#and it’s my first Saint nick’s day alone

[margoshansons]

Happy Saint Nicholas Day to everyone who celebrates!

May you find chocolate coins and tiny gifts hidden in your shoes this morning 🥰

[mybelovednick]

Crimson and Clover, Honey (Chapter 1)

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Nick Sturniolo x Male!character

Summary Nick Sturniolo is a Bookstore owner in a small town in Northern Italy. Vayu Arora is an elementary school teacher who is a frequent customer at Nick's Store. Both of them meet and they are suppose to fall in love like faith intended. But what happens when one of them is unable to let go of their past selves?

Nick x male!character Angst Fluff/comfort Hurt/comfort

TW: Too corny ig

******

1

The people we meet in our lives are just stories. Some are more haunting than others. It is one of life's gifts, I suppose. I am a story, so are you and so was the man with the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

The words we exchange, the touch we share, the emotions we experience, the way we live and love, the way we hate - it all comes together to form our stories. The man with the beautiful blue eyes and a magnificent smile had a story intertwined with mine, it was not all the bad parts, and there were parts that I am grateful for. These stories make us who we are, shape our thoughts and in turn, merge with the universe itself when we are gone.

I remember when I first saw him. He was sitting all alone in his beautiful bookstore. He seemed unreal at first. The honeycomb rays of sunlight split through the cracks of the clouds and flowed like a yellow stream of jellyfish into the room, through that slightly cracked window just past him. The dark room was dimly lit and you could barely make out that he was there sitting in silence.

    The room was filled with posters of vintage films, and 80’s rock bands, along with pictures of Saints, and wooden artefacts that looked like they were carved by the Gods, even. In the backdrop, he was immersed in his small, emerald-gold book, in his own little world.

    He was so still, it was uncanny. If it wasn’t for the sun, the dark room would have gobbled him up. It would seem like he was one of the wooden statues himself. Carved by the angels. But his blue eyes gave away the fact that he was not a part of that inanimate silence, rather something living and breathing within the same intimate space. His eyes were as blue as the ocean that Italy herself shared her beautiful beaches with.

“Do you mind?”  The boy’s voice echoed in the dimly-lit room. The tone was unwelcoming, his voice wasn’t ‘smooth as honey’ like the poets usually describe of beautiful men in their lovely poems; it was husky and sharp like a knife- similar to a thunder rolling down the dark clouds. “Hello? Back to earth pretty boy. Aren’t you going to buy something?”.

That made me fluster. I hastily grabbed the nearest book that my hand could reach. In the process, I knocked down a few books and winced as they fell on the ground with a loud ‘thud’ that made one of the window panes rattle. I was about pick them up.

“Leave it be.” The young man said. “I’ll pick ‘em up later.”

“Uh- okay.” I stupidly mumbled and practically sprinted towards the counter. “These books please.” I winced for a second time as I unintentionally placed the books too loudly on the table top for him to check.

I wanted to crawl into a cave and die.

But then I heard a soft chuckle. It was then when I first saw him smile. I caught myself smiling back at him. I loved his nose ring, I loved his freckled cheek, I loved how the sun seemed to give him a faint touch of blush, I loved how red his lips were, I lov-

“Should I give you a carry bag?” His voice once again forced me to snap back into reality.

I simply nodded and handed him a few Euros. “Uhm, I am Vayu… by the way.”

As I extended my right hand for a handshake, He picked up my bag and placed it on my hand, “Nice to meet you. Have a good day.” Why had I expected him to return the favour by providing his name as well?  I knew his smile was forced but I would never admit that to myself. Embarrassed with the entire chain of events, I nodded awkwardly and walked away from the store.

