#and I’m liable to forget I’ve even done that

[thrreliefish]

Tama I drew shortly after finishing Aini. What a woman.

[queenharumiura]

I would like to know your honest opinion on ship Xanxus x fem!Tsuna.

[My KHR ship game] ||Accepting|| @squaletta Reminder: This is me just talking. I'm not even talking about RP. ((Thank you for indulging me btw!))

Hate it | Am Neutral to it | Ship it | love it! |

Mandatory readmore

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Let’s see… this one is a lil hard because this is a fem!Tsuna which is your portrayal specifically. I suppose the disclaimer is that this is entirely based off how I personally view your muse from what I’ve seen. I am liable to be incorrect about things, so apologies if I get some things wrong or understand things wrong of your portrayal of Fem!Tsuna.

NOW ONTO THE SHOW!

I said neutral and ship because well, it’s hard for me to ship something if I don’t know much about it or I don’t have a strong understanding of a character. I’m also in general very ehhhhh about (M)Tsuna and Xanxus. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. Like we’ve discussed before, there are differences when it comes to gender altered characters, so tentatively, after thinking some things through, I think I could like the ship- though it would depend on how it was done.

In the previous one answered, I sorta mentioned it, but I write these based off how I think a ship could feasibly work and be developed. So this isn’t to say I know anything about canon events or know about BG of your Tsuna. This is more of a thought exercise, so do keep that in mind. The Xanxus is also possibly different from how some may portray him because again, this is based off how I think it could work—so some things may differ because that’s how I’m choosing to think of him to make a ship work. Kk. Disclaimers done.

So, some of this talk will make sense if I also preface with (M)Tsuna. The reason I don’t like the ship is because every time I see (M)Tsuna and Xanxus, they always make him the most uke to have ever uke. The megaladommed of ukes. I hate it. Tsuna is a fearful lil dude and pretty timid but he’s not like that. He has some back bone to him. He knows when to take a stand. Moreover, he would at least put up a bit of a fight. He’d ba panicking at the very LEAST not just crying through everything. Bruh.

That’s how every single person portrays the (M)Tsuna x Xanxus ship for some reason, however. Idk. It does sometimes involve funny art though, I’m not gonna lie lol.

So, with that, we have the contrasting Tsu-chan as I like to call her. We’ve established before in a ‘how do I see your muse’ kinda meme that happened a while back. [x] Linked for reference. I enjoy the fact that she has more fight in her in the form of sass/sarcasm. She’s more willing to just take charge initially as opposed to Tsuna who normally takes a more nuanced neutral stance at first before he finally decides ‘okay I need to act’. I am going off on a limb to assume that some of this can come about due to the fact that Tsu-chan is a woman.

She likely had people who doubt her ability to take charge and to lead a massive famiglia like the Vongola. Not to forget that she was quite young when Reborn first came into her life to train her to become the 10th. Women in general are usually told to just be pretty and it is best to be subservient to a degree. Just let the men do all the work, or to simply listen to men as that’s their place. That is a mentality that a lot of places tend to have though things are better in more modern times and in some countries.

I think, Tsu-chan had to take the stand and had to prove herself time and time again to the point where she’s just so used to having to prove herself that it resulted in her faster and stronger response to altercations than Tsuna did. He has a more passive kind of attitude to things but she does not. She’s also seemingly more ambitious than (M)Tsuna likely was. That’s the vibe I get. She may be respectful towards others, but she can easily take it back. She will take shit from NO ONE. Honestly? DAS RIGHT GIRL, YOU DO THAT. GO AND KICK SOME ASS BECAUSE HE WAS A FUCKING DUMB ASS. DO IT. FOR ME.

It isn’t to say that (M)Tsuna doesn’t have fight in him. It isn’t to say that TYL him didn’t have ambitions either. However, canon him was always shown to be more gentle and passive until you went over a line and then he acts. Then everything he was holding in comes forth and he’s a force. Tsu-chan, I have the gut feeling, has a much lower threshold, than (M)Tsuna. Also possibly had less insecurity issues than that of (M)Tsuna. I cannot speak to all iterations of how you write her, but at least based off the premise of our interactions, Tsu-chan had a childhood friend and one she got along well with.

Haru is such a positive bean (THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!) and she’s such a caring and supportive person (THE BEST WAIFU OF MY LAIFU!!!!!!!!) and so I think that as opposed to (M)Tsuna who didn’t have friends, she would certainly have a bit less of the sociability issues that he had. From this, you could say that she has more emotional intelligence than he does. This may turn into her having a stronger sense of self, which then means that she’s more willing to assert herself. So from a younger age, she was PROBABLY (I’m just guessing) more willing to be honest and speak up than (M)Tsuna was.

Why am I saying all this and why is it relevant? It’s VERY relevant. Xanxus cares a lot about power and authority. He also cares about image. Something that I think some people often forget is that Xanxus may be ‘old’ comparatively to the others, but he’s also quite young too. He was frozen for many years in ice. He had lost many years that could’ve been used to experience more in life. When he was thawed, he was still in the heat of the anger of realizing he’s not of blood relation to Nono. He lived his life as a lie, almost. This wasn’t even something he was told in confidence by Nono. It was something he had to find out indirectly. That is such a huge blow to someone, especially someone as prideful as him.

People don’t realize just how much that kind of thing can mess with someone. You’ll feel a lot of anger, hurt, and even betrayal in many cases. It can be traumatic and this is things that I’ve been told from people who had such circumstances happen in their family. It is trauma, despite how little it may seen on the outside. It shapes the way you view the world and your familial dynamics. For Xanxus especially it also changed the political game. It changed his stance, it changed his ‘ranking’ in a sense because he NEVER had the placement of being the next heir to the Vongola like he thought.

Tsuna/Tsu-chan being the rightful heir (due to no other living relations surviving) is not only a thorn in his side but a painful reminder of himself. They are the opposite of him. They lived the majority of their lives not even knowing about the Vongola or about how they had right to the ‘throne’ so to speak. It directly contrasts himself. The thing about (M)Tsuna is that he’s timid, he shows a lot of fear. He’s very ‘soft’ in the way he goes about things. That is not something the Vongola needs- that’s how he’d see things. Sure, Nono is also a pretty tenderhearted person, but he is a mafia boss.

I’m very sure that he knew how to harden his heart and do what must be done. It’s evident in the way that he literally caged Xanxus in ice. He will ultimately do what must be done- but he’s also very tender in the sense that he only caged Xanxus in ice instead of revealing the truth and ousting him or getting rid of him. HOWEVER, it also shows how cruel he can be. To be caged in ice, to be trapped in that time of your immense anger and hurt? That’s truly cruel. To not even allow Xanxus the time to really process through his grief and hurt, to rob him of YEARS of his time, possibly condoning him to being a man-sicle for years until maybe Nono’s death. Hard to say whether the ice made from Nono’s flames won’t melt after his death.

If so, imagine how awful that is? Xanxus may wake up in a totally different time, everything is different, and the one person he may have wanted to get answers from—is dead. No chance to even get any form of closure! That, to me, is INSANELY cruel.

Sorry, back on topic. If I’m correct in thinking Tsu-chan had more back bone when younger holds true, then at least Xanxus would take that into account and hate her less on the account of perhaps acknowledging that she may be a fit for the role. That she could possibly lead the Vongola. She won’t just lead them into the shitter like he probably thought (M)Tsuna would do with how soft he is. He probably hates Tsuna so much because of who he stands for, what he has the privilege of (and doesn’t even WANT- HOW DARE. FK YOU. I WISH I HAD WHAT YOU HAVE), and for how weak he seems. It would be a bad image for the Vongola. HIS Vongola, the one that SHOULD’VE been his—entrusted to this lil baby boy fledgling. It makes him so mad.

Though I think he’d have a better impression on Tsu-chan which would help. With her stronger emotional intelligence (bc frankly, Tsuna is very emotionally dumb as hekk but it’s understandable due to his lack of socialization. That’s a common result of a lack of socialization) she’d be able to perhaps notice how much pain he’s in. How much inner turmoil he’s going through with the impact of the news of his real bloodline being not of the Vongola. He isn’t truly Nono’s son.

From here, I think Tsu-chan would have a better way of dealing with Xanxus. I strongly doubt he would want to be consoled directly, because of his pride and his great disdain of the reality. How he found out. The betrayal. If Tsu-chan can navigate that well, break down some of his walls, become a small pillar that helps him on that road to healing from his hurt. The damage is done already, for sure, but it can get better. I mean, think about it. Tsu-chan also was never told about her lineage. She was suddenly thrown into a new life, one that she wasn’t warned about. One that she literally has no choice in the matter of. It’s a direct opposition of his situation, but it’s still very vexing.

I think in some way if she’s able to talk to him, and he can learn about her situation and how it affected her, it can open him up to some things. Not pity her situation, because it is something he wanted (to be the boss), but he can sympathize with the fact that they were both in a sense victims of the circumstances of adults not telling them things. Not giving them the time to warn them of what was to come, and certainly not giving them the time to truly process things. Tsuna was quite literally told lol you’re the next boss, no you have no choice in the matter. Oh by the way all these people are after you because of who you are. Ye you gotta fight. You gotta watch your friends suffer.

OH!!!! Sending you off to the future. You could die. BRO. Tsuna had NO TIME TO REST. nO TIME TO REALLY HEAL. NO TIME TO PROCESS HIS LIFE. NO WONDER he was so adamant about wanting out. No wonder he gets so prickly with Reborn. It’s very reasonable! (Fite me world, it’s reasonable. I think the ending where he’s like nah I don’t want this was actually quite fitting. The WORLD can fite me on this. I don’t think that part was a bad ending. I hate the yakisoba scene and that’s what made the ending bad for me lol)

Depending on how things progressed between them, I can maybe… see Xanxus trying to offer some help to her. Give advices or help with resources if she needed it. She may be stuck in a situation she didn’t want to be in, but based off what I’ve seen of her, I think she is more accepting of it than Tsuna was. Assuming that to be true, that isn’t a demerit towards her. IF she is trying her best despite being so new to things and not having been born into the life like a lot of them were- he’d have to give her some credit for trying. He would ultimately decide that for the sake of HIS Vongola, he wants her to be the best and strongest boss that she could possibly be.

In doing so, they form a stronger sense of trust and respect for each other. It’s wayyy more subtle in canon because of how much he hates Tsuna lol. I think in Tsu-chan’s verse it may be more obvious, depending on how things played out.

If it plays out in this sort of way, I do think they could be a ship. It would need a lot of work and it may not be the most wholesome of ships because of there being differences in rank, his pain, and the fact that he probably will forever be angry about the fact he couldn’t be the boss. Though, what can you do? It’s the mafia. It won’t all be pretty rainbows.

If I had to say, the theme for this kind of ship is one where they see each other through an inverted mirror and see how the other is struggling through the reality they didn’t want. Seeing that, it makes them want to help each other in small ways and from that comes the respect and comfort.

Let’s see… I did promise some(?) cute(?) ideas perhaps for a ship.

Perhaps by TYL time or even after that, where Xanxus has processed a lot of his trauma and has seen Tsu-chan blossom into a respectable boss that she is, he has to (secretly begrudgingly) accept the fact that she’s a good boss, one fit for the Vongola. She is his boss. (In canon I think Nono will forever be his boss, fuck Tsuna. You aren’t my boss you lil fuck. That’s his energy, I feel) IMAGINE? Just a scene of him taking her hand kissing the back of it and ‘Though you aren’t the one I wanted at the mantle of the Vongola, you have proven yourself to be worthy. To the Boss, I pay respect.” JUST IMAGINE THAT. The prideful guy admitting that after years. I FOAM at the mouth.

So, a part of my HC is that because he is so full of rage that it morphed his flames, imagine that with prolonged exposure and association with Tsuna, he calms down some and his leadership skills are a lot less violent and angry. He calms down and is more of a vision of who he was before. The very Xanxus that Squalo wanted to support and follow. Just imagine others noticing how his rage flame is less and less prominent as he heals by her side and his sky flames eventually become purer and they all know that it is due in part to her influence. That is until something happens to Tsu-chan and then the full brunt force of the rage flame resurfaces again. Ahhhh YESSSSSS I LIVEEEEEEE for when guys just SNAAAP!!!! GO GET EM TIGER! THAT’S THE ENERGY I LIKE. The chaotic destruction. Ahhhhhhhhh Sorry that’s not cute, is it? (IT IS TO MEE!!!!!!!)

I don’t see Xanxus being the type to really fluster. I can see a scene where maybe she tries to flirt with him and doesn’t get much of a reaction from him because he doesn’t feel like reacting (lol) and so she maybe one day surprises him with a surprise lil kiss. He goes silent and stares at her—and it’s so disappointing bc like REACT, YOU FUCKING WALL OF A MAN!!!! GET FLUSTERED! But no. He just grabs her and kisses her as a response because he’s more retaliatory than reactionary. Yess… is what I want. I like. I want it.

So yeah, those are some of my thoughts. No idea if any of that made any sense but I tried!!!

[inviouswriting]

Stuck

Minors this is a warning. This blog is 18+ read at your own risk.

I will not be held liable for you ignoring that warning.

Anyway.

Zhongli x Fem!reader x Kaeya

Warnings below.

Stuck in a wall/window scenario, height difference, size difference. Swinging.

Consensual stuff, I only write consented things.

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

It has only been a week into your honeymoon with Zhongli, and you had learned pretty soon after your eternal contract was signed with him. That he’s insatiable, your wedding night itself was something you’d never forget with how he took his time with you. Any moment in between however was filled with quick romps, you wonder if it is from being alone for so many years or he just never indulged in his carnal desires till now. 

One of your stop overs was in Mondstandt, mainly to share the news of your marriage to Zhongli with a few friends. 

You were trying to reach something that fell out of the window. You thought you could reach it, so when you draped yourself out of the window it left you vulnerable to your husband’s antics.

Zhongli rounded the corner to the kitchen a question on his tongue, but died as soon as he saw you half out the window. Legs dangling and at the right height for himself, you dressed in a skirt that rode up giving him a wonderful view of your ass and the geo symbol he had made on your right hip. He rarely indulges in these moments. You feel embarrassed not wearing panties for the day.

So quietly he approaches you, his hands ghost along a leg making you jolt up if it weren’t for him lowering the top of the window down to keep you in place.

“Li? What are you doing!?” You feel your face burn up, the item you dropped forgotten now as a more pressing issue rises. 

“You. Forgive me, but you look appetizing like this, and you know how I get.” You two had only been recently married, and he has taken every single opportunity to bed you in different ways since your wedding night. Where he didn’t let you leave the bed for almost two days.

You feel hands on your rear, then a full bite placed where that lovely mark he left. You yelp and cover your mouth to not draw unwanted attention on yourself. Your face heating up, Zhongli takes the chair you had been using to sit down in it. He lifts you enough getting you to rest your legs on his shoulders. 

“Hmm... looks like you were anticipating this. You’re already dripping wet, and I’ve barely done anything at all.” Careful hands spread your folds open wet heat soon sinks into your pussy. He uses fingers to sweep across your clit.

You bring a finger to your mouth to bite on it to stifle your moans. The things Zhongli does to you, always attentive to your pleasure. You jolt upright when his fingers slip in along with his tongue to press into that one spot that makes your vision go white.

Behind the window, your husband abandons the chair to kneel down with his face pressed to your pussy to delve his tongue deeper after feeling you clench on his fingers. His other hand pumps himself, getting desperate to feel you around him. Your legs kick wildly from dangling over his shoulders now, Zhongli is content in how you give into his lust when it strikes. 

A whimper manages to escape you, you’re surprised at how you haven’t started moaning outright. 

“Well well well, Are you alright?” Your attention snaps up, and your eyes meet Kaeya’s blue one. You’re glad the curtain was drawn down on the window to hide what was going on beyond the veil of it. But the heat of your flushed face at actually being caught like this by someone.

“I-I’m alright! I’m just stuck is all.” You tuck part of your bottom lip into your mouth to nibble on to stifle a moan. You even try to close your legs on Zhongli, a growl comes from him being deprived his favorite thing. The way you clench on his fingers is too much, and you feel him stand behind you wondering why you made him stop.

He soon hears Kaeya’s voice, and understands. Yet it doesn’t stop the former archon, instead he entices things further with a firm slap on your ass, enough to make you yelp and for the knight to hear it with you glaring back at the window as another lands. 

“Ooohh~ So that is what’s going on.” Kaeya isn’t oblivious to what’s going on, not with the way your face is flushed, how you’re trying to hold back moans. He’s seen them first hand when Zhongli invited him to have fun with you on a mutual agreement. 

“Need any help?” The knight lifts the window enough to get an answer from Zhongli. You feel fingers inserted back into your pussy and his hand thrusts against your hole in the same pace his hips will be doing.

“I could use your help in keeping her quiet. Think you can manage that? Are you alright with this my dear?” Zhongli’s fingers brush that one spot that makes your head fuzzy and you feel your legs shaking.

“Yes! Please!” Kaeya kneels down enough to lift your head to his own to place a kiss.

“Who am I to deny a princess in need. You heard her right? How about you, you okay with me making use of that mouth of hers?” You feel Zhongli standing again, and withdrawing his fingers from within you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers only to feel heat flushed with your ass.

“It’d be scandalous if anyone else happens upon this. So I’m okay, I’ve got what I want.” Zhongli hums happily as he positions himself to your pussy, while Kaeya works on his pants enough to let his cock out in front of your mouth.

You instantly go to please the Favonious knight your lips wrapping around the head knowing what is about to take place if you don’t have something to muffle your voice. 

“Hey, hey, slow down. I know you’re eager but we’ve just begun here.” Kaeya holds both sides of your head still, keeping you from descending your mouth further on him. He looks up and meets Zhongli’s stare through the window as you feel the former archon push inside of you. 

Kaeya lets you take more of him into your mouth to muffle to moan slipping out. You whine out pulling off the cock in your mouth brief and planting your face into the toned stomach in front of you as you hold while Zhongli stretches you nicely.

“Looks like she’s enjoying this more than she let on.” Zhongli is in heaven at feeling you so drenched on him, the audible sounds of his cock sliding into your pussy, you take Kaeya’s cock again into your mouth to suck hard and keep your voice muffled. The window made it hard to be comfortable, but you don’t care as your husband behind you drives himself deeper to make you jolt forward.

Kaeya combs his fingers through your hair as you suck on him, threading his fingers and moving down, as he thrusts light into your mouth hearing you moan out around his flesh. Zhongli keeps a steady pace that when he pulls back he drags you with him so there is a rhythm with how you suck on Kaeya when the archon thrusts back to make you take the knight deeper in your mouth.

You feel Zhongli’s hand slip on the geo mark on your hip, and it makes you kick your legs as you writhe and wriggle in his grasp from the pleasure in your body. You feel Kaeya grip into your hair and lift your head enough so your mouth is off his cock enough. He had to get a good look at this blissed out expression you make. One normally reserved for Zhongli.

“I see why you love her so much. She makes the cutest expressions and moans.” Kaeya lets you cling onto him as Zhongli is alot more relentless with you behind you. Your legs flail and kick where they dangle alongside his legs as he ruts into you intending to push himself as deep as possible.

