, then this won’t work out. I am not going to neglect my duty for fear that I might get injured. There’s a bigger picture than just my life. You, of all people, know that.”

Y/N was silent and sat down opposite Maria, rubbing her neck.

“If that’s all, would you mind leaving me so I can actually get on with my job.” Maria’s tone was cold and she studiously avoided Y/N’s gaze.

“Let me help. I’ll go to ground, find the horned godling and show him what it’s like to be trapped under a pile of rubble.” Y/N joked, trying to lighten her girlfriend’s mood. She was worried for her, Maria looked absolutely exhausted and she’d barely gotten out of the rubble before plunging straight back into her work. It was futile to try and tear Maria from her work; her diligence was one of the qualities she admired so strongly.

“Y/N!” Maria scolded lightly, eyes never leaving the monitors in front of her. “You know that wouldn’t help; I’d spend the whole time being worried sick about you. Doing your job doesn’t mean putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. Plus, it would be nice to have you around when we’re dealing with the Avengers.”

Y/N bolted upright, eyes wide and face pale.

“Avengers? As in Tony Stark?”

“Well, yes. You were there when we were selecting the candidates, turned down a place on the Initiative but we’ve contacted the others. Will you reconsider?” Y/N winced at Maria’s words, knowing that her place on the team would only lead to mistrust and chaos.

“I’d love to, love, but I don’t think I’d play well with Tony Stark. His famed ego would brush me the wrong way and I’m sure extra tension will not be appreciated.” 

At that, Maria finally looked up, giving her a cold, dead stare.

“You managed to complete several missions by playing nice. Don’t think I haven’t heard of your reputation as the ‘Seductress’. It’s not too difficult for you to smile nicely and calm things down when the team gets in each other’s faces. Romanoff is on the team as well so you will have another agent to work with.”

Y/N groaned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No. Fury’s orders. Report at 9am on the Helicarrier tomorrow morning.”

~

“Nick, darling. Good to see you again,” Y/N greeted Director Fury effusively, grinning at the stoic man’s exasperation.

“It’s Director Fury to you, Agent Y/L/N. Please remember to be professional in a work environment. But I’m glad to see you arrived on time. I wasn’t sure you would, given previous meetings.” Director Fury walked over to the central monitors in the command room, clearly expecting her to follow. Y/N snapped to attention, schooling her features into a poker face.

“Yeah, well, Commander Hill is most effective in completing her orders,” complimented Y/N, a serene expression on her face as she scuttled after him. 

Y/N breathed an interjection of astonishment as she gazed out at the clouds stretching endlessly in front of them. The command room was abustle with agents as the Helicarrier prepared to take off and she could see a small team running facial recognition software internationally in one corner. 

“Now, as you can guess, you’re not here to ease tensions among the team. I know of your past with Stark and am not willing to risk the safety of the world on some petty spat you two had a few years back.” Director Fury pulled up various files, tapping hurriedly on the monitors.

“To be frank, sir, Mr Stark does not know of my work here at SHIELD and I would like to keep it that way. I feel it would jeopardise the Avengers if he knew.” 

Director Fury turned to face her, his one, beady eye boring into hers. “I was not planning for you to be working together.”

“Then what am I here for, sir?” 

“I need your skillset.” 

Y/N grimaced, she knew it was coming. She was good at her job, the best, maybe, and if you needed someone undercover, to be charmingly deceiving, she was your woman. However, her teamwork skills were lacking, to say the least. Her position on the Avengers team was therefore surprising and she had sensed an ulterior motive to Fury’s orders.

“Yes, sir. Who is my target?”

“We’ll be sending you into the mouth of the beast himself.” Fury pulled up Loki’s file, although there was little to show other than a couple of blurry images. “He has a team of SHIELD agents under mind control, including Agent Barton, which will make your job harder. But with your… condition, I think you can easily pretend to switch sides. Say you want information, a cure maybe.”

“Understood, sir. Where am I to encounter him?” Y/N tapped on one of the blurry images to enlarge it, zooming in on the long stick-thing with a glowing blue gem at one end. “And what the hell is that?”

“That is his sceptre. It has some kind of mind-controlling properties. Just keep away from the pointy end and you should be fine.”

“Sounds easier said than done if he got Barton,” muttered Y/N. Mouth of the beast. God, Fury did like to send her on the fun ones.

“I expect you to provide intel on his plans. His location is highly confidential, as we need to ensure that he comes to us. He will make his next move soon, so you will be deployed as soon as we get off the water.”

“Yes sir.” Y/N turned to leave and gather her gear, but paused as a thought came to mind. “Just wondering, Nick, if you could do a favour for me. Can you keep this off-record, or make sure Commander Hill doesn’t know about my mission?”

“It’s Director Fury. But, yes, of course. This was never going to be below Level 9 Clearance anyway, but I’ll make sure to put it with the rest of your files.”

Y/N nodded sharply, turning smartly to exit the command centre and head to the tactical gear room. As she walked towards the double doors, they slid open as Agent Coulson strode towards Director Fury.

“Phil.”

“Y/N.”

“I hope you took your chance in getting your cards signed.”

“Not yet, I didn’t have them on me.”

Y/N laughed at Phil’s regretful tone, before making her way out to get her gear.

:.

Y/N had parachuted down to the location Fury had given her; it was a nondescript, seemingly abandoned warehouse. However, the muffled bustle betrayed the movement behind the locked doors. Squeezing under the chain-link fence, she dusted herself off as she scanned the outside of the building for activity. It was completely still as she made her way across to the doors, squeezing her way through the slim gap left between them.

Only to be face with a pistol pressed against her head. This must be the muscle. Y/N smiled disarmingly sweetly at the two burly men in front of her.

“Hey boys. Don’t say you could point me in the direction of the Asgardian with horns?”

The thugs glanced at each other in confusion, giving Y/N enough time to kick upwards, knocking the pistol out of his hand. It scattered across the floor, out of reach and Y/N groaned. She’d actually have to fight these men.

One man attempted to swing a punch at her, while the other grabbed her in a headlock. The resulting right hook to the jaw left her seeing stars as pain shot through her jawbone and down her neck. He swung again and Y/N blocked his arm, grabbing and using his own momentum to push him down.

The thug behind her tightened the headlock and black spots clustered at the edge of her vision as he constricted her air supply. Y/N locked her leg round his and threw him down, ducking as the second man sent a lumbering punch towards her head. She elbowed sharply back into his gut and he doubled over, air pushed out of him.

The first man clambered to his feet and she grabbed him by his shirt, pushing away. Y/N pulled him towards her, her head colliding with his nose. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The second thug, seeing his friend fall, kicked Y/N’s legs out from under her. He straddled her, repeatedly striking blows across her face. Reaching her left hand up, she blindly pressed her fingers into his eyes.

The man howled, sending footsteps running their way. Fuck.

:.

“We found a SHIELD agent trying to break in and she demanded to come see you,” Barton’s voice was monotonous as he pushed Y/N onto her knees in front of Loki.

“SHIELD, huh? They only sent one of you? At least you too will become free,” Loki crooned, lifting her head to meet his eyes with the tip of his sceptre.

“They didn’t send me,” Y/N mumbled, voice muffled by the blood in her mouth.

“Pardon me?”

She spat on the floor next to her and looked him dead in the eyes.

“SHIELD didn’t send me. If they knew where you were, trust me they would be here by now.” There was a bitter edge to the tone of her voice as he smiled coldly at her.

“Then why did you come? What do you want?” Loki appeared bored, fiddling with his sceptre. “Did you come to beg for mercy for your pitiful little planet?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her hair out of her face.

“I came for your help.”

“My help?” A smirk grew on Loki’s face as he gazed into her pleading eyes. “What makes you think I’d be so generous as to offer you any?”

“Because there’s no one like me. And I have willingly come to you, unlike these minions that you’ve brainwashed.” One of the men behind her grunted, knocking the back of her head forward and Y/N grinned savagely.

Loki stood up and Y/N froze, expecting him to turn her into one of his mindless slaves. However, he just tapped his fingers against the sceptre, an amused twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“And what would make you so… special?”

Y/N stretched out her hand, palm upturned to show she wasn’t holding anything.

“Surely you can sense it. What they made me into.”

Loki gently placed his fingertips against hers and felt the strange force that flowed beneath her veins. She didn’t carry the same weakness that all the other mortals did. He grabbed her wrist to take a closer look beneath the translucent skin as she hissed in pain. Interesting. Her blood was sky-blue, similar to the colour of the Tesseract.

“You’ve become immortal.”

“Not willingly.”

Read Part 2 here

[emeraldinthesky]

STRANGE TRAILS - Chapter 2 - Kiss for the Dead

Victoria was smoking by the backdoor: it was about mid-morning, and they hadn't slept since their departure from the headquarters. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever, and her facial features appeared almost stretched by gravity. She took a long, lazy drag from her cigarette but when that gesture yielded no results, she searched the pocket of her lab coat for her lighter. The flame danced around in the moist wind then vanished under the metal lid of the zippo. She stared ahead, now with smoke-filled lungs, although she could hardly make out any detail of the wooden, pine-y area at the back of the building. The air was fresh, although she knew it would only give her a more difficult time to readjust to the pungent scent of rotting flesh she'd gotten so used to in the past few hours. They were certainly past the tricky part: that hour of the night when they are both unable to verbalize their thoughts, as if fatigue saw shut their mouths. These were usually the minutes the investigation came to a painful halt - painful, because they weren't making progress, and that also meant they couldn't go to sleep anytime soon. Their colleagues, Chris and Jeremy chose that very time to return to the hotel and catch up on some sleep. Albert was somewhat sore about it, but Vicky didn't bat an eye; if they're ready with their work, by all means, they shouldn't stay for the entertainment of two (frustrated) pantomimes. Luckily, that period passed just half an hour after the boys left, and since then, they were bouncing ideas off each other, at some point resorting to grotesque and eccentric reenaction of the crime. The denier checked on them, only to spin around and leave the very next second.

 It has barely been minutes since she was away. Of course, she had met the doctor and two other men down the hallway, but it never occurred to her that she would arrive back to an already escalated fight, or that their investigation was going to be cut short. Cooper and the Sheriff were already there and Vicky could hear the arguing from the end of the hallway – and stepping into a room filled with angry men pointing at each other sure made her consider taking a longer break. However, it changed instantly when she learned about the reason. '...Cuff him!' Albert insisted, instructing the agent. 'He won't release Laura's body to the funeral. He's not human.' Doctor Hayward opposed as he was joined by Harry. The woman knew this was only fuel to the fire; she heard enough of Albert's doubts about the sheriff's mental capacity, and just as she expected, her boss was quick to voice his opinion. It happened in the blink of an eye, and the forensic scientist received a punch from the town sheriff, that sent him right on top of the DB in question. Cooper sent his new colleague out to the car, and Victoria took the opportunity to soften – and potentially talk some sense into – the agent. 'Look, Dale, I don't like to agree with Albert.' She began after rushing up to him. 'But we can't properly perform an autopsy in a day.' 'Vicky, this funeral is important to the people. They need it to pay their respect to their passed loved one.' The black-haired man explained. He remained calm and spoke with a gentler tone, so she knew she could still persuade him into another couple hours or even a day. 'I know, but is the ritual more important than finding out the truth?' She darted back, trying with all her consciousness left to keep her voice quiet and decent. Apparently, she failed. 'Miss Davis.' Cooper's voice changed uncharacteristically authoritative, and his posture became more erect. 'We need the body to be handed over to the funeral. You knew the time limit before you started your work.' The woman's face turned bright red, even under the paleness from the all-nighter. Her brown eyes turned darker and despite the glasses, Cooper would've sworn to feel little sparks darting off from them into his direction - and not the type he enjoyed. 'Oh, I hope you'll have a time limit on your work once.' She muttered without batting an eye, but then refocused her attention to the old doc. 'Please, give us a second to clean up the body so we can hand it over in proper shape.' She asked in a surprisingly respectful, calm manner, then turned to Mr Horne investigating the corpse. 'Sir, Mr...?' 'Horne.' The man replied. 'Mr. Horne. Remind me again why are you here?' 'I am the representative of Laura Palmer's family in their absence.' 'Splendid. Then with all due respect: leave and don't come in 'till I say so.' Then, she spun around to her now a bit disheveled superior. 'Albert, you give me that or God sees my soul I'll drill a hole into your forehead.' 'You'll need my help if you want to be ready by noon.' The forensic pathologist pointed out. 'You won't be any help if you keep screwing around.' Vicky retorted. Cooper left the autopsy room with a mischievous smile on his face, keeping down a chuckle as he walked back to the police car. He knew he was somewhat responsible for the scene that escalated from the other, and he admittedly enjoyed how bossy Victoria was able to be, even around men; or especially around men. She'd singlehandedly put all grown men in the room to their place, and she was the only one that could manage Albert's behaviour - but, truth to be told, Coop feared he would be the next in line for his attitude. He did phone her after returning to the Great Northern the night before, to invite her to the funeral, but after this slip of his, he doubted she would join them in the cemetery.

 Even when Albert delivered the reports and results in the conference room, she was nowhere to be found; this definitely signaled to Dale that he might have overstepped a line, because Victoria was eager to attend to these meetings - she often did more than analysing the evidence before her, peeking behind the curtains. The red velvet ones. Although they weren't always so glamourous. However, it was only the sour scientist, describing their findings while not missing one single opportunity to make a foul remark which ultimately prompted the sheriff to storm out of the room. Dale took this opportunity to enquire about the current state of the woman in question (interestingly, that not being Laura Palmer) - or rather his state on her dashboard. 'Why weren't you joined by Miss Davis?' 'Oh, you two had a quarrel alright if both of you call each other by their last name.' Albert noted with his usual, straight face. Cooper knew this spelled trouble: she rarely resorted to referring to him by his surname; not to him, specifically, but to others, unless they were in a stiff or unfamiliar setting. Her boss, however weird that sounds, did not check that box. 'So she's angry?' The agent insisted. 'I've been having my ass kicked since you stepped out of the morgue if that answers your question.' The other man admitted. 'Coop, even I wouldn't take that entitled authoritarian handling from you lightly. And it is quite unlike you to begin with.' 'You're right, Albert.' The other nodded. 'I don't know what got into me.' 'Anyway, make amends with her as soon as possible, because she takes the case from here.' 'What do you mean?' 'She's getting a promotion.' The scientist explained. 'Only a formality, but this is her test run. You two will have to work closely together so it's better to be on speaking terms.' 'I don't argue she well deserves one, but I admit, this promotion seems quite out of the blue for me. Did something happen I didn't know about?' The black-haired man insisted, a strange feeling twisting his stomach and chest. He wasn't short of fleeting theories, yet his reaction was primarily emotional - and he was feeling worse than at the beginning of this conversation. 'Seemed like the right time to me.' The scientist shrugged.

 ***

 A Ford pickup parked just by the cemetery and the mourning crowd; its light blue upper section was still shining clean, but the darker-toned half was covered in dust and dirt. One would have expected a tall, well-built man to step out from the driver's seat, but instead, a young woman dressed in a long black dress emerged; although much of her attire was covered with an elegant coat that cut off mid-calf. Her shiny high heels dug deep into the moist ground as she hopped out of the car. She had her dirty blond hair up in a tight french twist to cover her unkempt locks, and her makeup made you forget she had just arrived there from more than 24 hours spent above a dead body - the very corpse they were about to hoist to the ground. Cooper's eyes must have lingered on her longer than they should have, as the sheriff nudged him from his left. 'Friends, are we?' He asked with a knowing smile. Vicky joined them, after Cooper gestured her to stand by his side. He put his arm around her shoulder - he knew she would probably faint into the grave gaping before them otherwise. Little he knew of the coming scene. Audrey shot a jealous look towards the pair; her blue eyes were ice-cold and ready for the kill. A poisonous feeling emerged from her heart and she puffed her face in anger, slightly pouting her mouth. It was almost unacceptable that someone, almost ten years older than her, could blow her out of the picture. Yet it wasn't the teenage beauty starting the scene, but Bobby Briggs as he caught glimpse of the biker his late girlfriend was seeing behind his back. The tragic gathering took a turn for the grotesque, the whole turmoil culminating into the father falling on top of the coffin and the levers misfunctioning at the worst possible time.

 It was the second man falling on top of the poor dead girl that day.

 After the mayhem died down, the agent accompanied his colleague to her truck: 'Miss Davis, can I interest you in a coffee at the Double R? You have to try that pie.' 'Only if you quit calling me Miss Davis.' Vicky smiled back, and from the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, it was oblivious that she was open for reconciliation. 'You're staying in Twin Peaks?' Cooper asked as she hopped into her car. 'Since Albert refuses to.' Vicky smiled then gestured to the man. 'Hop in, Coop.'

 As they stepped into the diner, the agent had his arm around her waist. Although he barely even touched her, it was a gesture that bordered being protective, defending her from the weather and her slim figure from the curious eyes of other men. They unconsciously leaned in towards each other, already laughing loudly at an earlier case; the woman was never able to stay mad at him for long. She faintly pushed his chest away as she walked up to the counter, and Cooper followed, sitting down by her side on a barstool. 'Your wife, Agent Cooper?' Norma asked as she placed the clean white cups in front of them. 'Oh, I wish!' The man replied with a wide smile. 'Victoria Davis, forensic pathologist. She came to help me investigate the Palmer girl's case; an extremely skilled investigator I'm happy to have on my team.' 'So you'll stay with us, Miss Davis?' Norma turned to her as she served them coffee, filling the empty cups with the hot, dark beverage. The aroma instantly filled the air, and Victoria couldn't help, but inhale a little deeper to fill her lungs with the scent that was much more refined than the one of the coffees at the lab. 'Well, as long as they don't relocate me to somewhere else. I'll assist the Sheriff and Agent Cooper with the forensic evidence.' She explained. 'Now Miss, I haven't slept in two days and this man promised me a pie. What would you suggest?' 'I'd recommend the blueberry pie, fresh from the oven.' The woman in the turquoise dress replied in her usual, melodic tone. She was always a delight, and seemingly found joy in the playful conversation, but especially now, it was as if she was up to something. 'Sounds perfect. Two slices, please.' Cooper ordered, and Norma left with a smile.