That was three months ago.

~~~

“Damn dude! So you went to the bookstore, saw an average white guy with fake blonde hair which could be his wig. Threw all the books on the ground and practically destroyed his counter top. And he ghosted you right to your face?” Nathan burst out laughing.

“That was a stretch but yes, thank you for summarising my own tragedy to me, Nate.” I rolled my eyes and sat back with my arms tucked close to my chest.

Nathan, Tara and I taught at the same school, St. Maria Elementary. It was a small school in practically nowhere of Northern Italy. I moved into this town, about six months ago. I was born and brought up in Delhi, India. But things changed when I decided to come out to my family. My parents were not okay with the fact that their only son was doomed to not having a child of his own to continue the legacy of the Arora family just because he could never love a woman. I never blamed them, though. I did understand their perspective and respected their wishes. But it was suffocating for me to stay there. I needed to leave and so I did. I had my masters in Zoology and Bachelors degree in Education from some of the most prestigious universities in the country. I could go to the US or the UK or any other place with my own expenditure. But I decided to apply to somewhere safe and peaceful. And the faiths brought me here, in this town.

And I was happy then. I had bought myself a small two storied bungalow down the ‘Via del Canto’ street. The house was dirty and filthy when I bought it but I did do my best to make it feel like home. I knew it was the one from the moment I saw the beautiful backyard which I always dreamed of having. The street was not a very well-known one. It was a chore to ride uphill with a bicycle but I loved my own space. You could even see the ocean from the veranda of my bedroom.

I have always been a practical man. Once I reached here, I immediately had an established job and a place to stay. My aunt, Irani, who lived in Milan, helped me a lot throughout this process. “But you are over-qualified to be a biology teacher in a small school like this, Vayu.” She would say, “You are a talented young man and with a few more years of training, you could be a reputed professor in some of the most prestigious Universities in the world! Why waste your talent?”. And she was right. Why waste my years in a middle of fucking nowhere? I didn’t know the exact answer for this but for once I wanted to listen to my heart. Ever since my childhood I did whatever my parents asked me to do, whatever was expected of me from society. All these twenty-eight years of people-pleasing culminated to me getting abandoned by people I thought were my own. So what was the point?

Nevertheless here I was, all alone in a foreign country. That was until I met Nathan, the English teacher and Tara, the art teacher in the same school I worked in as a Biology teacher; and I felt like I found a place in this world. They were some of the best people I ever met and I will always be grateful to be a part of their lives.  

            As usual, the three of us sat down at our table in the teachers’ cafeteria during recess time. We shared all our stories of our past selves. I talked about almost everything with them and they knew about me liking other men. It was a secret between our trio because Tara was a ‘raging’ (her words) bisexual and Nate was apparently bi-curious and still not sure of any labels. I mean kudos to each of us.

The conversation continued.

“Stop laughing like a fucking hyena Nate.” Tara snapped. Nathan stifled his laughter while wiping off tears from his eyes after all that laughter. “So Vayu.” Tara turned towards me, leaning in closely to engage in the conversation, “You said he smiled too right?”

I nodded like a child about to be given some hope in the form of candy.

“Hey! That does mean he liked your goofy-ass.” Tara boasted proudly.

“I mean I think so.” I whispered, mostly to myself in hopes of self-consolidation.

“That’s great. By the way, what did you buy?” Nathan asked mid bite while chomping on his sandwich.

“Uhh…” I couldn’t say it and my ears were starting to turn red.

“What’s the matter? Say it” Tara was curious too.

“Okay fine I accidentally bought porno magazine along with Shakespeare’s Hamlet. I don’t even like Hamle-..”

Nathan was almost choking on his sandwich. And Tara looked at me like a disappointed mom about to beat his son’s ass.

“You guys, hear me out-..” I was begging for my dearest dignity, “I was in a hurry okay? And the guy was truly very pretty. I got distracted and..”

“And what?” Nathan cut me off while he was gasping for air, “Bought a fucking Playboy and showed him the horny-ass motherfucker that you really are? I can’t. I need air, Tara! Get me some fucking air right now.”

“Nate you are sweating and you look redder than the tomato in your sandwich. Get a grip, man.” Tara said.

“Vayu look,” Tara was serious now, “Don’t be so anxious about such trivial matters. It was just an infatuation. Right? Right?”

“Right.” I lowered my gaze.

“It is not like you have to see him every day.”

“I suppose you are not wrong.” I replied and Tara smiled.\

“And get a bottle of water for Nate. Dying from choking on a sandwich is not a sexy way to go.” Tara ordered.

I really did love my friends. And maybe Tara was right. Maybe it was a onetime thing. Although, I would love to see that smile once again, someday maybe.

**********

Next Chapter

A/N : This is my first ever fanfic series for the Sturniolo fandom. I used to write a lot during my 1D days. I know there is not much nick content right now. Because I want to introduce Vayu to the readers first. More to come, hopefully. Please do comment your honest opinion. <3

Tag: @ohmtoff @loud-sturniolos @matty-bear2 @maria4mari @solarsturniolo @freshloveforthefit @darl1ngdr1sta @tkhzs @thenickgirl @soursturniolo @certifiednatelover

(pls let me know if you feel uncomfortable if tagged)

[bdafic]

Goeth Before Destruction // A Solas playlist

Arranged chronologically, over the rise and fall of two narrative arcs.

[ Full playlist - Spotify version  //  Full playlist - YouTube version ]

Arc One Rebellion, rise:

Dear God - Lawless, Sydney Wayser But all the people that you made in your image See them starving on their feet Cause they don't get enough to eat from God(s) I can't believe in you

Murky - Saint Mesa Dizzy us, manipulate Feel the power, start to fall Kill my brother, curse my name Murky water covers all

Which Witch - Florence + The Machine Who's a heretic now? Am I making sense? How can you make it stick? Now that I’m on trial? Waiting 'til the beat comes out Who's a heretic, child?

Throne - Saint Mesa Believe there's freedom, took my soul I'll burn your shit alive and take the throne

Rebellion, fall:

World on Fire - Klergy If you close your eyes and you pick a side Will you find yourself broken and heartless? In a world on fire, in a world on fire

Land of All - Woodkid I took a chance to build a world of mine A one way ticket for another life On a petrol stained sailboat

Achilles Come Down – Gang of Youths Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive

(Interlude - “Now you must endure”)

My Body is a Cage - Peter Gabriel I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving Still my heart beats so slow My body is a cage

Flesh and Bone - Black Math I walk alone, beside myself Nowhere to go This bleeding heart Is in my hands, I fell apart

Iron - Woodkid A million miles from home I’m walking ahead I’m frozen to the bones A soldier on my own I don’t know the way

Dear Fellow Traveller - Sea Wolf You spoke my language and touched my limbs It wasn't difficult to pull me from myself again And in our travels, we found our roads You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose

Arc Two Love, rise:

Falling, Catching - Agnes Obel 🎶

Dancing After Death (Stripped) - Matt Maeson If I don't get better than this man in my skin If I let go, would you hold on, would we fly? Is it safer if we just say that we tried? Are we laughing at the danger? Are we dancing after death, you and I?

Sunlight - Hozier Each day, you'd rise with me Know that I would gladly be The Icarus to your certainty Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight Strap the wing to me Death trap clad happily With wax melted, I'd meet the sea Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Power - Isak Danielson I was lost until I found me in you I saw a side of me that I was scared to But now I hear my name and I'm running your way

Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder And I feel life for the very first time Love in my arms and the sun in my eyes I feel safe in the 5am light You carry my fears as the heavens set fire

Love, fall:

Alive - Amarante I wanna touch your skin I wanna know you again I wanna feel your light I hope we last the night

Run Baby Run - The Rigs Look, can you see behind these eyes Can you see what isn't there The truth dressed up in lies Oh, daylight' dying Run, baby, run, baby run

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons But it was not your fault but mine And it was your heart on the line I really fucked it up this time Didn't I, my dear?

The Hearse (Stripped) - Matt Maeson I am the man we both couldn’t stand, I can’t wash off the dirt from my hands, What was it like to feel in love? What was it like to feel in love?

Image credits : Bioware Facebook [ x ] Nick Thornborrow [ x ] “King of a Dead World”, Nipuni [ x ]

Other playlists : [ Ellana Lavellan // Roses Where Thorns Grow, Part I: Graft ] [ Ellana Lavellan // Roses Where Thorns Grow, Part II: Roots ] [ Coda/Prologue ]

[leavingautumn13]

WIP asks 15, 18, and 21

15. In as vague of terms as possible (to avoid spoiling), how do you anticipate this chapter/fic to end?

Bittersweetly. The main plot of Fo4 is actually really sad in my opinion, and the game itself doesn't really explore the things I would have liked it to, especially not emotionally. So, I'm writing this fic where I get to have fun and be super granular and worldbuild and get into the sole survivor's head and stuff--but at the end of the day I still think it's a tragedy.

18. Share the scene you just wrote, written from another character's POV.

The only two POV characters are Nora and Nick, so this isn't the most recent scene I've written, just the most recent where they're together. This is from Nora's POV; the original scene is from Nick's. TW for some mentioned violence and death.

“How are you feeling?” Valentine asked lowly.

Tension made her chest and shoulders ache, twisted her stomach into a knot. How was she supposed to answer that? Losing Dana, Shaun, hell, everyone she’d ever known, and waking up two hundred years in the future, completely and utterly alone—that was terrifying to the point of being incomprehensible, and that was an understatement.

But she’d had a goal: find her baby. And she hadn’t been alone for long.

Now her best lead was dead and she was no closer to Shaun than she had been when she first stepped out of the vault months ago.

She didn’t feel like anything, which meant she felt like too much. She felt like radio static, maybe, like her head was stuffed full of gauze. Like she needed a shot of something strong and alcoholic, or another one of Valentine’s cigarettes. Like she needed to crawl back into the vault cryopod and sleep until she finally woke up from this fucking nightmare. Like she wanted—needed to beat Kellogg to death for a second time for taking away all that was left of her family.

That last one. The thought was frightening but she didn't have the energy to analyze it right now, and Valentine was still watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting for an answer.

She curled and uncurled her fingers at her side. “Like I want to break something,” she said, as honestly as she cared to. “Or scream.”

21. Share 3 songs that would belong on a playlist for this chapter/fic.

Dirt Poor Robins - Wax Cylinder Sonata

Metric - Clone

Florence + the Machine - Various Storms & Saints

(Here's the full playlist!! I'm working on art for it atm so stay tuned for that!!)

[helenaheissner]

Magical Girl Exorcist Squad (Issue #4: Signs)

There were no signs, Nick thought.

The first thing Nick remembered was when his voice broke. He was thirteen, and he’d gotten up for breakfast one day, said good-morning, and didn’t recognize the sound that came with it. He’d sat there at the rectangular kitchen, his hand around his own throat, his eyes wide. His mother seemed all too pleased- her son was finally becoming a man. Nick had tried to laugh it off, and had to swallow back his displeasure at how his laugh now sounded. 

He… She… This would take some getting used to… Sat on Heather’s bed, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide, and said, “Hi guys.”

Her voice was back to what it was before that morning at his parents’ kitchen table, prepubescent and neutral, trending ever-so-slightly towards a feminine register. Her lips formed a smile as relief she never thought she’d know flooded from her brain down the rest of her body. 

… There were no signs?

Heather sat at a desk chair, the back of it facing Nick, her chest resting against the wooden poles as she took in the sight before her. Debbi was pacing up and down the room, hands folded behind her back, brow furrowed. Heather smiled gently. “How do you feel, sweetie?”

Nick started, “I feel-”

“I mean he’s got to be freaking out,” Debbi said, her words lancing Nick with thrusts of anguish. “He’s turning into a girl.”

“I don’t think she’s turning into a girl; I think she’s always been a girl,” Heather said. 

“How do you mean?”

“It would mean-”

“It would mean I’m trans,” Nick said, eyeline locked on the floor. It was easier to look at people’s feet than their faces right now. There were no signs. 

Another memory tore through Nick: when he’d gotten too tall for his dog to sleep on his bed with him at night. He’d cried and cried and cried, desperate for his Saint Bernard, Bruce, to have the space to share with him. He hated it, hated how big he was getting, hated his body getting so huge he didn’t recognize it or feel at home in it. 

“Oh,” Debbi said, raking a hand through her voluminous hair. “Um… Are you?”

“Dude,” Heather said, shooting her friend a dirty look. “You don’t just ask someone that.”

“I’m not sure,” Nick said. “I… It would explain why I have these powers. It would explain… Well, it would explain a bunch of things, unfortunately.”

“What kinds of things?” Heather said.

“Why I hated the sound of my old voice,” Nick said. “Why I got so freaked out every time I had to change in the boy’s locker room growing up, even when I was playing varsity basketball and was thrilled to be there- I just… My mind went away when I was in the locker room. I couldn’t feel anything. And why it felt like I was wearing a suit made of live cockroaches when I rented a tux for senior prom.” … There were signs. Dangit.

Debbi shivered. “There’s an image.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well… Nick… Can I still call you Nick?” Heather asked. 

Nick blinked. She… He… She, for now, could try ‘she’, at least as long as she was safe inside this room. Just so long as she didn’t have to leave this room ever again. “I… Nick is good. For right now. And so is ‘she.’ For now.”

“Okay, little lady,” Heather said. 

Warm happiness vibrated through Nick. That was probably a sign of something. Something that he… She… Had tried to keep sealed behind a brick wall in the back of her mind for years and years and years…

Shame pulsated in her stomach as a walled-up memory seeped through the bricks. Of when her parents and her little brother had come home early one day… No, no, please I don’t wanna go there right now. 

Monica had wanted to play with her dolls. They were home alone. And she wanted to pretend she had a big sister. So, Nick had gone into their mom’s closet and… 

The worst part wasn’t their parents’ reaction when they got home. It was the sheer expression of disgust and betrayal on his little brother’s face. 

A set of fingers snapped in front of her face. “Stay with us now, girly,” Heather said. 

“I don’t really think that word applies to me,” Nick said absently. “I mean… Maybe I am a girl, but I’m pretty sure I’m a tomboy.”

“Fair enough,” Heather said, extending her flat palms in a conciliatory gesture. 

“Okay, I just,” Debbi started, “You got to admit this is a little weird, right? Why would the power manifest in someone who didn’t even know they were a woman?”

“I guess God has a way of revealing ourselves to us,” Nick said, letting go of her knees and hanging her legs off of the bed. Her small breasts bounced as she adjusted position… At which point she caught Heather staring. 

At which point Debbi flicked Heather on the temple. 

“Ow!” Heather said. “What was that for?”

“Stopping staring at his boobs. Her boobs- sorry, I… Look, this is going to take some getting used to.”

“Ayuh,” Nick said. “I mean, how do ya’ think I feel? I’d never even considered the possibility of… This. Ya’ know?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Heather said, plopping down on the bed next to her. Nick shimmied away, the invasion of personal space unwelcomed. “I didn’t even consider that I might be gay until my senior year of high school.”

“Wait, seriously?” Debbi and Nick said in unison, Debbi stopping her pacing for a minute. 

“Yeah,” Heather said. “It just didn’t occur to me. I thought I just had a wicked low sex drive. I even had a boyfriend my first two years of high school- a really good guy, I’m still friends with him, even. I thought if I just dated him long enough, I’d start to get the urge to bone down and what-not.”

“Another image,” Debbi rolled her eyes.  

“But it just didn’t happen. And honestly, I think he figured it out before I did, given that he broke up with me and then introduced me to his gay older sister.”

“Seriously?” Nick said. 

“Yeah, like I said, really good guy. And the sister was my closet-key, as they say. Lost my virginity to her.”

“So many images,” Debbi winced. 

“And then after that… Well, the floodgates were open. I was seeing rainbows EVERYWHERE, couldn’t stop staring at every pretty girl who came within twenty feet of me. Honestly, I was a bit of a pig-”

“Was?” Debbi said.

Heather said to Nick, “Excuse me, dearie, could you please pass me that pillow?”

Nick took the pillow next to her and handed it to Heather, who promptly chucked it at Debbi’s face. “Hey! Bad,” Debbi cried.

“You deserved it!”

“You smudged by makeup!” Debbi said, lowering the pillow to reveal her lipstick smeared and a patch of her foundation had come off. 

“Oh God I’m so sorry!” Heather said, hopping off the bed, grabbing a makeup kit from her nightstand, and rushing over to fix the damage.

“You two are something else,” Nick said. 

“What does that mean?” Debbi said as Heather brushed foundation onto her face. 

Nick took in the shockingly tender sight of Heather holding Debbi’s face and gingerly applying powder, then having Debbi pucker her lips for the lipstick. “Nothing,” she decided to go with for now. 

“We’re getting off topic,” Heather said. “The important thing is- the power recognized Nick for what she is. A girl. A woman. It chose you. God chose you to be a magical girl because you're a woman.”

“That… That’s the part I’m struggling with, to be honest.”

“How do you mean?” 

“I… Well, I mean, I’m Catholic! No offense, Heather, but historically, we haven’t been the most accepting of queer people. And yesterday I was still a guy.”

“I mean, you really weren’t-”

“You know what I mean,” Nick said. “I just… Blue Blazes, I was thinking of becoming a priest.”

“Seriously?” Debbi said. “Why?”

“I… I wanted to give my life to God,” Nick said. “I didn’t think I was doing a good job managing it on my own. I had no friends. The only thing that made sense was God. And now… Now I don’t even know if He loves me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t He?” Heather said. “I mean, ironically enough, I’ve never been super religious. My parents are both agnostic. We never went to Church growing up. The biggest adjustment of all this has been that I guess God is real. But still- isn’t God supposed to love everybody?”

“I… Yeah, yeah, that’s the idea. It’s just… I… I never thought… I always thought I was normal! I’ve never had anything against queer people, I just always kinda shrugged my shoulders whenever a priest said anything bad about them! And now I am one. I’m a freak!”

Heather, slowly, reluctantly, let go of Debbi’s face. And then Heather walked over and flicked Nick on the forehead. “Bad,” Heather said. 

“Why?!” Nick whined. When she did, her voice shot up a whole octave. She put a hand to her mouth, feeling the spread of her lips into a smile when it happened. 

“Because you called me a freak,” Heather said. “And you called you a freak. Don’t talk about my friend like that!”

Nick’s posture relaxed. “We’re… I’m your…”

“Friend. Yes. I know we’ve only known each other for three days, but you look like you need a friend. So, we’re friends,” Heather said. 

“Me too,” Debbi smiled. “I’ll be your friend as well.”

“I… Thank you, guys,” Nick said, her shoulders dropping as she relaxed. 

Debbi and Heather sat on the bed surrounding Nick. He shivered with discomfort, but… SHE tried not to shy away from it. 

“Can I touch you?” Debbi asked. 

Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. 

Debbi wrapped her arms around Nick for a hug. Heather followed suit. Part of Nick wanted to squirm, to run away from physical contact like he always did… But she didn’t. Her shield had kept her safe, but right now she was safe. She was around two people who had seen her true self and accepted her. Her shield could still protect her, would still protect her, but only from the people who actually wanted to hurt her. 

“Thank you,” Nick said. “Both of you. I wanna… I wanna be friends too. Knowing that about you two, that you’re here for me, that you… That you brought me here to keep me safe… That means everything to me. Thank you.”

“That’s what friends do,” Debbi said, giving Nick’s hair a gentle tousle. The blonde locks got in her eyes, and Nick blew it out of the way. “We’re gonna need to do something about your hair, though. It's stressing me out.”

“One step at a time, please,” Nick said. “I’m not even finished changing yet. It’ll probably be at least a few more fights before that happens.”

“Makes sense. So, the more you use your powers-”

“The more I become a woman.”

“You were always a woman, sweetie,” Heather said, not letting go of her. 

“Right, right,” Nick said. “Actually, that raises a question- how did you get me here without anyone saying anything?”

“Oh, you just passed out and Heather and I agreed to take care of you. The changes didn’t start until an hour in.”

“How long was I unconscious?” Nick asked. 

“Eight hours,” Debbi said. 

“Blue Blazes,” Nick said. “What am I gonna tell everyone? What am I gonna tell the others? What am I gonna tell my parents!?”

“One step at a time,” Heather said. “Try not to get carried away, yeah? Your parents are in New Hampshire. Don’t worry about them just yet.”

“Okay, but what about-”

A harsh wrapping sounded on the door. “Hey guys, it’s me and Cass,” Amy said. “We’re here to check on the himbo. He alive in there?”

Nick’s eyes went wide with panic. “I have to hide. I… I can’t let anyone else see me like this!”

“It’s not gonna be easy to hide those,” Debbi said, pointing at Nick’s chest.

“There’s gotta be something I can-”

The door slid open. “Sorry to barge, but it was unlocked. Heather, you better not be having a 'menage a sept' right now. ‘Cause if you are, you should put a sock on the door at least and- umm, what? What am I- who are-” Amy stuttered. Cass stood behind her with a blank, unreadable expression, as usual, but Amy… Amy’s expression was impossible to misread. 

Contempt. Pure, unadulterated, bigoted contempt. 

“Hi, Amy,” Nick said, “Hi Cass. I, uh, think I figured out why I have magical girl powers.” There were lots of signs. 

Cass stepped forward and said, “Hi.”

Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

Welp, Nick thought, This could be a problem. 

“Sis,” Debbi said, “Before you do anything else, please close the door, and please keep your voice down.” 

“I won’t do either of those things,” Amy said. “This is just… Nick is turning into a girl! What the hell?!”

“She was always a girl,” Heather said. 

Amy just… rolled her eyes. She may as well have slapped Nick in the face. 

Heather and Debbi both stood up and put themselves between Nick and the other two girls. “Amy, I’m serious. Nick is in a wicked fragile place right now-”

“You’re trying to tell me that Nick thinks he’s a girl and so he got magical girl powers? Is that right?” Amy said. 

“She doesn’t think she’s a girl, she is a-”