“There are more reasons to why, but she is adorable like this. Especially... when she’s underneath me. How are you dear? are you in pain from the window?” He checks on your comfort, but you are too far gone to care. 

“Keep going!” You manage out, and you lower your head back down to Kaeya’s cock taking it into your mouth to swallow him down. He matches the pace Zhongli has with thrusting into your mouth, now driven for release like the former archon is set on. 

Zhongli’s left hand slips to your folds right above his cock pounding into you, to rub and toy with your clit. Kaeya has a hold of your breasts rubbing and groping them as he enjoys how harder you are sucking on him. You are in a state of bliss as your toes curl from when Zhongli rolls your clit between his fingers.

“She’s about to cum. Keep her voice down if you can?” Zhongli feels your walls fluttering around him, and the whine you emit as you feel Kaeya drive himself deep into your mouth, enough for you to breathe but to keep your voice muffled as your husband behind you grips your waist to go harder till you’re moaning around the cock in your mouth as you cum.

Your orgasm has you shuddering and relaxing while Zhongli’s fills you the moment you clamp down on him. Kaeya keeps his hips going and you taste a slight bitter sweetness on your tongue. He keeps you like that till you swallow his seed, and lets you calm down from Zhongli continuing to thrust through his own orgasm.

“I must be getting back to the headquarters sadly. This was fun, we should do this tonight if you haven’t worn her out by then. Given at the rate you’re going.” Kaeya lifts the window enough, and Zhongli gives him a laugh.

“I think she’d enjoy that. We’ll see you later then. As for now...” Zhongli helps pull you back into the room, and Kaeya laughs as he sees the gentleman pin you on your back for another round.

“Wait!! Zhongli! I am still sensitive!” You realize your position will put him deep. Kaeya closes the window after you were inside to keep things a secret from the outside world. Though anyone neighboring will hear those cries of pleasure.

“Being sensitive is a good thing, it means I can give you some multiples. Let’s go for ten today. Then more when Kaeya joins us.” You look up at your husband who is already kissing your ankle as he continues.

“We don’t have anywhere important to be, and I want to ensure you take my seed today.”

[lizhly-writes]

cnovel stuff because i’ve trapped myself into a little hell of my own making.  why write the novel i’m actually supposed to write instead of writing an au?

anyway. the og novel counterpart to this scene.

It happens when Wang Zimo says something dumb.  Jiang Mingxi doesn’t remember what.  Something about her suitability as an heir, something about how she’ll be thrown out if her parents ever have another kid.  It doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that she gets angry, and the next thing she knows, Wang Zimo is down and crying, and Yang Haoran is laughing in her face about it.

“Idiot,” Yang Haoran says brightly, snapping open the first aid kit.  “Did you think that was a good idea?  Ah, but that implies you were thinking.  Sorry for assuming you’d use your brain outside of a classroom.”

That’s enough to get her angry again, and she’s on the verge of lunging at him before the exact tone of his voice registers. There’s no real edge to his voice, no disdain, no smugness.  He sounds entirely, straightforwardly thrilled, and she has no idea why.

Then she remembers that the other day, Wang Zimo said Yang Haoran was a decorative sidepiece only good for eating soft rice.

“You liked that I hit him,” Jiang Mingxi says accusingly.

“Did I,” Yang Haoran says as he picks out a roll of bandages.  “Well.  Even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have hit him myself.  Do you know how annoying it is to clean that up?  The Wang family isn’t nothing, you know.  Even if Wang Zimo is dumb as shit.”

When he looks up from the first aid kit, he’s smiling, and – look.  It’s not like Jiang Mingxi has never seen him smile.  But if he’s not actively trying to be polite, there’s always something smug and disdainful about it.  This smile is still irritatingly smug, but… the difference is that none of that’s aimed at her.

It makes Jiang Mingxi feel weird.

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?”  

Jiang Mingxi belatedly realizes she’s been staring.

“Who are you calling stupid,” she says, maybe a little too defensively.

Yang Haoran lifts an eyebrow at her, and Jiang Mingxi fully expects him to say something condescending and mocking.  Instead, he says, “Whatever, I don’t care,” and tosses a handful of medical supplies at her.  Jiang Mingxi catches them all on reflex, which makes him roll his eyes.  “God forbid you drop something.”

The words could be cutting.  They could be snide and insulting and liable to drive Jiang Mingxi into a rage, if he’d said them in the right tone – but he isn’t using the right tone.  There’s nothing in his voice other than wry amusement.

He’s a good mood.  He’s in a great mood.  The only time she’s seen him in this great of a mood was when he’d done something he thought was impressive, like scoring top of his grade or winning a martial arts tournament.  He can’t really be this happy just because she punched someone he didn’t like, can he?

“What do you want?” Jiang Mingxi says warily.

Yang Haoran tilts his head, almost bird-like.  His smile widens into something flagrantly, obviously insincere.  “Hmm, well, maybe I want you not to worry, Ming-jie,” he says, voice syrupy sweet.  “I’ll clean up the mess with the Wang family for you, and you can clean yourself up.  Don’t forget the disinfectant.” 

Don’t call me that, she could say.  Stop smiling like that, another option.

Instead, Jiang Mingxi says, “You’re happy with that?”

The smile breaks in favor of a vicious grin.  “You want me to be happy?” Yang Haoran says, with a hard clap on her shoulder as he turns to leave.  “Hit harder next time.  Break some bones, hmm?”

[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 3, Scene 3 - "That Distance Between Us"

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Fiora struggles with feelings of inadequacy after a Defenders training session.

Previous Scene: Back in Session

Masterlist: Link

EXT. PCSA SECONDARY QUAD - TRAINING GROUND - NIGHT

Late one night, the Defenders of the Flame have all assembled on Penderghast’s secondary quad, which they have reserved for the night. Lucia and Arvan watch over the new inductees as they practice their Combat Forms... or, in Fiora’s case, still practice Stoicheal Gather.

FIORA (to herself): I... no... this is... wait...

Fiora concentrates, but to no avail as she fails to materialize anything more than a few small wisps of energy. Meanwhile, the others continue working on their own tasks.

ARVAN: Everyone, focus! Hold tight to your foundation!

Several successive thunderclaps are heard as Shreya and the third-year inductees all pull off a perfect Stoicheal Gather. Shreya stands charged with energy, her skin glowing a bright orange.

LUCIA: Well done! Now for the Form itself... just like we’ve practiced!

From his stance with his arms crossed in front of him, Zannagan uncrosses his arms and sweeps them over his head and out to his sides... but aside from a momentary flare of fire around his body, nothing happens. A second later, he shudders and stretches his arms out above his head, launching a gigantic fireball into the sky!

LUCIA: Okay, Zannagan, try again--

Before she can say anything more, Shreya performs a similar maneuver. This time, however, the stoicheal energy illuminating her skin starts to glow brighter, brighter... just as she uncrosses her arms, it illuminates until it lights up the entire room, blinding everyone. And then:

FIORA (shocked): What the hell?!

LUCIA (ecstatic): You did it, Shreya!

ARVAN: Nice job!

A massive dragon, its scales the color of Shreya’s hair, floats in the skies above the training ground, flapping its wings to stay afloat. The dragon looks down at the others curiously, then starts to panic. Arvan makes a few quick hand gestures, then speaks, his voice amplified.

ARVAN: Shreya! Well done! Now, just like we practiced: focus and revert to your human self!

For a few seconds, nothing happens.

FIORA (terrified): She... she’s not stuck like that, is she?

LUCIA: Nah. Give her a second--

The dragon abruptly turns into a puff of smoke, then vanishes. Everyone starts coughing from the cloud of smoke now surrounding them.

FIORA (coughing): Ack! ...Shreya?

The smoke clears, and then:

SHREYA: Fiora! Holy Source, did you see that?! I did it! I pulled off a Combat Form! I--

Shreya lifts Fiora and spins her around, and Fiora kisses her, cutting off her words. After a moment (and an irritated cough from Arvan), Shreya seems to remember where she is, and abruptly sets Fiora down and takes a step back.

SHREYA: Mon dieu! That power... I had no idea Combat Form was that... that...

LUCIA: ...Intense? Yeah. It’s a rush.

ZANNAGAN: Nice job!

RHIIA: Impressive. Was it hard to come back to normal?

SHREYA: Not particularly. I kept my foundation point in mind at all times, and when I heard Arvan’s voice, I just thought about turning back to human. And it worked!

MICHAE: That was super cool! Do all Attuned turn into dragons like that, or does it depend on the person?

ARVAN: Combat Form varies by Attunement. Fire-Atts all get huge dragons. Air-Atts get gryphons the size of buildings, Water-Atts get giant sea serpents... etc.

MICHAE: Whoa. You might’ve mentioned the “dragon” part of Combat Form before now!

ARVAN (shrugs): Some things are more fun to find out for yourself. Besides, I love seeing new inductees’ reaction to it once they pull it off!

RHIIA: Shreya, that was amazing. You’ll have to teach us how to do it next!

SHREYA: I’d be happy to!

As Shreya rejoins the other inductees, Fiora looks in her direction wistfully. A hint of jealousy darkens her expression for a brief moment, then she stares down at her hands and slumps to her knees. The others continue practicing...

* * *

Some time later, practice is winding down to a close. The other inductees are all out of breath; none of them save Shreya have managed to perform a Combat Form. Arvan and Lucia exchange a glance, then start walking back toward the main quad.

LUCIA: Nicely done. Especially you, Shreya! Let’s call it a night for now. We’ll meet again next week, same time and place, okay?

ARVAN: Don’t forget to keep practicing your Gathers in the meantime! Just avoid working on Combat Form unsupervised. The last thing anyone wants is a feral dragon flying around Penderghast.

He laughs and continues walking. The third-years all retrieve their belongings and follow Arvan and Lucia; soon, Shreya and Fiora are alone on the secondary quad. Shreya approaches Fiora and takes a seat on the grass next to her.

SHREYA: ...Everything okay?

FIORA: Yes... no. Maybe. I don’t know.

SHREYA: What’s wrong? If it’s about the kiss, I do apologize; I’d quite honestly forgotten we were in public. I never meant to embarrass you--

FIORA: It’s not that! It’s just... (sighs) I’m really happy for you, Shreya. So glad you’re doing great with the Combat Form. Seriously! It was a little shocking seeing you turn into a dragon out of nowhere, but also... really cool.

SHREYA: Ah. I think I understand. It’s because you’re struggling with this, while I’ve already managed to achieve a Combat Form today?

FIORA: It’s not just that, Shreya. Forget Combat Form. I still can’t even pull off Stoicheal Gather.

She demonstrates that fact by getting into her stance. After a minute or so of trying, a single, pathetic wisp of fire stoichi flows lazily around her head, before falling to the floor and fizzling out uselessly. Fiora opens her eyes and shakes her head, gesturing around her.

FIORA: See? I don’t get it. I’m supposed to be this fancy, special Light-Att or whatever... and I can’t even manage that.

Shreya snaps her fingers as a sudden realization occurs to her.

SHREYA: Aha! So that’s what this has all been about. I’ve noticed that distance between us lately. Then... it’s not to do with me?

FIORA (shocked): What? No, of course not! Shreya, kissing you and getting to be your girlfriend was the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten! You’re honestly about the only good thing in my life right now.

SHREYA: Don’t let Atlas hear you say that.

Fiora laughs weakly.

FIORA: Shreya...

Her voice trails off, and the two of them look at each other in silence. Shreya takes Fiora’s hand and squeezes it tightly. After a brief moment, Fiora takes a deep breath and tells her:

FIORA: It’s the foundation point. I don't have one! All this time, I’ve just been going along with whoever was around: my friends back at Hartfeld, then here with the Pend Pals, then Atlas... and now I feel like I’m doing the same thing with you. Without someone to follow, I have no idea who I am!

Shreya smiles gently and pecks Fiora on the cheek.

SHREYA: I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t noticed that tendency of yours. But to be quite honest, I think you’re underestimating yourself. Fiora, you are your own person. You simply need to see yourself the way I see you.

FIORA: You’re right. I know you are. It’s... easier said than done, though.

SHREYA: That’s perfectly alright. We’ll figure this problem out together. Okay?

FIORA: ...Okay.

SHREYA: Besides, you know the next step for the Defenders after Combat Form will be training for Light-Attunement. And that is certainly something where you will need to help me!

Fiora laughs and hugs Shreya tightly.

FIORA: I never even thought of that! You’re right... I’ll figure this out, and then I’ll help you with that one when it comes!

SHREYA: Exactly. Shreya and Fiora. We’re a team!

They exchange a heartfelt kiss under the moonlight... when suddenly:

ATLAS (coughs): Um. Hi...

FIORA: Oh! Atlas! We were just--uh--

SHREYA: ...Busy.

ATLAS: I can see that! But maybe don’t stay out this late without telling us? Especially with Raife’s shadow monsters liable to attack at any moment?

FIORA: Right. Sorry...

ATLAS: No worries. Just don’t forget: Dr. Swan’s still missing, and we have no idea what Raife’s been up to since he escaped the Between when the breach happened. We can’t be too careful.

SHREYA (blushing): Of course. Right.

ATLAS: ...If it’s any consolation, Fiora, Beckett’s having trouble with his Combat Form too.

FIORA: What--wait--how much of that conversation were you listening to?

ATLAS (shrugs): Enough of it. For the record, Shreya is not the “only” good part of your life right now. Just saying.

Atlas strides past them, toward the main campus. Fiora and Shreya exchange an awkward glance, then follow her back to Fletchly Hall...

_______________________

Notes: And at long last, we see a Combat Form! People who manipulate fire and can also turn into dragons... where have Choices fans seen THAT concept before?

Worldbuilding: It didn't get mentioned directly, but people going feral while in Combat Forms is, in this universe, where legends of dragons, gryphons, sea monsters, etc. came from among the Tuneless. Back in the day, feral Combat Forms were much more common.

_______________________

Next: The Approaching Storm

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

[ifutureboss]

The fact that Leia made an anonymous accusation to a fanpage, liked tweets supporting the post , and let her members get bashed for two whole days before she said something (and deleted it quickly) makes me feel that this is planned.

She makes a post about how she is willing to talk about the situation yet if you felt like talking , wouldn’t you have done that in the first place? You haven’t talked throughout the whole controversy but now you feel like talking it out after making a witch-hunt? Also don’t forget how she acts like she can’t say anything yet pops in and out to protect herself but never clarify.

Also she talked with the fan page and the “bully” changed. She obviously gave the fanpage information yet why did they not report all the members the first time? Hyeme, then Fatou and Youngheun. Then supposedly her mom added the other two. I’ve heard that she isn’t even following the account that is supposedly here mom. Why? Who’s is that!

Why don’t we get details of what she went through? She says she’s been bullied yet we don’t know how. We do know that she allegedly stepped into individual photos with Fatou, we do know she disrespected Fatou’s family, and was allegedly caught plotting this whole thing with her friend on the phone. We do know that she said that she was the only one bringing in fans ,We do know that she blamed her physical and mental health on Fatou and that she’s known for playing victim when she can’t get her way.

She was so sneaky with the way she did this because she had it come out of everyone else’s mouth so she can’t be blamed for the information she gave out. She also can’t be liable to the company because she let others speak for her. There’s a reason she’s not talking. There’s a reason why she let them bash her members for 2 days and then made a statement just to delete quickly. This was a punishment, a statement, character assassination and deliberate career sabotage. She was out to ruin them, especially Fatou.

This was so obvious especially how she reacted when Fatou made her statement. “I’m the only one who’s following the contract”! Well Leia, that’s interesting considering you were navigating this whole scandal acting like you were silent, did you expect that Fatou would not be able to defend herself? Were you thinking that because of the contract that everyone would shut their mouths out of fear of the company? You might have shut up the rest but not Fatou. But we can tell that’s what you were banking on. Also if Fatou can make that statement I want to hear what Leia has to say. Fatou is still posting as usual and talking to the fans so Leia can’t possibly be as tied up as she says she is. Is it because she can’t?

They really need to keep an eye out for this chick because she is out for blood! If I were Fatou any type of communication I had with this girl would be recorded or screenshot because she’s not above lies and manipulation.

[mylovelies-docx]

Kid Krow - Checkmate

Chapter 3!

I am also posting updates on my AO3 account if anyone prefers the other format!

Don’t forget to listen to the song here!

Chapter warnings: A little angsty, mentions of anxiety and medications.

Word count: 1.7k (a little shorter than the others)

*You let some things slip to Poe that you never meant to be said out loud.

You were trying to determine if having Zorii as your friend was better or worse in relation to Poe. On one hand, you loved her as if she were the sister you never had and knew that she was a decent person, if only a little morally ambiguous like the rest of you; on the other hand, you had no one to confide in about your feelings for Poe, since, you know, they were together and all.

Sure, you were friends with Zalos, Mille, and Arle, but they weren’t your friend friends. You weren’t close enough to them emotionally to spill your secrets. You all got along great, but you knew you would never be best friends with any of them.

You considered Kes Dameron a friend since he had known since you were young, but you could not go into the gritty details of your desire for Poe with him. Gross. He was the only father-figure you had ever known, so you weren’t going to ruin it by embarrassing yourself like that.

Poe...Poe had been your best - and only - friend for the last decade and a half until Zorii was added into the folds of your heart. You three got along great and used to do everything together. You still went out with them occasionally, but felt superfluous and a bit queasy watching them together. You would always enjoy their company, but when Poe started getting handsy and showering her with affections, you always made an excuse to run away.

You were getting quite good at running away.

______

“Hey, (Y/N)! Do you want to-”

“Nope, sorry! Zorii and I are havin’ a girls’ night.”

***

“Princess! Let’s go-”

“Can’t. I’m almost finished with this story!”

***

“Come see this musician with me-”

“Sorry, Poe. I need to scour the corrosion from the capacitors.”

***

“(Y/N), why don’t we-”

“I’m a little busy at the moment, Poe!”

***

“Princess, can we-”

“Look, Poe, I’m almost-”

“No, (Y/N)!” Poe exclaimed, stopping you as you were trying to run by him with a greased wrench in your hands.

You stopped to stare at him. You could only run away for so long until Poe caught up.

“You’ve been avoiding me for days now -- what gives? You didn’t even do this after-” Poe begins, but you cut him off before he could mention the incident.

“I know!” you interject, clutching the wrench tighter so that it wouldn’t slide through your fingers and land on your foot. Again. “I’ve just been a little busy lately. You know how badly this ship needs a tune up before our next run.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you also didn’t need to replace and re-grease every cog and gear in the galley. But you needed something to do that wasn’t pining over Poe, and this was the next best thing to finding a random person in a cantina.

“Yeah, I know. But you have always made time for me...At least, you used to.” Poe looked wounded, his eyes downturned and mouth in a straight line. You hated to see that look on his face, but what else was there to do? It was getting harder and harder to keep your promise as time went by.

You took a deep breath and tried to think of the best way to explain yourself. You couldn’t exactly tell him that you were failing spectacularly, despite how hard you were trying. Every time you were around each other, it got harder to breathe knowing how he felt about you.

Or, rather, didn’t feel about you.

But you weren't going to burden him again with your feelings, so you had to find an excuse that sounded half-way believable.

“I’ll always make time for you, Poe. I just… haven’t been feelin’ like myself these last few days.”