 'I'm glad you came to the funeral.' The man said as he took the cup into his hand. 'It was an experience. I've seen men mourning their daughters, but this was quite a spectacle. Seems like this whole town gone crazy by this tragedy.' 'There really is something, isn't there?' 'The poor girl can't even rest peacefully in the ground, that's for sure.' The blonde eyed the steaming coffee ahead of her. 'She couldn't on the autopsy table either.' 'You mean Albert?' She finally turned to Coop. 'You know how he is. He's tired from the car ride here, we pulled an all-nighter and now he's throwing a tantrum like a kid when you try to tear his toys from him.' Cooper chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes wandered to her hands that were lazily caressing the edge of the cup. 'You look lovely.' He said, and they both paused for a moment when they caught each other's gaze. 'And you are sharp as always.' She smiled back. A brief silence settled between them: the woman turned her attention the brown beverage before her as if she was staring into a crystal ball - and indeed, her eye colour matched the shade of the coffee so perfectly, it could have easily been mistaken for a mirror. Coop eyed her intently, but with patience; and admittedly, he reexplored her features since they last met a month ago, still in the burning deserts of Nevada. Her skin hanged onto some of the gold freckles obtained under the bright sun (or she visited home in-between, but he brushed that idea from his head), and the scar on her neck was still faintly pink. Her hands were dry from the weather and the endless handwashing, fingernails cut short without any nail polish, and nothing on her fingers beside that small birthmark on her left index finger. A scent of amber, spices and orange lingered around her; the very perfume that enchanted him at their first handshake. She was the same woman he said goodbye to in Las Vegas, but something seemed different besides her tired posture. 'Vicky, is everything alright?' He asked and his voice gave away how worried he was. 'Oh, yeah. Sorry I just zoned out… You know how it is.' 'Are things going well?' 'I'd say so.' She nodded after taking a premature, hot sip of her coffee. 'There're just… Many things going on at the same time.' 'I've heard they offered you a promotion.' 'They did. I haven't accepted it just yet. We agreed that this case would be a sort of… Test.' She was twirling a cigarette around in her hand, then turned to Cooper without lighting it. 'You, on the other hand. Seems like you enjoy your stay here.' Vicky pointed out, her attitude much more easygoing now. 'I do!' The agent exclaimed. 'Have you seen those tall trees? Douglas firs.' 'They're mighty for sure.' She agreed as the pies were placed in front of them, and they both gave Norma an enthusiastic smile of gratitude. 'They look like they could reach the sky. And I did miss a little greenery in Las Vegas.' 'That was one hell of a Christmas.' He nodded as he took a bite of the pie. 'I wasn't this excited on Christmas Eve since I was 7.' Vicky became much more enthusiastic, especially since the combination of caffeine and sugar hit her bloodstream - and also, since she was having a lighthearted conversation with her best friend; all four of which, minus the caffeine, were missing from her everydays. 'Well, the New Year's Eve of the last year of the decade was certainly memorable.' 'Yes, you were like James Bond.' She joked nudging him from the side. 'Although you weren't able to sport this tan coat there. Is that why you prefer this climate?' 'There is something intangible about this place that makes me gravitate towards it. The people here; they are simple yet there's so much complexity and warmth. I haven't experienced this combination anywhere else.' He took a sip of his coffee. 'This town. It's so mundane, and the people living in it are so - human. I have grown to consider investing in a property here.' 'I knew you craved simplicity but so much so?' 'It is not so much about the simplicity but the community.' Cooper corrected. 'I see.' She nodded. 'So… Am I invited for the housewarming?' 'Vicky, you're invited to my house at any and all times.' This was the moment when they were painfully reminded of the fact that they both still had keys to the other's apartment; but that might be up for a change, in both of their lives, very soon. They simultaneously darted their eyes towards the table. 'As a matter of fact, I have grown to know you as someone who appreciates the simple way of living.' Cooper pointed out. 'And warm weather.' She added. The man knew that well: they were in the middle of dating when she invited him over to her family's vacation house. It was in a rural area of Texas, surrounded by forest and not a single soul besides the neighbours half a mile away. They sometimes got together for a barbecue night, or Vicky begged them to let her ride the horses, but the two of them spent most of their time alone. It was actually one of the afternoons he remembered most clear - they settled down at a field after an especially strenuous hike, lying in the grass as the sun slowly sunk under the horizon. She rested her head on his chest, and they listened to the faint change of sounds as daytime blended into evening; but the weather remained comfortably warm. 'Dale, I gotta admit, I'm pretty tired. Do you mind if we return to the hotel?' 'Not at all.' He replied in a softspoken tone he haven't used in a while. One that implied closeness and caring, that made him lose his composed façade; one he last used in the middle of August, 1987.

 He drove themselves back to the wooden hotel – it has been a hot minute since he was on the driver seat of the truck as Victoria was always insistent on driving. She might have driven his own car more than he, himself.

 'Vicky…' Coop began before they departed in the hallway. 'I am so sorry about how I talked to you today at the morgue.' 'It's okay, Dale. We have a stressful job and are human.' 'No, it is not okay.' The man insisted. 'You are my co-worker and friend. Your input into the investigation is vital and I should appreciate the work you do. My attitude didn't represent those values I hold dear, nor did I gave you the respect you deserve. I can assure you it won't happen again. Not to mention that you were right.' 'What you say my dear? I'm afraid my hearing is…' She imitated an old woman, cupping her ear with her hand and jokingly leaned closer, but Cooper was already grinning. 'I said, ma'am…' He elevated his voice and leaned towards her ear himself. 'That I'm sorry for your loss of hearing!' They burst into laughter that echoed through the wooden corridor. The pair surely woke a couple residents, but it was the least of their worries. They were friends again.

 Right?

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Fourteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

His hair is a deep chestnut shade of brown. It looks fluffy, soft. His light skin looks smooth, even from my distance. His jaw is sharp, his cheeks strong. A playful smile lies on his pink lips. Everything about his features- no, about him- is soft. That’s the best word I can think of to describe him.

But I can feel the strength falling off of him. It peels off of his robes. They’re like a normal Jedi’s, but tighter at the sleeves, covered by a poncho, and darker in color. He feels different from all the Jedi I previously killed. He’s strong. Soft, but strong.

Tiredly, I shift my feet to show where my attention lies, eyes narrowing to begin my assessment of this visitor. Male, stocky build. Taller than me by a lot, but average for a man. My age. Slightly older? Slightly relaxed form. He watches me just as closely as I watch him. So he’s observant.

His eyes scan over the lightsabers at my sides, eyes lingering longer on the one with the red blade.

“Nowhere,” I say, almost hoarsely. My right hand is starting to go numb again, and I can feel a big, thick drop of blood fall from my half a finger. “Don’t worry, I won’t go too far,” I tell the stranger, even though I’m really not in the mood for a sarcasm contest right now.

“Oh, that’s good,” the stranger bends his knees and angles his violet light defensively. “I would so hate it if you missed this dance.”

Oh, man. He’s kind of quip-y. Killing him won’t be as satisfying as it would’ve been if he was all serious. “We can be honest with each other, right?” He shrugs. “Can we please reschedule this for tomorrow?”

  He smiles. It makes his eyes squint and twinkle. It looks nice on him. “Tired from killing the other two, are we?”

Has someone been watching me? Following me, even? No, I would’ve known. I would’ve sensed it. Perhaps he witnessed the fight between Aegus and Yutaro- it was possible I didn’t notice because my focus was elsewhere. Who is this guy?

“What would your mother say?”

I don’t know what it was about his statement that set me off. I just know that it did.  

I throw my hand out, letting my hate and exhaustion fuel the lightning that falls out. It wipes the smile right off his face as it cages him, throwing him backwards and out of my vision for an instant.

Then, I remove the red saber off my belt. I twist it between my palm to get a feel of it again, and run forward. It’s not as fast as it could be, but I am tired. My finger needs medical attention.  

I thrust the red lightsaber into the boy’s shoulder. It nicks him, but he offers little more than a wince in response. He blocks my next strike. I put more pressure on it, forcing our lightsabers closer to his face. He doesn’t back down, however. He is determined to show me that my rageful exhaustion is no match for his physical strength. We’ll see about that.

Right as I’m about to kill him, something grabs my attention to the left. Not the sun-but a light! No, two of them! Two bright, beautiful balls of crystal clear light.

A shot blows me back. My lightsaber comes to a close as I tumble in the dirt for about the third time today. The cold mud and twigs make the cuts on my hands and temple sting even more- not a good sign. My right ear hears a long, drawn out scratching noise like a saw. Then it fades off like a hum and is replaced with a high-pitched ringing, followed by complete silence. My left ear continues to throb lowly with the beat of my heart, which changes between too fast and too slow. When my body finally stops rolling and stills itself, I can feel a droplet of either sweat or blood run down the right side of my neck. My eyes burn from the dirt that’s undoubtedly in them.

I lie still for a moment, wiped out and exhausted. I’m not dying, the galaxy would never be so kind. What happens next is just like falling asleep. Slowly becoming darker and darker, my vision goes black, and I feel warm.

When I was thirteen, I made an attempt to draw my father from memory. I had only drawn a few times prior to this, mostly out of sheer boredom. I want to say that they came out well, but I don’t have anything to compare my works to. Being on the run your whole life doesn’t lend much time for art museums.

I had no memories of my father whatsoever. I looked into a glass shard from a mirror and attempted to make my own features look more masculine. I don’t know how long it took me to sketch him, but finally I was finished.

In my version of my father, he has dark hair. He looks young, with eyes slanted upwards. I imagine they have hazel flecks, lined with gold and just the slightest hint of deep green. His eyes are framed by thick, dark eyebrows- straight and clean. Under his orbs are dark circles like smudged makeup, similar to my own. His nose is narrower than mine, but splashed with tope freckles all the same. We have the same olive skin and similar chins. His jaw is sharper than mine. His lips are chapped, but curled up at the ends like a smirk. Still, he frowns. I can not make him smile.

My father was very handsome. His name is Kaito Vagor, which in another galaxy translates to “the flight over the sea” and “I wander”, which I think is beautiful. In my mind, he is quiet. He thinks things through, just like me. He knows how to take initiative, believes in facts over feelings but never ignores his gut. Although I’d never met him, I loved the picture of my father, which ended up being completely accurate. I loved him so much, I begged him to be dead. I begged him to be dead so I’d feel like there was a reason I’d grown up without him. But cruelly, no matter how much I prayed and wished, Kaito was alive. I wouldn’t know it in my lifetime, but he was alive.

I couldn’t bring myself to draw my mother. I was too busy trying not to wail at the loss of my father, who I loved dearly despite the rage I’d obtained over the years. After that day, I had no idea where the drawing went. I might’ve destroyed it in my sleep, or lost it on purpose without even realizing.

Now, as I sleep, I think of the image of my father again. I think of nothing else. I see him smiling down at me calmly- on birthdays, cooking me meals in a small hut, training me how to better use a spear. In that life, I am happy. I am content with just Kaito, and I know how to trust people. There is no Clone with the yellow stripe. No Haxion Brood. No Imperial Inquisitors. And, most importantly, there are ten fingers.

I bolt upright at this realization.

I’m alive. My breathing feels thin, but not impossible. My chest is not nearly as sore as I expected, so I decide to count it as a good thing. Still, it rises and falls rapidly as I struggle not to cough on my own breath. My head thrums will a slow, dull pain that makes me wish I had just stayed still. Once I regain my sense of thought, I look around, eyes wide as my heart hammers.  

The floor below me is the same stark white color, matching the bed and the walls. It looks like the inside of a ship, I think. I don’t sense danger, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my entire sense of survival were thrown off. I’m atop a cushioned bench, with a firm, small pillow where my head was. The only pop of color in the room is a slim bunch of yellow flowers, sitting in a pale gray vase.

Breathe, Keres. Softly.

My boots are missing from my feet. Instead, light colored gauze wraps around my ankles and stops before it reaches my toes. I wiggle them playfully, watching each duck and weave up and down on my command. It makes me feel childish, but secure that I at least have one part of my body still working for me. Unlike my fingers, there are ten of them. My hands and forearms are wrapped in a matching gauze, contrasting the normal gray gauze that works as my undergarments for my dark, sleek, armor. Replacing said armor is a beige kind of altered Jedi’s robes like the one with the purple lightsaber wore. The normal weight from a lightsaber doesn’t hang on my hips, and when I move my hand to the area I find nothing but air. I’m too tired and groggy to feel frustrated about it.

Brushing hair out of my face, I notice my hair is still in it’s braid, however messy it may be. The palm of my hands are flecked with pink scars, and a few bright red cuts from all my forest fumbles. Some are better healed than others, but none of them sting like they did. My right hand is just as I’d left it, confirming my worst fear. The fear that it was all real.

My right ring finger is gone. There is nothing from my knuckle up, and instead it is only a stump with more gauze wrapped tight around it. I stare at it. My eyes water quickly. I bite my lip to keep it from trembling, but this it to no avail.

I deserved it. I deserved to lose my finger.

I push myself off the bed angrily. My feet feel cold on the floor, but I don’t register it. When I stand up completely, something in my rib pops. This makes me stop for a second before carrying on in haste.

Clothes. I need my clothes. Where the kriff are my clothes?

Somewhere to the right of me, the familiar hiss of a door opening rings out. I snap my head up.  

 A Togruta with wet looking red skin appears in front of me. White diamonds surround her eyes, and smaller diamond markings appears across her cheekbones. Her lips are full but not too full, and her pale green eyes are framed by long, soft eyelashes. Her horns aren’t stubby, but neither tall nor sky high. It gives away her age- teens, possibly nearing twenties. She is dressed in a loose brown tunic, covered by a white, stained medical smock. Everything about her appearance is regal, elegant, and objectively beautiful.

“Oh!” she squeaks, one hand covering her chest as she gathers her breath. “You’re up!”

I remain quiet as I meet her eyes. The Togruta shifts a clipboard in her arms and puts it on a shelf behind her. “I’ll be right back with some medicine. Stay right here!” She hurries off and out the door again.

I immediately disobey what she’s asked of me. Fuck her. I take a single step forward and stumble for a moment. My feet adjust to the freezing floor after a second, and in short, quick steps I make my way out of the room. The next area I stumble into is circular, and bustling with at least ten people- I can’t count them all. My eyes squint to adjust to the new light, but my right ear remains unadapting and silent. A few feet ahead of me, I can see the back of what I believe to be the Jedi.

He overlooks a round holo-table displaying a blue hologram I can’t completely make out. Two other people in helmets observe the table with him, nodding and occasionally opening their mouths. After a simultaneous nod from them, they head off to their right, down a hallway. The Jedi meets my eyes from across the way. Then he stands still.  

I hate him. This is his fault. It’s always the Jedi’s fault.

A few people in the room pause to glance at me, creating a look of disgust on my face I don’t even try to hide. I am angry at them. I want them to know how angry I am. No one dares to  chuckle before conversations start again. The Jedi crosses his arms and looks at me as if he’s bested me at something, or proved himself. Jokes on him though, because he’s vastly overestimated how much I care or am willing to care. 

“Oh, you’re… up again!” The Togruta appears with her arms full of cloth. Is that my boot? On top of them are several small bottles and a single syringe. “I just went to bring you your clothes and some medicine. I didn’t think you would be ready to walk so soon.”

I eye the scene suspiciously. I’m definitely on a ship of some sort, most likely no longer on Endor. There are a lot of people on this ship, but for what purpose? And why is a Jedi involved? Don’t speak, Keres. The way he’s looking at me, he’ll just pull a ‘Keres’ and ironically evade whatever you ask him.

I hold out my hands for my clothes, to which the Togruta pours them into my arms while trying to maintain a polite smile.  

There is silence between the two of us as I pretend to be very interested in my black and gray outfit and boots. “So,” the Togruta sighs with another smile. “What should we call you?”

I quickly bend over slightly to slip one of my boots on. These people don’t get to know my name.

  “I’m Aheka. Aheka Shyn. And you’ve already met Adamus…”

I crane my head up to look at the Jedi. His hair is just as brown and soft looking as before, though his jaw is flexing and tightening as he peers at me from across the room. I can feel eyes continue to watch me as I stuff my other foot into the other shoe. He sure knows how to spark my annoyance, I’ll give him that. He’s sparked it so much, I can feel myself tensing up in a new and intense way.  

“He’s not so bad,” Aheka continues. “I know you guys didn’t really get off on the right foot, but-”

“Adamus is responsible for the kriffing ringing in my ear then,” I snap. “So he is that bad.”

Aheka swallows, eyes widening. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend…”

“Aheka. That’s enough,” another voice commands. I drop my gaze back to my boots, chewing on my bottom lip as I hear footsteps come closer. “I’ll take care of this,” the male voice says.

I watch Aheka’s shoes step away briskly and disappear behind another door and hallway. The ship must be awfully large to have so many of them. The only thing I have to think about then is which of those hallways will take me to escape pods. 

“A bit rude, wouldn’t you say?” he starts. “Exploding over such a valid question?”

I dare not speak for fear the poison that comes from it will make a hole in the floor.

“Did you hear what she asked?”

“I heard it,” I hiss, attempting to keep my cool. “I just choose not to answer it.”

Adamus looks me up and down. Not in a flirtatious way, but a way that gives him a good observation. Is he analyzing me? He must be, somewhat. I don’t like it. He might find some flaw in my stance or my balance. I stand up straight, forcing myself to meet his eyes in a way that signifies a challenge.

“So, why Endor?”

Well, that’s a funny story. See, you know the Haxion Brood criminal syndicate? Oh, you don’t? Don’t worry- they’re just some of the most hardened and cutthroat criminals in the galaxy! Well, they captured me outside of Kijime. After straight up murdering people of your kind, they were so frightened of me they just chose a distant planet to drop me off at! Funny story, right?      

“The will of the Force,” I quip. A satisfying snap runs through my stomach as I watch his left eye twitch. It’s perfect. I want to shatter his expression like that again.

I watch a yellow Twi’lek shake hands with one of the soldiers in a helmet. I’m reminded of Talik for a moment, and I miss her- but I push her from my mind. Mur, Kip, Talik- they’re a part of my past now. Talik can’t chase me anymore.

“Somewhere you need to go?” Adamus continues.  

“Nowhere you can take me,” I promise him quickly.

Adamus curls his pink lips into a sly smile. His eyes twinkle immediately with a spark of charisma. “Listen, no offense, but you don’t look like someone who has somewhere they need to be.”

“Makes sense to me, because you don’t seem like the type of person who would know what that looks like.”

Adamus narrows his pale eyes. I wait for his smile to twitch again, but it doesn’t happen. He almost looks like he wants to laugh. Like I’ve just told him something clever. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and begins sauntering backwards. “It was nice talking to you, stranger.”

I take that as him dismissing me. “Fuck you,” I whisper at him as I watch him turn around. The I start back to the room I was unconscious in. With minimal pain on my part, I begin to swap out my clothes with my dark colored outfit that highlights my agility. A small mirror on one of the walls allows me to look at my face.

My eyes are a little red, and there’s a scarlet gash on my forehead, above my right eyebrow. I still look like myself, at least. Same hazel-green eyes, same chapped lips, same brown hair. I’m me. Just roughed up, I guess.

I see and hear Aheka wisp around being me, on the left side. I don’t turn to see her, but I can imagine her pretty face, clear as day. There’s a certain layer of guilt that sweeps around the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t have been so rude to her earlier. She hasn’t do anything to me. In fact, she’s probably the one who healed me up best she could. She saved my worthless life.

“Hey, Aheka,” I mumble so quietly I expect her not to hear.

“Hm?” She hums sweetly in response.

My mouth suddenly feels dry. I can’t bring myself to turn around and look at her as I say the words, and I realize I’m just as big of a coward as Aegus. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and I start to wonder if she even heard me. “I said-”

“I heard you,” Aheka replies. I can hear her soft smile through her tone. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you the medic?”

“It’s just me and another so far. We’re trying to train more, but it’s difficult with our numbers.”

I swallow. “Did you patch me up?”

“Yes.” Aheka says bashfully, as if embarrassed by her work.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I tell her as I turn around to finally face her. I had meant to put her at ease, but I only feel her tense up further at my phrasing. “Can you tell me about my injuries?”

The beautiful Togruta walks to the other side of the room to grab the clipboard she placed there earlier. “A broken rib on your left side, two on your right. Several cuts on your back, calves, and hands. A single cut to your forehead. Your right ankle was dislocated. The right finger on your right hand was already like that when we found you. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t find it.”

“What about my ear?”

“Your ear?” she sets down the clipboard again and begins to walk over to me with a concerned expression. “Is something the matter with it?”

“Yes, my right one.” Her red hand reaches out to touch me, and I flinch away before stilling myself enough for her to hold my jaw gently. “I can’t hear anything out of it.”

“Since when?”