“Oh for- save it. You don’t actually believe any of that crap, do you? I mean come on, freaks like that are just sick in the head. And now I have to have one on my team? I’m supposed to trust one of… One of those….”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Debbi said, getting up into her sister’s face, hands flailing about in angry gestures that Nick had the feeling came out quite often. “How can you be so prejudiced!?”

“I’m not being prejudiced, I’m being realistic. Nick is not a girl!”

“Then why does she have the power?!” Heather shouted. Nick couldn’t see her face, but she could see her tensed shoulders and her balled fists. 

“Because he’s some kind of aberration- just like we always thought. Now our magic is mutating him against his will, making him think he’s something he’s not!”

“You goddamn-”

“Perhaps we should ask Nick what they think,” Cass said, sidestepping all three of her teammates and standing in front of Nick. “Nick. What do you think is going on?”

“I…,” Nick gulped. Oh boy. This was… This was bad. This was wicked, wicked bad. She wasn’t just upending her own life now, she was upending a team of superheroes who were the only things keeping the world safe from demonic incursion. He couldn’t possibly be so selfish as to-

And then an explosion shook the room. Thank goodness. 

Nick hopped off the bed. “I think it’s time for us to go to work.” He… She. Definitely she.

She walked up to Amy and looked her square in her harsh green eyes. “Unless you think this argument is more important than saving lives.”

Amy blinked. Again, thank goodness. “No. It’s not. But we’re not finished here. Let’s go.”

And off they went, five young women marching into the fray.

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[veeveebee]

PROLOGUE AND PART 1 + 2 OF NOW OR NEVER

Once there was a girl that lived in a treehouse. She was very lonely.

The girl would leave every now and then, just to give her neighbors holiday gifts or go grocery shopping, but didn’t leave often. She spent most of her days reading books. She has always wanted friends but was pretty content with her life now.

Her name was Misty.

Misty always spent her Christmas alone, and never got any presents. She always managed to leave gifts on her neighbors porches, anonymously that is. But one day, close to Christmas she got a letter that flew into her house through a window. The letter:

Dear, Misty Carrot

I’m afraid I have made a mistake, I promised the elves a day off, I thought I would have all the presents wrapped and ready to go by the day I told them they could rest. But this year we had more presents than expected and it's almost christmas day yet we still have over a hundred presents to wrap. I cannot ask them to come into work so I have decided to ask a few people to help me. You are lucky to be one of those people. Aren’t you excited! Please send a letter to me informing me that you will be coming. If you decide to help I will send a magical train to your house when you have packed, you will only have two days to make your way here, I suggest packing and resting the first day then leaving the next. Please do see to it that you bring a jacket and sweaters. I hope to see you dear Misty.

From the beloved, Saint Nick

Misty was surprised by this request. The reasons seemed very odd.. Then and there she knew something was off. But she would've never guessed what was going to happen when she sent that letter. Oh how I wish I could go back in time and warn her of the unfortunate events that followed.

Day 1:

Misty soon sent a letter back to Santa accepting the job, I mean who wouldn’t? It’s Santa…right? She waited for another letter telling her that the train would come to pick her up, it did, incredibly fast. Christmas was close and Misty, she only had two days, so she got to packing as fast as light. She wasn’t really sure what she’d need, other than jackets, so she grabbed basically everything she had. Things such as tea to soothe and/or warm her after work, jackets so she’d stay warm while working in this cold climate, and etc. She decided she would rest up and get plenty of sleep before going to the South Pole tomorrow.

Day 2:

It was time for Misty to get on the train to go to the South Pole, she grabbed all her bags and made her way on the train. While on the train she wondered if there would be other people there to help Santa, she hoped so. After all, she had never met Santa. If other people were there, maybe she could make friends and not be as lonely.

Misty got from her hometown, Ridgefeild, Connecticut all the way to the South Pole in less than a day, even when it’s 9,093.11 miles away. During the ride, Misty went around the train to see if anyone else was there, and just like she was hoping, there was! It was a dapper old man who was wearing a tuxedo, he had black hair, he was balding, he also had yellow eyes. Misty thought he looked very nice but also old, she thought he might be around 60 or 70. She decided to go up to him since she wanted a friend. I don’t really know how to describe their encounter so I'll just let you watch.

“Hi! My name's Misty! How are you?’

“The names Fredrick T. Kittykins, and i’m doing well,” “And if you don”t mind me asking, how old are you, you look very young and pretty,” said Fredrick

“Oh, I don’t mind Fredrick, I’m 23, you? Misty told, even when it creeped her out a little that an old man said she was pretty and was now asking her age.

“You can call me Mr.Kitty sweetheart, i’m 35,” “I can tell we are going to be good friends or more,” Kitty replied while chewing on a pencil and accidentally stabbing his mouth with it a few times.

Misty’s first impression of him was how weird he was and she thought “Well I don't know about this, he's kinda ugly, I mean he's balding at 35. He is funny though, and from the looks of it, he has money,”

They chatted on the train for a while, and soon the train came to a stop.

Kitty and her found a letter and it told the directions to the bedrooms and that they should rest up for the night. They headed to their rooms, they had to share a room. Misty didn’t mind sharing a room since the room itself was pretty big and back in Connecticut she was always alone, it would be nice to have company.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Jack Frost

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I know the third movie came out in the early 2000s but the first one came out in 1994 and I figured it would be easier to have all of my content from the series on one blog)

- Working in retail often came with a price: that price being that the holiday season would chew you up, spit you out, and use your blood as paint for its copious amounts of candy canes. But no retail job; not even one at Toys"R"Us, could ever compare to the responsibility of being Santa Clause’s sister.

- Like any rational human being, the moment your estranged older brother showed up on your doorstep and started ranting to you about how he was now the jolly old Saint Nick, you advised him to get his head checked.

- But, after a series of mystical events, you were forced to question everything that you knew and come to terms with the fact that you were now related to a legendary figure. Although, surprisingly enough, this new information; for the most part, had very little bearing on your day to day life; at least until he met Carol.

- While your sister-in-law loved the North Pole and everything that came with being the one and only Mrs. Clause, she also found herself craving company that was a little more …human; which is where you fit into the equation.

- You already knew about the mystical secret and were more than happy to move in and help with anything you could; especially after finding out that you were going to be an aunt, so it wasn’t long before you were running around the toy shop in hopes of easing a little bit of the couples stress.

- That was, of course, how you met Jack.

- Your first encounter with the man was pretty anticlimactic. You were barely able to say a word to him before your brother was ushering him off with a group of elves; after having quickly introduced the two of you and explained what was going on.

- Its your second meeting that has any bearing on your future relationship with the legendary figure.

- You’re going about your day, helping to make sure everything is running smoothly when Jack spots you out of the corner of his eye and decides to use the fact that you’re almost completely alone to his mischievous advantage. He “smooths back” his hair, straightens out his outfit, and makes his way over, greeting you with a cheerful smile and a comment that makes it seem as though he hadn’t just been watching you from afar.

- He’s speaking to you with the intention of getting on your good side and gaining your trust; with a hint of flirtation because he just can’t help himself, but what ends up happening is sort of the opposite of what he’d intended.

- The two of you had quickly ran out of shallow pleasantries and a sort of awkward lull had appeared in your conversation, up until you turned to him and asked if you could “ask him something you’d always wanted to know”. He, of course, agreed; he was trying to make you like him after all, and you said the question that made his heart warm over just that tiny bit: how exactly did he freeze things over in the winter?

- He probably said something along the lines of it “being a secret” but backpedaled on his teasing once you immediately accepted that answer and didn’t try to persuade him into telling you anything more. He spent the next few minutes eagerly explaining different little things about his line of work and playing off just how much effort it took in an attempt to seem even cooler.

- But you had to cut your conversation short because of some elven issue, leaving him standing in the snow, staring after you as you apologized and said goodbye; contemplating feelings he hasn’t had to think about for a very long time....

- Change of plans: he’d decided. Before he could do anything else, he needed to have you. 

- So, while he’s still going around and messing things up, he’s also taking the time to “bump into you” and get to know you better, using any excuse he can to remain by your side and pretend as though he’s only interested in being of help. 

- It’s during his helping that he tries to cause a rift between you and your brother; something he’s rather unsuccessful in doing. What he is successful in doing however, is eliciting a comment from you that would ultimately make him rethink his entire decision.  

 “But it must be hard, putting in all this work and getting no recognition for it. I mean, every child in the world knows about Santa and Mrs. Clause …but they’ve got no clue about his sister: the one who’s made everything possible. I think that in a different life, one were Scott was never Santa Clause, you would have made the perfect Mrs. Clause. Don’t you think?” He’d asked you, watching your face closely as you took in his words.  

“Oh no,” You’d laughed incredulously. “I could never. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I love helping out and making sure that Christmas is special for every little boy and girl. But to have it be my responsibility for the rest of my life? No. …No, that’s just not me.”

You paused for a moment as you thought about your next words. “I think you’re where it’s at actually. Something more subtle, more natural. I know you think you got the short end of the stick and hey, what do I know, maybe you did? But in my opinion, when that first real good snow blows in and frost freezes over the windows …well, it’s just as good as Christmas.” 

“And believe me, I’m not the only one who thinks that.” You gave him a friendly wink, finished what you were doing and headed out of the room, leaving him standing there in awe; every devious plan he’d ever come up with suddenly blown from his mind and disappearing in a cloud of snow. 

- You won’t ever know it, but you were singlehandedly responsible for saving Christmas that year. 

- After changing his mind about becoming Santa Clause, Jack had instead chosen to right his wrongs; if only to make himself out to be a hero in the trying times that he had caused. 

- He was also forced to continue on with his community service though he didn’t mind it all that much. If he didn’t have work to do, he’d have no reason to be in the North Pole, and if he wasn’t there, he didn’t have a chance of seeing you any time soon. 

- And see you he did! Any time he had the chance, he would find a way to be at your side, making conversation about anything and everything and trying his hand at any sort of flirtation he could manage. 

- After some time, you grow rather used to his innuendos, compliments, and teasing. In fact, you even start to return the favor; which is how the two of you end up sharing your first kiss.

- You’re both alone in a room together. It’s an occurrence that’s become rather common, except this time, you’re teasing him: repeatedly calling him Mr. Frost after he’d made some comment about how he loved the way you said it. 

- He’s all smiles while you say it but you miss the way his eyes keep drifting down to your lips; unaware of what he’s thinking about until his cold hand cups your face and abruptly pulls you into a kiss. 

- When you pull away, you’re breathless and all you can manage to say is that his lips are cold before you let out a small laugh and coyly remove yourself from him, casting a playful look in his direction as you leave the room. Oh how proud of himself he was. 

- Lets just hope that Scott’s become a little more receptive to the thought of his baby sister dating because this one isn’t gonna be easy to “confess” either way. 

- There’s almost always some form of pda at play whenever you’re with Jack in public. You could probably argue that it’s because he’s; somewhat, possessive of you but there’s a multitude of other reasons as to why he just can’t keep his hands to himself: bragging rights, being alone for so long, annoying Scott, etc. 

- He craves affection like nothing else. Having you hanging all over him is the highlight of his day and does wonders to his self esteem; and ego. 

- His arm is constantly wrapped around your waist. 

- Nose boops. 

- Hand kisses. 

- You know those stereotypical old Hollywood kisses: the ones that are deep and passionate and aggressively intimate at times? Those are the types of kisses that you get from Jack a lot of the time. 

- I have a feeling that he’s cold to the touch: like if any part of him were to touch you, it would give you goosebumps. I mean, if he’s capable of freezing his clothing and hair, then chances are he’s going to make you shiver at least a little bit. 

- Because of that, it’s kind of hard to cuddle with him but that’s never stopped you before. You might have to wear two sweaters at a time and lay on a heating pad but by god, you’re gonna do it. 

- So, speaking of cuddling: most of the time, when you’re doing it, you’re snuggled into his side with his arm wrapped around or with him acting as the big spoon. 

- Soo many pet names are used in your relationship; both for him and for you. He loves hearing you say his name but he also loves when you have specific little things that you call him. And he loves to call you pet names: things like kitten, honey, snowflake, etc. 

- I mean this in the nicest way possible: ya’ll are disgusting. You are that couple who constantly flirts with each other: growling and making animal noises, staring into each others eyes, acting like there’s no one else in the room. That’s just how Jack is and because of that, you’ll start doing it to. 

- He genuinely brags about you all of the time. You’re pretty sure that you’ve developed a few enemies purely because of how annoyingly proud of you he is and how much he speaks about you to people who couldn’t care less.

- The amount of flattery that comes out of his mouth when it comes to you is baffling. But be careful, some of his flattery is used to butter you up before he tells you something that’s guaranteed to upset you in one way or another.

- He seeks your validation and praise constantly. He might as well be considered an expert at fishing for compliments: though granted, he’s pretty transparent any time he does it so perhaps he isn’t technically an “expert”.

- Anything he does is shown off to you in hopes of receiving your admiration. He’s constantly bragging and peacocking for your attention: tweaking stories to make himself seem cooler, finding new tricks that he can demonstrate, working extra hard at making someplace especially pretty just so he can take you there and see that special little twinkle in your eye; it’s very important to him that you find him impressive.

- Any talent that you may or may not have will be used for his own gain in one way or another. Sometimes he’ll ask you to help him with his plans, other times he’ll just have you use them to stroke his ego; either way he benefits and you’re usually too flattered to care. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him anyway so you really can’t complain.

- Just don’t trust him if he seems too insistent on doing something nice because chances are he has ulterior motives. He’s an opportunistic little shit and as much as he loves you, he’s still going to be mischievous and focused on some kind of self fulfillment plan.

- Being sort of like his secretary at times. He’s always wanted to be “the man in charge” and to have people who respected and/or worked under him but he never really had a reason to have them; nor were there people volunteering for the job. So once you get together and show an interest in helping him, he immediately eats it up and appoints you “his elf”.

- That being said: any time he gets a little too cocky about you helping him out, all you have to do is give him a look and he adds a somewhat nervous “please” to whatever he’d borderline ordered you to do.

- He loves the whole “honey I’m home!” thing: like getting that hello/goodbye kiss as he walks through the door and having you there waiting for him; his own beautiful adoring wife.

- Receiving surprise flowers. 

- Him making you little figures out of ice as gifts. 

- Candlelit dinners.

- Occasionally walking with him while he goes around and freezes everything over. It’s fascinating to watch how he does it and he enjoys having your company. 

- Sitting by an open fire. It’s a nice way to combat how constantly cold he is. 

- Tropical vacations and hanging out at his condo. 

- Is there a way for Jack Frost to make money? I’m not sure. Will he find a way to spoil you either way? Probably: he’s obviously not opposed to making a little mischief so why wouldn’t he make some for your sake?

- Him making you cocoa. 

- Jack Frost gives off malewife energy and I refuse to believe that he doesn’t cook or bake for you; at least on occasion. I get that he was purposefully trying to entice those elves but I feel like there was definitely a bit of culinary knowledge behind those vivid cocoa descriptions.

- Going ice skating whenever and wherever you want. 

- Now I’m not saying that Lucy is singlehandedly responsible for global warming, but I am saying that I feel like there’d be repercussions from Jack Frost being permanently unfrozen. So with that in mind, I raise you the idea of him still being his icy little self but whenever you make him particularly happy, his roots start to poke through and his eyebrow icicles start to melt a bit. 

- I don’t think that Jack is a particularly dated person but I do feel like he’d probably be a bit oblivious to some new age technology or things that you can experience in the modern world. I’m sure he isn’t routinely walking down the streets of Manhattan looking the way that he does so chances are you get to introduce him to more than a few new and exciting; or not so exciting, things. 

- If you aren’t living with him then prepare for a lot of random visits because he won’t be able to help himself; especially if he’s in the neighborhood while taking care of business. 

- That being said: you probably wind up moving in together and becoming neighbors with Scott in the North Pole. 

- Ohh to be a fly on the wall when you finally tell Scott about your relationship. You’d probably tried to break the news to him gently; dancing around what you’d wanted to say before he managed to piece together what you were getting at. He’d smiled and congratulated you, asking when he’d get to meet the guy; up until Jack wrapped an arm around you with a shit eating grin and said something along the lines of “about that~”. 

- Jack messes with him constantly. Before the two of you even get married, he starts calling him brother or brother in law just to receive the typical  “not yet” or “don’t” sorts of comments. Sometimes he’d be genuine in his actions but most of the time he’d just do it to bother him; because what’s more infuriating then your rival offering you valid advice and having to admit that they’re right?

- Jack really isn’t a family oriented person but he’d force himself to be one if only to fuck with Scott. If you were anyone else, he would have probably never bothered to attend your family get togethers or be involved in your nephews life or take family photos, but since it subtly annoys the man he thinks of as his rival, he’s become dedicated towards making the rest of your family love him.

- He knows exactly how to push your buttons and you lovingly despise him for it. 

- He’s genuinely kind of scared of you when you’re actually mad; either at him or someone/something else. He’s sort of spineless so as much as he likes to talk a big game, when he’s really put to the test, he folds like a cheap suitcase under pressure. 

- Letting him rant to you and trying your best to seem empathetic. Yes darling, it is ridiculous that you don’t have your own holiday. Yes, you’re a very crucial part of the season. Yes, you deserve more recognition for the work that you do.

- Trying your best to be a good influence and stop him from doing the wrong thing. You’re pretty much the only reason he’s begun to try and be nice to people so congratulations, you’re slowly melting his icy heart.

- Just having you in his line of sight calms him down. He could be two seconds away from turning somebody into an ice sculpture but if you were to walk into the room, he’d immediately brighten up and greet you as if nothing happened.

- Making him actually think through his decisions so that he doesn’t get kicked out of the legendary council. Mother nature personally sends you a fruit basket every year in gratitude over you keeping him on a leash.

- He’s obviously a pretty jealous person: he’s worried that you’ll start to overlook him and find someone better which causes him to look too deep into things and misconstrue a lot of the interactions that you have with other people. After you return to his side, he won’t know how to deal with his emotions and will probably end up making passive aggressive comments until you explain that you really aren’t into that person and that you only love him.

- Jack is a complete and total coward who would use you as a meat shield if there were ever any form of danger nearby. He loves you but the most important person to Jack is Jack.

- The two of you get into quite a few arguments; most of them being entirely his fault. He’s pretty hot tempered for such a chill guy so he tends to say things that he’ll regret later on or lose his cool and yell at you.

- He’ll always do whatever he can to make it up to you because he genuinely can’t stand it when you’re not talking to him. He has a way of worming his way back into your heart so you aren’t usually able to stay mad at him for very long, but if need be, he isn’t above snowing you in so that you can’t storm out on him before he resolves things.

- Like I said before: y’all are disgusting and exactly the type of couple to do the whole “love you more” thing for a solid minute and a half.

- He’s looking forward to making you Mrs. Frost as soon as possible so don’t be surprised when he pulls out the ring.

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 3

summary: After finally meeting the darkling, the two of you have a one on one conversation. It seems like Mal and Alina also have one. An offer is made to you, one that you could simply not deny

A/N: Please read this before continuing-- From here on, the rest of the fic will most likely be following the book series instead of the show. However there will be some aspects of the show woven in! Also I know the beginning of this chapter doesn’t line up with what happened in ch 2 but its whatever. for the sake of the story, the timeline is going to be dragged out for as long as possible <3 

I also made a playlist, give it a look :))