Which wasn’t a lie. Your mind had been a scrambling mess; unable to focus on anything for longer than a few moments sometimes, and then at others, so hyper focused that you couldn’t think of anything else. You had stopped taking your SSRIs a few days ago, and you were spiralling.

“Do you need help? What can I do?” Poe pried the wrench from your hands and placed it out of the way. He grabbed your upper arms and started massaging your tight muscles. He had done it so many times before that he knew just where to knead.

“Hmm…” you hummed in content and leaned your head onto his warm chest. “This is perfect, Poe,” you whimpered into him.

“Did you stop taking your meds again?” came his quiet voice.

You didn’t respond. That gave him the answer he needed.

“Sweetheart…” he chastised softly.

“I know. I just thought I’d try it again to see if I was gettin’ better,” you admitted. You had been feeling… not great, but alright lately, so you wanted to see if you could manage your anxiety on your own without the meds or Poe. You should have known that the middle of a crisis was not the time to stop cold.

“Come on,” Poe said, pulling away from you and grabbing your hands, “we’re going to bed. I know you don’t sleep when you’re like this.”

He was right that you hadn’t been sleeping, and you were absolutely exhausted now that he mentioned it. He tugged you along and you followed obediently, anticipating the warmth of Poe lying next to you for the first time since… that night.

You got to your quarters before remembering that you were covered in grease and sweat.

“Poe, I need to wash off,” you whined, turning around and trying to walk back into the hall towards the ‘fresher, regardless of how badly you wanted to lie down. Ever since Leena Issard’s comment all those years ago, you took every opportunity there was to get under water and wash yourself free of the smell you were convinced still clung to you.

Poe wouldn’t allow it, your entwined hands jerking you back into him. He had found your stash of sleep aids and placed one in your mouth, forcing you to dry swallow since you didn’t have a drink in your room.

“Not now, princess. You need to lie down,” Poe coaxed. He placed himself underneath the mountain of blankets on your cot, spreading out on his back and leaving a space for you to cuddle up with him. You sank down gratefully, your face in his neck and his strong arms around you, holding you close.

Maker, how you had missed this; missed this closeness and intimacy with Poe. You both had been spending so much time with other people -- he with Zorii, and you with anybody that wasn’t Poe -- that you had forgotten what it felt like to be in his arms.

Your breaths started to slow and your sore muscles were relaxing after days of tension. The excess adrenaline in your system was fading, replaced by the meds and dopamine that Poe was so good at making your brain produce.

“That’s it,” he cooed, running one hand over your head and smoothing down your frazzled hair.

You both stayed like that for quite a while. You felt peaceful, warmth suffusing from the top of your head and down to the tips of your toes. Being with Poe like this always made you feel good and was one of the main reasons you had fallen so hard for him.

“You know you could have come to me,” Poe whispered, one hand still in your hair and the other rubbing soothingly along your back.

You were in the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep where nothing was real, causing your mouth to open before your brain could realize what was about to come out.

“You did some damage, so I’m makin’ you pay,” you muttered into his chest, so close to falling asleep that consequences didn’t exist.

You felt him stiffen beneath your fingers, which were fisted tightly in his shirt. The action didn’t register fully in your mind, causing you to be unaware of just how badly you had messed up.

“What?”

“I’ve gotten tired of the games that you play. When you tell me you love me then you throw me away. It hurts. And I thought the others could help me forget you, but there’s no forgettin’ you, Poe.”

“(Y/N)...” Poe started to move out from underneath you, but you held on fast, refusing to let him put distance between you. “(Y/N), what are you saying? You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“You might not realize it, but I do. I do…” Your eyes were closed and it didn’t feel like you were present in your own body. It just felt so good to be like this with Poe.

Why didn’t he feel the same way?

“I’ve never said I loved you, (Y/N),” Poe whispered, desperate to understand what your clouded mind was trying to say.

“Nooo,” you slurred, “you’ve never said it verbally, but you’ve shown me. Like when we’re around the fires? And you’re holdin’ me? I feel it then.” You were grinning into him upon recalling those nights, unaware that he was watching you with something like horror coming over his face.

“Princess, I don’t know what to say,” Poe cried out softly. “I wouldn’t have done that if I had known.”

“Princess,” you echoed him, the rest of his statement lost to the circulated air of your quarters, “that’s another way you tell me you love me.”

“Maker, (Y/N), why didn’t you ever tell me?” Poe was barely breathing under you. He felt so trapped and was desperate to get away.

“Because I just wanted to pretend you loved me, too.”

Your hands had gone lax against his chest and your head lolled to the side. Poe took this opportunity to slide off of the cot and start pacing the room. You cried softly out to him, making pathetically weak grasping motions in his direction, but he didn’t return to you.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he begged off, his hands fisting in his hair so hard he was liable to pull out chunks.

He paced the length of your room once more and hurried to the door, not even pausing to look back at you.

In the time it had taken for him to stand up and make his way out, you had fallen asleep, memories of this conversation already forgotten.

[cauliflowercounty]

Weasley vs Weasley Pt. I (Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader) [Tumblr Remaster]

Blood Status:  Half-Blood or Pureblood 

House: Gryffindor

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N:  Weasley vs. Weasley was a series of imagines I originally posted on my Wattpad.  It’s one of my favorite series of imagines I’ve made, but I wrote it years ago; I wanted to make an updated version with a few new twists and in second person instead of third.  I’ll be releasing it in multiple parts :)  Enjoy!

You are the Molly and Arthur Weasley’s adopted daughter and in the same year as Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Not proofread, it’s 1:30am when I’m writing this!  Woohoo! Enjoy!

----

The compartment sways gently side to side as the Hogwarts Express barrels down the Scottish countryside train rack.  You sit silently in the train car scrunched in between Harry and the wall. Ron and Hermione sit across from you.  Hermione, of course, has her nose in a book while Ron sits awkwardly, thinking of how to make conversation since the initial excitement of getting on the train has worn off.  As you feel the train turn the corner, the twins knock gently on the glass of the door and slide it open, giving everyone a wave while shoving themselves in between Hermione and Ron.  Ron lets out an audible grumble as Fred pushes his brother into the window.

“Hello, everyone,” Fred and George say in unison.  

“Lee’s off trying to persuade some second years to be our test subjects for some prototype sweets,” Fred says, smirking.

“Yeah, our initial line was brilliant, but we’re expanding our offerings. It’s what the student body deserves,” George adds on.

“We’re also thinking of firecrackers,” Fred continues.  “We’ll charm them to make shapes.  Maybe a Chinese Fireball?  What do you say, y/n?”

“That sounds brilliant, Freddie.  You should write it down before you forget,” you smile, knowing their products have been a much-anticipated aspect of their lives lately.  “You wouldn’t want to deprive the public of some much-needed mayhem causing items.”

“While we love mayhem, we’re also thinking of selling some seriously useful items.  We’re thinking of importing some items from Peru that will help with being sneaky.  Maybe also some muggle magic that people can use casually.  We also want to be practical.  Not everything will explode,” George smiles, thinking of how all their products and dreams will be soon realized.  

“But wouldn’t that be brilliant if everything did explode?” Fred laughs. “Also love potions will be sold at our shops.”

“Did I hear someone say love potions?” Ginny says, poking her head in through the door.  “Is that one of the products you two are cooking up?”

“Well, dear sister, we’re not brewing them.  We’ll buy them from someone who’s gotten into N.E.W.T. level potions unlike us two,” Fred chuckles.  “We don’t want to be liable for disastrous love potions because I’m sure they’ll be popular.”

“Our sisters won’t need them, though.  It’s for the more desperate general public.  They’ll have no problem finding a special someone,” George says encouragingly, shooting his two younger sisters a smile. With his words, your chest tenses, the someone you’d like to have as your special someone coming to mind. Fred and George notice your reaction immediately. They look over to you and notices how you’re clutching the hem of your jacket roughly.

“What’s with that reaction, y/n?” Ron asks, picking up on what the twins are noticing.  Internally, your nerves jump. Hopefully they can’t tell who you’re thinking of.  

“Nothing, Ronald,” you say almost too quickly. “I was just thinking of a dream I had about school the other night.  I failed all my O.W.L.s.  I’m just suffering from residual anxiety.”

“I find that hard to believe, y/n,” Fred smiles.  “You don’t have stress dreams like that and you suddenly got tense when we started talking about love and special someones.”

“Do you have someone you’re hiding?” George asks, leaning in to look you in the eye with Fred.  They bore into your eyes, inquisitive and intense.  

“... or got anyone you fancy?” they say in synchronicity. “Come on… Tell us.” 

Hermione and Harry look up from what they were doing, now completely invested in the new development.

“N-no…,” you trail off.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.  You’d think badly of me.”

“We could never,” Ron butts in.  They all lean closer to you, putting on the peer pressure. Fred and George suddenly tackle you, starting to clobber and tickle you.  Hedwig and Pigwidgeon both hoot in protest at the sudden disturbance to their mostly peaceful journey.  You struggle against the twins’ grips.

“Fred!  George!  Come on!” you shout protest, half laughing.  You try to dash between them, but they’re too fast and lock you between them in a tight full-body hold.  You squirm in their grasp but to no avail.  “Fred.  George.  Let go.  Please?”

“Not until you tell us,” they say in a sing-songy voice. You sigh.  This is what you get when you have so many siblings: inescapable, coercive hugs.  

“You’ll regret asking once I tell you,” you say.  They shake their heads.

“Not a chance,” they say back.

“It’s…,” you start, hesitating.  This’ll ruin you. You open your mouth and whisper, “it’s… Malfoy...”

“DID YOU JUST SAY ‘MALFOY?’” everyone in the compartment gasps in unison as the twins drop you. 

“I told you you’d regret it,” you grumble to everyone. “Happy?”

“Not really,” Fred responds cheekily.

“Why?” Ron asks, feeling bewildered and utterly betrayed. 

“I-I don’t know… I just know he it’s what he seems. I saw him one time a while ago… His owl was hurt and he was bandaging its foot. He seemed to care for it so much. There have been a lot of little things,” you explain, realizing it’s sort of hopeless as everyone stares at you, disgusted.

“Little things count for nothing,” Ron scoffs, roiling usinehes and propping his head up on a clenched fist

“It just grew. I don’t have a good reason. I’m sure it’ll fade,” you defend, “but I think that in the end, Malfoy may not be as bad as everyone makes him out to be. I’m sure we’d all have turned out like Malfoy if we had Lucius as a father.”

“But everything he stands for is so vile,” Harry says, infuriated. “I can’t believe it…”

“And what about all the stuff he’s done to Hermione?” Ron adds on.

“Come on. Now you’re ridiculing me. You walked into this one,” you quip back. “I didn’t want to say anything, but you absolutely had to know.”

“Dad’s head is going to blow off,” Fred comments, taking a seat once again.

“Percy’s also going to be furious… You know how protective he is over y/n...,” George adds, everyone nodding in agreement. Ginny, flustered, turns around and leaves the compartment in a huff. 

“Is it okay if we don’t talk about this again?” you ask shyly. “I’m sure it’ll pass. This Malfoy thing is temporary. It’s stupid.”

Hermione and Harry nod in agreement, but Fred and George notice a look in your eye as you gaze out the window. They know you. They know that you lied just now. It’s not temporary.

~

As soon as it came, autumn went and turned into soft blankets of snow. You smile as you look out of your dorm room in Gryffindor tower, the icicles hanging down in front of the panes of glass. It’s been months since the awkward mishap in the Hogwarts Express. Nobody’s said a word since and things have been normal for the most part, but Ginny hasn’t looked at you the same and you’ve noticed the twins whispering to each other in low voices and suddenly stopping once they notice you. Each time, you’ve shrugged it off, assuming it’s about a prank, but a prank never came. 

Today, you head out of Gryffindor tower with plans to go get a book from the library to read at breakfast and then go to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer. After getting dressed, you slip through the portrait hole and head towards the library. As you round the corner on your way, you crash into someone else.

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

Looking up, you realize you just walked staring into Draco Malfoy, and your throat goes dry with nervousness and embarrassment. 

“Uhh… Sorry, Malfoy,” you say lowly, attempting to duck to the side of him and forget that even happened. You weren’t in the mood for a nasty one on one confrontation with Draco Malfoy today.

“Wait!” you hear him say from behind you. You turn around to look at him as he walks closer.

“What are you doing? Are you going to insult me for being a clumsy lowlife?” you ask, your heart sinking. He’d never say anything nice, not in a million years no matter how much you wanted him to. “That’s what my siblings and I are used to.  I wouldn’t be surprised. After all, poor people like us don’t have manners. We weren’t raised right.”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Draco asks a bit too softly, his steely grey eyes looking right into yours. You back up a step, not expecting him to look at you directly and not be shouting in your face. This is new and unexpected, but it’s what you’ve wanted for a long time.

“Well… I’ve come to anticipate it,” you reply honestly. 

“That’s too bad,” Draco replies. “I’ve got a lot to learn I guess…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ll tell you if you come to Hogsmeade with me,” Draco smiles. “Will you come with me?”

“Now?” you ask. “I’ven’t had breakfast yet.”

“We can get it there,” he shrugs. 

“Why do you want to take me to Hogsmeade?  You’re Draco Malfoy. I’m y/n Weasley.”

“All your questions will be answered there, y/n. I just want to talk to you. Do you trust me?”

Hesitantly, you nod. He holds out his arm and you take it. He leads you down to the courtyard and towards the carriages to Hogsmeade. None of them have left yet, and you both climb into the first one and then you’re off.

You both hop off in the village and go striaight to the Three Broomsticks. Draco holds the door for you and lets you sit down in the booth and get comfortable first. Madam Rosmerta comes and takes your order: two butterbeers and some food for breakfast. He smiles at you from across the table as you take a sip of the mug of butterbeer, thanking him quietly for paying. He clears his throat.

“So…” he smiles.

“So…” you say back. “Will you answer my questions?”

“Of course,” Draco replies. “I got a small note in my bag the other day. I don’t know who it’s from. It just appeared all of a sudden. It just said ‘Tell y/n the truth. Go for it, Malfoy.’ That’s all. You’re probably wondering why that brings us here. Truth is… I’ve liked you for a while now, y/n.  I just needed some encouragement to say something.  I’ve been so caught up with what my father wants for me for the past few years that I forgot to think about what I want to do with my life. I’ve fancied you for a while. I reckon it wasn’t obvious because of how I’ve treated you. I was just so, so obsessed with being like my father and I was confused. I needed to sort out my priorities. I’ve done some thinking lately and it’s time to make a change. That’s why I said ‘I have a lot to learn’ because I do. I just wanted to tell you the truth. I’m done being so unpleasant toward you and your family.”

Your mouth hangs completely wide open. You didn’t expect this. This might even be a dream. Draco Malfoy saying he was confused? And he’s making a change? No. You always thought that Draco would be cold and indifferent towards you for the rest of your years at Hogwarts, you’d graduate and then forget about him, settling for another person, but no. He just confessed to fancying you. 

“Y/n? Please say something? I’m going out on a limb here. I’ve never been this vulnerable in my life… I know it’ll take a long time to unlearn my bad habits, and I know that not all people are willing to be that patient with someone, but I’ve known you for years. We’ve been in the same classes. You’re kind and considerate and easygoing with people. You’re compassionate and when you laugh you make me want to smile. I understand if history is against me and it’s alright if you reject me here and now, but… I just wanted to say ‘I’m sorry. Will you give me a chance?’” he pleads, reaching over the table his hand hovering over yours, scared to grab your hand and have you pull away. Still flabbergasted, you look off to the side and see nobody’s come into the Three Broomsticks yet.

“Wow… Draco… I don’t know what to say… This is so sudden,” you gasp. “I’m completely taken aback. I had no idea that you liked me… Nothing you’ve done in the past would have hinted at it. Nothing.”

“You’re right, y/n,” Draco sighs, ready to admit defeat, thinking this is hopeless.

“Are you serious about this? Your confession?” you ask. “ Tell me the truth.”

“Absolutely.” His reply is sound. His eyes look into yours warmly. With remorse. You begin to smile softly at him. 

“Okay, Malfoy. I’ll give you a chance,” you decide with a nod.  With your words, Draco explodes with glee, slapping the table with excitement.

“Thank you, y/n!” he blurts out. “You will not regret this.”

“I sure hope I don’t,” you smile. “Now, how about we finish eating and walk around a bit?”

Draco grins like a kid who’s just sneaked five handfuls of cookies from the cupboard and nods, taking a sip from his drink. As you two sit across from each other, you share pleasant conversation, laughing about family and school. You laugh about how you’re both almost complete opposites. He’s a Slytherin; you’re a Gryffindor. You have seven siblings; he has none. You’re adopted; he’s not. You laugh and joke. You share stories from your past and your heart warms, enjoying having someone new to talk to who makes you feel unlike you ever had before.  You can’t remember a day that you smiled this much.

After you’re done in the Three Broomsticks, you both walk around the village, going into Honeydukes and Zonko’s. The day comes to a close and you both agree to do it again sometime. As you both go your separate ways you both fail to notice Fred, George, and Ginny spying on you from around the corner.

“That’s what I call a success,” Fred smirks to his siblings. Ginny scowls in your direction as you disappear down the hallway towards Gryffindor tower. 

“I’m glad the note worked. The three months of spying on Malfoy to see if he fancied her was exhausting. We had to use Omnioculars to see him writing in his paper his initials and y/n’s with a heart in his notebook from above,” George sighs, exhausted. He looks over to his sister, whose grumbling to herself under her breath.  “What’s gotten into you, Gin?”

“Why’d you two go to all this trouble for someone so toxic?” Ginny asks.  “This will only end in disaster.  Y/n and Draco Malfoy together can only end in a dumpster fire. He’s not a good influence.”

“You sound like Mum, Ginny,” Fred retorts.  “Y/n seemed to be satisfied with today and that’s enough. I haven’t seen her smile so much in a long time. Last time she smiled like that was when Georgie and my products first arrived.”

“Why are you going to so much trouble for her?” Ginny asks glumly.  “She was perfectly happy before.”

“Well… Georgie and I talked about it.  Y/n’s always felt a little bit alone and in the middle of things.  Even though we love y/n and she loves us, she’s self-conscious about being adopted sometimes. When we’re all together, she can be quiet sometimes.  She gets lonely and doesn’t feel like she belongs even though she completely does.  She’s a Weasley, after all, but she feels like the other Weasley.  We’ve noticed her feeling like that lately and we wanted to make her happy.  Someone she can maybe identify with on a personal level other than us,” Fred explains, careful of his wording.

“What’s there do identify with when it comes to Malfoy?”  Ginny grumbles, refusing to believe that y/n could possbly relate to someone as vile and cruel as Draco Malfoy

“Maybe not identify with.  Maybe just to have around.  Having that other person that you enjoy the company of,”  George adds.  

“Why did it have to be Malfoy?”

“Relationships can stem from the most unlikely of places,” George reasons.

“This is trouble, you two.  Y/n doesn’t need him. She has her family.  How can she feel lonely in our family when there’s so many of us.  You’re meddling with y/n’s emotions because you don’t think ahead.  This needs to be fixed,” Ginny decided, turning on her heels while trying to compile her course of action.  The twins look at each other with a worried expression.  What is Ginny thinking of doing?