“Since back on Endor. A ship- this one, I think- fired at me and Adamus.”

"They fired at you?!” Aheka furrows her eyebrows in anger. “So that’s why Adamus looked so peeved at Circe. I’m sorry they did that. We’re not usually like that, I promise.”

The tips of her fingers are cold, then warm as they edge closer to my ear. “I knew I noticed you bleeding when I took you in. I should’ve examined you more closely.” Then she snuffs out some hot air. “Perhaps you should start hurting yourself on your left side too, to balance yourself out.”

A weak attempt at humor. I have heard better. Still, I try not to look like I’m so uncomfortable and grimacing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I clear my throat. “So, who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Oh… Adamus didn’t tell you?” I shake my head no. “I’d tell you we’re nobodies, but that’s not really true,” she whispers, as if we were speaking in a forbidden language. “We’re part of the Rebellion. New, and not really valid, but we’re a part of it. Too small to be the whole thing but well… all rebellions have to start somewhere.”

Oh man. The Rebellion? This is exactly the type of thing I was trying to stay away from. I might’ve well have just ended up in the hands of some Sith activist group. I don’t want to be allied with anyone’s side but my own. I don’t want the Light path or the Dark path- I want my own path.

“And what’s the deal with Adamus?” I venture to ask.

Aheka removes her fingers from my skin gently. She crosses to the other side of the room, and pulls out a long, thick stick with a little puff at the end. “That’s a story I would just butcher telling you. Here, tilt your head this way…”

I tilt my head to the side as she places the stick in my ear. With minimal discomfort, she pulls it out after a moment. The puffy side is stained red and slightly gold. She lifts her hand to my ear and snaps, but I hear nothing. “You didn’t hear that? I see…Well, the good news is I know what to do. I don’t have the materials for it right now, but I’m sure I can find something somewhere.” Aheka gives me a soft smile. “But until then, maybe you should get some rest. I-I know you’ve had nothing but that for the past day and a half, but…”

Is she… looking out for me? No, nobody is that good. She’s being nice for a reason. She wants something from me. I watch her for a minute before walking past her silently. “Wait- ah, where are you going?”

I don’t answer her. It’s not like telling her would make a difference anyway. I pass the room with the holo-table, not seeing my target anywhere. Adamus.

I let my instincts lead the way. I walk through one of the hallways on the right side, then take a left. A few soldiers walking past give me weird looks, but I pay no mind. They’re lucky I didn’t just kill them right then and there.

The Force leads me to another door. Yes- this is where I’ll find him. I can practically smell Adamus’s disgusting stench from here. It opens without me pressing a button.

“Our first assault should’ve been on Endor. We could’ve taken it if it weren’t for Oden’s ridiculous vote.”

“No, don’t be foolish! We should focus on a defense more than anything. We…”

Adamus notices me and turns to face me. His arms unfold themselves as he starts over to me silently, careful not to disturb the others with the movement of his stocky body. The other men in the room, all sharing a similar uniform, continue discussing what I assume to be their rebellious little plans that I intend to be no part of. Adamus reaches out to hold my left arm as if I were a child that needed to be held still.

“Lovely to see you,” he begins. I see that he has to crane his neck to meet my eyeline, and I imagine punching him square in the jaw. “What can I do for you?”

He’s closer than he’s been before. He doesn’t smell as bad as I previously said, actually. It’s not nearly as… stench-y. It reminds me of something I can’t really place. Some type of wood, maybe? I can see a scar across his lips that pauses before his jaw, then resumes on his neck and under his robes. There’s another one right under his right eye. His eyelashes look so soft and dark brown. Something in my stomach pulls me to look in his eyes. 

“Am I interrupting your sausage party?” I say, watching his lips twitch in annoyance for the third time today.

“That’s disgusting,” he counters calmly, struggling to keep his cool.

“But… accurate.”

Adamus squints his eyes in a brief wave of annoyance. “What did you come here for?”

My eyes flicker around the room with paranoia, making sure no one is watching our conversation. Luckily, all the men in uniform seem be clenching their fists as one of them makes some big, dramatic speech while waving his arms around. “Where can you take me?”

Adamus stiffens his body, and I watch the charismatic twinkle return to his irises as my stomach drops. “Ilum, perhaps?”

Ilum would be perfect. It would be… it would be home. “Why would I want to go there?”

“You were talking about it in your sleep.”

Fuck. Adamus.

His grip on my arm intensifies slightly. “I can take you there if you tell me your name.”

I stare up into his piercing orbs. A small shrug graces my shoulders. “Why am I so important to you?” I hiss. “First you stalk me, then you shoot at me, and now you’re demanding my identity. How do I know you’re no better than the Empire?”

Adamus narrows his pale eyes at me. “We’re the rebellion,” he says as if it were obvious.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I counter sharply. “Because you’re not part of the oppressive government, you can’t be oppressive yourselves? Fuck off.”

I hold his stare then. I am not one to back down from challenging authority, or messing with anyone who thinks they’re in control of something. That always tends to include men.

Adamus keeps squaring his jaw in frustration, much to my delight. Then he returns to the table, and a hush falls over the uniformed men. “I have a proposal,” he speaks.

“Does it include her?” One of the men with gray hair and frown stapled to his lips jabs a finger at me.

“It does,” Adamus replies. “I propose we set a course to Ilum. The planet is sacred to the Jedi and could prove useful to me and the uh… new associate here.”

“Didn’t she attack you on sight?” one of the men counters- a Chiss with blue skin and deep red eyes.

“She had every reason to attack. But now she’s going to help us. Right, my new associate?”

Oh no. No, Adamus! Please don’t put the spotlight on me. Before I can respond, Adamus answers for me, probably sensing my discomfort. “Right. Everyone in favor of heading to Ilum, raise your hands.”

Adamus raises both his hands as if surrendering. Nervously, five men follow suit. Adamus turns to me, eyebrows raised. Immediately, I throw up my left hand as a vote.

“Oh, yay! A unanimous vote. That sure makes things easy. Well, off to Ilum then!”

“Ah- General Adamus!”

“Can’t hear you Rass I’m already out the door!” He grabs my arm again as he leaves the room and shuts the door behind us. Separating me from the pit of political vipers he calls his council.

[cchellacat]

Thank You for Your Service pt5

gif by @spacemansam

Darcy/Bucky

Warning: Possible trigger for assault, although it’s brief.

Darcy doesn't care at first where her feet are taking her, she just walks, head down, through the crowd, she just needs some space. The street is brightly lit, people out, alone or in groups. |She steadfastly ignores the couples holding hands and looking like they were walking off the pages of some romance novel.

She's always loved the city at night.  The rush less hurried, the real people of New York out and about living life, being honest and real.  The sound of the cars driving by, the occasional sound of a horn, the cursing as people walk out in front of traffic, the colorful language of the natives.

This is her home, it's where she feels grounded and safe.  It's part of what she hates about being cooped up all the time.  She misses the freedom to walk out and forget the world and just live in the moment of the city.  Breath in the smog and not think about where her feet take her, find some little hole in the wall that serves good food or wine, or both.

She keeps walking, missing the way her feet lead her off the main thoroughfare and down a street less brightly lit, misses the figure that's been following her since she left the tower.  She's wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out what she should do next, her head going round in circles thinking of him.

Darcy’s honestly just so tired, she’s been on edge for weeks. The constant ache of wanting what she's told she can’t have, intruding on her dreams, filling the spaces in the hours while she works.  Their encounter in the car had been fantastic, earth shattering, mind blowing… fuck, it had felt like more than just sex, it had shaken her to the core.

The feeling of connection that had formed between them, him filling her, making her whole, it had made her think he’d changed his mind.  Had she misread something? Darcy casts the thought aside, what was the point in second guessing? All this wallowing and wondering is what she’s trying to get away from, nothing was going right in her life recently.

Every decision she made seemed to make things worse, not better. It would be easy to blame it on Tony or Jane or even a host of other outside factors but the truth was that she’s been making impulsive decisions, not taking the time to think things through.  She just needed a time out, a moment to think, to re-evaluate what she was doing. When she spots the bar there is a split second of hesitation before she quickly makes her way inside. She’ll think about it tomorrow, tonight she needed to drink and forget, just for a minute.

The man stops and watches as she crosses into the pub, waiting before slowly following her inside.

Jackson Heights

Bucky watches the place from the security feed and sees nothing to indicate there’s anyone currently inside.  He checks his weapons and the team all agree on a plan of action before they leave, closing in on the small apartment.  

It’s in a bad neighbourhood, with a high crime rate .  The apartment block is run down, graffiti covers the walls, a few gang signs and tags take prominence.  The stairwell smells of stale beer and the scent of weed hangs heavy in the damp corridors. The report indicated Keane might have been here for as long as two weeks.  It leaves a deep feeling of apprehension in his gut, knowing the man who had hurt her has been so close for so long. He doesn’t know what to expect, what they might find, but nothing could have prepared him for the revelation waiting inside.

They get in quick and quiet, there’s no resistance as they enter.   All the rooms are cleared quickly and Bucky is left to stare at the wall in the main room.  

There are hundreds of pictures of he and Darcy, taken all over New York, going right back to the time he first came to the tower, covering every wall of the room.  

The first of them he recognised with a growing coldness, shots taken of them in the damn library, Darcy in his lap while he kissed her.  How the fuck had Keane gotten so close, so near, without Bucky knowing?  

Icy dread fills him, there are so many taken right outside the tower, Keane had to be following them every time they left… the angles of the shots, how close they were?  He had to have an excellent camera, something with a telescopic lens, but the type of equipment would be noticed, he’d stick out like a sore thumb, you couldn’t not be noticed carrying a camera like that around, not unless….  

Horrifying realisation sweeps through him.  He’d been so fucking stupid, the one place he didn't look, the only people he ignored.  The only people in New York that people pretended weren’t there, that got shunned and pushed out the way if they came too close.  He was posing as a fucking photographer, one of the many paparazzi who hung out around the Tower, waiting for Stark or one of the Avengers. Fuck... and they had been there tonight.  Tonight when he had taken her to the restaurant and after, when he’d been seconds away from telling her everything before she’d went inside…  

It’s only then, standing in the messy apartment, her face staring at him from the walls that he begins to question what he saw tonight, too distracted by the call to double check….

He’s striding from the apartment with  shouted instructions and jogging down the stairs, phone clamped to his ear, ringing her number, it was going straight to voicemail.  He ignores the shout from behind him and keeps going, tapping the com and being put through to the tower.

“Jarvis?  Tell me Darcy is in the Tower?”

“I’m sorry Sergeant Barnes, Miss Lewis left the Tower with you tonight but did not return.  Would you like me to inform Sir?”

“Not yet Jarvis, can you ping Darcy’s phone for me?”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can't get a location, her phone appears to be turned off.”

“Try her tracer. She’s meant to wear it, I know she had it on tonight, she was wearing the necklace Stark gave her.”

“I have a last known location, three blocks from the tower, a bar called Oakley’s.”

He grabs his bike and mounts, not bothering with the helmet and rides back to the city, breaking every speed limit and trying to coordinate by com with Hill.  He needed a clear path back and couldn’t be delayed by some well meaning cop.

Traffic seems to be against him, even with every light miraculously in his favour he feels the seconds ticking by, knowing each one brings her closer to danger.  He’s blaming himself, he should have checked, made sure she had actually gone inside, fuck. He’d had his eyes off her for a few seconds. Had she been taken? Or had she just walked off?  The tracer said she was at the bar, but that didn't mean anything, not with how much intel Keane might have picked up from watching them so closely.  The bar sounded familiar though, then it strikes him why.  He knew that bar, knew exactly which one, the same one they had met in.

What were the chances she had gone there,that she would still be there when he arrived? He gunned the motor again and overtook a red buick, the driver blaring his horn and shouting curses at him as he sped past.  Almost there, another few blocks and he’d have her.

Oakley's Bar

Darcy takes her usual seat at the bar and orders a scotch and ice.   It seems like the sort of drink she needs right now, something hard and biting.  Something that will hold her up later for whatever speech her erstwhile mancrush has cooked up this time.  She has no doubt he’ll follow her, he always does.

She sips the drink and ignores the other patrons at the bar, she’s not in the mood for some bullshit come on or a good time.  She came here to drink away the pain and the feelings and the angst.  

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just any guy though, was he?  God, if it had been anyone else she would have been long over the whole thing but he was different.  She knocks back the drink and signals for a second.

She’d been sitting right here the night they first met. She’d spotted him nearly a half hour before Ian had turned up but the guy had put off such a keep away vibe that she’d done her best to reel back the flirting she had wanted to do and kept to herself.  It had only been Ian’s presence that had made her throw away caution and good manners, instead, begging for the handsome man’s help. When he’d slipped his arm about her waist and scared Ian off she’d been so surprised, but right from that first touch she’d felt it.  What was it all those sappy writers would say? She felt a spark? His touch was electric? It would be funny if it weren’t so true.  

Darcy sighs into her drink, drains it and signals the barkeep for another.  She’d only vaguely aware of someone slipping into the seat next to her. Ignores the first two attempts to engage her in conversation with an icy glare.  The third time the guy touches her arm and she snaps at him.

Across  the bar a shadowy figure watches her  from the corner, shrouded in darkness, Darcy never notices him.  He keeps his gaze trained on her as she argues with the son of a senator.  

When she gets off the stool and shrugs her jacket back on, he follows her.

She’s out the door and half way down the sidewalk when someone grabs her, pulling her up short.  The grip is tight on her arm and she can smell the alcohol and stale cologne as her assailant jerks her against him.

“Let me go!”

She wrenches her arm from his grip, it’s the  same guy who had been trying to chat her up for  hours. The guy is average in every way to her eyes, although, had she met him before she finished college she might have thought him cute.  It seemed though, that knowing and meeting gods and super soldiers had skewed her idea of attractive. He’s lean, dark hair, almost pretty if it weren’t for the mean glint in his eye and the twist of his lips.  

“Come on baby, don’t you know who I am?”

“No, I don’t, nor do I care, I said no you jack ass now back off!”

She turns again to leave, walking quickly, not looking back and for the first time, reconsidering her ill fated idea to leave the protection she’d been given and ignored.  It’s not like Bucky not to show up, to not know where she is. Even as she had decided to walk away from the tower tonight, she’d still expected him to turn up, instead it seemed by some quirk of fate she'd actually slipped past him, at the worst possible time.

Footsteps echo behind her as she speeds up, cursing the fancy heels which are slowing her escape.  

The footsteps come closer and she digs in her pocket for the small hand held taser Tony had insisted she carry with her at all times.  She can feel it, the fear tightening her belly, her shoulders ridged as she half runs, she knows she’s not getting away but she’d hoped if she could make it another block to where the crowds were busier she’d get help.

When it happens, she freezes for a split second, the harsh grip clamping around the back of her neck, terror swallows her senses.  All she can feel is the vice dragging her back by her neck, she drops, bringing up her shoulders and ducking but he grabs her hair wrenching her head back even as she falls to her knees.  The yelp she lets out is high and clear, but she swings her fist up as she cranes her neck to see him bending over her, feels the sudden release of her hair and the swirl of satisfaction as her knuckles throb from the nose she’s just broken before she fires the taser.  He yells and curses at her, his hand swinging and catching her with a back handed blow even as he stumbles back, falling to the ground unconscious, it throws her to the pavement, her head slamming into concrete and then there is the sound of running and blue lights and she dizzily becomes aware of the commotion of people. 

Bucky arrives at the bar, jumping from the bike and striding through the doors.  The place is small, it’s the work of seconds to ascertain that she’s gone. Before he can cross the room to question the  bartender his phone rings and Stark's face lights up the screen of the smartphone. He barks out his name by way of hello.

“Barnes, do you want to tell me why I just got a call from my lawyer telling me my daughter just got arrested and is being held at the 17th Precinct?”

Stark’s voice becomes louder and higher as he questions him, Bucky can hear the stress and anger in his tone.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  he’s remounting the bike and gunning the engine even as Stark reams him out.

“Seriously?  When I get there you had better have a damn good explanation as to why she was alone.”

Bucky sighs and pushes the bike out again, turning it south.  If she’s in police custody at least she’s safe. He's not sure what he'll do when he sees her though, the relief of knowing where she is wars with the helpless anger he could still feel burning in his gut when he realised she had slipped off.

  17th Precinct.

Happy draws up outside the precinct, it's telling that Tony doesn’t wait for him to open the door, instead letting himself out and rushing inside, phone clamped to his ear as he shouts at his lawyers to get their asses down there.

Happy’s meant to be retired, but following Tony and watching his back has become ingrained in him. He could head home now, they’d only been out for dinner when Tony got the call. Maybe it’s the habits of a life time but he takes up his familiar place at Tony's side.

Happy does his best to keep the reporters swarming at bay and away from Tony but the story is already spreading.  It’s the wrong story of course but its still damaging.  

His phone is giving off constant notifications from media outlets, all seeming to be ecstatic to trail out the same narrative.

“Stark’s Strumpet Shocks Senator's Son”.

His old friend is fuming, and why wouldn’t he be?  The only question left right now wasn’t if Tony would announce the truth, that Darcy was a Stark, it was what he’d do to the people responsible for the slander.  

Happy slips his hand into his pocket and takes out his com unit, he’d kept it on him for the last month, reluctant to give it up for some reason.  With a grim smile he tucks it into his ear and taps it twice, the comforting voice of Jarvis coming across the line, and he gets to work securing the area.

He places himself in front of the doors just as the familiar roar of Barnes’s Harley drawing up causes the swarm to turn their attention away from him.  

The ex assassin is grim faced as he approaches and Happy tamps down the urge to step back.  This is not how his evening was meant to go, dealing with pissed off superheroes was never meant to be part of his life and his plans for retirement were fast going out the window.  How could he go now, when Tony and his family still needed him? And he’d missed the kid, decision made he squares his shoulders and meets Barnes with a confident nod.

Bucky parks the bike behind Stark's custom Audi.  The car’s a tank in it’s own right, reinforced bullet proof glass and if he’s right the vehicle was more secure than even Fury’s SUV had been.  

He pulls Happy to one side before entering the station.

“Keane’s been in the area, keep sharp.  There’s evidence to suggest he’s been posing as a pap.”

Happy’s eyes widen but he nods, keeping his gaze from wandering to the crowd of reporters and paparazzi as he gives Barnes a short rundown of the situation.

“I’ve got Willis and Shaw posted at the other entrances and Friday has control of all CCTV in a five block area, you better get in there, Tony’s losing his goddamn mind.”

Bucky nods and slips through the doors.

He spots Stark almost immediately, arguing with the chief of police. He crosses the foyer and stands to one side of Stark who gives him a sharp nod.

“I want to see her.”

“As I’ve told you Mr Stark, she’s in an interview room now.  The Senator is pressing charges. She discharged an illegal weapon.  That can't be ignored.”

“And I’ve told you, the weapon she had isn’t a taser, it’s a high voltage anti assault device and she wouldn’t have used it if she wasn't being threatened.  My lawyers will be here shortly, until they are I want her personal security with her.”

Bucky scans the room as Stark continues to argue then discreetly slips away, heading to where Darcy is most likely being held.  Stark covers for him smoothly, turning the chiefs attention away from Bucky by calling out to his freshly appeared attorney.

Darcy sits in the interview room, ignoring the one way mirror and the ugly reflection it holds.  She’s a mess, her make-up is smeared and it can’t hide the purpling bruise rising beneath the skin on her left cheek.  They gave her an ice pack for her head but little else. They’ve had her here for about half an hour although it feels much longer.  The dizziness thankfully passed quickly, she doesn’t think she has a concussion, but her face feels stiff and achy.  