As Mal walks with the guard towards the room the General had directed for him to wait in, he hears his name being called out. His heart pounds at the sound of Alina’s familiar voice. He turned around, her face being split by a giant smile. Alina runs toward him, engulfing him in a hug, her arms around his neck.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked

“Hell if I know.” Mal said with a weariness that Alina hadn’t expected. “I had a report to make to your master.”

“My what?” There was confusion on her face before a grin took its place. “You and y/n were the ones who found Morozova’s herd. I should’ve known, the two best trackers in all of Ravka.” Alina knew something was off. Mal couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes, where had all the excitement he had felt earlier gone?

“I should go.”

“What do you mean? You just got here.” The sun summoner could feel something topple over in her, all of the anger and embarrassment that she had built up. All the letters she had sent, but never gotten a reply to. All the times she had hoped Mal would come and find her, yet when he finally did, he was just going to leave again. “You know what, sorry. I didn’t realize I was wasting your time.” She sneered, the love in her eyes now replaced with animosity.

“I didn’t say that.” He argued.

“No, no, I understand. You can’t be bothered to answer my letters. Why would you want to stand here talking to me, while y/n is waiting saints knows where.” Mal’s mood shifted into one of confusion.

“I didn’t get any letters.” He whispered.

“Yeah right.” She replied angrily. Mal sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“We have to move constantly to track the herd. My unit is barely in contact with the regiment anymore.” Mal was tired of arguing with Alina. He had come to see one of his bestest friends, he didn’t expect for it to end like this.

Alina hesitates for a second to look at Mal, noticing how much he has changed since she was taken from the Darklings tent. He was no longer the Mal she knew, something had happened to him since the months she had been gone. His eyes were colder, his posture was one of somebody who was always on alert.

“You didn’t get any of my letters?” She uttered, feeling the ends of her heart fraying. He shook his head, she could tell his mind was elsewhere now, a distant look in his expression.

“Mal, I..” She hesitated. “Can’t you stay a little while longer?” She pleaded. She hated the fact that she had to do so just to spend time with him. “You can’t imagine what it’s been like here.” He lets out a laugh, one riddled with sarcasm.

“I don’t need to imagine. I saw your little demonstration in the ballroom. Very impressive.” He sneered.

“You saw me?”

“Yes, both y/n and I got a glimpse of you.” He paused, trying to search for the right words. “Do you know how worried I’ve been about you? How worried we were? Y/n was stationed near the southern borders and when she came looking for us she was so worried. She didn’t know what happened to you and neither did I. I couldn’t tell her the truth because I had no what they’d done to you! We had no way to reach you. Did you know that there were rumors that you were being tortured?” The words left his mouth in a quivering mess. “When we had heard of the opportunity to see you once more, we took it. We did it for you, Alina.”

“Really?” She tried to believe Mal, why would he come looking for her when he could be with anyone else. After all of these years, she had become so used to his indifference.

“Yes.” He hissed. “And here you are, safe and sound. Dancing and flirting like some cosseted little princess-”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” She snapped. “I’m sure the Darkling can arrange for a rack or some hot coals if that would make you feel better” Mal scowled and stepped away from her. She couldn’t believe that they were fighting. Alina lays her hand on one of his arms and feels it tense below her, yet he doesn’t pull away.

“Mal, I can’t help the way things are here. I didn’t ask for any of this!” He looks at her and then looks away, some of the tension leaving his body.

“I know you didn’t.” The weariness in his voice came back, making Alina remove her hand from his arm. “What happened to you Mal?” She whispered. Mal chose to say nothing, staring into the darkness of the hall. She lays her hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble on her palm. She turns his face until his eyes meet hers.

“I can’t…” She lets her fingertips wander to the scar on his jaw.

“Genya can fix this, she can..” She knows she said the wrong thing when Mal takes a step back.

“I don’t need fixing” He snapped. Snatching Alina’s hand from where it had just been seconds before.

“I didn’t mean..”

“Are you happy here, Alina?” The question took her by surprise.

“I don’t know… sometimes…”

“Are you happy here? With him?” Alina didn’t have to ask who Mal meant. She didn’t know what to say.

“You're wearing his symbol. His colors.” He observed, his eyes glancing at the gold charm hanging on her neck.

“They’re just clothes.” She tried to convince him, quite possibly herself too.

“You and I both know that they’re more than just clothes.”

“What difference does it make what I wear?”

“The clothes, the jewels.” He spat. “Even the way you look. He’s all over you!” The words hit her like a slap. She takes her hand from his tight embrace and crosses it over her chest.

“It’s not like that.” She said, avoiding his gaze. Mal could see right through her, he could see the flush that had started to form when he had mentioned the Darkling.

“I saw how he looked at you Alina!”

“I like how he looks at me!” She shouted, a malicious smile forming on Mal’s face.

“Just admit it,” He sneered. “He owns you.”

“He owns you too, Mal.” She bit back. “He owns us all.” The smile falling from his face.

“No, he doesn’t.” He said fiercely. “Not me. Not y/n. Not ever.”

“Oh really? Don’t you have someplace to be? Don’t you have orders to follow?” Mal stands up straight, his face cold and devoid of any emotions.

“Yes, I did. My orders were to wait for you to be taken to me. But I think I found what I’ve been looking for.” He turned sharply and walked out, leaving Alina to her thoughts. She finally lets the tears fall down her cheeks, her body coursing with anger and heartbreak. For months she had dreamt of the day where she would be able to see Mal again. She had spent her whole lifetime chasing after him, but she knew now it was time to let him go.

-

THE DARKLING walks closer to you, while you stay propped up next to the door. You fidget with your hair, moving it to one side as he inches closer and closer until he is a few feet away from you. You anticipated his next moves, he brings his hand to you neck and strokes it.

“Your bleeding.” It seems like Genya had nicked you after all. “Here, let me.” He offered, taking a cloth from his pocket and gently wiping the small amount of blood away. His other hand resting at the nape of your neck for stability. You watched his eyes as he concentrated on his actions. You prayed to the saints that he couldn’t hear the incredibly fast pace your heart was beating at.

“So, what did you need to speak to me about.” You questioned. Deeming his work satisfactory, he takes a step back. Tucking the bloodied cloth back into his kefta.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked.

“What?” Some of the excitement inside of you had deflated.

“It must’ve been a long ride from Kribirsk, I’m sure you're starving.” He calls out for one of the oprichniki outside of his doors and orders them to bring dinner for the two of us.

“I appreciate the gesture, sir. But surely that’s not why you wanted me to stay behind.”

“No, you’re right. Take a seat.” He points to a smaller table, one that hadn’t been occupied by maps and war strategies. It was a rectangular table, both seats facing the window that had shown the view of the lake. You walked towards the table and took a seat. The moonlight glimmered off of the lake, making you smile. He places a lantern in the middle of the table, assuring that you were not going to eat in the dark. In one swift motion, he sits right next to you, his body angled towards yours. “How do you know Alina?”

“We grew up together.” He looked at you, pressing for more details. “In an orphanage in Keramzin.” You were interrupted by a knock, the food had finally arrived. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until the smell of roasted lamb had made your mouth water. “Is that roasted lamb? It’s my favorite!” The Darkling shot you a smile, motioning for you to dig in.

“I was alone until Alina and Mal had come in.” You said between bites. “I never knew my parents. Ana Kuya said I had just turned up one day on the doorsteps, wrapped in nothing but a blanket. I used to get bullied, but when they showed up, they started picking on Mal too. Alina, being the great person she is, defended us both.” A smile made its way onto your lips as you reminisced about your youth. “From then, the three of us were like peas in a pod. We were never seen without each other. That was until we joined the First Army. Alina and Mal had been stationed near Kribirsk while I was down south in Caryeva. We rarely got to see each other.” The Darkling watched as you shoveled the food into your mouth. His hands clasped together, resting on his lap as he listened intently.

“Are you not going to eat?” You pointed the knife in your hand at his plate.

“No, it’s for you.” He replied, pushing the plate closer to you. You squinted your eyes, bewildered by the movement.

“What do you want from me?” The words had left your mouth before you could think, “Sorry, I..” Truly, what would the darkling want from someone like me? Someone who wasn’t like him. You thought to yourself.

“Stay. I want you to stay at the palace.” He announced, his request shocking you to the core. “..Alina needs a friend here, someone she knows and is familiar with. Someone she is comfortable around.”

“What about Mal?” You set down the fork and knife, forgetting about the food.

“He is welcome to stay too.” A quiet and hesitant knock is heard after he finishes speaking. He calls out for the person, allowing them to enter. “Ah, Alina. We were just talking about you.” He motions for her to come to the table.

She gingerly walks over to you, her arms crossed over her chest. “What about me?” She asked.

“I’ve invited our friend here, y/n, to stay at the palace. Your friend, Mal, may stay too.”

“He won’t be staying here.” She sniffled, a sarcastic laugh leaving her lips.

“What? Why?” You inquired.

“He left.” She explained. You knew she was leaving out some details. Just mere hours ago, Mal had been ecstatic to see her again. Yet now he was gone? Something wasn’t adding up. You’d pester her later about it when you weren’t in the presence of the Darkling.

“My offer to you still stands, y/n. You may stay, granted that you take residence in this hall.” Alina tried to hide her shock, no one had ever stayed in the Darkling’s hall. He had it all to himself. She didn’t even know there were other rooms near his. “If you are to stay here at the Little Palace as a guest, then I’ll need to be able to keep an eye on you just in case something happens.”

You give yourself some time to decide. You had duties to attend to, you and Mal had to track the stag. However, given that the two of you had pinpointed it’s location, there wasn’t much left to do. What the Darkling was offering you had been everything you’d dreamt of. If you stayed you wouldn’t have to wait days just to bathe. You wouldn’t have to starve anymore.

“How long would I stay?”

“For as long as Alina likes.” He said. You turned to Alina, asking if this had been the right choice for you. She gives you an eager nod.

“Fine. I’ll stay for Alina.” You look at her again, taking note of the color of her kefta. She was wearing his colors, which could possibly mean one thing. “Are you two together?” Alina’s eyes widen with humility while the Darkling lets out a brief laugh.

“Sorry for her behaviour. She just doesn’t know how to shut her trap.” She moved from where she was leaning against the table and pinched your arm. Her playful glare made you giggle. She opens her mouth to talk again.

“No, we aren’t.” The Darkling answered for her. He noticed the frown on her face, sending her a tight lipped smile, signalling that they would talk later. “You must be tired. Let me show you to your quarters. Alina, stay here.” He motioned for you to follow. Alina watched as the two of you left the war room, a sigh leaving her lips.

You followed him for a few paces before he stopped in front of a door. “Your room is right across from mine if you ever need anything. However I think everything you need is already there.” He replied. You waited around, wondering what was to happen next. He nodded his head towards the door, allowing you to enter. The room had been dark, no lanterns had been lit up due to the room being unoccupied. The Darkling called for an inferni. One came over quickly, lighting up the candles and lanterns as quickly as she could. The room was quite similar to Alina’s, the only difference being that most of the furniture had his symbol engraved on it. Had this room once belonged to his lover? You were too afraid to ask, not wanting to overstep your boundaries. “I’ll be back in the morning to give you a proper tour of the palace. Until then, get some rest.” Without bidding you goodbye, the Darkling left to go speak with Alina.

Without wasting a second, you ran towards the tub, drawing yourself a warm bath. It had been so long since you had been able to bathe by yourself. You’d gotten used to bathing with the other female soldiers that you had forgotten had relaxing it could be. You wash all the accumulated dirt and grime from your body along with your hair. Feeling the water begin to grow cold, you reach for a robe before heading towards the dresser.

It’s contents were luxurious. Many gorgeous dresses, all varying lengths. Countless nightgowns embroidered with flower designs. At the very end of the dresser was a kefta. No ordinary one, it was gold with black detailing. It seemed to stop mid knee. You wanted to reach out to it, to feel it underneath your fingertips but decided not to. Maybe another day. Instead you reached out for a nightgown and slipped it on. To your surprise it fit perfectly, almost too perfectly. Deciding not to dwell on it for much longer, you blow out the candles, leaving the lanterns alight and slip under the heavy covers of the bed. The fatigue from the journey finally caught up with you, and you found yourself sleeping within the minute.

-

“I won’t let you take them!” A voice that sounded like yours shouted. What were you talking about? Who were you talking about?

“You have no say in this matter.” You couldn’t tell who was talking and it frustrated you, it felt like their name was on the tip of your tongue.

“There’s always a choice.” Before you knew it someone had pressed a cold blade against your throat, gasping emerging from the people around you.

“No! Don’t do it.” Someone pleaded just as another shouted your name.

“I won’t be your pawn, not anymore.” You said, the next thing you felt was the warmth of your own blood dripping on you. You stumbled back, your hands going to the laceration on your neck. You gasped and whimpered in pain as you felt more blood leave you. In the background you could hear someone screaming, another one sobbing whilst saying your name.

-

You woke up screaming, your hands going to your neck as you stumbled out of bed, falling onto the floor. The door to your room flew open and in came the Darkling along with the oprichniki. Some had their pistols drawn, ready to shoot, while others held their arms up. The Darkling and his guards ran about your room, looking for an intruder to find none. Noticing the state you were in, he ordered the guards to leave.

He crouched down to you, reaching out his hand to touch you before pulling back. “Are you alright?” Your gaze met his, you observed the sun's rays coming through your windows, lighting him up like an angel. His eyes held concern as you hesitated to answer him.

“I’m not sure..” For the first time in your life, you were terrified. You shed a few tears as you looked at him, your shaking hands still around your neck. He hovers his hand over yours, stopping just before they made contact. He was asking for permission to touch you. With a nod, he gently placed his hands atop of yours before removing them. The birthmark on your neck was now raw and red, as if you had been violently scratching it.

Your dream had left you in shambles as one thought ran wildly through your mind, was my birthmark a warning of what was to come?

-

tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester @runawayolives @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae @batgal96 @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer @kaqua @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa @marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess @comphersjost @telepathdestiel​ @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9​ @s-corpionem​ @pancakeisreading @sanna2020 @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter​��@futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard​ @thereeallink @ladyblablabla​ @wolfieellsworld​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @louweasleymalfoy

I tagged everyone I could </3

Also not proofread so sorry for any mistakes lmao

[waterstar2016]

Hot Chocolate

December 21st…

Raphael paced the hardwood floors of Leonardo’s apartment. The four brothers had just gotten back from their patrol with the NYPD. It was the leaders turn to host the weekly meeting, so here he was, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

It had been three days since she’d left. His brothers, even now when they were older watched out for him. They all watched out for each other and right now three were seeing the largest of them pace. As time went on the pacing episodes grew longer. Leo looked to Donnie. The tall terrapin only nodded and opened up his computer screen to start making arrangements. “Raph.” The red cladded mutant looked to his eldest brother. “What do ya want, Leo?” The leader smiled and put his hand on his brothers shoulder. “Go.” The Brute blinked in confusion and then smiled. It was the first smile Leo had seen since Immogene had left. “Finally an order I ain’t gonna argue with ya about.” The Brute gave Leo a long look before leaving to go home and pack.

While he was throwing things into a suitcase his mind was rolling with a question. Should he be going? Cripes, their relationship was still so new. They had tiptoed around each other for months, both having their own physical and emotional scarring. Then it happened. They came together one night just weeks ago. Raph shook is head as images of that first time flickered in his minds eye. Heat. That’s what he’d experienced. The chemistry that they’d both been trying to ignore hit them hard. Although, there hadn’t been any mentions about feelings yet. It was why he wasn’t worried when she didn’t ask for him to go with her. Also, due to what they were, it was a little more difficult for him and his brothers to travel. The brothers may have worked with the precinct now, but it was a far cry from being able to walk about in the daylight. She wouldn’t have asked him to go through that kind of trouble. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her being alone, especially at Christmas staying where she was.

December 24th…

Immogene answered the door and there stood the behemoth of a turtle, covered in snow.

“Raphael! What are you…how did you…?” The turtle chuckled. She didn’t realize yet what he would do for her. “Well, I thought about comin’ down the chimney, like ‘Jolly ‘ol Saint Nick, but ya know…” He pointed to himself and the movement made some of the snow fall off his shoulders. “…that a’int the kinda tight squeeze I’m aimin’ for on this trip.” She couldn’t help but smile wider. Always a double meaning between them. “So, I stowed away on a red eye to Toronto. From there it was a truck that Donnie rented and an introduction to the northern drivin’ ya talk about.” A laugh left her lips and a sudden gust of wind blew some flakes into the cottage making her shiver. “Get in here before you freeze.”

He turned a little to the side so he could fit through the door and set his bag down. After he stood she reached up and brushed off the snow from his shoulders and stood on her tip toes to get his head. “I’m making a mess of yer floor.” Immogene looked down and then back up to the amber gaze. “I don’t care about my floors.” She shook her head, the emotion sticking in her throat. “You’re here.”

Not caring about the cold wet that would seep through her sleep tank, she moved into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his plastron. “You’re really here.” A low rumble sounded in his throat. The sound soothed something inside of her. He moved his arms over her back and pulled her in closer. “Of course I am.” His one hand slid up her side and moved under her chin adding gentle pressure to lift her head up. “Immogene, there’s no way in hell I could let ya spend Christmas alone.” His amber gaze looked away from her and took in the sight of what was the entrance hall of the cottage that had been her Grandparents. It was the first time she’d come back since they passed. His eyes moved back to hers and he smiled. A smile that she knew was just for her. “It ain’t right.” He kissed her forehead and smiled. “I want us to be together for our first Christmas.”

Her dark green eyes searched his. “Thank you.” He gave her a firm nod and then brushed his still chilled lips against hers. “I know ya had to come and I know why ya came by yerself. Numba one I know how hard this is fer ya and numba two, I bought a pair of snowshoes just in case…I think tha guy choked on his coffee when I told ‘im how big I needed them to be.”

A surprised laugh left her lips. “Okay.” She smiled at him and it lit up her eyes. “Okay.” She huffed another laugh. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” His smirk formed slowly. “That just made me forget how fuckin’ cold it is out there.” She arched her brow with her eyes glimmering. “You’re going to be down to your shorts and that’s going to make you feel warmer?” The deep chuckle that sounded in his throat had the back of her neck tingling. “Oh yeah, it will.”

After hanging up his jacket in the mud and laundry room she put his clothing in the dryer. She turned and he was standing behind her holding out his bandanna. “Ya wanna hang this up too?” A soft expression came over her face, it was only recently he’d taken his mask off for the first time around her. “Sure.” She smiled up at him. He was now wearing his shorts and bent down to his bag and took out a top. He pulled on a long sleeved t-shirt and attached the hooks on the sides to the inner part of his shell. It was tight against his build. Going over to the double wash basin she rinsed the red fabric out before draping it on a rung of a drying rack.

The mutant watched her as she worked. She was so beautiful in a pair of dark gray sleep pants, a burgundy tank and her mass of red mahogany hair curling around her face. He wanted her, he wanted to take her to places that would make the shadows he’d seen in her eyes disappear. He would have had her the moment he came through the door, but he could wait. There were other things he needed to take care of first. “Why don’t ya take me on a tour?”

Immogene took his hand. Ninja or not the trip would have been long and more difficult because of what he was. She had some thanking to do when they went back. “Raphael…”. He interrupted her by pulling her into his large frame. He knew she would suggest he relax first. “Show me what made ya you. I know what this place meant to ya and I know what big of a part it held in your life. Let me be with ya when ya walk through yer memories. I’ve got lots of material coverin’ these big arms ya tell me I have. So, if ya need to use it to wipe those pretty eyes of yers, you just go ahead.”

She swore softly. ‘Jesus.’ No one understood her the way he did. Blowing out a breath she nodded, taking the moment she needed to collect her emotions. “You do realize that you’re going to get very lucky later, right?” Taking a curl between his fingers he gently tugged. “Yup.” Another laugh left her and she moved away from him but found his hand and held onto it.

“When I got here I only put my things in my old bedroom…I’ve been sleeping on the couch.” He gave her hand a squeeze, encouraging her to continue. “It’s like I’m expecting to walk into them. The echo’s of times past are really loud.” One step and then another had them in front of the linen closet that was just off the entrance and beside the small first floor bathroom. Taking a breath she opened the door. Leaning in she took a sniff. “I still smell the towels.” She quietly chuckled. “I, to this day cannot get my laundry smelling the way hers did or feel so damn soft.” Over her shoulder he inhaled the lingering scent. “I can smell it too, Gen. It’s fresh and warm all at once.” She nodded to him. “That’s exactly it.”