----

Read Part II!

[beckzorz]

caduto dalle nuvole (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 5012 Summary: A detour on a mission leads to destruction, and a discovery. Warnings: Canon-typical violence and gore. A/N: Happy Secret Seba, Paige @sebastiansloserclub​​!!!! It was a pleasure to write for you! Thank you to @jobean12-blog​​ for beta reading <3 The title, “caduto dalle nuvole,” is an Italian idiom that means literally “fallen from the clouds” and figuratively “taken aback.” Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy xoxo

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

You close the mission briefing and tuck the file under your arm as you stand, just barely controlling the tic in your jaw. “None, Captain.”

“Good.” His relief is palpable. “The jet leaves in ninety minutes. Good luck, agent.”

—

“I’ll be back,” Antonio says, and then he slams the barn door shut.

You gape. A key scrapes against a lock. Your heart stops for a horrible moment, and then you bolt forward.

“Hey!”

You slam into the door, body and door shaking from the impact. A chain rattles on the other side, and a car engine starts to purr.

“Hey!” you scream.

The car drives off, grinding against the gravel drive. You bang your fists against the door, rage clouding your vision, filling your veins.

Behind you, your partner lets out a breath and a thump. You turn, blinking away the red in your vision, and stare.

Bucky Barnes is sitting on a pile of hay, hands clasped between his spread thighs and his expression sardonic.

“Well,” he says. “That went well.”

You whirl back to the door, teeth clenched. You can’t manage a reply, not when it was his idea to hitchhike instead of taking the bus. Your own mother had hitchhiked across Europe in the seventies, but it’s not the seventies anymore. It’s decades later, and now… now you’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped!

“We’re literally locked in a barn,” you snap. “And you just want to sit there?!”

Bucky sighs. “Look, this guy clearly has something up his sleeve. I did some research in the back seat while you were being sociable. SHIELD’s made a note of this guy before. Our mission isn’t so urgent that we can’t delay a day to figure out what his deal is.”

You lean your shoulder against the door and gape at him. “What, you think Steve will just say, ‘Sure, Buck, that’s totally fine! It’s not like I specifically tasked you to find these dangerous terrorists or anything?’”

“Uh, that’s what he said, yeah.” Bucky shifts on the haypile and holds up his phone. “I texted him to check.”

“Typical,” you mutter. You turn back to the door, the start of a headache pricking at your temples. You crouch down and peer through the crack of the barn door, looking for the chain.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks. His voice seems small in the open barn.

You don’t answer. What’s the point? Surely it’s obvious. Why else would you be studying the way out except to break out? To enjoy the view?

Besides, it’s not like he ever tells you anything. If you hadn’t asked, would he have even mentioned he’d spoken with Steve?

He’s never told you anything he hasn’t needed to.

You stare at the chain through the gap in the door. It’s afternoon outside—if you rattle the door, you can see the sun glinting off the shifting links. Something to look at while you consider why your frustration is tinged with dejection.

When you’d first joined—when you were recruited, you’d had so much hope in Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier, stolen and used and come back to himself? It was your own story, if decades out of sync. Sam Wilson, bless him, even encouraged you to strike up a friendship with him. Sam, the only one who knew your whole story. Steve probably does by now too, but still. Sam was the first to know. He was the one who got out you. Got you free.

Of course, all the attempts you made to befriend Bucky fell flat. He was—and still is—polite, but unfathomably distant. Anyway, why would he bother opening up to you? He has Sam, Steve… Even Natasha, the only other person you might have felt comfortable talking to. He doesn’t like talking about his past, Steve once said. Try Natasha. But if you talked to her, she’d tell him everything.

And you don’t want to be talked about.

Not like that. Not by them.

You force yourself to your feet and step back. The hinges on the door are bolted in place—no easy removal there. Maybe a tool kit…?

The barn is dim, hazy. The sunlight streaming in from the small windows slants down in clouded beams, turning the hay-littered dirt floor into a mosaic of light and dark. And Bucky is all in shadow on his yellow throne. He’s barely moved since you last looked his way. Just sitting, and watching you.

“Did you see a toolbox anywhere?” you ask.

Bucky turns his head left, then right. “Nope.” He props his elbow on his knee and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. “Whatcha thinking?”

You prowl the perimeter, looking in every built-in shelf and drawer. “Unbolt the door hinges. Neither of us’d fit through the windows, and—wait a second.” You whirl to face him, quivering with relief. “Forget that. You can just force the door open!”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asks. He holds up his left hand—it looks like a regular hand for the mission, but under the smokescreen is that same vibranium, that same strength. “Do you really wanna advertise that the Winter Soldier is in Italy? Right now? While we’re on an undercover mission?”

“Um, regular people break through doors all the time, Barnes.” You dash over and try to pull him to his feet.

He doesn’t budge.

“Seriously?!” You drop his heavy arm, muscles tight and hands quivering. “Are you just going to sit there? And do nothing?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I am. And as mission lead, that’s the call I’ve made. So sit down and chill, firecracker.”

Your fists curl into balls and you stalk away.

Firecracker.

A nickname, one you’ve despised since the first time Natasha sang it out over the comms on a mission last month. Firecracker, of all things! Like you’re no more than a party trick. An object. Not even an animal. Not even something powerful. Firecrackers are all about a lot of noise, not power. And you…

You slow as you reach the door. The wood is rough as you slide your palms across it and press your forehead across the gap. Outside, it’s still bright. Still afternoon. Inside, it feels like a nightmare.

You haven’t been locked in anywhere on a mission since… since…

For a long time.

You don’t like it. You close your eyes, breathe in—the air in the barn is stale, but if you squish your nose enough, you can get a hint of freshness from outside. The door scrapes your cheeks as you settle yourself.

It’s okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be—

A hand on your shoulder: you spin, catch their wrist, and stop short when you realize it’s only Bucky.

“You okay?” he asks. Is that pity in his voice?

“Of course I’m fine!”

His skin is hot to the touch; he and Steve have always run warm, but it’s a strange feeling to be touching him like this. It’s not part of training, not part of a fight…

You drop his hand and sidle out from between him and the door. Your hands are still trembling. You straighten them out until your bones ache, fingers flexed and muscles straining. Even your jaw is trembling.

“You’re not,” Bucky says flatly. “What do you need?”

A hollow laugh escapes you. You lean against a pillow and slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. “To not be in here! What the hell do you think? That I’m thrilled to be locked in somewhere I’m more liable to disintegrate than not?”

“What do you…”

Bucky trails off. You don’t bother looking up at him. God knows what he thinks of you.

But it’s one thing to be in hiding. It’s another thing to be locked up. God, how can he bear it? After everything, how can he—how can you—how could you ever—

“Hey.”

Your head jerks up, your eyes wide. Bucky is kneeling a few feet away, his hands clasped between his knees. They both look like human hands; a smokescreen disguises his left. It’s a good disguise, but it looks wrong on him all the same. He—it’s not him, it’s not…

“Look at me, firecracker,” Bucky murmurs. Your eyes snap to his; your eyebrows draw low.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. “I’m not some toy.”

He blinks. “It’s a nickname. A term of endearment, not ridicule. Hell, Sam calls me Tin Man. Does that make me brainless?”

“Sam’s your friend!”

Bucky’s mouth drops open and his blue eyes round as saucers. “Wha—”

He stops mid-word. He cocks his head to the side. You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand, silencing whatever you’d been about to say.

His sudden silence, the way he’s listening—is someone coming?

You give Bucky a look, and he nods. You both let out a breath and stand silently. Whatever you’d been talking about, it has to wait. Right now, you’re done arguing.

Right now, you’re a team.

Tires screech outside; you look to Bucky for confirmation. He holds up three fingers.

Three vehicles.

How many people in them?

And why, why are they here? Did they recognize Bucky? He’s not immediately recognizable out of uniform, at least to the untrained eye—but are these trained eyes? Was Bucky’s face the only reason you got picked up on the side of the road? This kind of mishap has happened before…

Car doors open, footsteps crunch in gravel, and you flex your fingers and reach for that spot of warmth hidden in your chest. It reaches out, settles around your bones, through your veins until your fingernails glow. Bucky glances down, his lips quirk up, and then his eyes settle on yours. His pupils are wide with adrenaline, and he’s looking at you so intently your breath catches in your throat. Your fingertips are white-hot now, casting an eerie light from below.

He looks all the more terrible and wonderful for it.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

Your focus rams back into place. It’s just your mission lead, just Bucky. And there’s bigger fish to fry right now than the dark sky in his eyes.

“Ready.”

Bucky tilts his head towards the fused hinges on one side of the door. You press your hands against the top one, and the rusty metal begins to glow. Red drops of molten iron slide down catch on the wood, which begins to smoke. Licks of fire sprout from the jamb, and you hop back, shaking out the sparks from your fingertips.

Bucky maneuvers ahead of you and kicks the door open, wood splintering at the bottom, his left arm up. Twin shouts of surprise, two quick gunshots, and the door shudders from the impact.

“Get the other one!” Bucky snaps, pulling the bust-open door back into place as shouting begins in earnest.

You dash to the other door. Bullets pepper the door, but the wood is thick enough to contain them—for now. Something niggles at the back of your mind, but you push it away. Of course something’s wrong. But now’s the time to act, not think.

The second hinge disintegrates faster; the longer you go, the hotter you get. This is the longest you’ve ever lasted like this on a mission—usually you have guns, tools, equipment… Today you have only yourself.

Sparks fly, settling on your pants, little spots starting to burn away. The glow in your fingertips spreads down to your second knuckle, third knuckle…

Bucky pushes the two doors forward together, driving them forward like a shield wall against the god-knows-how-many people approaching. You stick close, scooping up a handful of gravel and shaping it in your palms. Gunshots ring out, striking the padlocked chain, the doors, the dirt at your feet.

“Get that damn thing on!” someone shouts.

A colossal hum groans into life, flooding your ears as you lose all sense of feeling. Bucky cries out, digs in his heels as he left arm shoots forward, but you’re a million miles away as the doors fall away from you and clatter to the ground. Dust clouds in the air as you realize that the molten rocks in your hands have dripped through your fingers, burning your shoes away. You step back, hands shaking, suddenly cold as the warmth in your chest fizzles out.

Then you run.

Gravel bites into your bare feet and makes way for tough grass. But there’s rocks here too, hidden ones, and within seconds you stumble, a sharp rock tearing a gash in the pad of your foot. Still you run, eyes burning more than your hands had been, ice settling fresh in your veins as footsteps pound behind you, harsh breathing that isn’t yours whistling in your ears.

A grunt, and someone’s hand brushes your arm. You gasp, air slicing against your screaming lungs, and pump your legs harder, harder—

“Augh!”

A hand catches your elbow, yanking your shoulder, yanking your whole body to the side as you keep going, heartbeat frantic, brain screaming, eyes barely seeing except to realize that this is the first you’ve seen again, and it’s just like you remembered, oh god, oh god; you pull your arm against the tight grip, but there’s no breaking free, the grip is too strong. You manage to get a few steps farther, dragging your assailant with you, but he digs in his heels.

Like Bucky dug in his heels.

Your eyes swivel in your head back to the barn, back to where Bucky is still fighting against some machine aimed at him, making waves in the air as it pulls at his left arm. Even from a distance, you can see he’s confused despite his bared teeth and furor. He glances your way, and the fresh strangeness in his expression takes you off-guard.

The other one who’d been chasing you grabs you, catching your other hand.

“Gotcha,” he grunts, breathless and gleeful.

You can’t take your eyes from Bucky. He’s looking at you more now. The tears pricking at your eyes make it impossible to read what he’s thinking, but you know.

The first one knees you in the gut; you fall to your knees, eyes watering afresh and nausea tickling the back of your mouth.

You know what Bucky is thinking. You’re just a firecracker. You’re useless. You’re a party trick—

You surge back to your feet, hand curling into a fist as you drive your knuckles into the first one’s neck. They choke, eyes blown wide and hand instinctively dropping from your elbow to clutch their throat. You swing your other arm, ready to drive it into their gut, but the second one catches your wrist, twisting your arm up behind you. You scream in pain—your pulled shoulder is useless now—and make to get out of their hold, but you’re caught, and someone else has come along now, and they kick you facedown into the grass. Still you persist, wriggling and kicking and trying to force yourself to your feet, to your knees, onto your back—to anything other than in the grass, blades prickling against your cheeks and mouth and nose.

God knows how, but you manage to twist over and drive your foot into someone’s crotch. They squeal and hobble back, and you grit your teeth through the pain and push yourself up before someone drives a foot into your stomach again, slamming you back onto the ground.

“Stay down!”

It’s the second man, the one who’d pulled your shoulder. He steps heavy on your chest until your bones creak, and you scream from the pressure, the pain.

“Stop, you idiot!”

You freeze. Your scream dies in your throat. The man lifts his foot away, and even through your tears you can see his scowl.

That voice—

No. No.

No.

You curl your fingers into the grass. It’s alive in your hands. Something alive, that thinks no ill of you, that wants nothing from you, something green and alive and you are not going to let them take you again.

With a cry, you push yourself up and launch yourself at the man who’d held you down. Your punch to his jaw sends him reeling. There’s nothing left of the warmth from in the barn in your chest, but you reach for it anyway, desperate, as you dash towards the man whose voice you never want to hear again.

He’s holding a gun, pointed loosely at you, his suit clean as ever and his hair as short. His eyebrows are raised, as if he’s surprised, but you don’t care, you don’t care, all you want is to break is neck and never let him speak another word as long as he—

Crack.

White-hot pain lances through your hip as he shoots, but you keep going until you’re on top of him and he’s in the dirt and your hands are around his neck and you’re squeezing and then your hands are on empty air as that idiot pulls you off.

You stumble a few feet away. There’s no warmth for you to pull at, but sparks shoot intermittently from your fingers as you snarl, blood pulsing at your hip. The idiot has a cattle prod in his hands, and he’s thrusting it at you, the buzz sending shocks through you long before it touches you.

The boss, on his knees, lurches forward towards the two of you, his eyes comically wide.

“Don’t—”

The cattle prod hits you.

White.

All you can see is white.

White fire burns in your veins, under your skin, burning searing screaming—

—

White fire flares out from where you’re caught between a bunch of the goons. Something explodes. For a moment, the whole area is flooded with white, turning the world into static. Bucky’s heart stutters—he can’t see you, where are you, what have they done to you?

A wave of heat hits him with such intensity that he shouts, his arms automatically flinging up as protection. The world goes white; something clatters nearby.

Arms? Arms?

Yes, both arms. What happened to the electromagnet? Was it the heat?

Whatever it was, he’s free. He lurches towards where the electromagnet had been, teeth gritted against the pain of the heat in the air. He can hear frightened breathing, swearing—fuck fuck fuck fuck fu—and he pounces, landing awkwardly on someone’s shoulder, but not so awkwardly that he doesn’t knock them unconscious before they can land a single blow. He stumbles off of them, ears cocked for any other noises, any other sounds, but all he hears are footsteps running haphazardly away.

They’ll get found, eventually. Right now, he can’t leave. Not without knowing what’s happened to you.

Bucky’s vision clears slowly. It’s still uncomfortably hot—sweat beads on his forehead, on his neck—but there’s a slow breeze. There’s a column of smoke to his right, where you’d run off to, and he slowly moves in that direction as he blinks away the whiteness from his eyes.

Every step forward, the heat intensifies. There’s no more grass, just dirt, with black smoke spiraling up from the bare ground. Sweat drips down the hollow of his back, catches in his eyebrows—he shakes his head, teeth bared, and forces himself forward.

What the hell happened?

Had they come for him, or you? Why would they have come for you? Whatever he thinks of you personally, your powers have never seemed that extraordinary to him. Your work at the barn, turning wrought-iron hinges into molten metal in seconds—that’s the most impressive thing he’s seen out of you to date.

Whatever had happened, the white fire and the horrible heat and the whole world gone white—that can’t have been you. But you can’t be burned, can you? Whatever it was, it can’t have hurt you.

Could it have?

He breaks into a run, squinting. A shadow on the ground catches his eye.

Bucky freezes in his tracks.

A corpse, burnt nearly to the bone. Red-hot metal pools under its pelvis—a belt buckle? A gun? No, that’s the gun there, with the extra charring on the ground. Is that what had exploded earlier? Must be.

Bucky’s mind fast-tracks past the corpse. If this is what had happened to someone else…

He steps over a charred, skeletal foot, his heart in his throat as he squints against the hot smoky air.

If that’s what happened to someone else, how could you have survived?

Bucky’s eyes water more than ever as he walks faster. “No no no,” he mutters. “That’s not…”

Another charred corpse, this one truly burnt to the bone, tendons just barely holding it together. Tears track down Bucky’s cheeks as his eyes run from the long foot up the leg, over the hipbones—

A bare foot is caught in the ribcage. A skull cradled against a bare hip, scraps of charring fabric caught in the sockets. One hand, full and alive and covered in soot, flung across your belly.

Bucky falls to his knees and crawls forward until a tear falls onto your sooty skin. Your face is turned away from him. His hands quiver as he reaches for you—for the first time, he realizes the smokescreen has died—and touches your shoulder, the back of your hand. You’re still, too still, and your skin is cold to the touch. He can hear your heartbeat, but it’s faint as a whisper and slower than molasses. There’s no sound of breathing.

“Breathe, dammit,” he mouths.

He nudges you, presses down on the hand over your belly, trying to force some movement in your lungs.

Nothing.

He takes your face in his hands; they’re shaking more than ever. He turns your head towards him, crying outright now.

“Please,” he breathes. He shifts his knees until he can bend his face inches from yours. If he has to get you to breathe by giving you breath himself, by god he’ll do it, he’ll do it a hundred times, a million, because you can’t be dead here on the ground, you can’t be, he won’t let you.

Bucky sucks in a breath, the smoky air stinging his lungs, but before he can pinch your nose shut, you shift, groan, and turn your head just enough so he can see your lips parting and a tear tracking down your cheek.

Relief washes over him like a tidal wave. For a moment, all he can do is close his eyes and press his forehead to yours. Your skin is still cold, but you’re not dead. You’re not dead. You’re alive. You’re alive, and you’re going to be okay. He’ll make damn sure of it.

One last shaky breath, and Bucky sits up on his heels. He shucks off his coat, tucks it around you, and hoists you into his arms. The skull rolls to the ground. He has to work the ribcage away from your foot with his own hand, but then he’s taking you away, back to the burning barn, away from… He glances back. It looks like a bomb has gone off. It looks…

It looks…

It looks like something he’s seen before.

Bucky’s steps slow as he stares down at the top of your head.

He’s seen this before.

The white blast. The scorched earth. The charred corpses.

He’s seen it in South Africa, in China, in Ukraine, in Venezuela. Terrorism attacks, with tenuous links aside from the identical carnage.

Monthly attacks that ended… the same month you joined the team.

It’s only habit that keeps him walking now. Force of habit, and how cold your skin is, and something past thought that has his throat clogged with horror. But he can’t drop you, no matter what conclusions his brain is coming to now.

The air is clearer here. The barn is on fire now, whether from your handiwork earlier or… or just now, he couldn’t say. But the breeze is blowing the smoke away. One of the three cars is missing—some of them must have fled, but someone will find them. Someone.