She spent the time since they put her in here worrying over what Tony, Bucky and no doubt Jane would say.  She should have stayed in the bar and called for a car, she should never have left Bucky like that, she should have gone inside.  “If only” and “what if”, seemed to be going in circles in her head. They’d given her one phone call and she’d done the only thing she could think of and called Tony’s lawyer, Harvey Specter.  He’d told her to say nothing till he got there, so she’d done as he said and sat tight.

The door opening startles her more than it should and she raises a hand to her heart in fright then locks eyes with Bucky and the tears she had been holding back since they put her here quickly rushed to the surface along side a stifled sob of anguish she couldn’t keep in.  

She can see he’s angry, for about a second, then he gets a good look at her and the frown dissolves into worry.  She doesn’t register standing but she must have because the next thing she knows she’s in his arms and she feels safe again.  

He crushes her to him, pressing her body to his and holding her tightly.  Darcy curls into his hold, clinging to him even as his hands move over her, she represses the hysterical giggle bubbling up.  Even now, he’s checking for breaks or injuries, his hand moving up into her hair and finding the nasty bump caused by her brief contact with the ground.

“Darcy..  Baby doll, fuck, what happened?  Are you alright?”

She can’t answer, just shakes her head and burrows into his chest.   It’s not like her, she knows that, but the last few hours have drained her of all her defenses.  There’s nothing left for her to hide behind or draw strength from, the only real thing in her world in that instant is him.  Solid and real and providing the anchor she needs.

Bucky holds her up, he can feel she’s barely standing on her own.   The bruise on her face looks bad, probably worse than it is, but he worries anyway, especially when he discovers the goose egg on the back of her head.  He manages to get her to look up at him, checking her eyes to make sure she’s not concussed, they’re full of unshed tears, making the deep blue of her irises sparkle in the dim light.  

She’d crumpled like wet tissue when she saw him, this isn’t the girl he knows, this isn’t the Darcy’s he’s seen tackle things head on. Whatever had happened tonight has spooked her.

He soothes her as best he can, whispering reassurances into her hair and pressing kisses to her brow.  He can feel her shaking, the race of her heartbeat, it’s an almost crippling reminder of her fragility, that as strong as she wants people to think she is, she is still as vulnerable as anyone else.  

“I’m sorry, I just…  I … Bucky I’m sorry…”

“Hey, no… Doll, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.  I don’t know why you went off like you did, but it can wait.  I’m just glad you’re safe. Can you tell me what happened?”

She does so in halted steps, explains about the guy bothering her at the bar, about him following her.  He wants to hunt the little punk down and teach him a lesson, still might if he ever crosses path with the guy. The only relief he has is that it wasn’t Keane.  That’s something else he has to worry about, he’s going to draw a line. He can’t continue like this and neither can she. Tomorrow he’s going to explain everything to her and hope she can understand.

He cups her face gently, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“You did good Darce, took that asshole down and protected yourself.  You’re strong, don’t forget that.”

“I panicked…  Bucky I froze…  “ she trailed off.  “I… when I was in college I was with this guy he…”   She broke of, biting her lip suddenly feeling she was about to say too much.

Bucky feels frozen, he knows what she wants to tell him, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t, the words escape him before he can change his mind.

“Hey…  I know, Darcy…" he tells her gently.  "I know what happened, it’s part of your file.”

Her first instinct is to put space between them.  She’s held the memory of her past close, kept it secret.  Him knowing what happened to her, it makes her feel exposed and vulnerable.  She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let go,

“Why is that on my file it…  It was years ago, long before Tony even found out about me.”

“I’m pretty sure Jarvis can find out anything, besides, it’s just SOP for any sort of personal security job Doll, I’m meant to know this stuff, it’s my job.”  He’s cursing his own choice of words even before he sees the way her expression twists and she tries to pull away from him again, this time he lets her take that step, knowing somehow that in this she needs to stand alone, on her own strength.

“I am so fucking sick of hearing you tell me that this or that is your job…”

“I know and I’m sorry.   Listen, I’m gonna make this right Darcy, just give me till tomorrow.  I’m finished wasting time, trying to wait this out. I want to be with you doll, now, right now.  Nothing that happened in the past changes how I feel about you. You went through hell and you came out the other side.  You’re amazing, you take my breath away. I’m here, when you’re ready I’ll listen, if you never are, I’ll still be here, don’t pull away from me now, please Doll.”  He reaches for her, one hand held out, beseeching.

Darcy takes a breath, her eyes straying to that hand, open, offering her everything she’s needed for so long.  She sees the honesty in his eyes and places her hand in his, feels herself calming under his touch and breathes. He knows, fuck he probably knows everything.  Jarvis was nothing if not thorough and the majority of what had happened with Keane was on public record, the trial had been all over the local papers at the time.  

She nods her head and relaxes again into his arms as he draws her back against his strong chest, closing her eyes as his head rests on hers.  She can trust him. He would never hurt like that, she knows it already. For all the violence that lies under the surface, Bucky isn’t that kind of guy.  He’s one of the most deadly and dangerous men alive, but he’s incapable of hurting her the way Keane had. At his core he was good, honourable and gentle. He maintained the balance inside himself, one of constant self regulation, he had demons, but he controlled them and never the other way around.  What had happened to her with Keane had been a crucible, one she had come through stronger than before. Darcy breaths him in, letting his familiar scent calm her.  

"I just want to go home Bucky."

"I know doll, your dad's working on it."

Bucky scoops her up and sits on the chair, Darcy safely ensconced in his lap.  She snuggles in and he tucks her head under his chin.

"Did you mean it?  About us?"

"Every word baby girl."

"Okay."

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and she feels her eyes begin to shut.  He's warm and safe and the way he strokes her arm over and over lulls her into sleep.  She doesn't fight it, lets it happen, Bucky's here and he won't leave her.

 The first thing that greets Pepper as she hurries through the doors of the station is Tony's voice sharp and cutting. She spots him immediately, waving his hands as he argues with Senator Griffin. The Senator is not one Tony or the Avengers are on good terms with.  Phil Coulson and Steve stand off to one side watching the show as are most of the officers and the chief of police, who has wisely stepped back from the two men.

 "What's going on?"

 Phil smiles warmly.

 "Tony just dropped the daughter bombshell.  Senator Griffin is currently back tracking. He may loath Tony on principal but he's not stupid.  The narrative changing from suspected mistress to innocent daughter means he'll lack all public support if he presses ahead with charges, especially since Tony just threatened to sue his son for the attempted sexual assault of his daughter.  It'll look terrible for his constituents and with the election coming up he'll risk his seat if he tries to fight this."

 "Harvey?"

 "He's dealing with the media fallout, calling a press conference.  Griffin’s lawyer walked in, saw Harvey and walked out again, not that I think that's going to matter at this point."  Phil gestures towards Tony.

 Pepper makes her way over quickly, she knows that expression, Tony knows he's won and is about to press the advantage.

 "Senator Griffin."  she greets the red faced man before turning to Tony and kissing his cheek.

 "Light of my life."

 "Tony.  Have you seen Darcy yet, is she alright?"

 "Barnes is with her.  If she was badly hurt he'd have taken her back to the tower already."

 "Barnes?"  Griffin questions, paling.

 "Our head of security and Darcy's boyfriend."  Pepper relays smoothly.

 "The Winter Soldier?"  he asks, patting at his forehead with a handkerchief.

 "The very same."  Tony's smile is shark like, teeth bared with threat.

 "I'll have the charges dropped Mr Stark-"

 "Dr Stark."  Pepper intones sweetly.  "His proper title is Dr Stark, he has four Phds Senator, after all I know how much stock you put in proper etiquette."

 "Of course Miss Potts-"

 "Mrs Stark."  Tony cuts him off, pulling Pepper closer.

 "Well, I'm sure we all have other things that warrant our attention right now, if you'll excuse us Senator, I'd like to collect my daughter and take her home."

 She feels Tony's grip on her waist tighten as she claims Darcy as hers.  It's only right after all, the girl has no mother of her own, hasn't since she was three years old.  It's no different than the relationship she's been building with Peter, a son she never expected to have, but she finds the role of mother to them keenly lately, perhaps because she's found out that there will soon be a third Stark heir to join the first two.  She hasn't told Tony yet, it's early, only five weeks. They had been trying for years for a baby. She resists the urge to cover her abdomen with her hand and leads Tony away. Perhaps the press conference would be smoothed out with an announcement of that fact.  It was also getting harder to hide Peters true role in Tony's life. A united front, a little bit of spin and this whole mess would be forgotten about, the media too busy with chattering about who would be tipped to lead SI in the future. Better that than them hashing and rehashing this incident and speculating on Darcy's role at the Tower.

 "That was a nice move, telling that ass that Barnes was her boyfriend."

 "He is her boyfriend, or at least there’s something going on with them Tony."  Pepper sighs.

 "What?"

 "Tony...  She's been pinning over him for weeks and he looks at her like she hung the moon...  Have you really not noticed?"

 "They're together?"

 "If they're not, they soon will be.  Don't mess this up for her Tony, she's old enough to decide who she dates."

 "I know that... it's just..."

 "I know.  But he's not that man anymore and he'll look after her.  He's a good man, I think he might make her happy if they get their chance."

 Tony nods, thinking it over.

 "I guess it wouldn't be the worst match.  At least I know she'll be in safe hands, he'll never let her out of his sight after this though."

 "That's for them to work out Tony.  I think you should give him the chance to hire some enhanced to the security division for protection for Darcy and Peter.  They'll need it moire than anyone else."

 "Yeah, Agent will have three fits if I poach from his operatives though."

 "Well, a little bird told me that Skye and Ward are looking to leave Shield. Who better to hire than Quake and Firestorm?  They'd be useful back up for the team too in emergencies."

 "An ex hydra Agent and a hacktivist?"

 "Ward's family is old money and even though his brother was disgraced, his rescue of the Presidents family during the fall of Shield gives him a very high profile.  Same with Skye, she saved Sokovia with her power and helped stop Ultron and capture the Maximov Twins. Having them attached to SI will be positive press for the company and it will give the media something else to chew on after this press conference.  I think we should lead with Darcy's identity then Peters, take a few short questions then announce my pregnancy before leaving the podium, it should shock them enough that a coherent narrative of any of this will fall flat."

 "Yup, that sound....  Wait... You're pregnant?"

 "Yes Tony."

 "So the dream I had..."

 "Yes Tony.  Morgan Stark is on the way."

 He knows who’s approaching the door just from the tread of the footsteps.  Steve might be able to walk silently but he knows better than to creep up on Bucky, his footfalls are heavy as he approaches the interview room.  Bucky shifts Darcy a little on his knee. He’s not exactly told his friend about what had been happening between he and Darcy, not quite ready to explain to Steve what was going on, not when he had still been trying to stubbornly figure it out by himself.  The brief knock before the door opened had his hands tighten on the precious cargo in his arms.  

 Steve’s face peered round the door before he slipped inside, closing it behind him.  He gave nothing away in his expression as he took in the way Darcy was curled possessively in his arms.  

 “We’re ready to go.  They’ve dropped the charges and Specter's argued them into scrubbing her record.  You want me to take your bike back to the Tower?”

 “Yeah, that would be great.  Could you let them know we’ll be out in a minute.”

 Steve nods and retreats to the door, but turns before opening it.

 “I know it’s not any of my business but-”

 “It’s not.”  Bucky cuts him off a little sharply.

 “You can’t keep her in the dark forever.”

 Bucky sighs.

 “I know.  I was planning to tell her in the morning.  Right now she needs to rest.”

 Steve nods and opens the door, slipping out as silently as he entered.

 “Oh, and Buck…  I’m happy for you.”

 Steve grins that shit eating grin that used to get him in trouble nearly a century ago, before closing the door with a click.

 Before he can recover from that, Darcy shifts and he looks down to find her blue eyes staring up at him curiously.

 “What did he mean?”

 Fuck.  This is not where or when he planned to have this conversation.

 “About what?”  Bucky hopes she didn’t hear Steve’s comment but the look in her eye indicated that he’s hanging on for a miracle.  

 “Keeping me in the dark.”

 “Darce..”

 “No.  I’ve had enough of people keeping things from me.  Just tell me.”

 She pushes herself to her feet and he immediately missed the warm weight of her.

 “The threat against you, it’s more than Stark and I told you.”

 “Bad enough you kept it from me for months?”

 “Darce..”

 “Well don’t stop now, just tell me.  You said you were planning to before this happened, so just spill.”

 “Keane was transformed during the terrigenisis outbreak.”

 He stands, noting the confusion that floods to horror filled realisation on her face.

 “Darce..”

 “No!”  She steps back, hugging her arms around her.

 “He’s in prison.  I thought Shield took custody of anyone who transformed in the general population of all prisons.”

 “They did Darcy…  but he escaped before they could pick him up.”

 “Escaped?  When?”

 “Ten weeks ago.”

 “The same week Tony told me I needed a bodyguard.”

 “Yes.”

 “You’ve known, all this time.  You know what he did to me. And you didn't tell me?”

 “Doll, you gotta understand I..,”

 “No, no I don’t have to understand anything.  You knew what he did to me, you told me you saw my file.  You slept with me. How could you keep that from me? How could you let me waltz around New York like that with no idea…  What are his powers? What can he do?”

 She was pacing, hands buried in her hair as she gradually grew paler.

 “We don’t know exactly what his power is.  There’s been some evidence that his escape was orchestrated by an outside agency.”

 “You mean Hydra.”

 “We don’t know that.  We’ve kept back channels open, there’s been no word from any of our agents that Keane’s been sighted with any Hydra cell.”

 “That doesn’t mean he isn’t.”

 “No.”  Bucky concedes.  Then he reaches for her arm, stopping the frenzied pacing.

 “Darce…  We’re going to find him, I promise. I won’t let him hurt you.  FBI and Shield both put kill orders out on him…”

 Darcy’s eyes grow wide.

 “You took the contract.”

 He nods, mouth set.

 Darcy takes a breath, then another, shaking, before pushing away from him and doubling over as she runs to the waste basket.

 Bucky is only a step behind her, gathering her hair back as she vomits, his other hand steadying her.  When nothing else would come up he helped her to a chair and left the room, looking for water.

 Pepper stood outside the door, water bottle in hand and frowned as she spotted Darcy’s shivering form huddled on the chair.

 “Pepper…  I-”

 “I’ll take care of her.  Go sort out our security escort and cars.  Darcy will ride with Tony and I in the Audi.  Happy will drive us. You’re welcome to join us.”

 Bucky looked back at Darcy, his hands curled into fists.

 “I’m not sure she wants me anywhere near her right now.  Did you hear us?”

 “I heard.  I’ll handle Darcy.  Call Jane, let her know what’s happened and that we’re on the way back.”  he nods and gets a few steps away when Peppers voice stops him. “And Barnes?  Just because she’s hurting right now doesn’t mean she won’t want you there protecting her, give it time.  She’s had a big shock to deal with.” Bucky searches her face, looking for some clue to why the older woman was so sure of what she said.  Kind blue eyes meet his, understanding and sympathy shining through.

 “Thank you.”

 She nods and steps inside, letting the door swing closed.  Bucky squares his shoulders and makes his way to the front.  He has a job to do.

Tag List

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[shes-soparticular]

What Happens in Bali...

There are certain announcements you just shouldn’t make on April Fools day.

A/N: Fluff. Very light mention of smutty happenings.

Words: 4033

              It was only half past three in the afternoon and Alex had already had one hell of a day.

For starters, she’d woken up late only to trip over Shawn’s guitar case on her way out of the bedroom. A stubbed toe wasn’t enough to ruin her day but instead it was her husband she cursed under her breath as she grasped the handle of the guitar case. How many times had she begged him to stop dropping his shit in the most inconvenient places? There was an entire room in their home devoted to his guitars so why in the world did he insist on leaving it outside of the bedroom door where she was bound to stumble over it? Frustrated, she’d picked up the case to move it to its rightful place just for the lid to fall open and Shawn’s favorite guitar to spill to the ground. It smacked the ground with a loud thud, the neck broken off at a right angle, narrowly holding on by the strings. “No no no no…” She whimpered to herself, kneeling down to scoop up the broken instrument. As she immediately pictured herself packing a bag and driving off into the sunset to avoid admitting she busted his most prized possession, Shawn rounded the corner.

“Honey, where’s the-” He stopped dead in his tracks the second his eyes fell on the guitar, his jaw going slack. “Oh god, what did you do?”

Her panicked eyes met his as she scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, it was an accident! You left it right in the doorway, I tried to move it and I don’t think you even latched the case shut…” Alex chewed on her lip, carefully picking up the neck of the guitar with shaky hands. “Maybe we can put it back together?”

Rubbing his jaw with his face turned towards the ceiling, he stood in silence, seemingly trying to filter whatever it was he wanted to say. After a long pause, a deep and frustrated sigh escaped him. “It’s one of a kind, custom made. The one Mayer gave me. It can’t be fixed or replaced.” The disappointment in his voice ate away at her, as much as she wanted to remind him it really wasn’t her fault to begin with. No matter who was to blame, something incredibly meaningful to him was irreparably damaged and her heart broke for him.

Letting the pieces drop gently back to the ground, Alex rose to her feet and pulled Shawn’s hands into hers. A more sincere apology was working its way to her lips when she felt a small hand on her calf. Glancing down, her gaze was met by little brown curls and doe eyes that matched her own. “Good morning, Matty.” Reaching down to pick up their two-year-old son before he could touch any jagged pieces of splintered wood, she notices his eyes focused on Shawn. Almost looking for…reassurance? Shawn mouthed something back to the toddler, although Alex couldn’t quite make it out.

“Apwil Foos, Mama.” Matty’s sleepy voice finally announced, his head still on a swivel between Alex and Shawn. For a minute, she was totally lost trying to interpret toddlerese. That is until the deep frown on Shawn’s face stretched into a devious grin, his fist reaching out to Matty for one of their father/son fist bumps. It’s then that it dawned on her…it’s April 1st. How in the world did she not see straight through this ruse? She was literally on her way to the kitchen to cover cherry tomatoes in chocolate as her own April Fool’s joke. She should have immediately guessed that this whole broken guitar act was her husband’s way of beating her to the punch. Putting her palm on one of Matty’s ears and leaning his head into her shoulder to cover the other one, she narrowed her eyes at Shawn. “You asshole,” She hissed, quiet but sharp. “That was so mean! I was freaking out!” Seeing the all too pleased look on his face didn’t help matters and it took all of her energy not to give him a swift kick in the shin. Looking back down at the pieces again, it now occurred to her how cheap and flimsy the wood looked and how light it had been in her hands. That little shit had a cheap replica made just to send her on a guilt spiral.

“The look on your face? Priceless.” Shawn didn’t even try to hold back his laughter, which only got his little shadow started too. Matty always wanted to be in on every joke, even though he rarely understood what was happening. It was next to impossible for Alex to stay angry while surrounded by the laughter of her boys, but she wasn’t going to let Shawn get away with it so easily.