Turning to the three closets in front of the bathroom she pointed. “My grandfather built this cottage with the design that he and my grandmother made together. Storage was important. Living so far away from town, especially in the winter meant that you had to have space for what you might need.” Turning to her right and taking a couple of steps found them in the kitchen. “I learned how to cook in here.” She took a deep breath. “You know, my grandparents never taught me how to cook per say, it was more that I was encouraged to hang out in here. Sometimes chopping, sometimes being allowed to sprinkle in the spices or rolling out the cookie dough. I learned by just being here.”

She squeezed his hand then. “I can’t tell you how many card games we played at this table.” Raph looked down at the wooden table, it’s age obvious by the yellowed white top with faded orange and blue painted flowers at the corner. “I learned how to play Euchre, literally on my Grandfathers knee.” Raph snorted. “Ya kick Leo’s ass in that game. He didn’t pay attention to that look in yer eyes when he asked us to play with him and Mikey.”

They walked through the archway into the dining room and through the next into the hall and turned left. If they would have turned left again at the end of the small corridor they would have made their way back around to the kitchen. “My Grandmothers sewing room.” She sighed with a grin. “I may be an artist, but I do not have patience like she did for knitting.” She looked up at him. “That’s something she had in common with you. I on the other hand don’t think I could make a scarf with all my attempts sewn together.”

Coming out of the room she took him to the door across from it. Opening the door she found she still smelled the sawdust. He heard her take a calming breath and then followed her down the stairs, never letting go of her hand. “This is what you have in common with my Grandfather. Woodworking. Raphael, he built this place with his own two hands and a lot of the furniture within.” She walked over to the now empty work tables against the wall and ran her finger over the wood. “He would work away on his next project and while my Grandmother started her seedlings, just over there under fluorescent lights.” Something on the floor caught her eye and she squatted to pick it up. It was a wood shaving, missed when the cottage was cleaned. After a moment she held it out for him, he nodded and closed his fingers over it. It would be safe with him.

“Gen, this place is a lot bigger than what I would think was a cottage.” A smile formed on her lips. “You’re right, it’s more a large house. There used to be a much smaller cottage here, but it flooded when I was a baby. When the storm clears you’ll see the logs up in the bush. The river used to be used to transport the wood, but was stopped because it was bad for the water. After the water went down, they built this place.” She told him the changes that had taken place down in the basement and throughout the cottage over the years. When she led him back up she showed him her Grandparents bedroom and then ended up in the living room. “The only time we watched TV was when it was raining, Sunday Disney special or the news.” She hadn’t liked watching the news as a child, but what she would give to be able to do that now with them. Her Grandfather stroking his cat on his lap.

Something that Raphael had learned about her, even before they got together was that she had the tendency of going quiet when something was bothering her. Sometimes, she got so lost in the thought her mind tuned out everything else. She stood there looking at the old rocking chair and he gently stroked his finger down her arm. “There’s good feelin’s here, Gen.” Lowering his head to hers he smiled. “I’m gonna add another one.” His lips touched hers and she was brought out of the past. Closing her eyes she moved with him. He pressed closer, showing her a small hint of the passion he felt for her. Reluctantly he ended the kiss and she huffed a laugh. “You really know how to get my attention, don’t you.” It was a rhetorical question as his resulting smirk was answer enough.

They found themselves walking up the wooden stairs, with the lacquer on them so shiny it was like glass. “Every morning I would sneak down these stairs, sometimes sliding on my bum. Trying to be quiet.” He chuckled. “Ya needed some of our ninja skills didn’t ya?” She laughed. “Yes, I didn’t find out until I was in my 20’s that they always knew. Grandpa would get up and leave Grandma and I to snuggle.” She showed him the three bedrooms on the second floor and he saw the suitcase in one of them on the bed. “There’s a lot of blue in here, but I like it.” Shaking her head she grinned.

“This was the kids room.” The fourth room on the other side of the stairs was almost the size of the previous three together. The remaining space was used for another storage closet and a small two piece bathroom. “There were times all five of us cousins were here and others it would only be a couple of us. I even came here by myself.” A soft sigh left her lips. “I spent a lot of time up here daydreaming.” Looking to one of the corners she went quiet for a moment before nodding and speaking again. “Its been gone for years, but that old wrought iron bed had the most comfortable feather mattress. You sunk into it. I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed on those first few nights. It was like sleeping on a cloud.” She led him to the window. “You can’t see it now with the blizzard, but down there is the dock I used to fish off of.” Raph smiled. “The one where the Northern Pike almost pulled ya in?” A laugh left her lips. “It’s true. It hit the lure like a freight train. I was yelling for my Grandfather and he told me to reel it in, until he saw me pulled up against the railing. The rod bent over. God. That was a big fucking fish.” She’d show him the lure with the teeth marks in it later.

Through the smiles and the stories he heard the emotions in her voice. He could feel the grief tugging at her. The cottage would be going to a new family in the spring. She led him back down the stairs slowly. The journey down memory lane was over for tonight. “Immogene?” Looking up she gave him a questioning look. “I wish I could make this better for ya. I wish…”. He growled lowly. “Ya know how I get…I like solvin’ a lot of things with my fists. I can’t do that ‘ere.” He wrapped his arms around her and leaned his chin on the top of her head. “But what I can do is try to help you make new memories.” It was then the tears slipped down her cheeks and she closed her eyes against his bicep.

A few minutes later she pulled her head away her eyes drifted up to his. “Okay.” She then hiccuped through a soft and quiet laugh. “Thanks for the use of your shirt.” He grinned down at her. It was what he hoped to hear.

“Is it ok if I…uh…use the kitchen? I’d like ya to sit there at the table and keep me company. I want to make you my hot chocolate.” She smiled. “I could do and go for that.”

She watched him move around the space. Raphael had many talents and one of them was in the kitchen. “I gotta warn ya, Gen. This ain’t no ordinary hot chocolate.” She crossed her leg over the other one. “Oh yeah?” He slowly melted the chocolate on the stove. “Yeah, like that powdered shit the store sells? Ya won’t wanna drink that again. Yer gonna have to come to me to get yer fix.”

It was impossible to see around him, he was huge and cagey with what he was concocting. There were sounds of ziplock bags being opened, jars being unscrewed and spoons clinking against pots. “I even brought us mugs. Those little teacups that ya call coffee cups just wouldn’t do.” She laughed breathily. Hearing the whirring sound of beaters going she arched her brow. He was whipping cream. The smell of roasted marshmallows tickled her nose next and it hit her. He was making an event out of something as ordinary as hot chocolate. Here was a new memory. ‘Oh Raphael.’ She thought as she swallowed.

When he finally turned her eyes widened. In his hands were two very large mugs. One a rich red, the other deeper in colour. They were topped with a mountain of whipped cream, snowflake shaped sprinkles and toasted marshmallows. There was even a candy cane. “What is that?” Raphael smirked. “My hot chocolate.” He handed her the darker mug. “This is for you, mine has a lot more cayenne in it. I don’t want your tongue burnin’ off or anythin’. Ya can’t handle tha heat like I can, but ya handle mine fine. I call that a good deal.” She laughed and followed him to the living room.

She paused at the entrance and looked at the couch. There were blankets and pillows all over the place. “When did you…? Riiiight, spec ops and a ninja.” He must have done it when she took a quick bathroom break. Raph just smirked and sat, looking at the spot beside him. He lifted his arm as she snuggled up against him, curling her legs up. He then let his hand curve around the dip of her waist. It fit perfectly there.

Raphael watched her with eager eyes. “It’s meant for drinkin’ sweetheart.” A snort sounded from her. “Raph, this is not hot chocolate it’s work of art.” Patient amber eyes looked at her while his brow ridge arched. She laughed and took her first sip. The real chocolate hit her tastebuds like the pike had hit her lure all those years ago. There was enough sugar to balance out the flavour and the hint of cayenne added a twist to the drink and warmed her belly. “Oh my god.” She licked her lips and looked at him. His responding smirk added another depth to the warmth.

That sat there drinking while the storm raged around them. He watched her and kept his thumb constantly moving over the material of her tank. When he startled to rumble she felt a sense of peace.

Finishing one of the marshmallows and licking the tips of her fingers she looked at his face. There, over the scar on his lip was some whipped cream. “Raph you have…”. She paused and then slowly set the mug down on the coffee table in front of her. Turning she got up on her knees and faced him. “You have cream on your lip and I’m not offering my shirt…”. She straddled him, her legs spreading to accommodate his thick thighs. “…but I can do this.” She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in and licked the cream off his lip.

Raph wouldn’t have made a move if she hadn’t initiated. Not this time. Despite the heat and play behind some of his earlier words, what happened on his visit was up to her. He shifted his hips and reached with his hands and tangled his fingers into her hair. “Immogene.” He rumbled her name before pulling at her and pressing his lips to hers.

She sighed into the kiss. The sound was swallowed and his fingers tightened in her long locks. His lips moved from hers down to her neck. He wanted her thinking of nothing but him. God, he’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. When they finally came together, something he’d dreamed of over and over again, it was like something clicked for him.

He inhaled the scent of her skin and groaned. His lips began to nibble as his hands travelled down her back to cup her bottom. “Your fucking ass, Gen.” He groaned while he squeezed the rounded flesh in his hands, his fingers pulling the cheeks apart. It made her breath hitch when the move also tugged at her sex. “Ah, ya can do betta than that.” He lifted her closer, this time the tips of his fingers purposely grazed the outer folds he could feel through the thin material. A sharp sound left her lips and she felt his toothy smile against her neck.

In a smooth motion, one that showed only a small portion of his strength, he stood. Her legs wrapped around low on his hips, tucking under his shell. The large terrapin licked down her neck and dragged his tongue over her collarbone, taking the stairs up to her bedroom. He smirked again feeling the first tremble that rolled through her body.

One handedly, Raphael pushed the dimmer switch on and then turned it so the light was low. He laid her on the bed and then crawled over top of her, his massive body hovering over hers. “I like seeing those eyes of yers go all blurry.” Looking down to her chest his cock twitched in his shorts when he saw the bumps of her nipples showing under the material of her clothing. “Aren’t those beggin’ for attention. Ya want my mouth on them don’t ya? Suckin’. He licked his lips as he brushed one of his fingers over the bump. She gasped and a deep chuckle sounded in the room. “I wonder what else wants to be sucked on?” Her legs moved and he took the opportunity to push his knee up against her covered mound. “Raph!”

That’s all it took for him to lower his head and start to lip at the hard peak. Her breathing was staggered and the ache she had learned he caused started below. “Mmm.” The rumbled sound had her hands moving to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt. He lifted his head then and looked down at her. Immogene bit her lip and had to work not to move herself against his knee. His hands moved and he pulled the shirt off his body, tossing it to the floor beside the bed.

That body of his. It was magnificent. He was all broad and muscled, the opposite of her soft curves. “You really are a Brute, Raphael, but in the best way.” His hands moved to her belly and under her tank. “You bet I am.” He pushed the material up until it rested over the tops of her breasts. “Fuck, ya make my cock throb, sweetheart.” Him cupping the generous globes of flesh had her turning her head to the side and then back to facing him. “I’ve only just started.” A whimper left her lips.

The turtles thumbs moved to the edge of the thin cotton bra and he pulled down. Her nipples popped out and they were so hard the soft pink they normally were was flushed to a deep rose while the areola were pebbled. Keeping his eyes on hers he lowered his head and swept his long tongue over the left peak. For a moment she stopped breathing and her wetness began to seep into the fabric of her panties.

Her hands went to his head and he smiled, flicking his tongue over the turgid nub. “Raphael…please.” He knew what she wanted. His lips closed over her nipple and he sucked. She rolled her hips as the ache in her sex grew. He chuckled again and let her nipple go with a pop before sucking it back in between his lips. The fingers of his other hand scissoring her other nipple between them. “Oh god…”.

When she was squirming he slid his finger down and flicked the front clasp of the bra. Her heavy breasts fell to the side of her chest a little more without the garment. Lifting his head she moaned. “Just a bit…let me get this off of ya.” He pulled the tank over her head and slid the bra out from under her back. Tossing them, they landed in a pile with his shirt. “There we go. Now, how wet have I made that pussy? Is it clenching yet?” A spurt of her juices soaked through the sleep pants, darkening the material. “Ya have no idea how fuckin’ sexy it is when I’m down there, spreadin’ yer folds and I see that pretty hole wink at me as ya drip down yer ass.” She moved her hips again and a cry left her lips.

Raph lowered his head again and sucked her nipple back into his mouth. Her body trembled as his hand moved down between her legs and cupped her. “Ah!” He growled against her breast when he felt the dampness. Taking his finger, he rubbed it up and down her covered slit.

Immogene’s head was tossing from side to side. “Raph!” His lips moved over her areola. His tone deep and heavy with lust. “I fuckin’ love it when ya call my name like that. All fuckin’ needy, I can hear how much ya want my finger.” He grinned when he felt the material get wetter.

He let go of her nipple, the wet peak glistened in the dim light. On a moan he lowered his head to her other one and wrapped his lips around it. His hand moved up and slipped under her pants and panties. The head of his cock dripping its own fluids when he slid his finger between her folds and into her heat with a hard thrust.

Her back arched and her juices flowed out over his finger. “That’s fuckin’ it, fuck I love it when ya clench like that.” He moved his finger in and out as she whimpered his name. He looked at her face as he suckled. She was flushed and beautiful with it. The sounds leaving her lips kept his cock throbbing.

Nipping her breast he sat up again. Her eyes opened and she swallowed hard. “Raphael.” He smirked again, his eyes glowing with heat. “Now, I know ya can call my name louder than that.” His finger left her pussy and she whimpered. “Don’t worry, I know what I want ta suck on next.” Her lips parted and she took a shuddering breath. Raising up on his knees he moved backwards, taking her sleep pants and panties with him. When they were in a pile at the bottom of the bed he slid his hands over her calves and onto her thighs. Eyes locked on hers he pressed and she spread for him.

Immogene raised her head and looked down while he pulled his cock free from his shorts. She dripped again seeing how hard he was. He was so thick, his shaft growing wider down towards the base. Her kitten pink tongue slipped between her lips and licked them, wanting her own taste. “Fuck, Immogene.” He cupped his heavy sack in his hands and fondled the balls within. Meeting her gaze he lowered his head.

The first sweep of his tongue had her mind going blank. “Raphael!” A laughing smile formed on her lips as she could feel his smirk against her wet flesh. He licked, he nuzzled, the tip of his tongue circled her clitoris. His hand slowly moved up and down over his shaft. Feasting on her always made him want to fist his cock. The first time he went down on her he’d cum when she did, jerking himself off. Being a mutant had it’s advantages. One of them being a fast recovery time. Tonight though, he wanted to empty himself into her. His tongue slid through her lips and teased at her entrance.

Her thighs began to twitch and her hands moved to his head, her nails lightly dragging over his scalp. “Oh yeah.” He groaned the words into her folds. Closing his lips over her clit he sucked at the bead. He could feel the precum dripping over his fingers while he slowly pumped his shaft. He manipulated the hard nub moaning as she moved herself against his face.

He knew she was getting close. Opening his mouth wider he pushed his tongue into her and she lifted her hips on a cry. “Raph!” A low growl filled the room along with the wet sounds of her sex. He tongue fucked her until her cries became desperate. His upper lip moved over her clit and he moved his head from side to side and his tongue continued to firmly thrust into her. “Raph…Raphael.” She breathed harder and her twitching thighs began to shake. “Oh…oh god…Raph…ael!” Her orgasm washed through her and she gasped through it. He squeezed just below head of his shaft to stop himself from cumming as her thighs clenched his head.

Slowly he moved his head away from her pussy. “Damn.” Her folds were flushed and puffy with it. Her juices covered her sex and inner thighs, darkened the sheets below and one look in the mirror showed them covering his jowls. He ran his fingers over her body, she was so sensitive after she came and he watched her twitch and tremble with his touch. “Next time, I want ya ridin’ my face.”

She was panting and when she opened her eyes she saw him kneeling, still stoking his substantial cock. “Get up here.” She bit her lip in anticipation. “I ain’t gonna say no.” Raphael straddled her body, always in control of his weight on her. He moved up, his cock bobbing and dripping on her skin. Holding himself above her he grabbed his shaft and pressed it down to her lips.

She licked him and then licked him again. Moaning as his flavour coated her tongue. She mouthed his cock while her hands caressed his thighs. A loud rumble filled the room. Even though her pussy was still pulsing from her orgasm, she could feel her arousal building again.

Opening wide she took as much of him as she could into her mouth. She moved her hands to his ass cheeks and pulled. On a groan he began to gently thrust his cock between her lips. He spurted in her mouth and it made her drip. His other hand reached back and cupped her sex again. “Ya…fuckin’ drippin’, while ya suckin’ my cock…ya have no idea what that does ta me, sweetheart.”

She pulled her head back and gave him a sultry smile. “Hang those balls above my face, Raphael.” On a groan he shifted and felt her immediately mouthing his sack. “Fuckin’ hell!” His finger slipped back into her and he spurted again when he felt her walls squeeze the digit. She moved her tongue in a figure eight motion over his balls. His sack, like the rest of him was large. The feel of them slapping against her clit when he fucked her was amazing.

“Immogene…fuck.” She gently sucked one of the round globes into her mouth. “Fuck…I need ya.” He lifted and his ball left her mouth, her saliva stringing along for a moment before it broke. She started to turn, knowing how much he loved fucking her on her knees. But, when she moved on her side he grabbed her hip and laid behind her. “Like this. I want ta take ya like this.”

His hand moved from her hip and between her legs. He lifted the top leg and let it rest on his thigh. Reaching lower he grasped himself and slapped his cock up against her pussy. “Raph!” He rumbled and set the head of his thick shaft against her entrance and pushed. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as he filled her. His other arm that was under her shoulders pulled her more into him while his fingers teased her nipple. “Fuck, Gen.”

Raphael began to move his hips, sliding his cock in and out of her. She vibrated against him. He was so thick that he was constantly pressed against her g-spot. The pressure had her crying out immediately. “That’s it, fuckin’ take me.” Her juices covered his shaft and dripped over his balls. “I love fuckin’ ya.” He thrust harder making her cry out even louder. “The sounds ya make…”. He thrust again, enjoying the feel of her gripping at his cock. “I know ya got another one in ya.” Finding his rhythm his thighs slapped against her ass. “Don’t ya?” She panted and cried out again when the fingers of his other hand found her clitoris. He rubbed it as he fucked her. “Cum…Immogene…cum on my cock.” His hips picked up speed again and his thick shaft disappeared into her pussy. “Fuckin’ cum.” Her head pressed against his cheek as he felt her walls start to convulse. “That’s it…cum…cum.” The pleasure he felt making her moan his name. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. His balls that were pulled up tight against his body throbbed and he lost himself in her heat and the clenching of her sex. “Fuck!” His thrusts lost their rhythm as he pumped into her and came. “Immogene!” He growled her name as the jets of his seed filled her. One hard thrust and another had his own thighs twitching with the last of his release.

She went limp and he kept his cheek against her head. They were both breathing heavily. His feelings for her were so strong. He shifted, rumbling as his softening shaft left her body. She gasped feeling their combined fluids drip out of her now stretched hole. It took a little time to go back to normal after a round with him. “Raph.” She sighed his name and he ran his finger over her delicious curves. Immogene turned her head to look at him and he reached up to brush the damp curls away from her face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He smiled and pulled her face towards his so he could kiss her. Each of them tasting themselves on the others lips. “I love ya, Gen.” She twitched in his arms and inhaled sharply. “I think I loved ya tha first moment I saw ya.” His heart was in his throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said it now…this is a hard time fer…”. She shook her head in denial. “Raphael you told me you came here to help me make new memories. You have succeeded.” Her gaze flicked to the LED clock on the nightstand. It read 12:09 a.m. “You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. A sigh left her lips and she smiled. “Merry Christmas, Raphael and I love you.”

Raph hugged her tight. “Merry Christmas, Immogene.” After a moment he felt his shaft twitch. Being against her ass had that effect on him. He pursed his lips. “How about a shower? I think there might be another memory to be made in there.” Her eyes met his and they laughed.

End.

[bosspigeon]

i left a little something on the table for you

Saints and Sinners isn’t the only club in Vapolis, but most of them have the same or similar protocols, to varying degrees of diligence. Still, everyone should know the game by now, no matter where they go. It’s all the same general gist: check your ID, check you for weapons, get the cover charge, then send you in to get wasted and be stupid without the threat of a disembowelment on the dance floor.