There’s an SUV with open doors. Bucky settles you in the passenger seat, careful to tuck his jacket around you properly as your head lolls. When you come to, there will be enough to explain.

There has to be an explanation.

There has to be.

Bucky pulls out his phone. Sam’s on speed-dial.

Sam’s voice, when he answers, is answer enough.

—

It’s cold.

The air is warm, but you’re cold, so cold. Like your heart is ice. You squeeze your closed eyes shut further and reach for that spot of warmth in your chest.

It’s not there.

You whimper, try again.

Nothing.

You’ve wrung yourself dry.

How—

Your faces twitches as you try to remember. All you remember is white, the static of whiteness.

Whiteness…

Your eyes pop open as you suck in a harsh, smoky breath, every muscle taut and shaking as you stare at the burning barn through—through a windshield? You’re in a car? Your heart pounds out of your chest. Did they put you in a car to take you away?

The door to your right is open; you lurch out of your seat and land on your bare knees in the gravel, one hand clutching the open door for support. You stagger to your feet. There’s no warmth in your chest and no strength in your bones, but you force yourself away, away, away—

A hand touches you, and you scream, flailing blindly until your wrist is caught.

“Hey hey hey, careful,” a soft voice says. Another hand settles on your waist, the hand on your wrist shifts until it’s holding yours, and it’s then that your eyes refocus on—

Bucky.

His eyes are wide, fixed on your face. You blink. His face is sooty, but there are clear tracks running down his cheeks. Was he—was he crying?

“You okay?” he asks.

His voice is still soft, still gentle. His eyes are still fixed on your face.

Whiteness…

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. You put your free hand on Bucky’s arm, head swimming. The gravel bites into your feet, and you wince.

Your shoes must have burned away. Your shoes, and—

A strangled breath escapes your throat as you realize. Your shoes burned away, your shoes and your clothes. You’re wearing Bucky’s jacket, but it falls only just past your hips.

God, what did he see? You stare at him again, only more confused than before. What happened?

Whiteness.

You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide.

You remember it all now, as starkly as if it was happening all over again. The run, the struggle, the gunshot, the cattle prod.

The whiteness.

“Did I—did—what—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispers. He gently wraps an arm around you and tucks you against his chest. “You’re okay. Sam is coming.”

Your hands wind into Bucky’s shirt, tugging it tight. You stare down at your bare feet as tears roll down your cheeks. Your left foot stings; are you bleeding? You shift your foot; yes, there’s blood on the gravel where you’d been standing. Your hip is less painful than you’d’ve expected, and you flex a muscle there experimentally. Something pulls at your skin—had Bucky patched you up? He must have.

Bucky.

What does he know?

“What…” You swallow. “What happened?”

“They set you off,” Bucky says.

You let out a slow breath. So he knows. You disentangle yourself from his hold and limp to the car; Bucky helps you along, and back up into the passenger seat. “Oh.” You turn away and look at the bottom of your foot, wincing. Yes, still bleeding.

“‘Oh?’” Bucky repeats incredulously.

You turn back to him, eyebrows raised. Bucky’s hands are wide open at his sides, as though he’s struggling to keep them from curling into fists.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” His voice is low, tinged with frustration. “Why didn’t I know?”

“Only Sam knows. Knew,” you correct. “He’s the one—”

“Who got you out,” Bucky finishes. He leans against the car, boxing you in. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I have told you?” you ask, voice flat.

Bucky stares, mouth open, argument flashing in his eyes. You lean your head back and close your eyes. You’re still groggy and cold and tired, and there’s no way out with Bucky standing so close. All you can do is answer him.

“Forget why, when?” you continue weakly. “We’ve never been particularly friendly.”

“I can’t help being shy, can I?” Bucky snaps.

“Yes you can.” Your chin drops a little; your eyes are still closed. “I did my best, to try and make friends with you. I thought… it’d be good for me. Have someone who knows what I went through.”

“I didn’t know,” he says. He’s not snapping now. He’s quiet, almost plaintive. “I wish I had. I wish Sam had told me. I wish…” He trails off, sighs.

You peek open an eye. Bucky leans on his arm against the open car door jamb, eyes closed, face downcast. He looks… he looks like he’s more weighted down than you are.

A little warmth flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real or just a hope.

You reach out and put a hand on his face. His skin is warm to the touch, as it always is. Bucky’s eyes pop open and he looks at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide and blue.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair not to tell you. Not… not when we were supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“I’ve got your back no matter what,” Bucky declares, and the warmth in your chest coils and warms you straight down to your fingertips.

There aren’t words for what you’re feeling. All you can do is crane your neck and press a kiss to his sooty cheek and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek again.

Bucky shudders in your hold, and it’s all you can do not to cry as he wraps an arm gently around you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “And I’m not letting go.”

[sleepysailorghost]

Sweet Child of Mine

Johnny doesn't really want to fall in love again. He doesn't want to settle down again. He already did that once, and it ended badly, although his recollection is vague to say the least.

Gettting shot in the head throws a man for a loop, that much is certain. In Johnny's case, the two rounds fired into his skull tore holes into his memories, leaving him to fill in the blanks, as inaccurate as that may be.

He didn't remember his name when he woke. Listening to the radio, he put down Johnny Guitar just so he'd have something.

As he travel the wastes, he recollects more about his own past as he hunts for the man in the checkered suit.

His name really is Johnny, he discovers in Primm, but he only signed the document "Johnny". A place to start, at least.

Someone will recognize him, he thinks, because certainly, there aren't that many long haired men with red eyes. At least, none as handsome as he.

But no one does. No one recognizes him.

Some things he has to learn. The rifle he found felt familiar to him, like maybe he spent a lot of time using one once. Only, he ain't too good with it now, on account of something called "orbital fracturing" distorting his long range vision. He's gotta admit, maybe no one recognizes him because he doesn't look like himself anymore. Not that he ain't greatful to the Doc for fixing him up.

But that six gun he found in Primm? It felt right in his hand. It felt like his weapon, like it had always been his.

He remembers his wife. She was sweet, his Diane, and he promised he'd give up his life as an outlaw for her. It was hard for him to deny what people had thought about him since birth, but he would do it for her.

He thinks that's why he gets on so well with Boone. They're both widowers.

Or at least, that's what Johnny thinks. He doesn't remember what happened to her. Maybe it's better that way, that he doesn't remember how his wife died. Boone, surely, would prefer that.

He doesn't entertain the notion that she could still be alive. After all, if she still lived, wouldn't he be beside her instead of trecking across the wastes for the Mojave Express?

He hadn't expected to meet his son. He didn't even know he had a son for heavens sake. Like memories of so many other things, it seems like these were ripped away from him.

He's looking at the legionary, and suddenly, he knows. The legionary he's fighting is his son.

An image appears in his mind, of a young boy with red eyes looking up and his hand-he knows it's his hand, those are his scars-reaches down to ruffle the kid's hair.

He knocks the legionary out. It's something that he's practiced at, but it feels wrong knowing that's his son. It feels wrong that his son is Legion. How the hell did that happen?

Johnny's always been a strong guy, and he's thankful for it as he slings his boy over his back and takes off into the desert.

He didn't think this through. He's got absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Arcade is more than willing to point that out. To be fair, Johnny walks in with a passed-out legionary hung over his shoulder. Some surprise was justified.

"wha-what do you got there?"he asks as Johnny lays the young man down.

"He's my boy, Arcade. I don't...I couldn't let him stay with the legion."

"So you're kidnapping people now?"he remarks, checking over the legionary.

"Shit. I didn't...I didn't mean it like that. He's my son, I ain't forcing him into slavery or anything."

"What are you going to do when he wakes up? Don't say you don't know, I could figure that out myself."

Johnny made himself busy by removing the young man's legionary armor.

When the young man stirs, it is slowly ar first, red eyes blinking open.

"Well, I certainly see the resemblance." Arcade says, and then the legionary springs up. He tackles Arcade, leaning hard against the researcher's throat with his forearm.

"Where am I? What did you do to me?"

Johnny swiftly cuts into the legionary's interrogation, pulling the boy off Arcade.

"Wow,Johnny," Arcade wheezes "He really is just like you."

"Listen up,"Johnny barks. "Don't try that again, or I'll kick your ass from here to New Reno."

"Sure you will, old man."

"You ain't in the legion any more. I got you out. You try and go back, and they'll have you crucified."

"No, I am true to Caesar!"

"They'll never believe that someone just up and grabbed you. They'll think you ran. I seen men die in the sun before. "

"Why would it matter to you, profligate?"

"I'm your pa, that's what it matters. Otherwise, I woulda knocked you dead."

"No, I have no father! I am a son of Caesar."

"Yeah, sure you are, that's why you look so much like me. Say, how many men you ever seen with red eyes?"

The young man twisted around, trying to get a look at the man holding him. It was true. The man in the cowboy hat did have red eyes. A large scar covered most of his face, but he did look familiar.

"Let me go."

"Only if you swear you won't attack no one."

"I swear on Caesar." The man he had knocked to the ground stood up, rubbing at his throat, and wandered off to another part of the campsite.

"When this blows up in your face, I want you to remember I was against this." He called.

Johnny let go of the legionary. To the legionary's credit, he did not attack Johhny.

"You're stronger than me, but you're twice my age. How?"

"Yeah, well. For one, I ain't wearing a skirt."

"This is the uniform of Caesar! It grants me strength."

"Uh-huh. Well, out here, talking about Caesar is liable to get yer teeth knocked in. Hell, I might do it even."

"And you're supposed to be my father?"He smirked.

"I am your father. Say, what's your name?" He rubbed at his stubbly jaw for a second, then said. "You'll tan your hide dressed like that. You'll have to keep your boots as I ain't gotta spare, but I oughta have some clothes for you."

"I am Darius, son of Caesar."

"I ain't calling you that. What name did Diane and I give you?"

"Wouldn't you know? If you were really my father?"

"You ever been shot in the head, son? It makes you forget things. What's your name?"

"My name is Darius-"At this, Johnny lost his patience.

"Fine,"He growled."You wanna be one of Caesar's dogs so badly? I'll call you by a dog's name then. Get dressed, Dogmeat."

He threw some clothing at the kid. Dogmeat turned his back to dress. There wasn't any sense in refusing.

Johnny looked over at his son, maybe to say something, maybe just to check that he was there, but then he paused.

"They branded you? They branded you like cattle?"

"It's not a brand, it's a mark of Caesar and I am priveledged to wear it."

"Unbelievable. They do that so you won't run, y'know. So you belong to them."

"Yes, well, it appears I've run anyway." Without further argument, he finishes dressing, smoothing down the worn Sunset Sasparilla t-shirt.

"Alright, let's hit the road. A word of the wise, son, you best hold your tongue because if you upset my NCR sniper friend with talk of the legion, he's liable to shoot you." Johnny picked a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "You might deserve it too. I ain't never met an innocent legionary."

"Profligates-" Dogmeat started, but Johnny cut him off.

"You been to Nipton lately, boy?" It was a sharp thing, Johnny's voice. "You seen the destruction y'all brought to the town?"

"It was a town of profligates-"

"Y'all use that damn word so much I'm begining to think you have no idea what it means. Where did Diane and I go wrong in raising you that you believe all this nonsense? Tell me, do you think it's right for men and women to be enslaved? Do you think it's right that people suffer and you burn their towns? Do you think that's right?"

Johnny's face was an awful, bitter vision. He looked at his disgrace of a son with disapointment and disgust clear in his eyes.

"Some men are meant-"

Johnny slapped his son.

"Some men are meant for slavery? Is that what you're saying? You ever worn a slave's collar? Twice, I've been enslaved, worn the collar of a slave, and you tell me that I'm meant for that? Fuck that."

He hadn't seen it before, but below the red bandana tied around the man who claimed to be his father's neck, there was a long line of scarring.

"If you weren't my son, I'd kill you."

"I wish I wasn't. I wish I had returned to the raiding party having bested the great Courier Six, with his duster over my shoulders as a trophy. No, I wish that we captured you. That we strung you up on a cross to die. Or maybe threw you to the dog's instead. I'd have earned a fine promotion for that; Caesar would have recognized my strength."

"Think that makes you tough, wanting me dead? Get in line. Most everyone in the Mojave wants to put me in a grave for one reason or another. Hell, one guy almost succeeded."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"No, it's just how things are. There is something wrong with you, kid. Something broken, I guess. Maybe I'm the same way, I never knew when to throw in the towel or how to fall in line. But I ain't never done nothing like the Legion did. Kill people, sure, but I never took pleasure in making them suffer."

"So what? We ride off into the sunset now?"

"Christ, can't I go a damn minute without someone asking me what we're doing next?"

The other man reappeared. Dogmeat looked at him closely, realizing that it was the doctor Caesar favored. If he could somehow defeat Johnny, he could capture the doctor and bring him to Caesar as a gift. He would certainly be rewarded well for it.

He patted his thighs. They had took his knife and his pistol. Smart, but not enough to keep them alive in the long run.

Johnny, he thought, was physically stronger than him, and had the advantage if they fought hand to hand. Besides, he had a highly engraved pistol holstered at his hip. Even though Johnny had shown reluctance to harm him, he had stated that he would have killed Dogmeat if he hadn't recognized him.

The doctor, however, seemed physically weaker, armed with a plasma weapon. Johnny had prevented him from attacking the doctor before. Attempting to do so again may provoke Johnny into attacking him.

"Never mind. I worked it out. It ain't ideal or nothing, but it's the best I can do. I ain't gotta lot of options right now, and I gotta cash a few favors for this to work. I can't let you go, you'll go running back to the Legion, and you're a danger. I don't want to kill you. We're going to Camp Forlorn Hope. They've got a jail there."

"You're turning me in?"

"Yeah." Johnny said, his voice quiet. "I'm turning you in."

"You're doing the right thing, Johnny." Arcade said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"NCR prisons, they aren't like Legion prisons. They won't beat you to a pulp or anything. You'll get three square a day, and it'll be warm and dry. Hell, might even be better than out here. Might be a little interrogation. I'll tell them you're my boy. It'll reflect badly on me, but they won't risk pissing me off."

Dogmeat didn't know if Johnny was trying to comfort himself or reassure him. He didn't care much either way.

"Fuck you." he spat at Johnny. The spurrs on Johnny's boots glinted in the sun.

Johnny looked out at the horizon. It would be a long walk to Camp Forlorn Hope.

"They can help you boy, help you get all that legion nonsense out of your head." Pulling his hat low over his eyes, he continued. "And when you're done, you'll be a free man. Let's get going, son."

Tears glinted in Johnny's eyes, but he brushed them aside with the swipe of rough, scarred hand. He settled his hat, spun the chamber on his sixgun, and headed into the Mojave.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m IN LOVE with this gif -Danny

Words: 3,044

Warnings: None.

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: Love Somebody -Maroon 5

Chapter Sixteen: Buckbeak's Appeal.

Mel had been pacing around the dormitory for five minutes, unable to put into words what she was going through. 

She sort of did it, but Hermione didn't understand, how did she know she was falling in love?

"Can you at least tell me what happened?" Hermione stood up in exasperation, interrupting her pacing.

Mel was originally going to say 'I don't know!' but her mouth blurted out something completely different.

"I almost kissed Harry!"

Hermione's frown grew.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it?" She widened her eyes. "That's everything!"

"Mel, if you could see the way you're always ogling at him you'd think you're always trying to kiss him."

"What?! No! Not always– Not ever... Or do I? I mean, sometimes when... and he's so clever... Wait, no! I almost kissed Harry for real, I leaned in to hug him and he turned and I..." She felt the shivers running down her spine. "Our lips sort of touched, but not really..."

Her friend snorted, going back to her seat on the bed.

"What's so funny?" Mel huffed. "I'm in the middle of a crisis and you decide to have a laugh!"

"What'd you want me to say?" Hermione giggled. "Everyone knows you like him, and he likes you back– We're just waiting to see who's the first to give up and say you've got it bad for the other."

"That's the problem, 'Mione," Mel's lip quivered. "I don't know if I want to 'have it bad' for him..."

"Why? He's your best friend, so far one of the most decent boys at school."

"Precisely," Mel sat on her own bed, hiding her face behind both hands. "He's my best friend–  What if I'm just confused? What if I ruin a perfectly good friendship because I think there might be something and everything gets complicated–"

"You're overthinking," Hermione moved to sit on her bed, patting her knee lightly. "You and Harry have something special, I think it'd be worth the risks..."

"We're too young!"

"I'm not telling you to ask him to marry you!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, we're still children but it wouldn't hurt to talk it out– at least let him know that if he thinks there's a possibility in the future... well, you're more than disposed to try."

Mel hugged her legs close to her chest and sighed. Was she ready to try? She's not even sure she's falling! This could be a new level of platonic appreciation, he's the oldest friend she has, maybe what she's feeling is normal?

Right, wanting to kiss your best friend is a clear sign that you love having him as your best friend.

She shook her head, tired of the uncertainty.

"What if he doesn't want the same?" She asked quietly. "What if then he steps back and then I'm just another of his lovesick fans?"

"You could never be that," Hermione assured her. "Not with the way he talks about you."

"He talks about me?" Mel inquired with the smallest glimmer of hope.

"Yes," The girl smiled. "He rambles– Ron has to shut him up because he could pass a whole hour talking about the new lessons you completed, or that funny thing you told him during lunch... when you're either with Dumbledore or... Erick," The name slipped easier out of her mouth, but still bitter on her tongue.

This could mean many things, but all of them concluded on the same little thought: He thinks about me.

Although this helped her a great deal with her embarrassment, she was incapable of spending time alone with him now, Mel would make up an excuse to walk the other way or Harry would mumble something about forgetting his quill. She didn't know if he was doing it out of kindness, maybe he could sense she was on edge.

Or perhaps, he was just as confused as her.

Harry was the normal amount of talkative with others on the daily, but there wasn't a day where they didn't share inner jokes or spend time ranting about something that annoyed them that day (usually Malfoy). However, after her mistake during the Quidditch final, things simply couldn't move forward with them.

The exams were right around the corner, and the common room was deadly quiet most days, with Fred and George finally deciding to take their studies seriously, the only distraction she had from time to time was Erick. Unfortunately, his friends were almost always accompanying him to the library to study, which had him in an awful mood and unable to join her table. With the arrival of their exams schedules, the realization that Mel was yet to find out how on earth was Hermione taking two tests every hour hit her. She didn't want to explain it to her, which made her terribly suspicious.

"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er — are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" said Harry.

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?"

"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron.

Mel let out a tiny giggle, locking eyes with Harry.

Both kids snapped their heads in opposite directions, clearing their throats and pretending to be busy with something else. Luckily, Hedwig arrived immediately after.

"It's from Hagrid," said Harry, walking towards the window and taking the note his owl was offering to him. "Buckbeak's appeal — it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," said Hermione.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Harry continued. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and — and an executioner."

Mel's thoughts of unrequited feelings disappeared, her outrage bigger than her shame.

"They what?!"

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," said Harry bitterly.

"They can't!" Ron replied just as angry. "I've spent ages reading up on stuff for him; they can't just ignore it all!"

They were ignoring all, though. The last day of their exams they run into the minister himself, the executioner, and the representative of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. It was endearing and all.