“Laugh it up,” She raised her eyebrows and shot him a frosty grin, pushing Matty into his arms. “I’ll get my revenge. Just wait.” Their prank wars had only escalated over the years and April Fool’s Day was the ultimate challenge considering they were usually each on high alert. Last year, she’d convinced him that he’d leaked naked photos of her which culminated in him trying to schedule an emergency conference call with his entire team at five in the morning. Two years ago, he’d fooled her with what turned out to be a fake (and incredibly unflattering) tattoo of her face on his back. Point being, she would never have had her guard down had it not been first thing in the morning before she’d fully cleared the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, you mean those tomatoes you hid in the back of the fridge?” The look on Shawn’s face couldn’t have been more smug. “You’re going to have to try harder than that. I don’t think you’re going to get me this year.” Hoisting Matty to sit on one of his shoulders, he glanced up at his giggling son. “You’ve made your Mom lose her edge, buddy. She used to be so good at pranks, now your Dad is the master. If you’re lucky, I’ll teach you the art of deception.”

“You absolutely will not teach our child how to deceive us.” Alex rolled her eyes, hard, watching nervously as Matty leaned a little too far backwards on Shawn’s shoulder. Thankfully, Shawn had this eerie sixth Dad sense where he always managed to catch Matty by the shirt or an ankle before he totally wiped out. This time it was an ankle, Matty laughing his head off as he hung backwards over Shawn’s shoulder. It took a minute or two for Alex’s heart to start beating again (did a toddler really need to be 6+ feet off the ground??) and she reached out to peel her son off of his father and bring him back into the safety of her arms.  “Consider that, Shawn. He’ll be sixteen and joyriding in your car before you know it and it’s not going to be my fault.”

Shawn contemplated this, knowing his wife had a really, really good point. Matty had an endless supply of energy and it probably wasn’t the best idea to teach him how to use it to mess with them. He’d likely do enough of that on his own. “Fair enough. Sorry, bud.” Engulfing his little family in his arms, he planted a kiss on each forehead. “Happy April Fool’s Day, good luck getting me back.”

This earned yet another eyeroll from Alex, but her head was already swimming with ideas for vengeance. Could she have his car towed while he was at the studio that afternoon? No, too obvious. Convince him her parents were fighting and her Mom was coming to stay with them indefinitely? No, too frightening. Was he right about her losing her edge? Had she lost her special touch at taunting and tormenting her husband? No way, she’d come up with something. She had to. “Just give me a real kiss and clean up this dumb guitar before I send the real one off the balcony.”

His eyebrows shot up at her threat, but they both knew it was completely empty.  “You would never.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips against hers teasingly, still withholding the kiss she’d demanded. “You love me too much.” This was true, he had her there.

“Maybe so, but all is fair in love, war, and April Fools.” She grumbled back, using her free hand to wrap in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him all the way in for her morning kiss.

Alex had spent the better part of the morning running errands, hoping for divine inspiration to strike her when she least expected it. So far? No luck. Taking Matty into the grocery store probably wasn’t the best idea, considering it took every ounce of her mental strength. Making it through the supermarket with Matty was as close as she would ever get to playing an extreme sport. Whether it was scooping him up seconds before he’d pulled out the bottom box of a display of goldfish crackers or wrangling him off of the top shelf he’d managed to climb up in the cereal aisle, she was pretty sure she could cancel her gym membership and create her own CrossFit style fitness program based entirely on chasing toddlers around public places. A woman with two small children passed by her, one crying about the flavor of jam they’d picked and the other swiping an entire shelf of toothpaste into the cart as she shared a knowing look with the frazzled mother. The tight but soft smile they shared was the equivalent of throwing a Mom gang sign to show their support for one another. As they passed out of view, Alex stared down at Matty. “I think you’re going to be an only child, sir.” She wasn’t sure if it was the smug look that he shot her (and god damn, why did he have to look just like his Dad?) or the fact that she was passing a wall of pregnancy tests, but the thought hit her like a ton of bricks. Bali. Fucking Bali.

    When she insisted over and over that she didn’t want anything for her birthday other than to go out for brunch and whatever trinket Matty could make her out of dried macaroni, that hadn’t satisfied Shawn. But Alex just wasn’t the materialistic type, not to toot her own horn or anything. She’d just never been a big fan of jewelry, she was the queen of thrifting and had a penchant for vintage clothing versus whatever Hermès or Saint Laurent was peddling, and other than her phone, what electronics did she really need? Travel, though, that was her Achilles heel. She could never say no to a trip, would bend over backwards if it meant making an adventure happen. Of course, Shawn was well aware of this weakness. Thus, what she thought was a ride to her birthday brunch was really a ride to drop Matty off with Shawn’s parents before catching a flight. To Bali. The number one destination on her bucket list.

Being that it was a last minute, spur of the moment trip, she hadn’t put a lot of thought into packing her bag. In fact, Shawn’s exact words had been, “Yyou have thirty minutes to pack before we leave for the airport, sorry.” Thus, there were several things she’d forgotten. One, her cell phone charger. No big deal, she’d use Shawn’s. Two, sneakers suitable for hiking. Not a problem, she could pick up a pair when they got to Ubud. Three, her birth control. Yeah, that one was an issue. It wasn’t like this was just a trip to LA where she could pop into any CVS pharmacy and grab an emergency supply of her super specific birth control prescription. It was a ten-day trip. To Indonesia. And it wasn’t like she was going to just…not have birthday sex with her husband in one of the most beautiful villas she’d ever seen in the most breathtaking place she’d ever been.

    They had mutually agreed to wait another couple of years before giving Matty a sibling. Shawn had an impending tour starting later that year and neither of them could imagine trying to manage two little ones on the road. Ever since Matty was born, they’d decided that he and Alex would travel along with Shawn whenever possible. It wasn’t always realistic and it was rarely easy, but it kept them together and that was all that mattered. Before they’d even decided to try for Matty, they’d swore to one another they’d give him as fulfilling of a childhood as they could. To them, fulfilling meant creating memories for Matty he could look back on fondly later, shared with both of his parents and surrounded by love. So no, it wouldn’t be a normal childhood by any definition. Matty’s first steps had been on a moving tour bus. His first word had been in Spanish while they were at a café in Buenos Aires. He’d already seen more of the world in his short two years than most people saw in a lifetime. But Alex wouldn’t have it any other way. Yes, it was difficult to calm a teething baby in a different hotel room every night or to find something akin to Cheerios in a foreign country when that’s the only thing Matty would eat. Yes, there were nights that she wanted nothing more than to tuck Matty into his own bed rather than a green room pack and play. However, those things paled in comparison to her son getting to see his Dad every day. To be there to catch him after those first steps. To spin him around in celebration after that first word. To make him laugh, to wipe his tears, to just simply be there. All of that being said, it wasn’t impossible to do with one child. But adding another to that mix? It just wasn’t something Alex was ready to do.

Yet that didn’t stop her from letting Shawn push her up against the shower wall in Bali, thrusting into her as the warm water cascaded over their joined bodies. She’d mentioned to him after unpacking that she’d forgotten to pack the pill and maybe they should pick up some condoms. It was one of those suggestions they both nodded over with no intention of actually accomplishing. And within twenty minutes, there they were having risky shower sex with reckless abandon. After that, their shared mindset was that the damage was done and they might as well enjoy their trip unencumbered. It wasn’t like Matty happened the FIRST time they had completely unprotected sex, so the chances that a ten-day vacation would totally derail their two-year plan didn’t seem likely.

But now, as she sits on the edge of the tub waiting for not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests to reveal their results, Alex can’t help but feel incredibly foolish over their tropical fueled heedlessness. Deep in her thoughts as Matty sits on the floor in front of her, ramming a toy firetruck into her ankles and driving it up and down her calves, she lets out a long sigh. Bali Alex™ really hadn’t had future Alex in mind when she insisted on having sex on every surface of that villa, sans goalie. The simultaneous sounds of the front door creaking open, Matty’s feet scurrying out of the bathroom, and her cell phone alarm blaring to announce the moment of truth yank her out of her thoughts and bring her back to reality. A reality where there were a total of six pink lines in front of her. Well…she does love adventure, doesn’t she?

     There’s no sense in making a big production out of it, so she simply marches out into the kitchen with all three positive tests clenched in her hand. Matty is already there, perched on the kitchen counter eating what appears to be rocky road ice cream. She grimaces at the sight, knowing the sugar rush to come considering she’d already caved and given him gummy worms at the supermarket. “I come bearing ice cream for Matty and wine for Mommy, since I’ve been feeling incredibly guilty all day.” Shawn holds up her favorite bottle of red, two glasses already waiting on the counter.

     “Hold that thought, oh, maybe for the next eight months.” Alex sidles up to the counter, grabbing one of Shawn’s hands so that should could place all three tests into his palm. “Three of a kind, Mendes.” The look on his face as he stares down into his palm quickly changes from confusion to shock and then…amusement? He hands the tests right back to her, shaking his head in the process.

    “Whoa, you’re pulling out the big guns, eh?” Now the look of confusion transfers to her face. “Not gonna work, Alex.” What? It’s not like she expects him to pick her up and spin her around or anything (okay, maybe she does), but this really isn’t the reaction she’d expected. What the hell was he even talking about? And then, for the second time that day, it hits her. April Fools Day.

    “Wait…you think this is an April Fools joke?” Her eyes nearly double in size, an incredulous laugh leaving her chest. “This is the absolute worst thing you can joke about on April Fools, I would never.” She truly wouldn’t. There were certain topics that were just off limits when it came to pranks and this was possibly the biggest one. Yes, she could be ruthless when she wanted to be, but she’d never cross this line.

    “That’s what you want me to think.” Shaw’s guard is still up, eyes raking over her to pick up any sign that points to her lying. He knows her tells. The way she always looks up through her eyelashes. The way she always drops one hip, trying to look calm and collected. He can read her like a book. But right now…she must be putting on the performance of a lifetime. Because the tone of her voice sounds a little too earnest, the look in her eyes a little too disconcerted. He’s ready to cave, about to pull her into his arms, until the memory of the prior April 1st fills his head. The one where her voice had been quaking and her skin burning red as she showed him risqué photos of her he had supposedly leaked. He remembers how quickly that quake turned into a belly laugh and how she’d done a victory lap around their bedroom declaring herself winner of April Fools. Nope. She must be desperate to one up his prank and she was just going to the greatest length she could. “You waited for it to become socially unacceptable and THEN you strike. Classic Alex, you almost got me.”

    “Okay, so how did I fake these positive pregnancy tests then? You think I’m out running around stealing pee from pregnant ladies?” She’d folded her arms against her chest, eyebrows raised to challenge him.

   “I don’t know, you can probably buy fake ones on the internet or something.” He finds this completely plausible, shoulders shrugging as he steals a bite of ice cream from Matty’s dish. If he could get a cheap replica guitar made with ease, why couldn’t she figure out how to fake a pregnancy test? “Wait, does this go all the way back to Bali? Were you already setting me up then?” The scoff this earns from her feels like it further proves his suspicion. To him, it seems as though she’s laying it on too thick.

    “You are going to feel so stupid when this kid shoots out,” Alex laughs softly to herself, reaching up to brush non-existent salt off of his shoulder. “And I’m never going to let you forget it.”

It’s still dark when she wakes to his fingers running softly down the skin of her back. As her eyes slowly flutter open, she sees the red numbers on the alarm clock reading 12:01am. She knows exactly why he’s still up and why he’s tugging her from sleep. “Mmm, you just been laying awake waiting for the clock to strike midnight?” At the sound of her voice, his hand snakes around her waist to pull her backwards against him, her bare skin pressing against his.

“Yes.” He momentarily buries his face in her hair, taking in her scent, waiting with bated breath to hear what she’s ultimately going to say. To see which direction their lives are about to go. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” His fingers ghost across her flat stomach, tracing circles and shapes that give her goosebumps.

“What are you hoping to hear?” She shifts on to her back so that they can lock eyes, the mixture of fear and excitement reflecting between them. But the fact that the excitement outweighs the fear calms the endless train of thoughts surging through her head.

“I’m hoping I was wrong.” His hand stills, as he takes in every detail he can. The freckle under her right eye, the curve of her hip, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath. She places a hand on top of his, threading their fingers together.

“As always, I’m happy to tell you that you were wrong.” A soft giggle floats from her but it’s quickly captured by his lips. Despite the fact that they’re wholly unprepared, despite the fact that this derails their plans, this kiss is filled with relief. Relief that they have one another to navigate life with, come what may.

When the need for air finally becomes too much, their lips part, foreheads resting against each other in quiet satisfaction. He brushes his thumb across her stomach once more, a smile spreading across his face. “Our Bali baby.”

“We can’t call her that, we’d have to start calling Matty our “backseat of the Jeep baby” and I think he might resent that.” Yes, she’s boldly calling this baby her. She can’t say why, but she has a pretty good feeling about it.

“Backseat of the Jeep? No way, that’s not where Matty was made.” He rolls on to his back, pulling her half way on top of him. He knows it has to be too early and maybe it’s just the moonlight streaming through the window, but he swears she’s already glowing.  “Bathroom of the AMA’s.”

“Oh, okay sure, that’s MUCH more poetic.” She swears her eyes are going to hurt from rolling so often in a twenty-four hour period. “We get one trip to ourselves and what do your dumbasses do? Make another baby.” She hides her face in his chest, but he can still feel that grin of hers.

“Happy Birthday?” It comes out as a chuckle as he reaches to pull her body up further so that her face hangs over his. “I mean, are we really that shocked? We knew this could happen, we did literally nothing to prevent it. I don’t want to speak for you, but I think we wanted to let this happen?” They weren’t the type of couple that sat down and made long lists weighing the pros and cons of every decision. They were more of an “I jump, you jump” couple that just took life as it came and went for the ride. So it wasn’t unnatural that this is how they’d end up adding to their family – by exploiting a mistake like forgotten birth control and silently letting fate take it’s course. Or maybe that was just an incredibly refined way of making an excuse for the fact that they were stubborn about wanting raw sex on vacation, no matter the consequence.  Either way, everything would work out. They both knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

“I think maybe we did.” Alex admits, bumping her nose against his before stealing another kiss. Her teeth close teasingly against his bottom lip, pulling it lightly. “But really I just wanted to get rawed on vacation, let’s be honest.”

Tagging @fourtristattoos for Dad!Shawn week 🥰

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 7

So Sokka, where’s this episode taking place again?

Excellent! Let’s get started then!

Narrator recaps the encounter with Doc Marcoh, who revealed the existence of incomplete Philosopher’s Stones (which is a great writing move, now the Brothers can be going around hunting down Imperfect Stones rather than repeated episodes of “Damnit, another fake.”), and gave the location of his research. Now fixed up, Ed and Al are off to the First Branch of the National Central Library. Whoa, was expecting a title card and got Screaming Edward instead. What’s wrong? Ah. Seems that the library’s a bit… destroyed. When did this happen? Shot of Eastern Command, Lust is commenting that “burning the entire place down was easier.” Damnit, seems they got the location out of Marcoh and removed the lead while our characters were held up at the Rockbell’s. Now Lust and Gluttony are in East City, Lust checking in on Scar. Seems Gluttony has a very keen nose, he can smell the Ishvalan. Lust confirms that Gluttony can get his snack. Still confused about the animosity between the Goths and Scar. Whatever their plans, seems it would be easier for the Goths if there were fewer State Alchemists to get in their way. Or is it more that he’s a disruptive force, a distraction for their own plans? After all, if they do need Ed for some sort of sacrifice, Scar killing him would definitely mess things up. Episode 07: “Hidden Truths” Speaking of the Ishvalan, Scar’s still in the sewers, when he notices a bunch of rats fleeing past him. Looking back, there’s a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness. Yup, that’s Gluttony with his creepy grin. Goth vs Vigilante fight? Wow, Gluttony’s pretty fast for a hefty guy. Scar prepares his Face Grab, but it’s not an instant kill as Gluttony grabs him. Scar ends that by straight-up slicing off the Goth’s arm. Wait, no blood? Suddenly Lust comes racing up, Scar barely has a moment to be surprised before an explosion sends our view back to the surface, big cloud of smoke pouring out over a river. Seems we’ll have to wait on that fight, we’re back to Riza reporting that Scar hasn’t been seen since his attack on the Elrics. Havoc suggests that he’s not in East City anymore, but Roy hopes that isn’t the case. If it’s gotten to be too much for Central, and he closes it quickly? Then he’ll “be golden.” Huh, didn’t think you were that much of a careerist, especially after you objected to Bradley giving you the credit in the first episode. Wow, Roy doesn’t dream small, does he. Aiming right for the office of Fuhrer. Further talk’s derailed by [Soldier 1] rushing in to report an explosion on the Marl River. Nearby Military Police speculate on what caused all the rubble, as the State Alchemists examine the bloody remains of Scar’s jacket. No body though, so I’m gonna assume he’s still alive. No way he’d be axed off this soon. And may I say how happy I am that it’s “by the book” for the State Alchemists to find hard proof someone’s dead before writing them off? No “Never Found The Body” for these guys! Hey! In the crowd, it’s the Goths! Pretty brazen, sticking around with the bystanders. Lust complains that Scar got away, while Gluttony’s more concerned he didn’t get his snack. Regardless, they assume that Scar will be out of the picture for now. Lust will head back to Central to report to Father. Meanwhile, the Elrics and Armstrong are looking through the destroyed library, when they’re approached by a Second Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh. Hey, it’s two more people from the intro? Also, Ross and Brosh? Calling it now, they’re either siblings or LI’s. Ross is here to pass on an order: Armstrong is to report back to Command Center, they’ll take over supervision of the Elrics. Nooo, don’t take away The Mighty Armstrong! Ed just complains that he keeps getting saddled with bodyguards. Driving away, Ross comments that there was a woman who was well acquainted with the materials of the ex-library. Although she wasn’t working there anymore. Well, it’s more than you had a minute ago Ed, don’t diss it. Brosh seems nervous, which Al picks up on. Scared of the Giant Fanged Suit of Armor sitting across from you? Or… is it the person sitting next to you, hmmm? Nah, it’s the armor, which he asks about. The Elrics claim it’s a hobby. Really guys? That’s a lame excuse, go back to the “It’s for training” you used in the first episode. Awkwardness all around. They arrive at what looks like an apartment building, and… oh. Oh my. Look at them. Look at all those books! Did this woman make her own library or something? I want them! The Alchemists sidle through the bookshelves, Brosh wondering if there’s actually someone living in the place. Ross calls out for Miss Sheska, Al catches on to a muffled “Please help me” down an aisle to a bunch of collapsed books. Well, at least the lady saved her glasses. A moment of frantic digging later, they uncover a lady who profusely thanks them and apologizes for getting trapped under the books. Yeah, might wanna work on your shelving technique, miss. Confirming that this is the Miss Sheska they came to meet, Ed asks about her working at the library, and she flinches at that? But then she springs into a Glittering Gushing Moment ala Armstrong and Winry, about how beautiful the word “library” is and how she’s loved books her whole entire life, how working in a library was heaven! Buuuuut she kinda forgot about the “work” part, spent all her time reading and got fired. And now she needs another job to move her poor, elderly mother to a better hospital. But all she can do is read! Woe, sadness, despair! ...ok, which one of you guys stuck a gender-bent me into this show? Ed snaps Sheska out of her despair by asking about Tim Marcoh, she recalls the name from some handwritten notes stuck in a bookshelf. Nice memory! And my growing suspicion is confirmed when she just asks if they want to read them. Where do you think all these books came from, Ed? Or rather, Sheska’s got a photographic memory, she remembers the content of any book she’s ever read. So she can write the notes out for them! “Thank you bookworm” indeed! And now, a table full of notes! Lady, why are you apologizing for taking five days? I’m surprised that table’s holding up under those stacks of paper, and all that was written from memory? Alchemists, if you don’t hire this girl for your own paperwork you’re idiots. But here they are, Tim Marcoh’s notes! Or rather… recipes? Oh. Ooooooh. I get it! But our characters don’t, they just complain about coming all that way for a cook book. Come on guys, it’s chemistry! Well, maybe Ed and Al get it, because after confirming the notes are completely accurate he thanks her, gathers the notes to take back to the library, and writes out a check for Sheska from his grant funds. Which going by Ross and Sheska’s reactions (“Did he miss a decimal point somewhere?!”) is not insubstantial. Guess being a skilled State Alchemist pays well. At another building (guess by library they meant one other than the destroyed one) Brosh is asking how the cookbooks can possibly be related to Alchemy. Ed explains that due to the danger of Alchemy being misused, the research is always encrypted. Come on Brosh, aren’t you a State Alchemist too? Shouldn’t you know this? Ed and Al get cracking on the decryption, such as comparing a “green tea” recipe to the “Green Lion” of metallurgic alchemy. Other names get thrown around, like Flamel (I recognize that one!) and Lambspring. Brosh clearly is out of his league. But it seems the Elrics may be as well, collapsed on the table with glazed expressions. Al’s even faceplanted so hard his helmet horn’s gone straight through the papers into the table. The suggestion of asking Marcoh about it comes up (yyyeah, don’t think that’s gonna work out), but Ed refuses to admit defeat. Hey, Sheska! She’s stopped by to thank the Elrics for the money. Although they haven’t had any luck deciphering the notes, and she hasn’t found another job yet, she’s happy to have helped out. And Al gives her an inspiring pep talk, nice to see her smiling. Sudden Hughes bursting in to visit the Elrics, admonishes Ed for not saying “Hey” when he came back to Central. Ross and Brosh mutter in shock about how the Elrics chat with Colonel (hey, did he get a promotion?) Hughes like an old friend. Just how high up are these boys? No, seriously, how high up are they? Do they have an official rank, or what? Asking for clarification. Hughes takes a seat, complaining about their case load, and the library burning down as well. Seems all their case reports were… stored in the stacks… Miss Sheska! You’re hired! The Elrics get back to work, delving through notes (Suddenly noticed that Ed’s writing with his left hand. Hadn’t caught that before). Meanwhile, Brosh keeps up on guard duty (“I’m awake!”) and comments that they’ve been at it for ten days now. Man, Doc was pretty thorough in his coding, wasn’t he? But at least they’re dedicated- “To hell with it!” Aw, no! Don’t give up! Ross and Brosh enter to a wrecked room, books and papers scattered everywhere as the Elrics sit on the floor. Come on, you guys can’t give up now. Wait, you did crack it? You cracked the code? That’s awesome! But why the frustration, then? Why does Al sound like he’s crying? Jeez, now Ed’s going on about how it’s the devil’s research, that it should have been destroyed. What on earth was in those notes? “The main ingredient for a Philosopher’s Stone… is human life.” No. NO. You have GOT to be kidding me! Not again. Not again!