Most people don’t want the trouble. They just obey the rules and leave their weapons at home or in their car, though plenty of others do try to conceal a piece regardless, and either let the bouncers confiscate it to give back when they leave, or kick up a fuss and get thrown right back out the door. If they do manage to slip under the radar, most people have the sense to keep quiet about it.

Coyote Knox isn’t most people.

The merc’s clothes are almost always pretty shredded, and Jax knows him well enough by now to know that, while he does wear them like the damage is all intentional, most of it isn’t. It means he’s rarely fully clothed, which makes it pretty easy to pat him down and send him on his way, with several shiny new knives for the trouble.

Well, some of them are new, anyway.

Some of them still have blood on them.

This time, it wasn’t Jax at the door. It should be his night off, and while he usually has better things to do with his free time than hang around the place, Orla wanted him to pop in for a brief consult for some job coming down the line.

He goes to the bar for a quick drink before he heads out, the crowd parting around him like water the second they see who he is, flags down a bartender, and waits.

And then he hears that loud fucking mouth.

“It’s not the size that matters, babe,” Knox is saying, his voice a rough purr. He never smells like tobacco, and Jax has never seen him smoke, so he’s not sure where that rasp could come from, but it’s there regardless, like vodka and broken glass. “It’s what you do with it.”

“Uh-huh,” the bartender laughs indulgently. Jax can’t remember their name, but clearly they know Knox well enough to be comfortable with him. Speaks to their mental state, he supposes. “I still think you’re compensating for something.”

He knows he’s going to regret it, but Jax turns his head to the left, and it’s easy enough to see Orla’s rabid pet merc even through the crush of people vying for the attention of the bartenders darting about like bright dragonflies in neon and mesh.

He’s sitting on the bar with his heavy boot propped up on a vacant stool that several people are eyeing with furious envy, but none are brave enough to try for, considering the little bastard is twirling around a bowie knife like a fucking baton.

“Compensating for what, doll?” the masked merc chuckles, leaning back on his elbow. He’s practically lying across the bar, head tilted back, choppy hair hanging down as he smiles winsomely at the orange-haired bartender who twists nimbly around him to top off glasses and gather orders like they’re used to his bullshit. “I know what I’ve got and how to use it, I just feel like it never hurts to have plenty of options at my disposal.”

“Let a bouncer catch you waving that thing around, and I’m sure Orla will remove a few of your options for you.” The bartender clears some empty glasses from the bar and drops them by a nearby sink, taking a clean shaker to begin mixing cocktails.

Jax is off the clock. It’s none of his goddamned business. He drums his fingers against the sticky bartop and immediately regrets it, scowling and wiping his hand on his jeans. They’re expensive, but at least they’re dark. He can have them cleaned later.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Knox croons, sitting up and raking back his hair. Someone leaves their drink alone for a second, and he snatches it up and knocks half of it back in one go. Disgusting. “I know when to test my luck. I nicked the bouncer rotation from her office last time I was in. Jaxxie’s not on duty tonight, so I’m in the clear. The other muscleheads know not to fuck with me if they’d like to keep their own options intact.”

It’s a good thing Jax hasn’t gotten his drink yet, because he’s pretty sure he’d slam it down on the bar and shatter the glass.

“I’ll have to have a talk with them, then,” he snarls, loud enough to be heard over the noise, and to make the people around him clear the hell out.

The bartender yelps and nearly drops the shaker.

Knox just groans. “Speak of the devil.”

Jax pushes off the bar and stalks through the crowd, and saints and sinners alike practically throw themselves out of his path. Knox doesn’t move from his graceless sprawl across the bar, though he does sit up a bit to watch. His bright yellow eyes track the bouncer’s every move, his pierced lips kicking into a smirk.

The bartender, predictably, makes themself scarce.

“You must be stupider than you look,” Jax says, crossing his arms across his chest.

Yellow eyes flicker down to the open vee of Jax’s silk shirt, and that lazy smirk spreads wider. “Mama always told me smarts weren’t the way to catch a husband anyhow,” he drawls. He taps the tip of the blade against his temple like he’s imparted some deep wisdom and takes a pointed sip of his stolen drink.

Jax curls his lip and doesn’t deign that with a reply. “Hand over the knife, and I won’t throw you into traffic and tell Orla she’ll have to pick up a new poorly-trained housepet from the pound.”

The merc’s quick, Jax will give him that. In the blink of an eye he twists the knife away and arches off the bar, slipping it into some hidden sheath behind his back. He also manages to do so while slurping down the last of his stolen drink, and sliding the empty glass down the bar for the original owner to find. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand, before he raises them both and wiggles his fingers so the rings on them click together. “You must be mistaken, Sir,” he simpers, fluttering his eyelashes, “I don’t have any knife. I’m an upstanding citizen, and I would never disobey the rules of this fine establishment!”

A frisson of something shoots down Jax’s spine, but he chalks it up to anger, because that’s generally what overwhelms him when he has to see this smug little fuck’s face. He can’t be that useful to Orla, the way she bitches about him.

But he’s still around being a thorn in Jax’s side, so he must be good for something.

It shouldn’t be his problem. He’s off the clock. But he knows Orla would find some way to blame him if Knox got out of hand while Jax was around to stop it. So he grabs the merc by one stout shoulder and starts carting him towards the doors.

Knox, to his credit, doesn’t struggle. What he does might be even more annoying, cackling like a madman and blowing a kiss up at Jax. “Baby, at least buy me dinner first!” he crows as they carve through the crowd, stumbling a bit to compensate for Jax’s much longer stride.

The two bouncers on duty leap out of the way when Jax shoves him through the doors, and the look he gives them both has them cringing away. They must be some of the new hires Orla mentioned. “We’re going to have a talk later,” he promises grimly.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on them, Jaxxie,” Knox coos. His mask is slipping off, and he fumbles to peel it away and toss it to the ground while being dragged along by the arm, “they don’t know any better.” He laughs again, grating and sharp, and he keeps laughing until Jax hauls him out the door and lets him go so suddenly he goes staggering into the hood of someone’s car. Thankfully, the car doesn't seem to have an alarm. Knox raps his knuckles against the dented hood and raises his eyebrows, apparently making the same observation. “Noted,” he says wickedly.

“Next time, I won’t be so gentle,” Jax snarls, the back of his neck still prickling at the nickname.

Coyote flicks his tongue out, wiggling the split prongs, the silver ball embedded in it catching the dull light of the dirty street lamp overhead. “Ooooh, do you promise?”

As far as Jax is concerned, the problem is handled. He gives the merc one last withering look, eyes narrowed and lip curled, before he stalks away to find his own car and get the hell out of dodge before he’s roped into more nonsense. Knox’s raspy cackle follows him the whole way.

He’s halfway home when a sudden, niggling suspicion tickles at the back of his mind. He waits until he’s at a red light to pat down his waist, which feels notably lighter than it should.

“Motherfucker!” he snaps when he realizes his gun isn’t there. He’s not the type to lose things, especially not important things.

Orla warned him on day one the merc had sticky fingers, and he didn’t listen, thinking nobody would be stupid enough to try him.

A part of him, though, is sort of… grudgingly impressed. How’d the crazy little bastard manage to take it? When?

Jax drags a hand over his mouth and grumbles to himself. He’d shake the truth, and his damned gun, out of the merc next time he saw him, no matter what.

A rough voice that sounds suspiciously like Knox croons in the back of his mind.

Sounds like a date.

[shades-of-stony]

Time Travel Stony Fanfic

Character from the Future travels to the Past 

A Shadow Hanging Over Our Fate by CaptainDean13

Summary: The Avengers get sent back in time to WWII where they run into the Howling Commandos... complete with Bucky and Steve. Little hard to explain that away, especially when you are trying to keep some major secrets. Secrets like how you ended up in the future and why the hell Bucky is now a scary (reformed) assassin with a metal arm, not to mention that you married your friend's son.

Note: A 1000/10 READ. THIS IS SO FREAKIN’ GOOD THAT I READ IT 3 TIMES SINCE I FIRST FOUND IT LAST YEAR. It’s a nice and well written time travel fic with the howling commandos and past Steve and Bucky!!

A New Way For Us by ann2who

Summary: They fight Thanos—and they’re losing. And before Tony knows what’s happening, he’s standing with Doctor Strange in front of the Eye of Agamotto and gets send back in time. Can he find a way to fix things this time around, or are they doomed to fall apart all over again?

Note: This is where Tony went back in time to fix everything that went wrong and prepare for the arrival of Thanos! Due to an unexpected twist of fate, he found himself getting closer to Steve of all people!  

Two More Miracles (To Be A Saint) by queenpenthesilea

Summary: “Get up, Stark, you sleep too much. You said you would teach me paper football.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open. No. No. Had it all been a dream? Had he just imagined five years – five years - of an idyllic life, complete with a beautiful, wonderful daughter? He pushed himself up, looking around; he was on the Milano – he was on the fucking Milano, and either this was a really weird version of hell or everything had been a dream. Or, a little voice whispered, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong with the infinity stones.

Note: A nice and juicy post-Endgame Time Travel fanfic!! Though, this one held a few what ifs. 

Saving the World is a 12 Step Program by janonny

Summary: Tony and Steve fall to pieces when Thanos’ wins.

Then they pick themselves up, and find a solution. They also find something infinitely more precious in the process.

-

“It’s going to sound pretty outrageous,” Tony admitted, rubbing a hand over his brow. While he had put on some weight and wasn’t as gaunt anymore, he was still easily tired nowadays.

“More outrageous than talking racoons and a purple villain traveling through space to collect magic stones?” Steve asked drily.

Note: This is another post-Endgame fanfic but with a twist and different take on the whole time travel!

Oh, Snap by wedelia

Summary: Peter wakes up, and he’s simultaneously five years too early and right on time.

Or, Post-Endgame Peter goes back in time and accidentally-on-purpose gets Steve and Tony together before the initial snap happens. And, oh, yeah—he also recruits a former-Air-Force-pilot-turned-galactic-hero, has lunch with Black Widow, and somehow befriends Nick Fury. This changes things.

Note: It’s Peter who time travels this time around!!

If We Never Got This Second Chance by Pookaseraph

Summary: When Tony and Steve’s son from the future, Jake Jensen, arrives at Avenger’s Tower, the two of them are forced to confront some hard truths: Tony that he might not actually become a horrible father, and Steve that he might not be able to set aside his discomfort with sharing a child with another man. When they both get a second chance at a first try at fatherhood, it’s up to the two of them to learn from their own future's past.

Note: Anyone up for some future son time travel? Enjoy this nicely written fanfic of Stony’s future son traveling and meeting the past versions of his parents! Past versions that are not even together yet! Things are about to get weird for Steve and Tony. 

Your Name on Every Wall by Sineala

Summary: The Time Gem throws Steve into the past rather than the future, and in doing so, it gives him the opportunity to undo his past mistakes. But when it turns out that all of his mistakes involve Tony Stark, Steve begins to wonder if he's ever going to be able to mend things between them.

Note: A unique plot where Steve travels to the future and realizes what he is missing on!

Together, At Dawn by RoseGoldAmpersand

Summary: Steve returns the Infinity Stones to New York and finds himself in conversation with Tony of the past. More mature and willing to listen to Tony he realises that what he previously thought were taunts was actually Tony flirting with him.

In light of this new discovery and alone in Tony’s workshop after the battle of New York, one thing leads to another...

Note: ohhhhh, some juicy smut anyone?

  Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back. by iL0Vsuperman

Summary: Tony Stark: billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and, now, superhero.

It’d only been a few months prior that he’d revealed to the world he was Iron Man and life couldn’t be better.

That is…until he stumbled upon an old abandoned Hydra lab and kinda set off one of their machines by accident. A blast of blue light later and he found himself in the same lab…only it is seventy years earlier and it is full of Hydra agents.

Cue the entrance of the Howling Commandos led by Tony’s childhood hero, Captain America.

Suddenly, Tony is living out a dream. He’s joining up with the Commandos in the search to get Tony back to his right era. It’s the adventure of a lifetime and, at first, it’s amazing…but then he and Steve connect in ways more than just friendship and he finds that he is torn between wanting to stay with him or go back home.

In the end, whatever the result, he loses.

Note: Tony meets his childhood heroes-the Howling Commandos and Captain America! 

The Future is Yet in Your Power by FestiveFerret

Summary: "Now." Wong leaned back in his chair. "What would you do to save this world from Thanos' attack? What would you sacrifice?"

"Anything," Steve said. "Anything at all."

Wong considered him for a moment, expression unreadable. "There's one thing, maybe."

Note: This is nice fanfic about Steve putting everything on the line to hopefully make a change. 

The Good or Bad Thing by petreparkour for SeetheSea

summary: “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.“

Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

Note: Future Tony and Steve accidentally traveling in the past!

  Character from the Past travels to the Future

hold the things you wanna say by SailorChibi

Summary: Tony is still a consultant, and between SI, the team and SHIELD he's overworked and exhausted. That's okay.

He and Steve have been having sex for weeks but that's all it is, just sex, and Tony wants more but he'll never get it and that's okay. Really.

What's not okay is the fact that Howard Stark has somehow appeared in the future and is the same as always.

This is definitely going to fuck up his schedule.

Note: ANGST! READY YOUR TISSUES.

Twice Upon a Time by TsaritsaElena

Summary: Tony Stark has never had an easy relationship with his father, but when Howard Stark circa 1983 time travels to the future in a freak accident, things get even more complicated, especially since Tony is dating his dad’s idol, Captain America, and Howard doesn’t know. As they work toward a solution that will restore Howard to his own timeline, will Tony get a second chance at a father-son relationship with his dad, or is he in for more of the same unforgiving treatment from Howard? Time travel, Avengers missions, and a secret project of Howard’s: things at Stark Tower are about to get a little crazy.

Note: SOME MORE ANGST AND HOWARD TRAVELLING TO THE FUTURE. 

The Future Is Ours (Whether We Want It Or Not) by ann2who

Summary: After a hit from the Time Stone, Steve switches places with his future self.

Note: Another of Steve traveling to the future! Though this time, it features both timeline! Both POV of the past and future! 

Ordinary Men by RiaRose

Summary: "Aren't you at all happy to see me?" Howard shot back, holding his glass out and pointing with his index finger. At Steve's stony face, he dropped his arm. "Want a glass?" he tried, picking up an empty tumbler, "This is good stuff."

"Tony doesn't skimp on - well - anything. And no, thank you."

"Was that Tony?" he queried, gesturing toward the hallway the other man had disappeared down. Steve nodded but didn't give any more information, so Howard repeated his earlier question, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

It took Steve a moment to answer. Howard could see his jaw working. 

"No, not anymore."

OR

In which Howard travels to the future and just messes up everybody's day, Steve is conflicted, and Tony is a piping hot mess, as per usual. It's not going to be easy, but Steve and Tony have to somehow navigate through Howard's arrival and the strain it puts on their relationship.

Note: From the summary alone, you can tell that THIS WILL BE ANGSTY. 

To Have My Time Again... by WilmaKins

Summary: It's been two years since Siberia, and Tony Stark is still dealing with the fallout - personal and political. Life is quite complicated enough, without Bruce falling through a wizards roof yelling that Thanos is coming.

Thor and Loki are stalling, but time is running out. The fate of the universe is at stake. Steve Rogers is back in the picture. Really, the last thing Tony needs is for their plan to go horribly wrong and bring Howard Stark forward in time.

But his Dad *is* standing in his office, whether he likes it or not.

So, it looks like Tony will have to fix that mess too.

Note: There is just something about Howard-travels-to-the-future fanfics. 

Howard Stark Meets The Avengers by SerlinaBlack

Summary: Howard Stark unknowingly travels to the future with his son and wife. Luckily the heroes of the future were somewhat ready for it. Unluckily , they don't seem to like him very much

Alternative summery: when will Howard learn? Not now lmao.

Note: ANOTHER ONE.

[dystopiandramaqueen]

Spiral from the Book of Saw- Max Minghella as Will Schenk

Look I've been trying to put this feeling into words for over a week and it's hard because my brain can't accept what I feel.

I think that's the true twist of Spiral.

Max Minghella made me love a serial killer. In a fucking SAW movie.

If that isn't good acting, I don't know what the fuck is.

I shouldn't be surprised! Max took a background character in Margaret Atwood's iconic novel- who barely fucking talks- and made him into a CAPTIVATING, unforgettable character.

Will Schenk is a complex character. A haunted man with dark secrets and dubious motives. Max plays him with the same nuance and depth he gives Nick.

The difference?

Will Schenk is a wolf in sheep's clothing.

A bad guy masquerading as a good guy (a reverse Nick Blaine).

But at the end we find out- his motivations are good? Admirable even? *mind blown* Think of Boondock Saints and other vigilante movies. That's the vibe here, but even more so.

Why do I love this character?

Authenticity and Honesty

The movie follows Will's first day on the police force and he's awkward and unprepared, gagging at the crime scenes and excited to ride in a real cop car- just like any of us would be.

We identify with him and his reactions. He feels like one of us.

Every word Will says is true. All of his lines feel innocent, and all of his lines are dark foreshadowing. Everything he says works two ways.

I've wanted to do this since I was 12 years old.

Your dad's the reason for all of this.

Will Schenk is a Zeke Banks Fanboy

I think Max drew on real life here. He's idolized Chris Rock forever, and been obsessed with "buddy cop" movies from a young age. I think he just let his own star struck wide eyed energy shine through here.

I've been loyal to you from the day we met.

I wanna be partners.

Just like Max, and so many of us, Will Schenk was raised by heroes on TV. Sitting alone in his apartment, watching cops and superheroes beat up bad guys.

When a dirty cop shot his dad so he couldn't testify against other dirty cops- it broke his brain.

So we're left with a disillusioned, idealistic, lonely, vengeful child.

Who made himself into the hero he needed when he was younger.

Trauma stunted him at age 12. That's what trauma does. When you see the horror humanity is capable of, you're never the same.

He had 12 years to dream up perfect vengeance, like Inigo Montoya repeating his death poem over and over while hunting his father's killers.

You get the feeling he was itching to be found out, excited to reveal his alter-ego and show off his work for the first time. He prompts Zeke, pointing out clues. Watching his reactions as they listen to the killer's recorded voice. Smiling when they react exactly as he predicted. Watching with delight as the game unfolds.

A Childish Conception of Justice

Kids believe in absolute good and evil. You can see that idealism in Will's traps.

He presents each victim with evidence against them, then presents their options.

If you admit your guilt and accept your punishment, you can live.

If you fight it or even hesitate, you die.

Most of the victims tried to live. But they hesitated. And Will did not allow time for hesitation. Their hesitation was their final answer and made them fail their test.

Because his game isn't a trial. The killer has already declared them guilty.

The game is sentencing and they control if they live or die. And to live they must repent.

The traps are meta

One trap is simply the police. The police are as deadly a weapon as any of the other devices. That's a relatable fact in 2021.

He chose punishments that would render the victims incapable of doing harm in the future. Like a thief losing a hand, or a liar losing his tongue.

He made Chris Rock experience his trauma. He literally recreated the scenario that fucked him up, and made another person FEEL his pain.

He's testing Chris the whole time to see if he is consistently against crooked cops up to and including his own father.

Lets go see your dad. Time for your final test.

You watched my father die. I’m trying to save yours.

Who you gonna kill? The one who corrupted the force? Or the one trying to save it?

As he leads Zeke down this path, he leads him deeper into his own mind. The killer is leading him away from society's rules, toward freedom. Toward power.

He's grooming a partner. Empowering Zeke in ways the force couldn't.

I wanna be your partner.

You feed me dirty cops, I'll handle the rest.

The real twist is that he isn't punishing Zeke. He's liberating him. supporting him. Hurting the men who hurt him. Bc he's an emotionally stunted traumatized 12 year old fanboy.

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

In conclusion:

Max is the new John Kramer.

Not a copycat. A disciple.

Only his goal is more noble. Instead of changing lives one by one, he wants to clean up the police.

By becoming a vigilante who punishes the wicked, striking fear into the hearts of corrupt cops. Doing the work that police departments won't.

Can't wait for the sequel.

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 2/10

link: AO3

Chapter Two - The Man Who Makes All the Decisions

Chapter content warning: brief encounter of sexual harassment

You awoke gasping in the night, heart pumping, heaving in lungfuls of stale air. The darkness of the Saints Hotel room pressed close. You’d dreamt about Emma and Henry again. 

Frightened as you were, you whispered to yourself that you were safe, that the dampness upon your brow was perspiration, and not the spatter of blood from Henry’s gunshot wound. That the screams seeping from the peeling walls were not Emma’s, but recalled from the etchings of your memory. You collapsed back onto the sheets and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, shuddering hard against the nausea prickling in your stomach and praying for sleep to find you once more.

—