Mel had the feeling that she'd done well enough in all her exams, even Potions. Her favorite was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a whole obstacle thingy– Her uncle made sure to tell her she'd made the full marks of it. She was quite proud of herself.

Their last test was Divination, and she had a jolly time throughout the whole fifteen minutes Trelawney forced her to sit down and stare into a crystal ball, decks of cards, a teacup, and her own hand.

Not.

She stayed around to wait for the boys, but she'd forgotten that their Professor was alternating the names, so instead of being Harry the first one to pass, it was Ron.

They stood there awkwardly for about ten seconds in which Mel pondered what she should do. She could either be a child and run away from her own feelings, or she could move past them and take care of the actual important things they were dealing with, like Buckbeak's trial.

Mel let out a defeated sigh and walked over to her best friend, she leaned on the wall and slid to the floor, tired of not being able to act normal around him.

"Everything'll be all right," Harry tried to cheer her up, sitting down next to her.

"I hope so, it's the first time I see Ron reading thousands of books so passionately," She chuckled lowly. "They still have one last chance."

She looked up and locked eyes with the boy, his stare was just as welcoming as always, even eager, it had been quite a while since they started avoiding each other.

"Glasses," She cleared her throat anxiously. "What I did during the Quidditch final..."

"You don't have–"

"I was euphoric and I acted out of impulse," She pressed on, ignoring him. "I am so sorry for making you uncomfortable– Please don't be upset, I promise it won't happen again."

She braced herself for the impact, hoping to see him visibly sigh and thank her for the apology, maybe even saying that he was afraid she was trying something when he clearly didn't want it.

Harry's chest deflated and his brows knitted together when his mouth opened to speak. He didn't get to talk though, not at first, but when he saw the worried expression on her face he cleared his throat, nodding shortly.

"It's okay, Mellow," He said with a small -was it sad?- smile. "I wasn't upset, just wondering why were you acting so oddly..."

"I thought I had stepped out of boundaries..."

"That must be the first time you care about those," Harry snorted.

Mel let out a tiny laugh, this time more comfortable.

"Shut up," She shook her head. "We're still friends?"

"Always," Harry smiled. "You won't get rid of me that easily, remember?"

Mel smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder and missing the look of mild pain in his eyes.

"Hey," She said, remembering something. "Why was Snape so pissed about the map? What did it do?"

"Why are you asking me about it?"

"Just curious, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now..."

"Well, at first nothing came up, but then words started to appear– they were insults towards Snape, all coming from the people that made the map: Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, Prongs, Ruddy..."

"Hmm," Mel's eyes narrowed. "I feel like I've heard those before..."

"Fred and George had the map first, maybe they told you about them?" The boy offered.

"Yeah," She yawned.

Harry told them to go once their friend climbed down the stairs. Ron was so eager to start relaxing that he happily obliged, dragging Mel with him. Harry promised to join them after his examination.

"Let's play chess!"

"I'm awful at it," Mel huffed. "You'll win!"

"Gobstones?

"The winner gets to ask whatever they want from Hogsmeade the next time we go?"

They found Hermione in the common room, way more relaxed than before.

"I'm so proud of you!" Mel sat down next to her, giving her the biggest hug.  

"I told you I could do it!" Hermione groaned, pushing her away lightly. "I told you!"

"It's different said than done," Mel grinned.

One of the School's owls tapped on the window and she got up to open it, the owl dropped a piece of paper on Ron's lap and left just as soon as it had appeared.

"What does it say?" Mel rushed over to them, reading above Ron's head.

'Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it

Hagrid.'

"No!" Hermione gasped.

"I can't believe it!" Mel flopped on the armrest, completely devastated. "Poor Buckbeak, poor Hagrid!"

Harry arrived at that moment, he was breathing harshly, for some reason he'd run all the way over to the tower.

"Professor Trelawney," He gasped, "just told me—"

But he stopped once he noticed their expressions.

"Buckbeak lost," Ron sounded deeply affected. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Harry took the note and read quickly, his face fell.

"We've got to go," He said. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," Ron looked out the window. "We'd never be allowed... 'specially you, Harry..."

Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"If we only had the Invisibility Cloak..."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

"Under the one-eyed witch– there's a passageway, but if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble."

"That's true, if he sees you..." She quietly got up. "How do you open the witch's hump again?"

"You — you tap it and say, 'Dissendium,' " said Harry. "But —"

Hermione held Mel's wrist and dragged her out of the common room.

"All right– Sure, I'll help," She said with amusement. "Are we seriously going to get Harry's cloak?"

"Shhh!" Hermione replied. "We ought to be with Hagrid, he needs us!"

"Merlin," Mel continued, jumping lightly. "Why so eager to break the rules, Miss Granger?"

"I'm not trying to break anything," She scoffed. "But they have been terribly injust to Hagrid, the least we can do is be there, besides I remember someone telling me I could do both, relax and be the best student?"

"That's true," She grinned. "You're a fast learner."

"Oh, bugger off," Hermione blushed.

Ten minutes later they found themselves standing in front of the witch. Mel kept an eye on the hall for any unwelcomed visitors while Hermione entered the passageway and quietly retrieved the cloak.

"All done?"

"The cloak's safe," Hermione grunted, cleaning the dust off her hands as she stepped out of the statue.

"Cool, let's go!" She turned around only to see Faustus and another Slytherin boy coming their way. "Oh no! – Go back, go back!"

"Look!" She heard an unfamiliar voice say. "It's the nutt-head!"

"And the Know-it-all," Faustus replied with a nasty smirk. "Alone."

"Unlike you, we don't need to be guarded," Mel frowned. "Leave us alone–"

"We don't enjoy the company of scumb," He sneered. "But we got matters to attend with you..."

She heard Hermione gulped next to her, but both girls (tiny compared to the boys' height and size) stood their ground.

"What?"

"You haven't apologized."

"Oh, sod off! Your friend didn't care, you're just looking for an excuse. Now, if that's the best your bird-brain can do, we've more important things to–"

"You're staying," The other boy pulled out his wand.

Mel felt her blood run cold, she had forgotten her wand back in the tower and she wasn't allowed to used wandless magic at all. Hermione raised hers, but against two older Slytherin... they had very slim chances to get out of there unharmed. That, until Erick appeared around the corner the Slytherins had come from.

"Griffin," He frowned, not noticing who were they talking to. "Isn't it a bit late to be tormenting first yea–"

His eyes landed on Mel and Hermione, he stopped four feet behind his housemates. His eyebrows raised ever so lightly, as if his interest had increased, but barely.

"Hello?" He looked at the boys. "Are you guys planning a double date?"

His voice sounded casual and controlled, the other two boys snickered at this.

"We found them here on their own, thought you might appreciate to get a proper apology out of this nut-head's mouth," The boy, who now Mel knew as Griffin, explained.

Erick's eyebrows fell into a frown.

"Apologize?"

"She crashed into you the first day of school, remember?" Faustus made a face. "That Potter tried to fight you because of it."

"If my memory doesn't fail me, he was trying to fight you, not me."

"All the same, we have them cornered!"

"We're standing in the middle of a hall," He stated.

"You want payback or not?" Griffin spat.

"I don't," Erick tilted his head, his frown never leaving his expression. "Are you twelve? I couldn't care less about what a pair of Gryffindor girls did to me by accident months ago."

Faustus' eyes widened, he wasn't expecting that reaction.

"But– She's... She's the Dumbledore girl."

"Yeah, and you're the Gibbon boy," He raised a brow. "Griffin is a Singh boy– I'll say it again, I don't care who she is, I won't risk my Prefect badge just because you're bloody bored, Faustus. Let. Them. Go."

Faustus and Griffin lowered their wands, grumbling and walking past them, pushing harshly on Hermione's shoulder. Mel held her in place.

Erick stayed behind. He seemed to be struggling between asking them if they were fine or just walking away. Mel was about to talk when Griffin yelled from the other side of the hall.

"Flint, what're you doing?"

Erick jumped lightly, his frown increasing as he looked over to the boys.

"Nothing! – Just checking you didn't do anything stupid like hurting the Headmaster's grandaughter!–"

"Niece..." Mel grumbled.

"I know," Erick whispered without looking at her, his frown never disappearing.

He left after that, hurrying to catch up with his housemates. The girls stood there in stunned silence until Mel turned to Hermione.

"Was that enough proof of his loyalty?"

"Please," Hermione huffed, starting to walk towards their tower. "I don't doubt him since our last session– No person would sit for hours and weeks to hear us talk about how muggles' lives just to hurt someone. I'm yet to find out why he needs to know all that, though..."

"You can ask him later, if he trusts you he'll tell you," Mel shrugged. "But see? He's a good boy! He wasn't hiding anything!"

"What about you?" Hermione asked while walking through the tapestry.

"What about me?" She frowned

"I don't worry about Erick's loyalty, but I worry about yours..."

"What?" Mel laughed. "What are you saying?"

"You haven't told Harry about Erick," She retorted. "You promised months ago, but you haven't. You don't trust Erick enough to let him meet Harry, or you don't trust Harry– I don't know which one's worse."

"That's not it," Mel replied calmly, though she could feel her heartbeat racing. "I trust them, I just..."

Hermione didn't pressure her to speak, she waited until they were climbing the stairs towards the Fat Lady.

"They'll get upset– It's been three years, I promised I'd keep our friendship a secret and then I go out of my way to tell you– it's not fair to hide things from my best friend, and it's not fair to talk without Erick's consent either..."

They walked into the common room concluding their discussion, Hermione handed the cloak back to Harry, Ron was beyond amazed.

"Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you lately! First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney —"

"Best Gryffindor in our year," Mel smirked, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @reverse-hxlland​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @tomshollandz​ 

[haiky-u-lously]

King Kuroo and the Red Knights (1)

Summary: A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader. 

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings: Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Eventual gore and fighting

Word Count: For Chapter: ~1800words 

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always. Enjoy! --Admin Red

Chapter 1: Preamble

The King sat upon his throne, regal in his attire but the entire kingdom knew by now how much time he spent to make sure his hair looked nice and kept. The crown surrounding the dark locks did not help the material weaved in to hold the hair in place, since the additional weight liked to move even the smallest strand which would of course affect the others.

King Kuroo’s golden eyes roamed over the documents an aide had just given him as he thought about what his next goal should be. 

He had finally managed to unite the territories surrounding Camelot and with his knights assistance, ruling the kingdom had become a breeze. Especially considering how disastrous his first few weeks as King had been. Thinking about that period, he realized that without his wife and best friends he would never have made it to a point where true peace prospered in his kingdom. He smiled to himself as he decided to treat them to a nice banquet to show how much he still appreciated them being in his life.

Finished thinking about his own life and immediate future, Kuroo reread the parchment in his hands, his eyes bulging as the words and their meaning connected in his mind.

Shooting up from his seated position, he threw his arms out and yelled towards the courier, “Does this parchment speak the truth?”

The plain looking man bowed deeply before affirming, explaining that he was told the letter contained urgent business for the King.

Once confirmed, Kuroo jumped in joy. “Futa!” He turned to his right hand man, and excitedly explained, “The Red Knights are coming to Camelot!”

Futakuchi’s eyes bulged in surprise at the King’s announcement. “No way…” He whispered as he recalled the stories of the Red Knights from sneaking around the castle’s library. “But, no one has heard of the Red Knights since they came and rejected your father’s rule 5 years into his term. Are you sure this isn’t some trick by some other nation?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes at Futakuchi’s comment, returning his gaze to the letter and a grin over taking his face once more. “I’m sure. My father had told me all the stories of the red knights, including what his letter said to prove it was them. This one says the same thing.” He jumped and squeezed the parchment between his hands. “Ah! This is so exciting! I actually get to meet the Red Knights! And! If they approve of my rule, we know this peaceful period will last! Don’t you understand how magnificent this is, Futa?”

Still skeptical, the retainer asked to read the letter himself, “My lord, at least let me read the letter myself. To confirm your words and to double check no spells were cast onto the parchment. I mean we wouldn’t want you to be blind sided because you were too busy acting like a drumstick to take necessary precautions with something this...big.”

The look Kuroo sent him caused Futakuchi to bend over in laughter.

“Did you just call me a drumstick?” He asked evenly.

Futakuchi just smiled, “Well I didn’t compliment you, that’s for sure.”

“Why, you little!” Kuroo yelled as he stepped and then chased after his friend. The pair racing around the throne room until the King gave up and popped back into his seat, “Now look what you did. My hair is all messed up again. Yuurei is going to be so upset.”

“Ah, let her.” Futakuchi said without missing a beat, as he walked up to and grabbed the letter from his King. He read over the words scribbled down and smiled to himself, “It seems you aren’t a complete plothole, your highness. The Red Knights really are sending a representative to Camelot.” He continued reading and then his eyes shot out again and his face took on a serious look. “They are going to be here in a week’s time? What the heck! Did they head out the day after sending this letter? That’s so little warning!” He complained, imagining all the work Kuroo was going to make him do.

Kuroo laughed wholeheartedly. “Well, father only got 3 days notice, so we are lucky in that regard. Oh! Futa! We have to recall the knights! Everyone should be here for this momentous occasion.”

As he straightened his posture, he motioned to the courier to give him the next letter.

“Yea sure, let me just track down eleven grown men and figure out how to not only contact them but get them here within the span of a week. That isn’t an impossible task at all.” Futakuchi sassed back.

Kuroo nodded his head absently, not having really listened to his friend, “Great, knew I could count on you. Good luck.”

Futakuchi rolled his eyes for good measure and left the room to get to his new task.

_____________________________________________________

“Oh!” A voice exclaimed with a high pitch. “Futakuchi, I am surprised to see you on this side of the castle. Are you not reviewing letters with Kuroo today?” Lady Yuurei inquired of him.

He smiled back at her, “Actually, his highness is still doing just that. But he sent me on a different task for today. Actually, Yuurei, do you know where I can send a message to any of the other Knights? My current task is to call everyone back to the castle, but as you know, many of the knights like to run off at the worst possible times.”

She laughed at Futakuchi’s assessment of the men tasked with the highest responsibilities in the kingdom, but shook her head in the negative. “Though that makes sense why you would be here. Looking for Sir Bokuto I would assume?”

Futakuchi nodded simply.

“Very well, best of luck meeting his Highness’ standards this time around Futa.”

“Thank you, Lady Yuurei.” As soon as he turned away from her, his smile fell and he mumbled to himself about what a two-faced person she ended up being. She’d been so different when he first met her, so caring...and then she had to go and cheat on his best friend with the man he owed his life to. Futakuchi knew that Kuroo would wilt away into nothing if he found out about Yuurei and Bokuto. Especially in a time when there wasn’t much else to occupy his mind.

He also knew how much Bokuto regretted the affair. And, how many times he’d asked the wizard for potions to make the Queen forget her feelings so he didn’t hurt his best friend. No, Futakuchi didn’t blame Bokuto for the relationship because he had done all within his power to avoid the Queen. Well, all except tell the King himself.

He was still a Knight, Futakuchi reminded himself. He was still liable to following the King and Queen’s orders, no matter how for or against them he was.

Yea, Futakuchi couldn’t hold it against him. Even though he really really wanted to.

Finally in front of the man’s room on the emptiest part of the castle, he knocked twice before letting himself enter. “Sir Bokuto. I need your assistance if you are free.” Looking around the room as soon as he entered, Futakuchi expected to see the Knight. He was surprised to see him climbing out of the dresser after his name had been called. “Sir Bokuto?”

“Thank the gods it was you, Futa.” He sighed in relief, glancing around the wizard’s form still looking scared despite his tone, and shut the room door. He leaned against it as he visibly relaxed. “Seriously, I am glad to see you my friend. Did you finish that new potion yet?”

His voice was hopeful and Futakuchi hated to let him down, but he hadn’t finished it yet. “Sorry, but no. Since she was immune to the others we tried, I’ve had to research a lot more to try and find something new, but haven’t yet felt I’ve stumbled upon something useful.” The brunet patted the shoulders of the salt-and-pepper-haired male before him. “But hang in there! You moved to the other side of the castle, so at the very least it is harder to find excuses to come this far out, right?” He tried to keep the Knight happy.

“Yes, but on days when you and the King are locked away dealing with documents of some sort of other for hours at a time, she loses her guards and comes here anyway. I’m fairly certain she thinks I did this so we could be even more private and that is absolutely terrifying. Because if Kuroo ever finds out, he could have the same idea and—!” He started to ramble before being cut off.

Futakuchi held his hand over Bokuto’s mouth, a deep frown over his face and determination set in his eyes. “I promise to you, on my life, I will make sure that if the King ever finds out the only person that gets blamed is the Queen herself. That all your struggles are known. Understood?”

With nothing left for him to say, Bokuto simply nodded.

The brunet dropped his hand, and grinned. “Now, for what I need help with.” His smile grew as  wide as his level of anticipation at sharing the news with the first Knight of the roundtable. “The Red Knights are coming to Camelot, and the king wants the entire council to be here. So, want to help me contact everyone and get them here in a week's time? It’ll be fun and you’ll have a work excuse to come find me anytime to help escape Yuurei’s clutches.”

Understanding exactly what it meant for the Red Knights to be visiting now, Bokuto was more than excited. “The red Knights are really coming to Camelot?”

Futakuchi just kept his wide grin, and said, “Yes.”

“YES! Yes! Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed so loud it scared the birds hanging out on the trees outside his windows. “Kuroo must be so excited! Of course! I’ll help in any way I can! Futa! The Red Knights are coming to Camelot!!”

Unbeknownst to the two males hidden away in bedchambers, walking the hall at that moment was Prince Daishou, second hair to the throne of Camelot, and dark magic practitioner.

“The Red Knights are coming to Camelot, huh?” He whisper-repeated to himself. Crafting a message to his allies hidden in the forest outside King Kuroo’s ruling hand. ‘Oikawa, the Red Knights are to visit Camelot soon. Perhaps we can use this as a chance to overthrow his idiocracy and take charge of the kingdom that rightfully belongs to us’. Once he finished, the author blew the fire-written message out, causing it to disappear into the air, on its way to the intended target with the breeze.

Table of contents                                                                            Chapter 2

[luthien-t]

The Sun Will Shine. (Chapter Three)

Summary: Thanos invaded the asgardians ship & Thor called for back up. Being a liable paramedic, you gather your tools and went to space. You end up being injured during battle but Thanos was defeated, what will you do when you find out your lover, Loki suffered more than just a few battle scars? But then again, no one is ever really gone.

Chapter Summary: Summary: You tell your teammates about your plans and proceed to find a place to begin your search for Loki

Wordcount: 2.0+K

A/N: Hiii, I finally got out of writers block and was able to write something, Im not very proud of this chapter but I dont want to stop writing it oop, tell me what you think!! I also want to organise my account and make a masterlist but im not sure when will i do that oop, anyways, Enjoy reading this!!

Morning came and you slowly walked towards the kitchen shared in the tower, everyone was here, except Thor. You sigh quietly, remembering yesterdays conversation you had with him. Everyone was busy with their own breakfast and coffee, Tony was reading his notepad, Natasha was making pancakes, Wanda was helping Steve wash the dishes.