Oh, but it gets worse. Ed’s saying that to make a single Stone takes multiple human sacrifices. Wow. Just, wow. So there we go. Philosopher’s Stones are made with human sacrifice. “For what could equal the value of a human soul” indeed. Stones aren’t about amplifying the power of the Alchemist after all, they’re about drawing on the power of others. Just… using others’ life as a freaking battery! And the Military authorized research into this? They signed off on research into human sacrifice as a power source? First genocide, now this? What the Leto is wrong with these people?! *Sigh* Ok, ok. Calming down, calming down… Ed asks Ross and Brosh to not say anything. Later that night, the two Alchemists appear to meet Armstrong in a hotel, informing him that the Brothers are “holed up” in their room again, and they haven’t been eating either. Well, yeah? I mean, they just discovered that the one hope they had for restoring their bodies could only come at an inhumane cost to others. How do you think you would have reacted in their place? Well, at least Ross and Brosh seem to be keeping their promise to not reveal the secret. Unfortunately, Armstrong catches on and is not pleased with their suspicious behavior. To say the least. Sorry. Trying to be funny, but still reeling from that reveal. Inside a dark room, Al says that Ed really should get something to eat, but Ed just says no. Ed goes on to talk about how they try so hard to grasp the truth, but it always slips away. Or rather, in their search for answers they got the worst possible one. Now Ed’s saying that there’s something he’s wanted to tell Al for a while, but he’s always been too afraid to say it. “I-” *SMASH* “Elric Brothers, I know you’re in there!” Ed decides to ignore him, followed immediately by The Mighty Armstrong completely smashing his way in. Yup, Ross and Brosh couldn’t hold out against the Major, he knows what the notes said. And he’s now Crying Majestically about how the Philosopher’s Stone is built on such a terrible secret. “Imagine the military being behind something like that! Often the truth is more cruel than we bargained for!” But Ed seizes on one word out of that: “Truth.” Is he thinking about the Demon and the Door? No, he seems to be banking on Marcoh’s mention of “truth within the truth”. Ed’s convinced that there has to be more to this. Ed, please. Please don’t take up false hope now. Armstrong’s going over a map, saying there are four Alchemy Labs in Central with ties to the government, and Marcoh worked in the third. So they have a place to look for more information. Wait, hold on. You knew there was a lab in this very city that Marcoh worked at? Why didn’t you go there to look for any of his notes earlier, see if they would help with deciphering the others? Talking about how he’s visited all the laboratories before, Ed points out a crossed-out building. Seems it was designed for a fifth lab, but it currently isn’t in use since the building isn’t structurally sound. Gee, an “empty” lab, classified off-limits? That’s not suspicious at all. As for more evidence towards it, right next door is a prison. Oh, I get it! If Philosopher Stones need multiple human sacrifices to make, you’d need a source of death, which would indicate either a death-sentence prison or… a hospital… Show. Show, listen to me. With all these mentions of Sheska’s mother going to a nicer hospital? Don’t you DARE follow that thread. Ahem. Ed clues them in on the use of “executed” prisoners to make the Stone. Yeesh, “potential to become a political nightmare” is an understatement, Armstrong. He’ll look into it tonight, in the meantime the other officers are to say nothing. And the Elrics are to behave themselves! Armstrong’s in full Scary Superior Mode, knowing full well that they were planning to sneak into the building and look around. The Elrics claim innocence- -before a smash-cut to them doing that exact thing. Yep, a guard posted at an “unused” building? That’s as obvious a sign as any. Since they can’t risk the light from Transmuting a hole in the wall, they have to settle for Ed getting tossed up to the top, and making a barbed-wire rope for Ed. Thank goodness for those metal arms! Door’s blocked, how are they going to get past that. Ed sees… no. Ed, NO. Do NOT go off on your own! Aaaargh! Edward Elric, you listen to me! You suspect that this building is a base for creating Philosopher Stones? Aka that thing that people are KILLED for? You are walking right into a horror movie, DO NOT split up! But of course he does. And he leaves a [DEJECTED] Alphonse behind, crying that he didn’t ask to get too big to fit through the vents. Shame on you, Ed. Shame on you. Inside, among shadows and fog, two voices speak, identified as [66] and [48]. Prisoners? Rather mutated ones, if that’s the case based on their shadowed forms. Ed’s still skulking through the vent, commenting on how small it is… “Oh no! I just called myself a tiny little pipsqueak!” While funny, this is not the time! Be quiet! Breaking out into a hallway, he notes that there are lights on. Yep, definitely “not currently in use”. Outside Al’s worried that Ed’s taking a while. Uh oh, looks like one of the Mutants on the roof, with a big knife. I mean, that won’t hurt Al, right? Right?! Aaaand end credits. Damn it! Ok, well this was one heck of an episode. Learning the secret of Philosopher Stones? The return of “souls as batteries”? That was not a pleasant surprise. If one good thing has come out of this, it’s that I am increasingly convinced this is the prelude to a State Alchemist Revolt. First being used by your government to commit genocide, now learning that the authorities are committing human sacrifice to increase their power? I look forward to Roy, Riza, Armstrong and the others standing up against this injustice. A pity that this is the final nail in the “Fuhrer Bradley is a Bad Guy” coffin, I liked his personality. But I don’t care what kind of excuse he’s gonna use for all of this, this government needs to go down. Should make for an enjoyable fight at least, Bradley’s super-speed against our guys. Post-Credits “There were once two men who knew more of bloody blades than human sympathy. They snuffed out life, laughing as their weapons flew. Now, they guard the darkness, hollow shells of the villains they once were. Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode 08: “The Fifth Laboratory” “There are those who find pleasure only in battle, who feel alive only during a fight. They are coming soon… with blood on their hands.”

[tommyquackson]

Getting Me a Little Bit | t. holland | part 2

Not My Gif

summary: toms an angel but his life begins changing when he meets one of the most dangerous monsters he’s ever heard of, you. angel!tom and demon!au

warnings: cursing, uh angels? blood and stuff

note: yea idek why i made a part 2 tbh but make sure y’all request!!!

Walking into the Office of Heavenly Affairs, Tom is nervous. Y/ns walking next to him, somehow acting confident and innocent at the same time. She has a small smile on her face and a file in her small hands and she’s leading Tom through the building like she’s been here multiple times before. It isn’t until they arrive into the Demon and Unholy Creatures Department that he realizes y/ns winging this whole thing. He watches her as they both walk up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, Harmony, recognizes Tom, but her face twists in confusion when her eyes meet Y/n.

“Tom, they’re almost ready for you in the conference room. May I ask who you are?” Harmony speaks to y/n.

“Harmony, I know i’m not down in this division a lot, but I do find it insulting that you don’t remember me. But I forgive you.” Y/n smiles sweetly, showing a ID badge with her name and picture on it. Harmonys eyes widen in shock.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met” Harmony speaks. Y/n sighs and rests on her elbows on the desk, looking into Harmonys eyes. It’s only a few seconds but suddenly Harmonys face flashes with recognition.

“Ms. Y/n! My deepest apologies, i don’t know where my mind has gone, please forgive me. Are you on official business with Agent Holland?” She smiles typing things into her computer.

“Yes I am, it was great seeing you again.” Y/n smiles, tapping the desk before looking at Tom and winking and walking away and towards the conference room where the meeting will be held.

She waits at the door for Tom and he pulls it open, straightening his collar while walking in. He and Y/n walk up to the table and sit down.

“Ah, Agent Holland, im fairly busy today so- oh, who is this?” One of his directors speak now looking at y/n, who immediately stands and hands the file over.

“Hi, I’m Y/n over at the Government Division, as you know, our reports show there’s a suspected 434 demons and other unspeakable creatures in the government in New York City alone, not including Lower Statten Island, but once we tackle our larger issues we’ll take care of the smaller challenges. Anyway, I was doing work in Hell’s Kitchen last night and realized you had field agents stationed there, specifically in The Devil, a popular nightclub. Now that’s not his fault, but it is yours because it has come to my attention that you haven’t alerted us or anyone for that matter about suspected demon activity, now as you know that’s a serious offense and I would hate to see a lot of your hard work be wasted simply because you were careless on a small intel project.” She finishes and looks sweetly at all the Angels sitting on the opposite of the table.

“We sent Agent Holland because we believe there to be a succubus in that nightclub, we didn’t think we’d have to alert anyone about our own mission. What did you say your name was again?” The first Director speaks up, looking her up and down.

“What is it with you guys today? Is there something in the water? Y/n with the Government Division. Have you not been getting my memos?” She puts her hand on her hip and looks at all of them.

“Uh no, I mean yes mam we have, but we had a credible lead that-“

“Well your lead isn’t as credible as you think, Tom, please give them the status report from last night.” She looks at Tom and nods.

“Oh uh, upon entering I saw no suspicious activity, everything was surprisingly human. I was there for a while and no trace or word of a succubus in that club,” Tom gulps, he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t think of what he was going to tell them.

“Great, so, I think you it’s safe to say you can stay out of GDs jurisdiction and we can avoid stepping on each other wings. It was lovely seeing all of you, see you at the Christmas gathering.” Y/n speaks, grabbing the file back and walking out of the room.

Tom is dismissed immediately after and jogs to catch up with her.

“What was in that file, they believed everything you were saying,” Tom gasps.

“Oh it’s empty, i just projected whatever I was saying onto the file and it appeared, simple illusions. Now shall we go get lunch?” She smiles, clothes changing as soon as she steps out of the stark white building.

—

2 weeks later and Tom has been hanging out with the literal spawn of satan nearly everyday. Except for last week when Y/n disappeared for 4 days and came back looking a little worse for wear. She demanded Tom to not talk about it or even question her when she arrived at his place.

Toms been neglecting his heavenly duties to spend more time with her. Although it always made him sick when she brought men to his place while he was out for a bit. He hoped it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence in the future.

He hadn’t seen her today however, she said yesterday that she had important things to do and wasn’t sure when she’d be back. She seemed annoyed at whatever she had to do, but Tom held his tongue.

He sat in his living room, eating spaghetti and watching a beautiful nature documentary. The polar bear cubs struggling to find food always struck a cord in Tom, it seemed so cruel and unfair. He watched as camera men followed penguins and seals around for 5 months and analyzed their behavior.

He’s interrupted by a quiet knock and then a large thump against his front door. He stands and moves quietly to the door, wondering who could be knocking at 11pm on a Tuesday? Y/n always appears in whatever room he’s in, usually scaring him half to death.

He slowly pulls open the door and her smaller body falls into his arms. Y/ns halfway covered in dark blood and her horns look battered. She looks up at him and her face is covered in cuts and more dried blood. Her “human” eyes are hidden and the whole space is covered in black with low flames flickering. She smiles lightly and he can see her sharp teeth barely poking out.

He pulls her in and lays the demon on the couch, spewing questions in her direction.

“Tommy, relax. You yelling at me ain’t gonna cure my headache” She winces, clenching her jaw.

“Y/n, what happened” He asks softly.

“Don’t wanna talk about it” y/n goes to turn over but quickly hisses and grab her ribs.

“You have to” He stands up straighter.

“I don’t fucking want to” She nearly growls. He’d be more scared if she wasn’t so pathetic looking.

“Y/n, I don’t care what you want to do. You need to tell me what happened so I can help you, NOW!” He shouts the last part and she almost chuckles at how adorable the angel looks yelling at her.

“had’t go t’hell and ran into s”trouble with m’dad” She mumbles, looking at the TV instead of Tom.

“I can’t hear you when you mumble” He says rolling his eyes at her stubbornness.

“I had to go to hell to do some shit and Lucifer found out I was there and decided to meet with me but things took a bad turn and I got my ass kicked by a bunch of leviathans while my dad watched” She spits out, louder and clearer.

“Oh”

“Yep, and since they beat me so damn bad, none of my powers or magic works, had to walk all the way here from the nearest portal, which i’m not sure if you’re aware, is VERY far” She pushes through and sits up on the couch.

“Why did he do it?” Tom asks quietly, unsure of the question was upsetting.

“Eh, there’s a few reasons. Main one being he’s god damn Satan. The other is he found out I was at the Office of Heavenly Affairs, got pissed and accused me of being a traitor” She shrugs like the information is nothing, leading Tom to wonder how much stuff y/ns already dealt with.

“Well, uh. I can do my best to patch you up and you can sleep in my bed.” Tom pushes his glasses up on his face and rushes to get some things to help, he doesn’t usually get hurt so he’s not super prepared, but he’s got the basics.

He spends a few minutes trying his best to disinfect her most serious wounds and cleaning the voood off of her. His hands are shaky as he sews a few cuts up but she doesn’t seem to notice, by looking at Y/ns face, you wouldn’t even know she’s in pain. She’s staring at the now black TV, watching her blurry reflection. Her eyes have gone back to normal and her horns have retreated, though it’s still not easy to read her. Tom usually prides himself on being able to read body language but he’s drawing a blank with y/n. Is she mad? maybe upset? maybe just tired? He’s not sure.

“Thanks tommy.” She winks as he wipes the last bit of ointment on her skin. She stands and clenches her jaw to stop from groaning in pain.

She walks towards the front door, leaving Tom in complete and utter confusion before he snaps to action.

“Wait! What? You can’t leave you’re hurt and in pain, you-“

“I’m fine” She shrugs, not turning around.

“No you aren’t! Why are you denying this, you need to stay here.” Toms eyebrows furrow together.

“Why does it fucking matter?” She finally turns around, eyes switched back to her demon form.

“Because you’re my friend,” Tom speaks quietly. He looks down at the ground afraid of her glare.

“Let’s get one thing straight Thomas. I don’t need a friend, which means i don’t need the bullshit that comes with them. I don’t need you to care about me got it? I’m perfectly fine without you, so don’t act like I need you to survive or like you’re the goddamn air i breathe. You’re nothing to me but an idiot fucking angel. So i’m gonna fucking leave and you’re gonna fucking let me. Any questions?” She throws her hands towards him. His head shoots up at her.

“You came here? You didn’t go to the club, you walked all the way from the nearest portal, which is 34 blocks by the way, you needed someone and you came here. Don’t get mad just because you want to be the one to hurt someone instead of the other way around. So you can leave if you really want to y/n, but don’t lie about why you’re doing it because you’re only fooling yourself” He spurts out, face red and hands shaky.

Y/n doesn’t say anything for a while. Just stares in anger, her eyes fill with tears and she quickly wipes them away as they fall.

“I don’t wanna be friends anymore Tom, that’s it.” She shakes out between her deep shudders of breath. She turns and limps out quickly, slamming Toms front door behind her.

[helpinghanikan]

After the Snap

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Steve Rogers:

         His knees are weak the moment he sees you. One of the strongest men in the world makes it six steps upon seeing you.

           You, hand pressed above your brow towards the sun. starting a slow walk towards the small (too small group) making their own way towards you. You began to run towards him, full force sprinting down a hill the battle had just happened.

           The new shield hits the dirt and he falls over you. Weight was too much, you couldn’t support it. On his knees, hands gripping your forearms, faced buried into your abdomen. He’s silent, the others pass without looking back. It isn’t until your hands go into his hair that he begins to sob, letting out sound between a cry and a yell.

           You’d find bruises on your arms later. You’d wear long sleeves to hide them from him.

Tony Stark:

         Your leg goes a mile a minute waiting for the phone to ring. Staring at the screen, every channel saying the same thing a different way.

           “The end times are here,”

           “Emergency services are backed,”

           “Millions reported missing in the first two hours,”

           “No word on the whereabouts of the Avengers at this time,”

           Happy promised to call as soon as he could, Piper saying the same and you promising third. No word from Peter, you having to hear a panicked May over the phone. Her anger and fear reaching a point you almost couldn’t handle.

           Turn off the TV and your leg hasn’t settled.

Thor:

         To anybody who wasn’t aware of Thanos, the decimation was nothing but confusing for several days. This was your situation; a once filled elevator briefly becoming black before settling around your feet. White sweater now dark as night.

           The entire world was silent for days; your parents weren’t answering, so many emails went unanswered, anyone with authority weren’t getting orders. Then, the world started screaming. You couldn’t go anywhere without phones screaming on some corner of the street or someone with a sign screaming about the end times. Churches were filled to the brim. Good church goers wondering where they went wrong to miss God’s trumpets.

           One of those screams was an email. Dr. BB was trying to get in touch with you.

           Thor arrived on your building’s roof a few hours later.

           He was different, so much different but still so him.

           “You’re tired.” You said, standing on tip-toes to cup his face with both hands.

           His forehead presses against yours. Kissing your hair line. Taking over the placement of your arm to hold your face. His lips and scratchy cheeks kissing any point of your face. By the time he slowed and just breathed against you, your feet were straining from being on toes for so long.