Arthur stood at the bar in Smithfield’s Saloon, casual in the way he leaned over it. How at ease he appeared, unapologetic in his taking space. You choked on your envy, allowing yourself to wonder what it’s like to do whatever you wanted, wherever you pleased, unescorted. This feeling climbed as the man seated closest to the entrance pulled his chair out fully in your direction, reclining with his thighs spread. You tightened your grip on the handle of your travel bag and kept your revulsion from showing too much. Folk like that chased any sort of reaction, like they chased down drink after drink.

Ernest waved you over, having noticed how quiet the room fell when you’d walked in through the swinging doors. Arthur remained fixated on his glass despite the change in atmosphere, spinning it idly atop the nicked wood, taking more stock in it than in his surroundings. His voice cut across the idle chatter from the tables. “You even wash these?”

“Funny you ask,” Ernest said, wiping down the bar with a rag. “We’re in the market for a dishwasher. You look right fit for the job.” He abandoned his task at your approach to reach towards one of the dozens of bottles lining the shelves behind him, but you held up a hand to stop him. You needed your full wits to do something as illogical as you were about to, potentially letting a stranger lead you to God-Knows-Where to meet God-Knows-Who, with the pistol shoved in your right boot acting as your sole reassurance.

“So you’re a comedian now, mister? Didn’t realize I was getting dinner and a goddamn show.” Arthur knocked back his shot of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. You set your bag at your feet and settled yourself in the space beside him. Through the aroma of decades of liquor soaked into the timber of the saloon, you caught a whiff of soap and freshly scrubbed skin. 

“Cursin’ in front of women,” Ernest said, acknowledging you. “Ain't your daddy ever taught you manners?”

“Say that again,” Arthur growled and smacked both palms on the counter, moments away from hopping over it. You cleared your throat before he could hitch a leg up. He turned and froze, as if it surprised him that anyone else was in the saloon at all, let alone you in your best (and only) dress.

The disturbance had caused a bit of rubbernecking your way. While Ernest rattling the clients was always an entertaining diversion, (and privately, you would have seized the opportunity to see Arthur try to throttle him, the mountain of a man Ernest was) an all-out saloon-brawl was counterproductive to anything you’d arrived there to do. The situation had to be defused, and fast.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I won’t wilt from a little profanity,” you said. “It didn’t offend me to hear him swear the first time we’d met, and it doesn’t offend me now.”

Arthur looked at you. His expression turned from confused to even more confused. Clearly he hadn’t recognized you from your previous encounter. Taking pity on him, you helpfully concealed your nose and mouth with your sleeve, resembling the scarf you’d worn when he met you. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. You dug four bits from your skirt pockets, sliding them onto the counter to Ernest. “For this man’s next drink.”

“Couldn’t tell it was you without the get-up you was wearing the last time,” Arthur grumbled, and accepted the second shot of whiskey, placated for now, “or without the rifle.”

The rifle wasn’t concealable, and it hadn’t fit in the bag with your other travel necessities, so you left it with Ernest. You’d come back to Valentine to retrieve it later, at the right moment, along with half of the train score you had hidden away in a lockbox. “Had to try to look somewhat respectable for a negotiation. If there will be a negotiation, that is. Didn’t want to show up in my dusty travel clothes.”

“You look naïve, and an easy target to swindle,” he said, sparing a glance toward Ernest, who only cocked an eyebrow in response. Arthur cleared his throat. “Not that I’d do something like that. You see, I’m an itinerant worker, laid off from a factory—”

“Save it, please,” you said. “I’m not interested in divining who you really are or where you’ve come from. What I am interested in is whether you can help me with that offer we discussed. From your countenance, I assume your friend decided to take me up on it, against your better judgment.”

“What’s wrong with my countenance?”

“You’re scowling.”

“I ain’t,” he said, scowling. You put your hands up, conceding.

“He said he’d meet with you,” Arthur said. He brought the glass up to his lips. “Still decidin’ if I want to spin him a tale that I came to Valentine, but you never showed. Or, I could just rob you. I don’t think he’d mind that as much.”

“You just said you wouldn’t swindle me,” you accused.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but didn’t wish to act on it for fear of appearing too amicable. “You said we’d get half the money upfront?”

“Yes. You’ll get half if we can come to an agreement, and the other half once Emma is home safe.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Arthur said. “We already went through an ordeal with that train, risking our skin to come up empty-handed. Now you want to pay us to risk it again with the score which should’ve been ours in the first place. This might end up being more trouble than it’s worth even with the seventy dollars you promised on top of it.”

“Hey lady, how much for your company?” A grunting voice emerged from behind you. You ignored it, too immersed in assessing the value of all your worldly possessions, your rifle among the other trinkets you had stashed away in different locations. You didn’t own land or assets to sell or put up for a loan. The single thing of monetary value in your possession was Henry’s wedding ring, and you’d hang before pawning that off. It’d been his dying request to return it to Emma. They’d only been married for five months when he was killed.

“I said, how much?”

Ernest jabbed his finger at him. “You best shut your mouth and sit back down ‘fore I drag you out of here, you drunken fool.”

 “Weren’t talkin’ to you.” A hand clapped on your right shoulder, jerking you backwards. “I was talkin’ to this uppity bitch—”

You only had a brief moment to recognize the man as the one from earlier who’d leered at you. In the next second, he was flat on the ground, clutching his newly crooked nose. Arthur was towering over him, shaking out the soreness of the impact from his hand. He bent down and, without so much as a word, wiped his bloodstained knuckles on the howling degenerate’s shirt. Apart from his slightly mussed hair and the wild promise of barely restrained ire lurking in his eyes, an eerie calmness rolled off of him.

So much for preventing a brawl. 

“You broke it! You fuckin’ broke it!”

“Hey,” someone piped up from the cards table. “Ain’t that the feller who damn near beat Tommy to death the other day when Hubert was workin’?”

“That was you Hubert was talkin’ about?” Ernest said to Arthur. “You owe us money for the window you smashed through, my friend.”

“How much was it to replace?” you said. “I can pay—”

More wailing. “I’m gonna skin you alive!”

“You know, Tommy ain’t been right since,” another person called out. “He may be an imbecile, but he’s our imbecile! You think it’s fun beatin’ on all of us?”

People were getting out of their seats. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go,” Arthur barked at you amid the jeering.

“My bag—” you said, surveying around your feet for your belongings. In the chaos, Arthur had grabbed it for you and was heading to the door. You struggled not to trip over your skirts in pursuit, casting one last apologetic look to Ernest, who seemed like he wanted to go after you. 

Arthur stood outside, unhitching his horse from the post. The temptation arose to make a jest, to smooth the terse silence with something guaranteed to irritate him further. You swallowed it and instead listened to the bustle of wagons and barking of stray dogs. 

“Grab your horse,” he said. “You can follow me. We got a bit of a ride south from here. Can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants me to lead you to camp, but I’m tired of arguin’ with him.”

You wondered who exactly Arthur was referring to. At the Trading Post, he’d hinted at a leader of sorts, the one who had yet to be named. You thought to ask for it, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I don’t have a horse. Not since my last one ran off.”

“She doesn’t own a horse,” he said to no one in particular, a moment of exasperation to the universe perhaps, if you had to guess. “How the hell you been getting around? Hot-air balloon?”

“Much less exciting than that, I’m afraid. Trains and stagecoaches. Sometimes I borrow a horse from Ernest. Sometimes I ‘borrow’ from strangers and return their horses before they’re missed.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend all that trouble you put yourself up to makes any sense,” Arthur grunted in response, strapping your bag to his saddle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

You didn’t move. In your hesitation, you considered beginning your rescue plan anew, using the train money to pay for hired guns, which you had wanted to avoid. If the first meeting between the two of you had gone well, the incident in the saloon had gone every bit as astray. But Arthur had intervened on your behalf, which you appreciated, regardless of the issue it had caused. You thought if there was any chance of a man caring whether or not Emma made it back alive, he was it. And there was the small detail of the score you lifted off his hands. You imagined it wouldn’t go over well if you offered it to another group.

Arthur placed the tip of his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and over the saddle. He lowered his hand. This, you accepted with thanks and up you went onto the back of the horse. At this proximity, the scent of soap you’d noticed in the saloon was stronger. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a man who bathed with any regularity, let alone bathed at all.

“Might want to hold on to somethin’,” Arthur murmured. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cantle as the horse fell into a trot. 

And off you both went, past the gun shop and the train station, the muddy roads shifting into dusty trails the further Valentine receded from view. You were glad to quit the miserable little town if only for a moment, and though you hadn’t any high expectations for your destination, you hoped it smelled better.

“You mentioned you’re taking me to a camp. How big is it?” you asked.

“Suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” came the curt reply. 

“Then, how many people are with you? Besides you and your friend.”

“Ain't you full of questions,” Arthur said. The pistol hidden in your boot felt heavier. It might be enough to fend off several people if they decided to take back by force what they believed to be theirs, but an entire camp? You reprimanded yourself for not thinking this whole thing through.

The horse veered left. Though you sat quietly, your mind was rife with uneasy thoughts. The sun blazed high in the sky, but it would soon begin its descent. You wish you’d asked to meet earlier, having not considered where you would lay your head down tonight, especially if your offer was declined. In all likelihood you’d end up sleeping propped up against a tree in the good company of hungry mosquitoes. Or hitching a twilight ride back to the Saints Hotel with some shifty wagoner. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done either.

Arthur said something, which you were too deeply absorbed in your misgivings to have caught. You asked him to repeat himself. “I said, it’s not too much further now.” 

The horse picked up its pace. Suddenly you were aware of the soreness in your biceps from straining to grip the back of the saddle. Squeezing your thighs harder to maintain balance, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s torso. If the unexpected contact startled him, he did not show it.

“I never thanked you earlier,” you said.

“For what?”

“Quieting that fellow back in the saloon.”

“I reckon you could’ve done it yourself. One minute you’re firin’ a rifle in my direction. Next, you’ve gone all feeble and quiet.”

“If I rose hell whenever someone pestered me, sir, I wouldn’t be here to pester you.”

This earned you a laugh. You felt sorry you weren’t able to see it. “It’s Arthur Morgan,” he corrected. 

Arthur Morgan. You’d known to call him Arthur from that friend Marston of his, but now that you knew both names, you thought it sounded familiar. You racked your recent memory for it, coming up empty. It was a common enough name, anyway. 

“You ain’t told me your name,” he added.

“That’s right, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t,” you said. And that was that.

—

“Coming through,” Arthur shouts as the horse slows. You crane your head to see who he’s speaking to when you spotted a man stepping into the clearing, adjusting the bowler hat atop his head with his left hand and swinging a rifle with his right. Your arms slipped away from around Arthur’s waist, back to gripping the cantle for support.

“My my, what’s this? Returning with a girl before the sun goes down,” he says with a wide grin. “You’re getting romantic in your old age.”

Arthur groaned. “Do you ever shut up? You fill every waking moment with your nonsense.”

The grin grew impossibly wider. Tilting his head up towards you and Arthur, you were just close enough to make out this man’s freckles beneath the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “I’ve plenty of time for peace and quiet when I’m six feet under.”

“Just another reason to hasten you there,” Arthur said, then, softly to his horse, “Come on, girl.”

“He doesn’t really mean that, you know. He loves me,” the man called as you passed by, “Isn’t that right, Arthur? Like an older brother, I’d say!”

The horse stopped at a hitching station just beyond the camp entrance. Off you went from the rear of it, lowering yourself until your boots hit the grass. “Quite the lively introduction,” you said to Arthur.

“That boy is too busy cracking jokes and chasing skirts to do much of anything useful,” he said, dismounting. 

“He’s amusing,” you said. “It’s a breath of fresh air from all the prickly folks around these parts. Look at them wrong and they’ll be twitching for their gun.”

“About as amusing as an insect buzzing in your ear.” Arthur led you to a table, gesturing to the folding stools. “You can sit here a moment. And don’t talk to no one.”

You peered down at the tabletop, noticing copper stains that had long seeped into the wood. “Is that blood?”

Arthur shrugged. “Or you can stand, if that’s your preference.”

You tracked him as he made his way straight to the center of camp, to the largest of the surrounding fixtures, a cream-colored tent that stood proudly over all the rest, watchful. He stopped at the entrance, waiting for the dark figure inside to turn towards Arthur as they stooped slightly, perhaps to grab something. 

The figure emerged finally, joining Arthur outside of the tent’s shade. Sunlight beamed against glittering rings on fingers wrapped around a smoking cigar. You squinted.

Oh God, you thought. That’s Dutch van der Linde. You read about him in the New Hanover Gazette. Your mind ran miles per second as you put bits of information together. You had passed his face on wanted posters during your travels, passed Arthur’s too, lingering above a five-thousand dollar reward for one of the largest heists in Blackwater history. A heist that had seen a dozen or more people dead. And now you were in their camp, a camp that bounty hunters across several states would pay a pretty penny to find.

Those wanted faces turned to you. Arthur waved you over. Your legs grew heavy, rooting themselves to the ground. You had a decision to make.

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

[furblrwurblr]

Moppet!Douxie x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU | Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Fire/Explosion, lots of crying, self esteem issues, misunderstandings cause a lot of emotional turmoil

Note: This is my first fic! I know fics have it worse than art, but if you'd consider leaving tips in the comments, I'd be super grateful! Thanks for taking a look!

It was springtime in Camelot, near the turn of the season. The sun was high, the birds were singing, and you... were late. As a magic user, your life was in constant jeopardy regardless of your employment as the Crowmaster, Crowlord Corbin’s apprentice, penning and sending letters for the kingdom. And in this kingdom, tardiness was not appreciated. Racing through the castle halls with the king’s letters in hand, you noticed movement on your forearms.

“I wonder what color their eyes are. I bet they’re lovely.”

Your lips curled in a tender smile at the curling words that appeared on your skin. Similar musings crossed your soulmate’s mind daily, not leaving your body free of the enigmatic “ink” for years.

No one, not even the renowned Merlin Ambrosius, knew the precise nature of the words that would mark people’s skin, only that they were your soulmate’s thoughts about you. Soulmates were a fickle thing, their connections varying with different cultural beliefs and changing as countries developed. In England, the written words made finding your soulmate a tad difficult as one couldn’t know if their other half was paying any mind when they tried to share personal details. It was said that once you know them wholly, you’re complete in all things. Whatever that means.

You’d once been impatient to meet your own, to know what it means to be complete, but after years of black markings coming and going, covering your body in kind words of admiration, you deemed them worth the wait.

You were shocked from your reverie in a flutter of parchment. You’d bumped into someone, the king’s letters falling to the ground right into… was that slorr juice? You didn’t even apologize to the raven-haired young man whose spell material you’d just gotten all over the floor. You were far too panicked.  Knowing your animal magic was of no help here, you scrambled to salvage what you could.

Hisirdoux was in trouble. Merlin would have his head when he told him he lost the slorr juice to another bout of soulmate pondering, and have it again when he discovered that said juice is the reason the king didn’t receive his news regarding the upcoming royal summit. Douxie leaned forward to help but instead opted to frantically search his brace for anything that could help the poor apprentice in front of him.

When he’d finally found the rune, the Crowmaster had just finished shaking off what liquid they could from the sensitive documents. He quickly dried them hoping to save the ink on them as best he could, long fingers flitting over each. In a hurried frenzy of apologies and farewells, the hallway was emptied.

Merlin was less than pleased, and frankly, a little concerned. Douxie usually gets so cautious after a mistake that even Merlin feels his stress, but this was the third time this week. Why was he so focused on his soulmate? After a right scolding, Douxie retired to his room to study. Merlin nearly did a double-take at what was written on his young apprentice’s neck.

“He was quite kind.”

So they’d met. Did his soulmate know? Did Douxie know?

Over the next few weeks, you two kept running into one another. A passing here, an acknowledgment there. After about a month you’d come to look forward to seeing the boy trip over himself en route to Merlin’s study. You helped him carry supplies when the Crowlord was away and talked when he dropped off Merlin’s letters to the court magicians across England. For some reason, you found yourself hanging on his every word and smiling whenever you caught a glimpse of his adorable manbun weaving through the streets.

He felt the same. It was never enough to speak to you in passing and he even left long conversations with you feeling wanting. He doesn’t quite remember how he started, but it’d become a habit to watch you work through the large western tower window. He’d admire your tenderness with the crows and was warmed by your bond with your hawk familiar. 

As you left the tower to retire for the night, he always thought you might be cold, but never gathered the courage to walk you to your chambers.

Douxie was concerned. The day was halfway through, winter clouds covering the high sun, and you were nowhere to be seen. He’d watched you enter the western tower at dawn and the candlelight hadn’t been extinguished once. He was principally done with Merlin’s tasks for the day, perhaps he could pop his head in? “just for a minute,” he decided. 

He exited his chambers (Merlin’s storage closet) and rapped a knuckle on his master’s desk, pulling his attention from some blueprints. Merlin didn’t speak, just gave an expectant look.

Douxie ran a near-trembling hand through his tied black hair before cautiously speaking up. “Master, may I have the rest of the day off?”

“Whatever brought this on? After the way you’ve been acting these past months?”

Douxie averted his gaze, suddenly finding his shoes far more interesting. “I’d… I’d like to see someone today.”

After a beat, the master wizard quickly scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to the boy.

“Finish these and I’ll consider your time served for the day,” Merlin sighed.

Douxie had been sure he would shut down. He quickly snatched the list and ran to the door, uttering a rushed ‘thank you master’ before it shut behind him. Merlin watched him leave, fondness in his eyes.

The sun was just dipping past the high kingdom walls, turning the town a vibrant orange. Douxie hung the herbs he’d just gathered, heaving a sigh of great relief when the last one was in place. He raced across the west side, eager to visit his… friend? Is that who you were to him? He banished the thought as he came upon the west tower, dark eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Citizens, a lot of them, stood in a line from the tower out down the hallway. 

“What’s going on?” he asked a young woman.

“I’m here with my children, the Crowmaster is penning wishlists for Saint Nick. Just a shilling each!” 

Douxie nodded and thanked her, then made his way to the tower. He gently pushed past the mob gathered in the doorway, stammering apologies. At last, he reached the Crowlord’s desk. The man himself was nowhere to be seen and you were alone, writing away at the whim of an excited child. He caught a glimpse of your face, you looked tired. Had you really been doing this all day?

Exhausted wasn’t a big enough word to describe how you felt. The only thing keeping you going was reading the various forms of concern written on your skin. By now, you knew you’d met them, but you couldn’t place who it could be. However, thinking was only making you more fatigued as your aching wrist swept across the parchment.

Douxie said nothing, just pulled out the Crowlord’s chair, and sat down. You looked at him, eyes wide, but the only explanation offered was a kind smile. He picked up a quill and called out for the next person to step forward. You turned back to the young girl asking for a sword, your smile wide and heart swelling.

By the time you two finished, the sun was half past the horizon. The last patron left the tower and you both heaved a sigh of relief.

“I can’t than-” 

“Um, do you think-” 

You looked at one another and laughed, waiting for the other to speak. Douxie hesitated, then took a deep breath. 

“Uhm, do you think you’ve some time? I’d like to show you something,” he asked, lifting his eyes to your face.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling and holding out your elbow.

He beamed, quickly grabbing two pieces of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. You raised a brow but let him be as he threaded your arm through his and started walking.

The young wizard’s apprentice couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was far too nervous. Thankfully, you found the silence comfortable as he led you up a winding staircase at the corner of the castle. Once you both reached the top, he gestured to the sea. It was breathtaking. The salty breeze floated through your hair as you admired the sun’s glow over the water and the colors of twilight.

Douxie broke the quiet. “I thought you’d like this. Hmm, it isn’t enough light to write by though.” He waved his hand, sending blue wisps to swirl around you both. You watched them float about, eyes finally landing on Douxie who was making himself comfortable in a crenel, placing the supplies he’d brought with him on the merlon in front of him. You settled across from him, reaching for the quill.

His slender hand caught yours and laid in on the stone, gently massaging your wrist. “You’ll injure yourself at this rate. Let someone else write for you today.” His gaze caught yours, hazel eyes full of concern, and… something else you couldn’t place.

A gentle smile spread across your face as you reveled in the sun on your skin and the breeze on your lips. Douxie shuffled his papers around and spoke up again a moment later.