“Good morning, y/n!” Bucky smiled softly & you smiled back to him before sitting down on the chair next to him, playing with the hem of your hoodie. You knew you had to say it, you just didn’t know how, Hey, guys I’ve decided to leave the compound cause I will be looking for Loki cause he’s not dead!! As if thats easy to say.

You run a hand through your hair as you noticed that everyone stopped whatever they were doing and was looking at you, that was when you realised that you had said those words out loud.

“I’m sorry, what??” Tony said. 

“What do you mean what?” You sit back on the chair and cross your arms. Even if you didn’t mean to say it out loud, that doesn’t mean you weren’t not going to do it.

“y/n. I thought we talked about this?” Wanda chimes in. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Talked about this?!” Tony starts, his voice going an octave higher in the end. “When did this happen?!” He looks at you waving his hands around, emphasising this and you shrug. “Last night.” You look up at him and continue. “I found a journal between my books and the more I read into the english words the more I realised that Loki not…” You shrug again. “You know..” 

 “Wait, english words?” He sits down in the chair in front of you and crosses his arm on top of the table. “So, you’re telling me? Dead reindeer games had a journal full of different languages for you to find him?” You shut your eyes at the new nickname he has for Loki, sure Tony always disliked Loki, wether it was because of New York, which was years ago, or just because he was always messing around with Tony. Well, Loki never cared about being on Tonys good side and that always bothered him, but for him to just simply mention Loki with the word dead in the same sentence, it caused your heart to ache. 

 “He is not dead!” You got out of your chair and looked down at Tony before sighing and running a hand through your hair. “Look, all I’m asking for is a little bit of help, we have nothing else to do now that Thanos is gone.” Everyone in the kitchen was looking at you both, it was getting quite and you looked at everyone while they avoided your eyes, you chuckle softly and nod before walking out of the kitchen and back to your room. 

How could they refuse to help you when all you ever done to them was nothing but help them, you grabbed your bags not bothering to change your pyjamas and wore your shoes when you heard a knock on the door, you ignored it and kept grabbing any necessity you might need in the future. 

“Let me see the journal.” It was Tony, you shook your head and went into the closet pretending to pack but only to hide the fact that you were tearing up.

He sighs “Y/n, I’m sorry for the way I reacted in the kitchen, you know that I am just looking out for you and I don't want you to be in denial, I know that you’re hurt-“

You walked out of the closet and handed him the journal. “Here, go ahead, tell me I’m going crazy.” Your voice broke and tears keeping piling in your eyes. He looked at you and frowned before pulling you into a tight hug. You barely had the energy to hug him back but your body kept shaking with the sobs that you have been trying to hold inside of you. He kept repeating how sorry he was for how he reacted but it didn’t matter, it did not change the fact that he might be right. 

You stood there for a few minutes before pulling away and turning around to wipe your tears, he gave you the privacy that you needed while looking through the journal. You heard him sigh. “Y/n, I’m sorry but- none of this make any sense, not even the english. He was just messing with you,”  was…You turn around and look at him, anger flashes through your eyes for quick second. 

“He is.” You say before taking the book from him and putting it in your bag. 

“Look, Tony, thank you for somewhat trying” You sniff and zip the bag closed. “But I’m starting to feel like I have to do this on my own.” You sigh loudly and look up at him, biting your lips to stop yourself from crying. He frowns and nod slightly. “I really am sorry.” He says quietly while watching you carry your bags. He wants to stop you from leaving, “Give yourself time to heal, at least, maybe we can watch a movie? Take the week off? Like you said, we have nothing to do now that Thanos is gone.” He chuckles, tying to lighten up the mood. He still believes that Loki is really gone and he doesn’t want to see you drown in a make-believe world where Loki isn’t actually gone. You continue to ignore him as you zip the rest of the bags and he sighs.

“Look-“ He looks at your bags and then back at you. “Where will you go?” He says as he grab one of your bags for you, If he can’t give you the information that you are looking for, he will at least try to show you the he wants to be there for you. 

“Some apartment.” A short answer. He nods again, you want to tell him where but then that will mean he or anyone from the team will slow you down or try to bring you back to the tower. 

“Do you need a car?” You shake your head and walk towards the elevator, Natasha sees you and notices the bag, she gets up to protest but Tony stops her with a raise of his hand before pressing on the elevators button, when the elevator arrives you take the bag from him and get inside. You smile softly at him before looking behind him to find Natasha and Sam and smile again, tears start gathering in your eyes again and you look back at Tony before the elevator door closes and thank him. 

You can hear Natasha yelling at Tony the second the door completely shut and her voice slowly fades away as the elevator descends to the ground floor. 

You are thankful that Tony did not press for more information and that he did not ask you to stay, you know the rest of the team are going to go against him for letting you leave so easily, but that did not matter to you, the only person that ever truly mattered to you was Loki. I mean, you loved every single person on the team with you, but Loki is different, it always has been, since the beginning. 

“Lady y/n!” You saw Thor practically running toward you while carrying his brother. You dropped the file of the patient in front of you and ran towards him while the other nurses pushed a hospital bed towards Thor and his unconscious brother. “What happened?” You said as you helped him lay Loki on the bed. You checked his pressure and started inspecting his body for any injury. 

The past couple of months since your first encounter with Loki, you learnt that Odins punishment for what he did to New York was to live in New York and do good to equal the bad he had done in the past. You also grew closer, your night shifts in the Med-bay also grew more interesting with Loki there to entertain you, you two would talk forever, but would also sit in silence forever, there was this invisible sheet of comfort around you two no matter what the situation was. With each passing day, your feelings towards him grew stronger. So, seeing him unconscious on the hospital bed worried you. 

“We were practising in the training room and I might have attacked him too hard” Thor said as he looked down at Loki. “So I knew I had to get help.” He continued as a smile slowly grew on his face, he might have noticed the bewildered look on your face because he chuckled and patted Loki on the chest before leaving. You shook your head with confusion and grabbed the oxygen mask, so focused on your craft, you didn’t see Loki opening his eyes and grabbing your wrist. “Jeez!” You yelped and pulled your wrist from his grip. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” You looked down at him, he smirked at you before opening his mouth. “Well he did get help.” He chuckled and sat up. 

“Get help?! What game are you playing?” You looked at him with furrowed brows. He chuckled again, which only added more to your confusion. He noticed and grabbed the oxygen mask from your hands and crossed his legs. 

“Well, he kept asking me questions about us and felt the need to help us by getting me to do get help with him. I didn’t mean to cause any distractions” He looked around the med-bay then back at you. 

“Were you worried about me?” He smirked this time. Your eyes widen slightly and you grabbed the mask from his hands to put it back where it was, giggling nervously. “Of course I was worried, Loks”

Everything he just said kept repeating in your head and causing more confusion. 

“What is going, Loki? What do you mean by us? There is no us.” You say as you start tidying up the area around you to distract you from whatever joke he is about to say. 

“That is what I told him, he knows how I feel about mortals” He chuckled and jumped off the bed and walked towards you.

Right, you’re a mortal, how could you forget? He is a literal god, your feelings towards him will never change the fact that he only sees you as a ‘mortal’. Distracted by your own thoughts you didn’t see him standing behind you, waiting for you to notice, you swallow hard and turn around to face him.

There was a look on his face, like he knew something you didn’t. That look always captivated you, making you want to know more about him. 

“But…” He looked down at you and messed with the buttons on your lab coat.

“But…?” You repeated his word back to him, earning a chuckle from him.

“But you’re not that kind of mortal to me, your soul is no mortal, your eyes have seen more from this world and your spirit speaks to me like it has been here longer than you have. When I speak of your kind, I don’t think of you like I think of them.” He smiled.

“Loki, I’m- I don’t understand-“

“You foolish mortal, I wish that you could understand what you do to me. I wish you could see how everyone thinks that there is an ‘us’” He whispered to you and slowly leaned his forehead against yours. 

“But I thought-“ 

“You thought, wrong.” His eyes flickered down to your lips and that was when you understood what he meant by ‘get help’, you took his quick glances at your lips as a hint and kissed him. And ever since that day, you two have become more inseparable.

Distracted by your own memories, your feet lead you to where you are now, standing in front of a wooden door. You take a deep breath and knock on it. you wait a couple more seconds and the door opened.

“Y/n L/n.” He said as he smiled gently to you.

“Hello, Strange” You smile back to him as he moved aside to let you in. 

[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.19

Somewhere In The Forest. (After travelling through the night and getting completely lost, Richard decides to lighten Henry’s mood.) Richard: “Psst! Psst! Psst! Henry. Henry! Henry, wake up. (Tapping his chest while leaning over him:) H-Henry! Wake up! I have incredible news!” Henry: “Ugh! Is that news that you've misplaced your toothbrush?” Richard: (Laughs:) “Zinger! No. No, you know how we're lost and if we keep heading into the land of the Giants we’re liable to be trampled to death?” Henry: (Sighs:) “Yes, we discussed it last night in great detail.” Richard: “Well, I have someone here who wants to lay all your fears to rest.” Henry: (Yawns:) “All right, but it better not be that pathetic excuse for a dragon.” Richard: (Turns holding said dragon in his hands:) “Can you believe it? Imagine how our foes will run in terror! What do you think?” Henry: “I think you're a complete idiot. (Throws off his blanket, stands and begins to walk away:) You do realize that I’m further away from joining up with Ella than I was when I started?” Richard: “Well... Hey, where you going?” Henry: “To find Ella... Without you.” Richard: “What? Why?” Henry: “Because I am done. I am done cleaning up your mess. I am done telling you that it's not your fault, because... news flash, Richard... it is your fault. I'm done with your weakness, with your whining, but most of all, I am done with you!” Richard: “Okay. I admit, I'm on a bit of an unlucky streak, but I am destined for great things. You'll see.” Henry: “You have about as much chance of great things as that lizard does of breathing fire.” Richard: “It's a dragon, and it can breathe fire. Show him, Tad Cooper! (Lifts him up:) Show him. Come on. Well clearly you make him nervous.” Henry: “The perfect pair... A dragon that isn't a dragon... And a king that isn't a king.” (Henry walks away.) Richard: “Well, I am done with you, too!”

Storybrooke. Town Line. (While Emma and Regina put up a protection spell at the town line, David concludes his phone call.) David: "That was Kristoff. He, Anna and Elsa are just leaving with a small delegation for Camelot." Mulan: "I understand how Elsa is feeling, but walking into Camelot without a plan is madness."

Ruby: "Elsa has a lot of experience with not showing her feelings. Her plan is to enter Camelot gracefully in order to get Lily and Maleficent out, gracefully." Regina: "That will never work. Are we forgetting about when Elsa first came to Storybrooke? She ended up freezing half the town because she couldn't keep her emotions in check. The sight of Lily being held behind bars is likely to cause Elsa to spiral out of control and send Camelot into a new ice age." Emma: (Considers:) "That might help Morgana and Morgause cool off for awhile." Regina: (Chuckles:) "That was terrible." Emma: (Smiles:) "I know." David: (Agitated:) "You know what, I don't think you realise the gravity of the situation here.” Snow White: “David...” David: “The Queen of Camelot has put a bounty on my daughter's head. Not only that, but it appears that she's kidnapped Maleficent and Lily in an attempt to persuade Emma to turn herself in. So you’ll excuse me if I don't happen to think that this is a laughing matter." Regina: "And you think I do? You think I enjoy the fact my wife is being hunted? Or that there's some rogue knight with magical powers out there waiting to strike and I have no way of finding him? It's been tearing me up since I first heard about the bounty in Neverland. So don't you dare lecture me on how I should feel when you're the one who let Mordred go on two separate occasions!" Emma: "All right, look, the protection spell is up so that means no one is coming in or out of Storybrooke. If we want to catch this Mordred guy, we're going to have to work together. Now I know Hook and Rumple are out looking east and Ruby and Mulan have volunteered to start searching west, which leaves the town and suburban areas. So I say we all head back to town and try to live our lives as best we can for now." Regina: "Agreed." (They break up. Mulan and Ruby heading to the woods while Emma and Regina walk back to Emma's bug. Now alone, Snow pulls David aside to talk.) Snow White: "David, you have got to calm down. You can't go having shouting matches with Regina every five minutes." David: (Sighs:) "I know, but I just feel like this time things might not turn out the way we hope. No matter what she says, Morgana is out for blood. If she has any chance of winning over her people, she has to look strong. And I'm terrified of what that'll mean for Emma." Snow White: "We won't let that happen." David: (Nods:) “I know we’ll try, and I will fight with my very last breath to prevent anything from happening to my daughter. But I gotta wonder how many more chances we have left until our luck runs out."

Wonderland. (Ella and Lizard walk together down the winding road.) Ella: "You're not helping me find Will for repayment of a financial debt, are you?” Lizard: (Stops walking and removes her hat. Shrugging:) “I was on the streets. He took me in, gave me a place to sleep. Taught me everything I know.” Ella: “Well, sorry to hear that.” Lizard: (Laughs:) “Come on, I know he can be difficult, but his heart's in the right place.” Ella: “Sounds like you two were close friends. Unless wait, were you two...” Lizard: “No. Uh, no. I mean... that would never... Will and I we just ran together. You know, stealing. Sometimes for the Caterpillar, and sometimes just for fun.” Ella: “You'd rob people for fun?” Lizard: “Will kind of went through a dark period after the whole Alice in the tower thing. So how do you know Will?” Ella: “Oh, he’s helping me find my mother.” Lizard: “Your mother?” Ella: “Yes, she fled to Wonderland a long time ago. Given his experiences here I thought Will would be the perfect guide but, well, we’ve had some interesting diversions along the way.” Lizard: “Speaking of diversions, we might not know where Will is right now, but if you’re interested, I might know someone who could help you find your mom?” Ella: “Who?” Lizard: “Well, she’s sort of an Oracle. She uses these crystals and... (At Ella’s sceptical look:) yeah I know, but it could be worth a shot?” Ella: (Considers:) “How far from here is this Oracle, because Will did say we’d meet back up at Tulgey Woods?” Lizard: “Oh, well that’s perfect, it’s right on the way. So, what do you say?” Ella: “All right, you’re on.” Storybrooke. Zelena's Farmhouse. (While Zelena dotes on Maria, Regina and Emma smile at each other.) Emma: "Thanks for looking after her, Zelena. We kinda needed our hands free while putting the protection spell around the entire town." Zelena: (Replying to Emma, but speaking to Maria:) "Oh we didn't mind at all now, did we? No, we didn't." (Emma and Regina exchange looks, Emma motions towards the baby and Regina shakes her head.) Emma: (Sighs, awkwardly:) "So, um, thanks again and we'll just take her and be out of your hair." Zelena: (Finally looking up:) "Oh, so soon? It seems I hardly get to see my niece much anymore." Regina: "Well we just figured with you helping Robin out at the bar and any alone time you wish to spend with Robin Hood..." Emma: "We didn't want to impose." Zelena: "It's no trouble at all. I can take her all day if you'd like?" Emma: "Well..." Zelena: "It's just so hard sometimes, thinking about all those years I missed out on with Robin. Between Gothel's aging spell and... that unfortunate incident with some enchanted onion rings... I feel as though my time spent with Maria gives me at least a glimpse at what those precious years of motherhood could have been like." (Running her tongue across her lips to stifle a smile, Regina looks up at Emma, who realises she's being played.) Emma: "I... if you think it wouldn't be too much trouble..." Zelena: (Her attention already focused on Maria:) "I'll have her back before dark." (Under the distinct impression that they've just been dismissed, Emma and Regina make their farewells and leave the farmhouse.) Sheriff's Station. (Sitting with his feet up on one of the desks, Rumplestiltskin watches as Hook paces angrily up and down.) Rumplestiltskin: "You'll wear a hole in the floor, you know." Hook: "That's the problem! I don't know anything. I don't know if my wife and daughter are alive or dead!" Rumplestiltskin: "I understand how you're feeling. When the Jabberwocky took Belle and Gideon from me, it was all I could do not to lose my mind. But we must be patient." Hook: "Patience is not something I'm used to. Action has always been my answer." Rumplestiltskin: "Well it can't be now. At least not yet. Despite the fact that we would be crushed if we attempted to go up against Camelot's army, we don't know what capabilities Morgana and Morgause have."

Hook: "Emma and Regina can tackle any magical force that comes their way." Rumplestiltskin: "Not necessarily. Don't get me wrong, their combined magic is stronger than any I've encountered. It is far more powerful than even the Darkness could've hoped to be. But these two women, they have honed their magical craft under the Old Religion." Hook: "So?" Rumplestiltskin: "There is a reason I stayed away from Camelot all those years. The Old Religion encapsulates the entire history of magic, light and dark. It goes back even further than Merlin's time. Without truly knowing what we'd be up against, I'm afraid caution is the only correct course of action we have available to us right now." Walking Through The Forest. (Still angry about his fight with Henry, Richard trudges through the forest talking to his pet dragon.) Richard: "You can't do anything right, Richard. Everything's a disaster, Richard. You've ruined my life, Richard. That's not a real dragon, Richard. Well, you know what? Henry may not believe in you, but I do. I super believe in you, Tad Cooper. ♪ Hey, little fella, I know just what you're thinkin' ♪ ♪ Nobody gets you or sees what you could be ♪ (He walks through a field to the bewilderment of several sheep:) ♪ But pluck up your courage and turn that frown up ♪ ♪ Soon we will eat this entire town up ♪ ♪ Then they'll believe in my dragon pal and me ♪ (Richard and Tad Cooper now sitting upon a tree swing:) ♪ That's right, little fella ♪ ♪ We'll leave those doubters blinkin' ♪ ♪ We're gonna show 'em a thing or two or three ♪ (Richard now spinning in circles as he sings:) ♪ Imagine the wonder that we'll inspire ♪ ♪ When we are setting their heads on fire ♪ ♪ Then we'll be even, my dragon pal and me ♪ (Crossing a bridge, letting the dragon feel the wind blow through its... scales:) ♪ We'll rise up ♪ ♪ And open their eyes up ♪ ♪ We'll light the skies up ♪ (Back on the tree swing:) ♪ And rain destruction and death on their wives and kids ♪ (Mimicking an attack on a village:) Raar! Raar! Aah! ♪ So, when, little fella, you feel your heart is sinkin' ♪ ♪ Just you remember, one day, we'll make them see ♪ ♪ And when they are watching, completely flipped out ♪ ♪ As their intestines are being ripped out ♪ ♪ They'll all look up to us, then I guarantee ♪ (More spinning in a field:) ♪ Then they'll believe in my dragon pal and me ♪ ♪ Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo doo doo doo ♪ ♪ Then they'll believe in me ♪ ♪ They'll believe in...Me ♪ (Richard collapses contentedly onto the ground, Tad Cooper clutched against his chest, when a group of men surround him with clubs:) I must warn you... I have a dragon.”