Bucky Barnes:

           Your arm disappearing wasn’t painful. Skin becoming black and into ash, some drifting into the air and a few clumps hitting the ground. The last thing you see is Shuri’s hands going to her face.

           On your back, water that’s not wet up to your ears. The sky is orange and it’s hard to see the difference between it and the water. It’s oddly comfortable, but terrifying that everything had changed so suddenly that barely a full sentence could get out.

           There are others, dark shadows in the distance shuffling slow through the water. Tall, short and others wondering around. A Toddler was even crawling around, close enough you could see what it was but far enough away you couldn’t hear them Anything you yelled was reverberated back in an echo.

           A glint from a non-existence sun hits the corner of your eye. Metal, a hue of silver in an equal distance to the other shadows.

           “Bucky!” you skipped the question and went straight for yelling.

           “Bucky! James!” no matter how far you run, he’s never gonna get closer.

Natasha Romanoff:

         Her hand runs through dust between blades of grass. It was unlikely that all of it was just you, likely combined with warriors who own partners were holding back tears. It also unlikely that you had still been standing in this spot when she had left.

           You had forced her to take a step back before leaving, kissing her cheek and telling her to “go get him”. It was a tradition from when you had first gotten serious. Usually you’d be sure to leave a mark of lip stick or gloss. Your little mark of “she is mine”.

           Her fingers trace over where your lips had been. Leaving to join Steve in his own silent grief.

Bruce Banner:

         He’s covered in sweat from the Hulk smasher. Falling into you but refusing his weight to drag you down.

           “You’re here, you’re good,” Bruce was hard to read with emotions. Refusing anger and exchanging it with others; humor, sadness or mass anxiety. This time he is laughing slightly, holding your face with both hands. “You’re okay.”

           “I’m okay,” You say, hands to his shoulders.

           He leans into you. A hug in the middle of the lab, that weighs you both down to the floor.  

T’challa:

         Okoye breaks the news that you already assumed.

           Queen Ramonda stifles a gasp and looks towards the floor where you were already staring. Although you were an outsider, and been with T’challa for only awhile, your hand slides into hers. She grips it firmly.

           Okoye didn’t have a choice. Your other hand reaching out to hers, taking her hand and pulling her in. Her staff clangs into the floor, dropping it in exchange for taking her Queen’s other hand.

           Dust from her hand rubs into yours. A separation between your skin that digs her nails into your palm.

Pietro:

         It would be some time before anyone even saw Pietro. Hours of just gray or white rushing by and gone just as quick.

           It was hard to say who he was looking for first; you or Wanda. Not that it mattered one lick, just wanting one of you to be standing there, somewhere, doesn’t matter where. Sitting confused in the woods, sobbing with others back in the palace, or even laying unconscious in the field. Hurt but still alive and just needing his help.

           He just needed one of you, preferably both.

Peter Parker:

         Ned texts you after Peter jumps from the bus.

           Peter texted you a moment or two later. ‘Going into space, show video later’.

           After that it was dead from his end. You had texted a passive aggressive text about rescheduling your date for the next day. Sending another about the first being a joke, sending a third about wanting to actually do something instead of just watching Netflix. Another that you were okay with Netflix just no pizza, you wanted Chinese. Then another text that you were okay with pizza.

           All your texts came throughout the day until night. Knees to your chest waiting for a reply as your parents become absolutely silent in the other room.

Stephen Strange:

         Wong lets you into the sanctum as the world goes insane.  

           “What ever happened to keeping the world safe from-.” You cut yourself off seeing Wong’s face. He was never someone who gave a lot of emotion to outsiders, so seeing the eyebrows drop and his face looking to the floor was both a special and horrifying experience.

           “You’ll stay here,” He says standing next to the round window with you.

           He was kind enough not to add the “It’s safer” part of that statement.

Matt Murdock:

           He’s doing that thing again. His head tilting to the side. Slowly walking to the middle of the room as though this will make him hear better.

           With so many crashes happening outside you don’t notice at first. Staring out the window, wondering how so many people can be drunk so early in the morning.

           “The neighbors…” He whispering. “Where are the neighbors?”

           “Matt?” It was a simple question that he ignored.

           “Where-that doesn’t…” The confusion gets worse when his arms became black.

           “Matty?” A nickname you only used to be sicking sweet.

           He makes it two steps towards your voice before he starts to gather around the floor. Falling forward into a pile on your shoes. Arms and chest black, left with nothing.

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

Carol Danvers:

         It’s harder then it looks for a hero to keep themselves together. One super punch after another in the span a few hours came at Carol. Half listening to this other captain while watching pictures pass by with only a few seconds to study them.

           If it weren’t for the punch of the loss she would have made a half smile at Nick Fury’s eyepatch. Constantly putting off getting that new eye, probably because he thought it would be cooler. He gone just as fast as the others, looking down and refusing to show too much sorrow.

           It was hard to go on not knowing about you. It being better to ignore the possibility and just assume she could see you after. No matter what happened.

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

Shang-Chi

You weren’t holding hands originally. Playing with a phone and holding some coffee, it was just a normal walk back from Starbucks when the world started to fall.

Starting with slamming cars, honking horns and shouts that were normal for city life. It was screams and shouts from the rest of the world that made Shang grab your hand. Spilling coffee all over the ground.

As loved ones turned to dust Shang stayed right by your side. His grip getting tighter and tighter as he pulls you through the sidewalk. Neither of you able to talk about the yelling crowd.

Even as you ran, even as confusion took over, even as Shang ran face first into a door, you were still the lucky ones. This feeling less so when your calls to friends, to family, goes unanswered.

 AN:

I don’t really know a lot of the soul world, I just assumed it was like purgatory and went from there.

[softoceanbreeze]

My Okegom Oc List!

So I just wanted to make a list of all my okegom ocs and share a bit about them! I may edit this list in the future if I make more! I'm also going to be putting them into different categories based on what games they would fit most into!

The Grey Garden:

Zoso: Half God Half Devil, child of Ethiw and Kcalb, 5'8", Younger brother to Vortigan. He has one subordinate as of right now. He is serious and quiet but is a mega softy. The biggest definition of a tsundere. He strives to protect the ones he loves. His physical appearance: Built but slim, he has raceless white skin with eyes similar to his fathers. His hair is white with black streaks throughout it. Zoso's outfit consists of a white suit that has a trenchcoat bottom. Various black diamond designs are on the coat. His wings are artificial, they are similar to ivlis's scarf, but instead are connected to his waist belt. He has a pair of horns on his head which are rose vine shaped.

Vortigan: Half God Half Devil, the child of Ethiw and Kcalb, 5'4",She is the older sister of Zoso. Vortigan has 4 subordinates and a Lover ( Katsu, doesn't belong to me ). She perished one day but is revived 500 years later. Her physical appearance: She is thin but slightly built, her skin is raceless white, she has an black to white ombre bob hair cut with a spiked halo around her head. Vortigans eyes are gray and have black crosses around her iris. Her gown is revealing and slick, with diamond designs on it and silk white ribbons. (Pictures posted below)

Thistle: Vortigan's first subordinate. 5'7", He is an angel turning into a fallen angel. He has a crush on Vortigan and is very close to her. He is very tsundere as well. He despises Katsu very much. His physical appearance: Thistle has also raceless white skin, messy wild bourbon brown hair with striking violet eyes, white cross irises. His attire is monochrome, half grey half white trench coat with black suit pants. He has a pair of wings as ears and a pair on his back, the feathers at the tip black and mostly white. (Pictures posted below)

Anemone: A dream eating demon girl ( She can see peoples dreams and eat them, making them forget the dream). 5'4", She is Vortigan's second subordinate and is very very close to her. She treats vortigan more as a sister than a higher up. She is very sweet but can change her personality to bloodthirsty. Her physical appearance: She is the same height as Vortigan and wears clothing similar to Vortigan. Her dress is revealing towards the top but flows into a spider-like design towards the bottom. Her hair is a light pink and her eyes are pink with heart irises. Her hair is curled in certain areas and flows to below the shoulder. Black wavy horns sit on her head. She has a pair of black wings on her lower back and a long tail with a heart at the end.

Primrose: Vortigan's third subordinate, 3'10", She is like Thistle where as she is turning into a fallen angel. She is very quiet and doesn't talk to anyone but vortigan. She is very sweet though and like Anemone can be dangerous. Her physical appearance: She is very short, very much child like. Her hair is a light blue, Bob cut straight so it is slightly above her shoulders. Her eyes are light blue as well with white irises. Primrose has a set of small diamonds around her head like Vortigan, along with a pair of wings on her upper back with some black feathers. Her sweater is brown and oversized, it goes with her longer gray skirt and knee high brown boots.

Kamal: Mist Yokai Demon, Vortigan's last subordinate, 4'8", His mist like appendages (ear fluff, wings, and tail) can disappear and reappear at his will and fully functional. He is quite childish and overprotective of Vortigan. His physical appearance: He is shorter than most males, he is quite built as well for his height and looks. His skin is white and littered with red marks. He has a pair of wicked purple claws but can retract them to normal hands. His hair is a deep purple and short messy/wavy. His eyes are red with white irises. His attire is a cropped stripe top with long sleeves. Underneath is a pair of suspenders attached to shorts. He wears no shoes. (Pictures posted below)

Wadanohara and the great blue sea:

Tao: A black tipped reef shark, 5'3", cannibal, and dangerous. Although he doesn't seem like he is a threat, dont let his looks fool you. Many have lost their lives to this shark even though he is a dork most of the time. When he isnt tricking someone to their doom he often walks around the sea enjoying the scenery. His physical appearance: He is shorter than most, his build is thin and his skin is white. His shark parts are a deep navy blue with black tips. His hair is short and fluffy, the same color as his shark parts. His eyes are orange brown with a spiral design. His clothes are black overall shorts with a grey sweater underneath, his right hand is black and his right is normal. He wears knee high socks with high top converse style sneakers. (Pictures posted below)

[birdy-rps]

The camera shifts slightly ad her face comes into view. Checking the settings one more time she smiles and waves to the camera,

"Hi! Today we are going to go through the various creatures I own and how I got them! Now, while I own an aviary, many of the birds just visit momentarily and then return home either to their owner or they are relocated to a proper habitat after rehabilitation. I own around 9 different birds, 2 different reptiles, one amphibian, one arachnid and 5 mammals."

She turns the camera around, showing her walking to a door. The door opens to reveal what appears to be a animal paradise, different glass domes showcasing brilliant fauna from different ecosystems. The first dome she walks into appears to be a north American forest, and the camera shows her sliding a thick leather glove onto her hand.

"First up, let's meet Arthur. Arthur is a Male great horned owl, who used to be a pet until his owners got tired of him. Instead of bringing him straight to a place like mine, they just let him out into the wild, leaving him defenseless and vulnerable to predators. He had no idea how to hunt for himself and hardly flew around unless he wanted to perch."

She makes a whistle noise and theres a barely there sound of flapping as a large owl swoops from the trees and lands on her gloved hand. The owl settles himself and preens lightly under the view of the camera.

"He was given to me by someone who found him practically starving to death out in the woods. I taught him how to fly and how to hunt by using treats whenever he did it well, but since he had been a pet most his life he refuses to leave and thus cannot be rehabilitated. He's very friendly and behaves well around all age groups so he is one of my best models for photographs when I go to teach kids about animals"

Raising her hand and making another whistle noise, Arthur flies off into the trees. Moving to another patch of trees, She reaches into a bag at her side and pulls out a small piece of raw cubed beef, clutching it between her thumb and index within the large glove. She makes a high pitched scree noise and a more noticable flapping noise is heard from directly in front. A gyrfalcon swoops down and lands on her hand, quickly gobbling down the beef.

"This is Fawkes, my gyrfalcon. Hes about 8 years old, and came to me about a year and a half ago, suffering from an injured foot. He was given to me by a retired falconer and very quickly got used to being pampered because of his injury and prefers to stay in the aviary where he can stretch his wings whenever he pleases but still get attention."

Raising her hand like she did with Arthur, Fawkes flies off into the trees. Taking the large glove off, she flips the camera to face her again,

"Those were my north American birds, now on to my tropical species"

There's a jump cut and now Sarah is shown standing in an area of lush fauna, two different species of macaws on her shoulders. The one on her left shoulder is a scarlet macaw, the one on the right is a hyacinth macaw. Adjusting the microphone on the small headset, she introduces the pair,

"This is Bow, the scarlet macaw, and Beck, the hyacinth macaw. Both are around the same age, about 4 years old, and I got both from a rescue program after their habitats were destroyed due to logging companies. Both are very friendly and will attempt to take any buttons you happen to have on you, hence why I'm wearing a regular T shirt without buttons on it. They hang out here in the tropical dome with each other and anyone who happens to stop by, so they're never lonely"

The camera now shows her sitting on a low branch next to a toco toucan, the bird walking back and forth along the branch.

"This is Tulio, the toco toucan. He has been with me ever since he was a hatchling, his species being a very popular pet. He was the runt and was gifted to me by a very reliable avian breeder. He's very friendly and loves to eat fruit, and I often let those who pose with Tulio feed him a berry or two as a treat for good behavior."

Another jump cut and now she is standing holding a greater bird of paradise, the bird preening his feathers as he perched on her arm.

"This is Tico, the greater bird of paradise. He is about 3 years old, and loves being in the spotlight. I got him after he was injured in his habitat by some logging crew after he refused to leave. Since being brought to me, he has recovered fully but now thinks I am his mate and consistently performs a display to hopefully get me to accept his proposal."

She visibly sweatdrops as she mentions this before the scene changes to her opening the door to another dome, this one lacking very many trees and instead having tall Savannah grass. As soon as she closes the door, a pair of wings can be heard getting closer, and the moment she turns around, a large African crowned crane is standing in front of her.

"Oh! Hello Majesty, heheh. This is Majesty, my African crowned crane. She was gifted to me by a local zoo after she got involved in a pretty bad spat between her and another of their female cranes. She enjoys attention and pretty much demands the focus be on her at all times, and there has been one or two incidents of her pecking at someone who didnt give her the attention she wanted. Because of this, I rarely have her pose for photos, although she loves having her picture taken."

The scene cuts and now she has the camera pointed to a secretary bird, standing tall with his head feathers moving in the slight breeze. He steps toward the camera and pecks at it before Sarah moves the camera away, laughing softly,

"This is Jaques, my Male secretary bird. He has a habit of pecking at anything he can get his beak on, Haha. Despite that though, hes much more behaved than Majesty and thus I have more pictures of him. He tends to stand on people's shoulders if I have them crouch next to him. He was also given to me by a zoo as they needed more space for different animals they had received and had no where to put him. He enjoys being scratched under the beak and that's usually what he's asking for if he shoves his head in your hand."

The camera cuts again to show Sarah holding a large bearded vulture on her arm. He has bright orange pigment in his feathers.

"This is Steve, my bearded vulture, or lammergeier. Their diet is primarily bones, and they put pigment in their feathers to make them more intimidating. Steve prefers to be left alone and thus keeps to himself when I'm not around. I've had him for about 3 years now, after being injured by a trap someone had set. These fierce birds are captured and poisoned in acts of illegal persecution, and seldom make it out before the person who trapped them comes back to check their traps. And that's all of my personal avians!"

The view changes to being inside a fairly spacious room with terrariums lining the walls. She walks over to the closest one, opening it to show an African fat tailed gecko, carefully reaching her hand inside for the small reptile to crawl into her hand.

"This is Kiwi, my African fat tailed gecko. She's very friendly and her favorite place to sit is on people shoulders or head so she can get a good look around. Kiwi is an oreo morph, one of the rarer ones as this morph type is recessive. She likes to lick things and it feels very ticklish when she does, heheh. I've had her for about 2 years, and I got her for my birthday."

Placing Kiwi back into her tank, she moved down to another one, opening it and carefully removing a piebald python. The snake immediately slithered itself up to rest around her neck, causing Sarah to flip the camera view.

"This is Cookie, my piebald ball python, shes about 3 years old and was probably the best Christmas present I ever received! She enjoys curling around people's necks and she's extremely photogenic, she poses in just about every picture I've ever taken of her. And given how comfortable she is around my neck right now, I think itd be best if she stays there for the rest of the video."

There's a cut and the camera focuses on a black salamander with yellow spots, leisurely resting in a small pool of water.

"This is Mino, my black and yellow spotted salamander. I got him from my college professor who told me she couldnt take care of him anymore because of her new apartment having a strict no pets policy. He prefers to stay in his tank and it's best to not handle him because the oils from human hands could hurt him very badly. So most of the photos I have of him are of him in his tank."

The scene changes to show a large tarantula crawling on her hand. Sarah whispers softly into the microphone to avoid startling the arachnid,

"This is Luna, my rose haired tarantula. She is one of my oldest pets, being 13 years old. I've had her since I was in highschool and she's been with me through pretty much everything. She's very docile and is very okay with being handled but since she's so special to me I only let her take pictures with those I know personally."

Coming up to the last few minutes of the video, the camera shows two ferrets, a cat, and two dogs, playing next to a couch. Of the two ferrets, one is a dark eyed solid white and the other has a standard sable coat, and they seem to be playfully fighting over a toilet paper tube. The cat is a ragdoll and is leisurely resting in a patch of sun coming from the window. The smallest of. the two dogs is a pomsky, the larger being a albernese mountain dog.

"To end my video, I'm going to introduce you all to my five mammalian pets, Jinx and Greg the ferrets, Maria the ragdoll, Skye the pomsky and Kiba the albernese mountain dog. Out of the five, Maria is the oldest at 10 years old, Kiba coming in second at 5 years old. Jinx and Greg came from the same litter, both being 3 years old, Greg being the runt. And Skye is the youngest at 2 years old! I got all of them from reliable breeders and I cherish all of them dearly. And that concludes all my personal pets! Thank you for tuning in, see you next time!"

The video ends with a slideshow of various pictures of the animals with various people.

[paperficwriter]

The Scent of You

So I wrote this drabble to warm up my creative juices, and it is heavily inspired by @pointandpounce‘s absolutely amazing picture of dragon!Inasa and fantasy AU Todoroki. I have so many feelings about these two and the fact that we are two days away from Inasa being animated?? I must spread the Inatodo love.

Cut is for length, not for content.

“Oi, Prince Shouto…”

“Yes?”

“Why’re ya putting dirt on that meat?”

Todoroki glances up from where he is preparing their meal to see Inasa crouched on the ground with his chin in one hand, the long, sharp claw of his index finger tapping against his cheek. His wings open and close to feed air to the fire that’s growing just behind him, and his tail is currently relaxed, lying on the ground like a massive snake. Why can’t it be like that when they are in the castle, in the study, where he gets so excited he knocks everything down and makes a mess?

“It’s not dirt, Inasa. I have black peppercorns in a grinder, and when I turn it, pieces of it are deposited on the meat. It’s a spice.” Inasa still has a questioning expression, and he turns the mill into his palm and holds out the black flecks to him. “Now, don’t put your face in it --”

It’s too late. The dragon-man has shoved his entire nose and mouth into Todoroki’s hand, and when he rears back with a holler to sneeze, small flames shoot out and disappear into the twilight. One, two, three, four times. And of course Todoroki laughs, and even though he feels guilty, how could he not? There is so much Inasa still wants to know, and some things are going to require lessons he’ll have to teach himself.