Storybrooke. Goldilocks' Gym. (Rather than sit and do nothing, Regina and Emma decide to work up a sweat at the local gymnasium. Having sparred with Gabrielle and outrun Tinker Bell on the treadmill, Emma searches for her wife. Wandering to the back of the gym where the private rooms are located, Emma glances through each window before finally finding Regina. Entering the room, she finds the brunette doing stretches while wearing a blue leotard.) Regina: (Smiling over her shoulder:) "Good workout, dear?" Emma: (Taking a seat on the floor, wincing:) "I'm definitely gonna feel it tomorrow. (Watches as Regina continues stretching:) So this is what you've been doing, warming up?" Regina: (Chuckles:) "There's slightly more to it than that. I haven't done these kind of stretches in years." Emma: (Leaning back on her hands:) "Well don't let me stop you, I'm loving the view." (Wordlessly, Regina turns to her and, placing her hands beneath her chin in an innocent pose, begins to sink to the floor. When her elbows finally touch the ground, Regina enjoys the expression on Emma's face.) Regina: "I can't tell what's wider, your eyes or my legs." Xena: (Standing in the doorway:) "That's not so hard." Regina: (Lifting her eyebrow:) "Oh really? (Swings her leg beneath her and somehow manages to spin around into a standing position:) Care to try it?" Gabrielle: (Arriving, towel in hand:) "Xena, don't you dare." Xena: (Confidently:) "I've got this, Gabrielle." Gabrielle: "No, Xena. Don't-" (But before anyone can stop her, Xena lets out a yell, flips in midair into a somersault and lands, split legged on the floor. Emma places her hands over her ears at the thudding sound, Gabrielle covers her eyes, unable to watch and Regina covers her mouth, to stifle her snigger of laughter. With her eyes now wider than Emma's were a moment ago, Xena remains in her prone position, incapable of movement, mouth agape. After a brief moment of uncertainty, the three spectators converge upon Xena, each helping the famed warrior princess up from the floor.) Forest. (While looking at a map, Henry walks through the forest and trips over something, landing in the dirt.) Andre: (His voice echoing through the woods:) “Who goes there?” Henry: (Staring up at the men stood at the top of a steep hill:) “Oh, goodness. Giants.” Andre: “State your business, wee man.” Henry: “I'm Henry. I’m completely lost and need to find my fiancee. (They stare down at him, unmoved by his plight:) You know, I'm told your people are among the fiercest warriors in the land.” Andre: “Among? We are Giants, with fists the size of pumpkins.” Henry: “Pumpkins, good.” Andre: “And heads so big, they blot out the sun.” Henry: “Perfect.” Andre: “We love a good war. Don't we, fellas?” Other Giants: “Yeah!” Andre: “Hush! Titan, Colossus, pull him out of there!” (A giant reaches down and offers his hand, pulling Henry out of the mud.)

Henry: “This is great. Thank you so much. Hi. Henry. I'm... Hello. (He looks around, now towering over the giants:) I'm so sorry. Aren't you supposed to be...Taller? I mean, not to be rude, but you did say that your heads blocked out the sun.” Andre: “Yes, they do block out the sun. You've got to catch it at the right angle. Sorry. Can I, uh, just... Here? Uh...There. Complete darkness.” Henry: “Mm. Are you sure that you're giants?” Andre: “Of course we are giants. Just very short giants is all.” Titan: “Fee fie fo fum.” Andre: “Yeah. Well said, Titan. We will join you on your quest... On one condition.” Henry: “I’m quite certain I didn’t ask, but yeah. Go on.” Andre: “You must prove your loyalty by helping us fight our most hated enemy... The Dwarves!” Giants: “Yeah!” Titan: “Stinkin', tiny, awful, high-pitched-voiced Dwarves.” Andre: “Right again, Titan. Tonight, we meet to set the rules of battle, and tomorrow, we fight. So, what do you say? It shouldn't take long. They're only very small. (The giants laugh:) Stop laughing!” Henry: (Takes a breath:) “Yeah. Why not? I'm desperate. Let's do this.” (The giants all cheer.) Camelot. Dining Room. (After a formal greeting between the two Queens, witnessed by courtiers and common people alike, Morgana and Elsa share dinner together alone.) Morgana: "I can't tell you how much it means to me to have Arendelle's support in this troublesome time." Elsa: "Of course. Camelot is a treasured ally." Morgana: "Even so, I realise Guinevere's abdication must have come as a shock?" Elsa: "From my conversations with her, I never had the impression that Guinevere truly embraced her position as queen. She, much like myself, was thrust into the role after the tragic death of a loved one. For me, my parents, for Guinevere, her husband. Your brother." Morgana: "Indeed, but you seem well suited to the role now." Elsa: (Smiles:) "I have my moments." Morgana: "Don't we all. Thank you, by the way. For referring to my brother's death as tragic. Others I've spoken to remember him as a cold and callous ruler." Elsa: "I couldn't comment, we never met." Morgana: "Others say his death was justified, and that Emma Swan was acting in self defense." Elsa: "Again, I couldn't possibly-" Morgana: "You are friends with Emma, are you not?" Elsa: "Yes, I-" Morgana: "Close friends, would you say?" Elsa: "For a time, we were very close, yes." Morgana: "Was that before or after she became the Dark One and killed my brother?" Elsa: "I don't know what you're trying to imply but-" Morgana: "I'm merely asking if you are still friends with the woman who killed this nation's King and refuses to stand trial for that crime under Camelot law." Elsa: "From what I understand, your majesty, Arthur not only threatened Emma directly, but also her family. (Sitting a little higher in her seat:) And frankly, if you want my honest opinion, yes, your brother did deserve exactly what he got. If it had been me, I might've done the exact same thing." Morgana: (Smiles:) "There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Elsa: "Excuse me?" Morgana: (Chuckles:) "The one thing I remember vividly from my time in Uther's court is having keep up the pretense of propriety. It was always exhausting and I hated it. We are alone, Elsa. You don’t have to worry about airs and graces with me. I've hated my so-called brother for years for what he did to me. Of course I do not mourn his loss, but you must understand, for me to be truly cemented as Queen in the eyes of the people, his death must be avenged. Now, please tell me why you are really here?" Elsa: (Taken aback by Morgana's mercurial nature:) "I..." Morgana: "Oh come now, I know you didn't just come here to welcome Camelot's queen." Elsa: (Conjures Lily's sweater into her hand:) "My lover is missing. I used a locator spell to find her and the trail brought me to Camelot." Morgana: (Sitting back in her chair, fingers pressed together:) "I see." Elsa: "I have reason to believe that Lily and her mother Maleficent may be imprisoned here in the castle." Morgana: "Maleficent? Her powers are legendary. And you believe me capable of capturing both her and her daughter and locking them away in my dungeons?" Elsa: "Well...I..." Morgana: (Leaning forward:) "I'm not sure if you're aware, but we've had a mass breakout from our dungeons just very recently. Of those who escaped, none of them possessed any trace of magical ability. (Chuckles:) I'm sorry, but to think that I would be brazen enough to house you, your sister and brother-in-law whilst keeping your lover and the mighty Maleficent locked away in my dungeons is ludicrous." Elsa: "So you deny it?" Morgana: (Still smiling:) "Wholeheartedly. In fact, why don't I accompany you to the dungeons so you may see for yourself? (She stands, tossing down her napkin:) Come, I could do with a walk before tackling dessert."

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Night. (With Maria tucked up in bed, Regina sits at the piano. Practicing a few chords, Regina doesn't see Emma as she enters the room. Smiling when Emma rubs her shoulders, Regina leans back against her.) Regina: "Ready to play?" Emma: "You have no idea." (Walking to stand beside the piano, Emma's nakedness is revealed for the first time. The moonlight pouring in through the windows highlighting every breathtaking curve of her body.) Regina: "So you weren't serious about letting me teach you then?" Emma: (Smiles, perching herself against the piano:) "Oh, I thought we might teach each other. You know it's always more fun when we both learn a thing or two." (Slowly rising from her seat, Regina seizes Emma's lips with her own. The keys of the piano playing a cacophony of notes as Emma's body is pressed up against them.) Regina: (Smiling against Emma's lips:) "I think you'll be glad to know, I've already warmed up my fingers." Wonderland. (Lizard and Ella stand at the entrance to the Oracle's garden. The Oracle herself can be seen a short distance away, her back to them.) Lizard: "Are you sure you want to do this?” Ella: “If you were granted the same opportunity, would you not want to meet your mother again?” (Walking further into the garden, Ella nervously approaches the Oracle while Lizard stays behind, watching.) Oracle: “Welcome, Ella.” Ella: “That’s... (Glances back at Lizard then stares at the Oracle:) How did you know my name?” (The Oracle turns to face her, revealing herself to be...) Morgause: “I’ve been waiting for you. I hold the answer to the question that burns inside you. I know what happened to your mother, Ella.”

[freshiegayboi]

You were drunk, sad and a target.

Papyrus isn't going to let anything happen to someone who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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Chapter 1 of a new fic for a new year XD this time Hemlocke/Reader! that’s Swapfell Black Papyrus!

tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drunkenness, Being stood up, FTM Reader, Transphobia, Papy is a good partner, Violence, Gang Violence, Alternate Universe- Swapfell Black, mention of throwing up

read it on Ao3

or read it below!

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

The way the two of you met wasn’t exactly a fairytale beginning. You’d been stood up, again, and was sitting at the bar just across from the swanky restaurant you’d essentially been dumped in, drinking your sorrows away.

You were fairly drunk by the time you noticed anyone was sitting next to you. Glancing over in what you’d assumed at the time was “stealthy”, you took the guy in.

He was tall, taller than the stool he sat on really allowed for, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that the guy wasn’t a human. The rounded white skull and deep scars through one eye might have done it, but what really made you notice was the guy's teeth. Two large fangs on either side of his mouth… and a row of equally sharp inside when he opened his mouth to ask if you had a problem.

Again… it took you a minute to realize he’d even said anything, but once you did, your face went beet red. “Oh, sorry, I just… I’ve never met a skeleton and…”

His brow raised. “And?”

You shrugged. “I have a friend at work, bushy fur, horns growing on the top of his head. He always said you guys were rare, so…”

The other brow raised, before the skeleton was laughing, almost loudly. The bartender only gave him a side glance and he quieted down, but not before he winked at you. “Thought you were a racist there for a second, pal. You want another drink?”

Part of you did not. You were already drunk enough you felt queasy, enough that if you got up to leave right now you’d have to make a pit stop in the bathroom just to make sure you made it home, but another part of you wondered… Was he sincere?

“Maybe a water?” you feebly asked, and he chuckled again, the sound dark and sweet.

“Sure thing buddy. You’re looking a little green there anyways. Wanna be responsible, don’t we.”

You nodded, staring down at the tips of your fingers as he called the bartender over and asked for two waters in to-go cups, before he was suddenly in your space.

“Woah, woah, uh?” you started, but he just gently helped you down off your stool, helping you stay balanced even as he handed you your styrofoam cup.

“Take some sips of that, buddy, and I’ll help you home.” He whispered, sending shivers down your spine even as you tried to get out of his hold weakly.

“No, I’m fine, I jus’-”

He lead you up to the door with little issue, a lot stronger than his thin bones gave on, and for a second you were terrified that this monster was going to hurt you. At least until you got out into the chill night air, pulling the edges of your cap down further over your ears as you breathed out puffs of steam.

He sighed a breath of relief, you glancing up at him in confusion until he looked back down at you.

“Oh, uh. Sorry, you had some guys lookin’ at you real hard in there. I didn’t want you to get into any kind of trouble when you’re… this intoxicated.”

Your eyes widened as you looked back into the windows of the bar. Sure enough a small table of three men and one woman was staring at the front door, talking amongst themselves. You shivered, but smiled up at him.

“Thank you, uh… that would have been bad.” You swallowed, taking a distracted sip of your water before you realized… you were going to have to get home a few blocks away without being followed. That might be a problem, seeing as how those guys were getting up, throwing a few wads of crumpled money on the table before making their way to the door.

“Yeah. You wanna get out of here? I can help you get home, if you want?” the skeleton asked, leaving you unsure. They’d be able to see him pretty easily in the night crowd… but.

“Aha!” you crowed, reaching into the bag you’d kept over your shoulder the whole night, fishing out another knitted cap. (It was better to keep the bag on your person instead of on the back of a chair… you were liable to forget it.)

The skeleton stared at you uncomprehendingly, but bent down when you beckoned him, staying still as you carefully pulled the cap over his head until it covered most of the white.

“There! Now they can’t follow us!”

You noticed the small shade of orange that went over his cheekbones, but didn’t have time to ponder what it meant as he laughed lowly, before reaching out with the crook of his arm.

“Lets go then.”

You smiled, taking his arm and leading him down the road, trying not to feel like you had eyes staring down your back.

It didn’t take long to get to the building that housed your apartment, digging out the keys as he stood there, watching the streets around you. Finally, you got the door unlocked, the slosh of your water, the ice mostly gone, distracting you a little until he cleared his throat.

Looking back, you grinned. “Oh! Thank you, I… I didn’t even know, y’know? Thanks for keeping me safe. Monsters aren’t so bad.”

There was something in his eyes, something like amusement but you were too drunk to really tell.

“Yeah, we’re not. You want your hat back?”

You shook your head. “Naw, you keep it. It suits you!”

There was that color over his face again, so warm you wanted to touch it but even you weren’t drunk enough to try it. Your own face heating up, you cheers’d him with your water cup. “Good night weird skeleton I met in a bar. Be safe?”

He grinned crookedly. “I will. Go straight upstairs and don’t leave till morning, you got it?”

You frowned, but nodded.

“Good. Have a good night.” And with that he turned, walking down the street… and only then did you notice the tail, slowly swaying with each step. Huh.

Shaking your head, you headed inside, locking the door behind you.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 10: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 1)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 10: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 1) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read Summary:

The decent into Bleak Falls Barrow begins.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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Inside the Barrow, Tim kept good on his promise to the Argonian. He found the other bandits the reptilian man mentioned, and Tim was good to his word. He didn't kill any of the men guarding the entrance into the tunnels, but he certainly beat them down in a way that they wouldn't soon forget.

...Once they all came to, of course.

"Goodness," Lucien said as he toed one of the unconscious bandits by the firepit the criminals had set up for themselves, confirming they were well and truly out. "I don't think I've seen anyone fight like you do with your bare hands... or feet for that matter." He looked to where Tim was busy working the lock of a nearby chest the bandits had set up. "How did you learn to fight with punches and kicks like that?"

Tim didn't respond to Lucien until the lock was successfully cracked and the chest was swung wide open. There wasn't much there, much to Tim's disappointment. Only a couple of gems which he offered to Lucien, a handful of Septims which he pocketed for himself, and an old piece of iron armor that Lucien assured him was fairly worthless, so he left it in the box. "Years of training," he said as if that explained everything, which of course it didn't for Lucien. 

"Training where?" the scholar asked as he examined the gems in the firelight.

"Home."

"And where is home?"

Tim sighed. "I thought you were supposed to be investigating the Barrow, not me."

Lucien had enough grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, but it turns out you're a very intriguing fellow."

Tim rolled his eyes and grabbed a nearby torch, lighting it with the bandit campfire. "C'mon Lucien. Clearly this is not the inner sanctum of the Barrow. Let's keep moving." He led the way down the tunnels that seemed to go deeper and lower into the mountain itself. 

***

Because the tunnels themselves were round, Tim could hear nearly everything moving around ahead of them, most of which ended up being small packs of monstrously large and hostile rats the size of labrador retrievers. 

"Good grief... Even the rats are huge," Tim muttered under his breath as he fired an arrow at one of the creatures as it tried to scramble up a circular stairwell to savage his ankles. He felt a twinge of satisfaction as the one he shot ended up tumbling into another that had been trying to run up behind it, causing both to fall off the stairwell entirely to the floor below. 

"You mean the skeevers?" Lucien remarked as he examined an old Nordic pendant he found on a nearby table. "Do they not have them where you're from?"

"We just have rats, and they're maybe a fifth of the size of these things," Tim said as nocked one more arrow and shot the final skeever as soon as it came within his sight. At least, despite how repulsive and persistent these rodents were, they were allowing him a lot of target practice with his bow. 

Lucien chuckled. "You're homeland is lucky. These vermin are a menace. Careful not to let those bastards bite you. You're liable to get a disease if you're unlucky."

Tim sighed. "And I would be that unlucky." He paused a moment and listened, but heard no more skeevers.

***

It actually took a bit of wandering, but Lucien and Tim finally came across another bandit.  Tim had been watching the bandit from the shadows of the corridor leading into the large open room before a barred and apparently locked doorway. 

Tim waited there for a moment with Lucien right behind him, as he was planning how to ambush the bandit and knock him out as quickly as possible.

However, the Barrow had other ideas.

The bandit had figured that a large lever in the middle of the room was the key to opening the way into the next room, so he pulled it with barely any hesitation. Unfortunately for him, and much to Tim's horror, the lever did not open anything, but it did release a shower of wicked darts from nearly all sides into the unsuspecting man. The bandit was collapsed to the floor before the trap had finished skewering him. 

"Damn it!" Tim cursed as he finally deemed it safe for Lucien and himself to enter the room once the darts had stopped firing.

"Well, at least we know not to pull that lever," Lucien said as he went over to the bandit while Tim surveyed the room. Tim frowned as he quickly identified all the holes the darts had come out of. Everything was aimed squarely at the lever. Such an obvious trap.

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Tim asked Lucien as the scholar picked up one of the darts that had hit the stone floor instead of the bandit. 

"No. He's quite dead. I'm certain he was done in well before he even hit the floor." Lucien sniffed the dart cautiously. "I think I catch a whiff of Frostbite Spider venom on these darts as well. If it was just one or two, he might've been able to survive it with a quick dose of anti-venom. Twenty or thirty in one go, though... I think this trap would've felled a giant if they could fit through these tunnels."

Tim sighed and began to examine the barred door. "Well there's got to be a way to move forward." He looked at the way the bars were set up. It was clear these bars were set up in a way to move upward out of the way. However, the mechanism to lift the bars was completely hidden from their vantage point.

"I'll check the upper floor," Lucien said as he pointed to a stairwell that led up to a walkway above the door. "Perhaps there's a switch up there?"

"Maybe," Tim mused as he stepped back to take in the entire bottom level of the room again. Aside from the lever and dead bandit, there wasn't much else about the room except for some carved decorative statues and rubble. Then he paused as he watched Lucien examine some animal carvings on the upper level. "Wait..."

Tim noted the snake carving and the whale on the upper level, and noticed how a third carving, that of another snake, had fallen to the lower floor due to age. Then he looked at three animal carving statues on the immediate left side of the room consisting of two eagles and a whale between them. He went over and started examining the eagle closest to him. 

Much to his surprise, the moment he touched the eagle carving, the entire pillar it was resting on shifted. Tim's eyes lit up. "Is it really that simple?" he asked himself under his breath as he put down his bow so he could use both hands to push the pillar on one side. As he anticipated, the entire stone pillar began to turn clockwise, stopping only when the image of another animal, a whale, was now facing forward.

"Did you figure it out?" Lucien called down as he heard the sound of stone scraping against stone and notice what Tim was doing. By the time Lucien came down the stairs, Tim was already moving the third pillar so that the pattern of the pillars matched the pattern that was supposed to have been on the second level. 

Snake... Snake... Whale...

"We'll find out in just a moment," Tim said as he went to the lever and pulled it without hesitation.

  -------------------------

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: Part 1 of... a couple of parts. I'm not sure how many parts this trek through the Barrows is going to take. Been busy with work and family the past week, so wasn't able to do much playing or writing, though I really wanted to. With the weather turning bitterly cold recently, I'm definitely carving out some time to write and play this weekend.