This wasn’t at all where he was expecting his life to be at this point. Frankly, when his father sent him to slay the dragon tormenting one of their territories, he thought the bastard was finally trying to kill him. He had never fought a monster before. But, be that as it may, the Crown Prince Todoroki Shouto came straight away on his stead, and sure enough, there was the dragon. A massive black beast with wings that were creating tornado-like winds, knocking down houses, sending cattle flying.

Todoroki watched him for a few seconds, because there was something odd about his behavior. Despite how his wings would flap and his tail would take out great stone walls in the fortress, he would get down on his front feet and nudge at the houses in front of him with his nose, or push the roof up and peer inside. Sometimes he would roar, sometimes not, but there would be a moment when the people inside would flee, and the creature paid them no mind, turning instead to the next house, repeating the same.

“Please, your Highness, can’t you do something?”

Todoroki thought to himself, then nodded, getting off his horse and handing the reins to the lord. “Take care of my horse?”

“You aren’t going to ride it into battle?! That fiend is easily twenty times your size! At least you have your sword...”

“Ah. Yes.” The nobleman balked as he removed the weapon, still in its scabbard, and passed that to him as well. “Thank you for reminding me.”

He was still trying to get him to reconsider as Todoroki walked away, moving steadily until he was only a small distance from the monster that was currently inspecting a yapping mutt left on a tether when its family fled a farm.

“Dragon!” Todoroki called out in a clear voice across the space between them.

Sure enough, the giant lizard turned with a bellow that blew Todoroki's red and white hair back, leaving the dog to turn his attention to him. But no matter how close he got, Todoroki didn't move. He planted his feet, took a breath, and shouted firmly, “Sit!”

The dragon twisted its head in confusion.

“I said, 'Sit!’” This time Todoroki pointed at the ground, and the entire world around them watched silently as the dragon dropped to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

Even though it had been his idea, Todoroki had not imagined it would work. Or that the dragon would stay in the spot, watching him, relaxed and without any sign of aggression. And he hadn't even fathomed how easy it would be to step forward and stroke the dragon's cheek with his hands.

“You were just lonely, weren't you?” Todoroki asked in a gentle tone, and it blinked slowly, a clicking coming up its long throat like...a purr? “I won't leave you alone. But you can't stay here. You're too big, and you’re wrecking the village.”

The dragon raised its head and looked around, like it was just aware of what it had done, and it whined.

“Fly to that forest,” he said, pointing, “and I'll come meet you straight away. I promise.”

And although he kept his word, he almost didn’t find him, because when he was looking for a large spot where a dragon would have landed, he stumbled on...a naked man. With black, scaled arms, wickedly curved horns, a tail and wings and… “Are you...the dragon?”

“Yeah!” he boomed in a thick accent, his hands on his hips. Even in a more human form, he was tall, dense with muscle, with bright eyes and a huge grin that showed white, perhaps pointy teeth. “Ya said I was too big! So I figured this would work better. The name’s Inasa!”

That was at least two weeks ago.

Now, Inasa curls up behind him to pout, but he buries his nose near Todoroki’s neck. He’s wearing a red cloak now, a simple covering, but it’s something. And he enjoys the softness of the fur lining at the collar. “Don’t think I much like peppercorns,” he mumbles.

“You’re not supposed to inhale them or eat them on their own. But they make the meat taste better.” Inasa’s tail curls around his thigh, and he pets it soothingly. There are so many things he hadn’t counted on. Inasa’s curiosity, his size, his appetite...or how physical he would be.

There’s a little smile on Inasa’s face as his mouth hovers so close to the skin of Todoroki’s neck. “I do like how it makes ya smell. That and the meat. Ya usually have such a clean, sweet scent.” There’s that clicking purr again, the stroke of a smooth cheek against his.

Todoroki reaches up with his clean hand to stroke the curve of Inasa’s horn, something that makes him shiver. Horns are sensitive, he’s learned, even in spite of how hard they are. And...maybe he doesn’t mind being physical too. “I’ve never thought about how I smell.”

“Scents are important to dragons.” Inasa’s husky voice rumbles, and he’s so warm Todoroki can’t help but cuddle back closer, thoroughly relaxed as he sets the slab of meat on a stone to start cooking. “No two dragons smell the same. We study each other’s scents so we can always find our…”

“Your…?”

“Well, it ain’t always, but...usually it’s our mates. Family, too. And when it’s someone we’ve gotten close to, sometimes we discover a different name for ‘em, from how we smell ‘em, if that makes sense.”

“Do you have a name for me?”

Is Inasa blushing? “Not yet. It’s pretty early on ‘n all. And you’re a human, so...I like callin’ ya Shouto though, if that works okay.”

Todoroki sits still, and he can see the fire glowing on Inasa’s scales. They feel like worn leather, smooth and soft but strong. The way they create solid sleeves on Inasa’s forearms...when he has his arms around him like this, Todoroki is protected. Safe.

Finally, he lifts his head, and Inasa has a puzzled expression as he guides him down to where he can sniff near his pointed ear. Todoroki closes his eyes and relaxes into him, and he lets what comes to him manifest in images, in sounds, in experiences. He can smell the forest, and heat. He’s like summer, and the air that shimmers off the stream in the afternoon, at the hottest point of the day. He’s wildfire, bonfire, lightning striking wood. He’s a heat storm, green clouds before a wind comes through, a destructive force, a…

“Gale.”

Inasa’s body tightens, and his tail sways back and forth, like it’s going to take off into one of its fits, but Todoroki catches it and holds it to his stomach.

“Gale,” he says again. “Is that...is that okay?”

Inasa - not just his tail, but the entirety of him - is wrapped around him, embracing him in a way that Todoroki has never been held. It’s more than his father has ever given him, and it’s been so long since he’s seen his mother, but...it would still be different. “I accept,” Inasa whispers, so close, and they keep sharing breaths, playing in each other’s scents, long into the night.

[baby-batboys]

Kink A-Z: Tim Drake

A/N: Honestly, I had no idea there would be so many requests for this! But, I did have so much fun writing this, I really hope you all like it, because Tim is a little unique in his kinks compared to Jason and Dick, but I stand by it. Also, this was written at 2am. So forgive me if this is all over the place.

Warning: EXPLICIT, EXTREMELY NSFW.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

What Tim is like after sex is what you’re like after sex. Tim will lay with you, your head on his chest, looking up at the cieling catching his breath. That’ll last for about ten minutes. After that, keep talking or that boy is out like a light. It’s the sleep deprivation.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Overall, I think Tim has a pretty positive self-image most of the time, but I don’t think he has a favorite part of himself. Most likely if he did, it would be his chest. It’s strong and broad and gets the job done. Now on the other hand, he can go on and on about his favorite parts of his partner. Most importantly, he loves their legs. He loves running his hands along them and kissing them up and down.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

When it comes to cum, Tim likes to be teased. He likes when his partner rides him and pull off at the last second, leaving him to cum on his stomach. If he specifically had a say in it, he’d love to cum inside though. But what he loves most of all is having his partner pick where he cums, because he can never expect it. Keeps it interesting.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Let’s not beat around the bush. Tim’s a sub. He’s not exactly into BDSM, but when it comes down to it, he likes it when his partner is in control and showing it. It’s super hot to him and takes off the stress he has on him a lot. He likes to be treated and used. But he’d take that secret to the grave.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s be honest. He’s not that experienced. It’s pretty hard to get to tinder hook-ups when you’re the Boy Wonder on his computer all the time. But Tim’s smart, he picks up cues and such very easily, so he’s not fumbling. Although he may occasionally ask ‘Do you like that?’ or ‘Does that feel good?’ if he’s not sure of something.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. Girl on Top. Whatever. If his partner is the one in control, and he’s on his back, Tim is in heaven. Cowgirl is his favorite because of the nice view, but he’ll take whatever. Once again, if his partner is picking he’s down, but sometimes he might breathlessly ask them to get on top, followed by a stuttered ‘please’.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

No time. When Tim’s having sex, his mind is hazy and misty and cloudy. All he can focus on in the feeling, his partner, and his nearing climax. Most of the time he can barely get out a sentence, and if he does it’s riddled with stutters and breaks. No time to be goofy when you’re panting and thrusting up into your partner.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Tim likes to keep it neatly trimmed. He thinks seeing himself clean-shaven looks weird, so he just cuts it low enough that it won’t be noticeable in the suit. He goes back in just when he thinks it’s getting a bit too long and he probably has a specific day he likes to do it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Tim is a busy person and more than that, he a dedicated person. For him, I feel like he would never be someone to do one-night-stands, so when he does have sex it’s with someone he cares about and who he carves out time for on the regular. Plus, Tim can get stressed, so when he does get down to it, it’s an act of self-care and relaxation. It’s his form of giving his partner his full attention and love. It’s very very intimate for him. Sure, he’s not setting out flowers and candles, but whether it’s planned or just a spur of the moment quickie on the couch, it’s intimate to him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Yes, Tim jacks off. He’s stationed at a computer researching for a good chunk of time, so sure, sometimes he can’t help but see something that makes it a necessity. Usually he’ll watch it first, then turn it off to let his imagination take over. He’ll put his head down, one hand going at it while the other muffles his pants. He’ll usually remember nights with his s/o, until he can’t stand it anymore, and he always forgets to cum into a tissue.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Femdom, SD (Subs and Dominants), Authority Roleplay (him calling his partner ma’am or sir)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His favorite place, hands down, is on a desk. It’s an oddly specific location, but he loves bending his partner over a desk (or him being bent over it) and it feels risky, more open than being under covers. He also likes kitchen sex, preferably while waiting for the coffee to brew, as well as outdoor sex. His fantasy is to do it on a roof.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A wide array of things can get him going. Usually, it’s a combination of stress and temptation. Tim is hard to pull away from work, but if you run your hands across his lap and tell him to come play with you for a bit, he’ll melt so fast he’ll forget what the case was even about. Also, neck kisses and touches below the belt. If you reach around him and start rubbing him through his jeans, he’ll be instantly ready. And if you say ‘Clothes off. Now’, damn straight he’ll listen.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sex while an important case, ageplay, petplay, hardcore bdsm, watersports, spanking, hot wax, full out sub degradation.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Tim’s not crazy about oral. He likes getting it and will give if you ask, but other than that, he’s more into full on sex. Oral feels too ‘favor-ish’ to him.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Honestly, Tim is everywhere. He’ll try to go slow but then his hips will buck and go fast. He’ll try to go fast but then he’ll slow down to savor. The boy is just all over the place pace wise. It’s not up to him, it’s up to his hips and how close he is.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Tim doesn’t have an opinion on this. He likes quickies and he likes proper sex, however he does prefer sex at night, so he’ll usually go with proper sex. He’ll do a quickie if his partner wants and would do them routinely, usually maybe two times a week.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Tim is a Robin, and being a Robin is a risk, but he’s not a full on thrill-seeker. He’s game to experiment and try new things, but nothing really stands out to him. He’s more open to his partner’s ideas than going out and finding new ones himself.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Long run. Sure, he can do quickies, but when it’s proper sex, be ready. He can go for an hour or two without cumming and can go for about two to three rounds if he’s not exhausted from work. Tim is use to staying up all night, so when it’s time to fuck, he’ll make sure you get use to it too.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s considered it, maybe took a peak in sex shops here and there, but it’s not really his fancy. He’s not into toys or expensive lingerie. He likes it all bare, normal mundane underwear and bras. He likes to feel domestic in that sense and his s.o doesn't need to be dressed up. He finds them sexy without all the pizzazz, although he does have a small collection of lube and ribbed condoms, just for comfort and sensation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tim is also very to the point. He’s not one to tease, once he knows it’s going down, he’s ready to go and get to it. He wouldn’t want to hold back or hold out on his partner, he wants them to have all the pleasure.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Tim’s a hushed boy. Even if they’re in complete privacy, he’ll still cover his mouth, letting out squeaks and grunts here and there. His breathing is heavy and he’s panting hard, letting out whispered curses, and asking if his partner is alright.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Pull his hair and he’ll cum right then and there. There a reason he grew it out. He loves it.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s one of the only Robin’s who doesn’t go commando in his suit. Instead, he prefers a jockstrap (The first time Jason learns of this, he thinks it’s the most bizarre thing ever. He is convinced Tim is a psychopath). When not in suit, he usually goes for boxer briefs, usually designed ones with superman, batman, or robin symbols.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Tim isn’t really a horn dog. He doesn’t really crave it unless something triggers it, whether it's a stressful day or a racy ad or his partner teasing him away from the computer. Unless something makes him think of sex, he won’t. He has a lot on his mind.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The average human being takes 14 minutes to fall asleep. The average Tim takes 4 minutes. Tim after sex, it takes 30 secs. If you’re talking to him he won’t fall asleep - he can’t, he’s mastered the art of focusing while sleep deprived - but if you stop for more than a minute, he’ll be knocked out and sleeping like a baby. And yes, he does hog blankets.

[diem-writes]

1 hour ficlet batch 5 #4

This prompt was very specific, and I hope I still managed to make it into something @narcissuspseudonarcissus did not see coming.

If you like this story or any of the other 1 hour ficlets, please consider sending in a prompt.

Tight Places

Victor looks at the emergency button wondering if he would be yelled at if he pressed it again. The operator had already sounded far less inclined to help him when he had done it five minutes ago. It was just, he needed somebody to talk too, somebody that wasn't currently locked in a stalled elevator with him

Somebody that wasn't wearing nothing more than skintight leggings and a black leotard without a bloody back to it. Somebody that didn't have their hair slicked back. Somebody that didn't have large emotional brown eyes that gave him shivers. Somebody that didn't look like they were Victor's wet dream come to life.  

Oh how Victor pitied himself right now. He could have taken the stairs, it's what he would normally do on days he stayed too long in the office to get to the gym at a decent hour. But no, he just had to take the quick route because he wanted to go home to his dog and skip gym for a day. In all honesty he knows he'd be doubling his morning jog the next day so he had given himself permission.

Then the elevator had stopped on the floor right below his office and this gift to all of mankind had stepped in, making him nearly drop his jaw to the man's feet and salivate all over his ballerina shoes. That was another thing, how confident do you have to be in yourself to walk around like that.  Not that the man can't have it. It's just that Victor is certain that not all people can appreciate it as they should.

Victor had done everything in his power to maintain a professional deposition, even asking the man if he was getting off at any other floor or going all the way down.

He is never going to be able to utter those words to anyone ever again in an elevator with the look he had been given. It had been obvious the appreciation went both ways, and the replay that he wouldn't mind going down had been to riffled with a purr not to be taken as anything other than something that had made it hard for Victor to breath.

The chuckle had made it clear his reaction had not gone unnoticed. And that had caused for something else to tighten beside his throat, making Victor glad he had put on his coat before stepping out of his office. The blush though had been far harder to hide.

All of this wouldn't have been too bad if not for the elevator to suddenly come to a screeching halt, have the lights flicker off, and the emergency light over the button to call the emergency operator to pop on.

The man, Yuuri, had been the one to push it and inform the person that responded that there were tow people stuck in an elevator in their building. He had stayed so calm, stating his name, the address, and even the floor they had been on when they stopped. That last thing had been something Victor hadn't even noticed.

So when they got informed that their entire block was dealing with a sudden power-outage due to a small accident it hadn't sound too bad. Victor had assumed they would be out in a few  minutes once the power had gotten fixed.

That was a bloody whole of three hours ago, and when he last pressed the button to ask them if they were even doing anything, he had been informed that two grown men locked in an elevator did not have the precedence over a small clinic that was also in their neighborhood. They would simply have to wait it out.

He hadn't even been able to text his brother to tell him he needed him to let his dog out for the evening, and was seriously hoping Yuri wasn't simply playing games instead of doing his homework and watching the news. Victor really hoped he at least didn't need to deal with his brother's foul mood once he was out of this situation.

And it hadn't been too bad that first hour either till Yuuri, or Eros as Victor had renamed him in his mind, had decided to do some stretches. It was not fair to see a man able to bend and fold himself like that. Victor had to stare up at the elevator's ceiling for a whole ten minutes praying every version of Hail Mary he could think of trying not to think of how such ability would be an asset in bed. Especially as the ass on that man was one of holy proportions.

Poorly the ceiling was made of reflecting glass and had done nothing to spare Victor from the sight, if anything it had made it look like something one would see if looking at a lover. He had let out a soft moan, that due to the silent nature of the space had sounded like a fog horn to Victor's own ears.

Yuuri had given him a cheeky smirk through the reflection and had doubled his effort to kill Victor by making all his blood congregate in one area of his body, and he wasn't talking about his brain.

That had been the first time Victor had pressed that button.

The second time had been after Yuuri had taken of his shoes, revealing a wonderful taken care of dancing foot, and softly rub them to as he stated release some tension in them. The bandages, old blisters, and callus, had done nothing to make Victor look at them with any less desire pooling even more blood to his groin.

Victor is not even going to deny he might have seriously whimpered a bit when he had seen that. Almost begging Yuuri, although he had never seen him till today, to let him drop to his feet and take care of them for him. He can't help it if feet are his greatest weak point. He has long since come to accept that from himself. And now Yuuri, a complete stranger, knew as well.

The third time had been the most humiliating one. It seemed Yuuri's phone had a bit more strength to it and he had been able to get it to work. If only to make a single post on his Instagram account. Which in and on itself would not have been so bad if he hadn't Victor to join him in the picture.

He should have declined, but he had been weak. It had been two hours at that point and maybe if he was tagged his brother or any of his friends would know where he was. So he had agreed.

Biggest mistake. As Yuuri didn't have a selfie stick on him he was only able to use the length of his arm and as such he and Victor had to have been very close. So close he was absolutely certain there had been no way for him not to have felt the massive hard-on Victor was sporting in his pants being pressed against that fantastic ass of his.

Maybe jumping at the emergency button and demanding to be saved had been a bit of an over reaction, but at this point in time he could no longer really stand in for himself. He pinches his eyes closed, and tries to regulate his breathing.

Please if there is any deity in the universe let him survive this. When he opens them he looks straight into very lustful brown eyes fixated on him. No one can ever blame the sound he makes when he tries to swallow down the amount of saliva that cultivates in his mouth.

Yuuri strides over to his corner, putting his hands on Victor's chest once they are only a breath away, slowly undoing the buttons of his coat, laying Victor bare. Victor closes his eyes tips his head back and just allows for it all to happen.

Maybe he hit his head and he would find himself unconscious in his office the next day. That could be the only logical solution. As there was simply no way he was really having a person that looked as wonderful as this Yuuri undoing his coat, softly pressing his lips to Victor's throat.

There's no stopping them once Yuuri places his hand on Victor's nape to close the distance between their lips. Afterwards Yuuri simply licks his lips, takes Victors phone and puts in his contacts.

“Maybe we can go and have a coffee one of these days.” Victor simply nods. Wondering why Yuuri sounds like he knows they'll be out of there soon.

Yuuri fixes his clothes again, slicks his hair back with some spare gel he had taken from his bag. And to Victor's surprise the doors to the elevator ping open as if nothing had happened, minus they were still at the sixth floor.

Yuuri simply smiles at him takes his bag and steps out. Letting the doors close on Victor who finds himself back on his way to the basement-garage.

The telephone in Yuuri's bag goes off with a small jingle.

“Hiya Phichit. Thanks for cutting the power for me. Did you enjoy the show?”

He hums when he hears the cheerful voice on the other side.

“Yeah, I got a date. Or at least my number in his phone. But I swear this had been the most nerve-wrecking idea you had ever had. Even if it worked enough for him to finally notice me.”

Yuuri sighs, and rolls his shoulders. A cheeky smile on his lips. He was not going to deny that he had enjoyed himself.

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