“So! What’s your wish?” Douxie asked, smiling wide.

“What?” you said, puzzled.

Douxie rose a brow, pointing out “All today, has anyone penned you a wishlist?”

“I suppose not,” you said, the smile settling back onto your face.

He beamed and set the quill to the parchment again. “Fantastic. Not that I think it’s fantastic no one’s offered, I’m just glad I get to- oh, I never even asked. I should have asked first, I’m so sorry-,” His shoulders tensed, but he stopped abruptly when he felt your hand on his.

“Hisirdoux, thank you. I’d love it if you did, there’s no need to worry.”

You started telling him things you wanted for Christmas and conversation flowed from there. Teasing banter and loud laughter filled the sky as it turned to night, blue magic floating around you both excitedly in time with your synchronized heartbeats as he finally walked you to your chambers, even offering you his hood. What could he do? He thought you looked cold.

It was just past noon on Christmas day. The ground sparkled a bright white and children’s laughter rang through the air. You took a deep breath of the crisp air and let it out in a contented sigh, taking a sip of the warm cider your master bought you before he left to celebrate with his family. He invited you to join them, but you opted to celebrate it yourself. You placed the cider on the table next to the window you were sitting in and picked up the small wood block you were fashioning into a present for Douxie. The small wooden cat-dragon only needed his hind leg to be freed from its timber prison. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts. As you worked, sentences curled up your arms and swirling letters kissed the base of your fingers. You paused your whittling with a frown. The only feeling behind this gift was love. You’d accepted you loved Douxie after that night bathed in twilight and lonely smiles, but you felt so incredibly twisted about it. You’d already met your soulmate and they thought about you often. Did your soulmate also worry they’d fallen in love with the wrong person? You shook your head, clearing your mind at the sound of wingbeats. Your hawk familiar landed on your raised knee and began to preen themself, looking at you smugly through pristine feathers.

“I can feel you overthinking things from across the castle,” they spoke, masking concern under teasing.

You scoffed, knowing they were right. “What am I meant to do? I can’t go on like this when I’ve got a soulmate out there. I can’t even try, it’s against the law! They know we’re bonded, what if they see me with him? I don’t want to hurt them like that. Not to mention, what if he’s not perfect for me? I want the soulbond to experience all of another person, but should I give that up for love?”

Your familiar shook their head and flew away, leaving you with your question hanging in the air. Watching them leave, you noticed someone walking towards the slorr’s stable. The manbun was too recognizable for there to be a shred of doubt: Douxie was being put to work on Christmas Day. You turned the wooden Archie in your hand and pushed off the windowsill. Just because you love him doesn’t mean you can’t stay friends.

Douxie was in flux. Archie saw the boy’s neutral expression turn sour as he read what he could of his soulmate’s thoughts. They loved someone else? Would they give him up for someone they’d already met? He couldn’t exactly criticize, he was in the same boat. Y/N was so important to him, but if he found his soulmate, could he quell the confusing little thing they had together for someone he barely knew? He decided he’d understand if his soulmate didn’t love him, he’d want them to do the same. He loved Y/N too much to let them go.

He looked up from his arm and startled. You were waiting for him, leaning against the slorr’s gate, your hawk familiar preening themself. While you laughed at his absentmindedness, he frantically rolled his ¾ sleeves down over the words that betrayed his true heart. 

“Y-Y/N! W-what are you doing here? Aren’t you- um, aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” Douxie stammered out as his heart rate slowed. 

You pushed off the gate and grabbed the pail he was holding in his hands that were still light with adrenaline. “I am! I opted not to celebrate with Master Corbin and his family, take the day for myself and see where it leads,” you said, a hopeful grin rising to your lips.

Douxie broke into a giddy smile, his heart afloat. They had all of Christmas to enjoy the town and they were here with him? He couldn’t believe his fortune. “Then I’m glad it led you here!” he exclaimed. 

Archie curled himself around your leg, butting his dark head into your calf. “Are you here to enjoy the show?” he asked with a purr. 

Your laugh was the only thing keeping Douxie from strangling his bespectacled familiar, so he settled for a pout you internally cooed at. 

Both of you paused in front of the gate, reluctant to enter. He swung it open with a bow. “Ladies first.”

“Cheeky,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Archie and your familiar started playing with one another as you two prepared to take on the slorr together.

Hm. This was a mess. The slorr seemed to enjoy the happy atmosphere you’d both created so she was a tad more cooperative, but it took longer for her to calm down. You and Douxie were covered head to toe in the glowing blue liquid, trying to remove what you could into the pail Merlin gave him. Your shared laughter slowed to silence as you noticed him staring at you, eyes slowly roving over your face. Did he look… sad? No, that wasn’t it. Before you could scrutinize him further, you felt it. Gentle fingers caressing your cheek, going up, up… Your breath hitched as he laid his palm to your cheek, thumb slowly moving across your face. You let out a shaky breath and he jolted, noticing your wide eyes fixed on his and quickly withdrawing his hand.

He shook some juice from his hand and gesticulated wildly, stammering through an apology. “You- you had some juice on your cheek, I’m so sorry, Merlin’s tower, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for getting it for me,” you interrupted. You wanted to say more, but his sleeve had risen in his fervor, swirling lines reminding you he wasn’t yours to comfort. Hisirdoux was such an emotional and empathetic being, he wouldn’t leave his soulmate. Especially since his soulmate would have to be an absolute saint, it’s no less than he deserved. Taking a deep breath in, you looked back at him. “Don’t bite your lips, you’ll chap them. Was that your last task for the day?”

Douxie released his lip, fighting the urge to continue chewing it. “It was, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to use the rest of the afternoon,” he said, watching as his familiar and yours playfully wrestled for a mouse.

Your heart leaped, this was your chance! “How would you like to spend it together? There are tons of things to do in town and I’ve saved up my pay for a while so I’ve some wiggle room. Not to mention, I’ve made you something.”

The nervous cloud around you both dissolved as Douxie eagerly agreed and begged you to reveal what you had for him. You denied him with a laugh, smile widening with his every impatient groan. Your familiars ran ahead of you both, swirling in a frenzy of playful fighting and laughter as you walked out of the castle, arm-in-arm.

The town was a sight to behold. Holly curled around door frames, red berries nestled among twisted wreaths. Mistletoe hung from building corners, tracks disrupted the perfect layers of fresh snow, and children weaved and ducked through throngs of people gathered around street musicians. Snowballs were flying at the end of every street, laughter and song floating in the air with the excited chatter of families buying wares for their families, and lines of crushed berries stained the ground. It was an English tradition to wish to meet your soulmate sooner by spreading holly berries in a line on Christmas as a nod to the Chinese legends of the soulstring, a red string that connected soulmates there. Sure, it made a mess of your shoes but you always found it cute.

The first few minutes were unsure, both of you fishing for ideas on what to do first. Archie and your familiar were already deep in conversation, but you and Douxie were struggling. That is, until, the smell of sweet buns reached him. His stomach let out a mighty grumble, a testament to how he’d been working for longer than you and likely hadn’t eaten lunch yet. He covered his pale face with his free hand, too embarrassed to bear seeing you fight a rising smile. You slid your hand down his forearm and grasped his cold fingers, pulling him towards the source of the heavenly aroma. A fiery blush rose to his ears when he registered your fingers lacing with his while you waited in line. Reaching the front, Douxie’s protests fell on deaf ears as you swatted his hands away, insisting you’d pay. The baker gave a soft smile and handed you two of the high coveted baked goods, bidding you both a happy Christmas. Just two apprentices walking hand in hand, browsing stalls, eating together, and enjoying one another's company.

Douxie heard something on the wind and perked up. Lively music came from the town square and Douxie wasn’t about to miss the chance to dance with you. He pulled you from the daggers you were eyeing, making a note of which you lingered on before pulling you close and weaving through the other partygoers. Soon enough, you made it to the musicians, seeing the space before them where a group was dispersing as the song ended. The vocalist started up again, solo for a few lines until the band swelled. Douxie bounced on his heels, recognizing the tune as The Bear and the Maiden Fair. His excitement sent a wave of courage through him and he slipped his fingers from yours, instead grabbing you by the wrist to drag you to the open space.  Others joined, forming a circle. Claps and stomps interrupted the smooth movement of the ring. Laughter mixed with the joyful notes of the flute. Hisirdoux couldn’t stop looking at your joined hands, sometimes lifting his gaze to your eyes closed in a laugh. When the vocalist reached the line “lifted her high into the air”, Douxie broke his hand away from the person opposite you, lifted you by the waist, and spun. Your clothes fluttered and for a moment, you were weightless. Douxie’s laughter rang in your ears, lingering just like the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours. His hands were warm and firm on your midsection, the heat replaced with a chill as he set you down. You absently continued the dance, happiness clouding the passage of time. Douxie kept your hand in his, allowing your arms to fall to your sides. You looked at each other, breathless smiles lingering on your faces as the song changed once more. You both walked on, catching your breath and coming down from the high.

A few hours later, you’d both had more interaction with each other than you’d had with anyone else all year. It was a welcome break from the same hallways, the same people, and the same routines. You’d bought each other dinner, talked about everything under the sun, and danced through seemingly all of Camelot, only separating for maybe an hour to buy gifts that may or may not have been for one another.

The day was coming to a close, the sun once again a deep vermillion, the snow reflecting it like gems. As you were heading back to the castle, you passed a holly berry stall. Douxie saw you looking at it, sobered by the reminder you were both promised to complete strangers. Just today, he’d fallen so much more in love with you than he thought possible, and if you wanted your soulmate, who was he to deny you? He tugged on your arm, wordlessly offering a pound to the vendor. The woman raised a brow at your intertwined fingers but offered the small basket of berries without a question. You looked at him quizzically when he drew his hand from yours, pouring a good amount into his hand and giving you the remainder. Enjoying the bittersweet silence, you two took turns placing the berries in a line. Archie swatted your familiar’s eager beak from the line of red that was stark against the slow-melting snow. Once you’d finished, Douxie sent you a sad smile and asked if you’d like to exchange gifts in his chambers. You agreed, once again arm-in-arm, streets quiet except for the soft crunching of snow beneath your heavy feet and the pound of heavy hearts.

Hisirdoux lit all his candles as the sun peeked just over the horizon. Archie made himself comfortable on his wizard’s pillow, curling around a tired hawk familiar. Your own wizard associate preened themselves while you and Doux sat on the bed, eventually opting to preen Archie when they were satisfied. Archie let out a yelp when she preened the edge of his ear, earning a look from you. Douxie pulled out a handful of items from his satchel with a flourish and showed you all the things he’d found one by one. Polish for Lancelot’s sword, a garlic braid for one of Galahad’s more ambitious brews, cooked salmon for Archie, and other things spread out in front of him.

He gave a nervous smile. “Close your eyes,” he breathed.

You smiled as your eyes slid shut. His slim, cold fingers touched your hand, causing goosebumps to rise on your arm as he pressed something small into your palm.

“And… open!” He slid his hands from yours and into his lap, an expectant look on his long face. Looking down, you gasped. There laid a ring that looked to be made of vines, weaving around each other and wrapping around the base of a tiny white flower.

“I found a curltrap in the forest on my last herb run and thought you might like it, so I made it into a ring. It won’t wilt. Um… do you? Like it, I mean,” he asked, brows pinching.

You slipped it on and looked at him in awe. Leaning forward, you softly put your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “Douxie, it’s beautiful. No one’s ever given me such a thoughtful gift, thank you for making it.” He laid his hands on your back and laid his face in the crook of your neck to return the gesture, hand trailing after when you pulled away.

“Your turn!” You reached into your bag and paused. “Close your eyes.”

Douxie pouted but held his hand out after doing as he was told. He felt something hard and contoured, slowly curling his long fingers around it. He opened his eyes and stared at it in awe. It was wood whittled in Archie’s likeness, complete with small green gems for eyes and tiny glasses frames made of wire. His wings were unfurled, his posture inquisitive. Archie looked at it, speechless.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I played it safe. When I told the carpenter it was for you he offered to inlay the gems for free. You’re more appreciated than you think!” you exclaimed with a smile. He whispered a “thank you” as he turned it over in his hands, admiring the details. In all honesty, he’d already committed every dip and groove to memory, he was just replaying your words in his mind. “You’re more appreciated than you think!” He never thought about the impact he had on others, he was too busy being concerned with Merlin’s opinion of him. That’d be something he’d have to work on if it made you smile like that.

The rest of the evening flew by, laughter and the sound of a lute seeping through Douxie’s chamber door and into Merlin’s study. By now you’d fallen asleep on his bed having drifted off while Douxie softly sang a folk lullaby you’d requested. He lifted the blanket over you and laid down, the blanket layered between you two. He stared at you while you slept, soaking you in. The shadows your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. Your chest rising and falling in tandem with his. The black lines swirling to your collarbone- wait. Douxie watched as a thought appeared on your skin, hidden under your shirt. Archie moved in circles at the foot of the bed and stopped abruptly feeling Douxie’s sudden fear. He was so tempted to look but he couldn’t risk you hating him… it’s just to see what they think of you. To see if they deserve you. Yeah, that was a viable excuse. Archie hissed quietly at his friend, watching Douxie’s trembling fingers gingerly expose the skin towards your shoulder. He looked at the two words, puzzled. “They’re breathtaking.” Did they see you in the square? Had it been when you’d separated? Douxie was torn from his own thoughts when you made a noise, your brow furrowing for a moment and relaxing. His hand still had your collarbone exposed, and he watched in equal parts elation and horror as his own thought scrawled itself onto your skin.

“I don’t know if I can let you go.”

His blood ran cold, breath hitching and mind flailing. 

You were his. You were fated to be his. But you loved someone else.

Spring had returned to Camelot, plants thriving in the sun’s warmth. The flowers were happy, fluttering in the sea breeze. You furrowed your brow when your heart clenched at the thought of such beautiful blossoms mocking you. A shadow passed over your face as you looked to the flower that still curled itself around your finger. It’d been three months since the best Christmas you’d ever had, but the memory was now stained. Douxie and you still talked, but for some reason, he made excuses to avoid you and felt distant when you were able to cajole him into a short walk. At first, it seemed like he was busy with the amulet, but then he was absent even when Merlin said he was stuck and didn’t require his apprentice’s help. You were disappointed and confused, feeling hurt every time he blew you off with some excuse of running errands for Merlin.

Hisirdoux wasn’t feeling any better. He missed you greatly and seeing what you thought of his excuses only deepened his guilt. But wasn’t this what you wanted? Why would you be so disappointed he wouldn’t spend as much time with you if you loved someone else? He chalked it up to the soulmate bond, ignoring Archie’s concern and attempts at advice. His eyes were sunken in and puffy, due in part to crying himself to sleep watching your pain at his sudden distance write itself on his skin. He’d go to bed with swirling lines of magical ink torturing his dreams and awake a blank slate, ready for it to start all over again. 

Archie couldn’t take this. For the past week, he’d been pushing his magic through their psychic bond, pouring parts of a sleep spell into his charge, but that would only work for so long. Douxie was destroying himself from the inside out, all because he couldn’t be selfish for once and speak up. The shifter waited for Douxie to leave for the day, telling him he’d find him at noon. Archie stayed in front of the door until the young man’s voice faded. He sighed, whispering an apology. Douxie wouldn’t want anyone to know, but the boy needed an intervention.

“Merlin? We need to talk.”

Merlin had noticed Douxie’s exhaustion and had purposefully lightened his load, but the boy kept working regardless. Merlin thought less work could allow him to spend more time with the Crowmaster (who at this point couldn’t be anyone BUT Douxie’s soulmate considering how quickly they bonded and how much time they spent together), but he’d come back to his study to see the books sorted a different way every week, the suits of armor impossibly polished, and the herb rack overflowing with all kinds of magical flora. As Archie relayed the events of the past few months, Merlin felt his chest constrict tighter and tighter. His heart bled for the boy, growing angry at just how oblivious you both were. And then, an idea. Not one of his best or subtlest, but it’d get the job done fast and serve as a bit of punishment for confusing his apprentice’s heart.

It was that time of year again. The yearly royal summit had you and the Crowlord running circles around one another, both of you rapidly penning and sending letters and the occasional need to coerce the grumpiest crow, Corvus, to carry just one more letter for the day. Between your familiar’s regular several-day flights to Spain, your scurrying around the castle, and the magic you were giving the crows for some extra juice, you were exhausted. Your eyes were sunken, you weren’t sleeping properly, and you missed Douxie. You didn’t know why, but his absence made your heart hurt. Every time you collected letters from Merlin, your throat closed at seeing his apprentice’s chamber door. Catching a glimpse of him through doorways and windows made your mouth dry. Both Master Corbin and Galahad had noticed your change in attitude, asking you to rest and why Douxie wasn’t with you, confused why you were no longer attached by the hip. You were tired. Everything fell by the wayside as you rushed from official to official. The king himself was concerned for you. Well, as concerned as he was willing to be towards a mage. 

Finally, there was a lull. You were able to rest for a while but didn’t dare leave the tower, knowing something would pop up eventually. Sitting down for what felt like the first time in weeks, you let everything go. The “mother hen” of the tower crows, Corinth, coaxed it out of you bit by bit until the dam burst. She preened your scalp while you cried, hot tears rolling down your twisted features. The feeling was comforting, helping to ease your upset. Finally, you were able to speak. 

“...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?”  you whimpered, drawing your knees to your chest.

“Perhaps he’s blind,” she said sagely.

“He can see perfectly well,” you whispered with an insincere chuckle, still not trusting your ability to speak without breaking down again.

Her eyes glinted in the noontime sun. “Stupid, then.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling and forcing tears that were left on your lashes to fall. “Douxie may well be stupid, but he isn’t simple. It’s one of his many charms.” A soft smile lingered on your face, heart lighter than before. “Thank you Corinth, you listen well.”

She shook out her plumage and settled on your knees, cuddling into your bosom. You stroked her gently, the silence pushing in on your curled form.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Poor Hisirdoux was in flux again. He sat on his bed turning the wooden Archie over in his hands. Merlin had left not too long ago and given him the day. Douxie’s hands felt light without a task. Come to think of it, his head felt light too. He couldn’t sleep yet, but he desperately needed a pick-me-up. A sigh escaped him when he realized his basin was nearly empty. He’d wanted something to do so he might as well refill it. Upon picking up the basin he dropped it immediately, water splashing violently across the floor along with the clatter of wood on stone. Archie yowled, shifting into his dragon form. The boy’s eyes were wide in horror as he recalled his reflection in the water. You see, in England, not only are the words of a soulmate tie important, but their placing on the skin holds equal meaning. Douxie had only ever gotten them on his limbs and the base of his skull when he was younger, but ever since he met Y/N, they began showing on his torso and the left side of his chest. But this… this couldn’t mean anything good. Scrawled black lines, no longer smooth and flourished, curled around his throat. They began from seemingly nowhere and writhed downwards in a creeping spiral, the end reaching for his heart. 

“Arch!” he cried. “What’s happening? Why are they like this? What do they say? Arch, Arch, please I need to know what’s wrong!” Tears welled in his hazel eyes as he dragged his hands down his throat, futilely trying to smudge the twisted lines.

Archie felt his fear so strongly his back arched on its own accord, but he found his way to Douxie quickly. He scampered to the boy just as he fell to his knees, his mind nothing but questions. Archie shifted, paws pulling Douxie’s frantic hands into his lap as he curled his wings around the boy’s shoulders. He sniffed and shuddered to a halt, shaky breaths drawing in and out as he lifted his head for Archie to read the swirling text.

Archie’s reaction to your thoughts was well hidden. He knew you two loved each other, but this hurt him just as much as it did Douxie. “...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?” The next bit made him breathe a laugh, but he realized that while it wouldn’t be easy to tell Douxie just how much you were both hurt by each other’s assumptions, it was just the proof he needed. Archie tugged the reluctant apprentice out into Merlin’s study.

Hisirdoux approached the mirror, looking back at Archie before he confronted the letters snaking down his collarbone. He twisted this way and that, heart falling to pieces over and over with every word.

He shifted his hood back into place, fluffing the collar to cast the letters in shadow. One look at Archie’s concerned face was all it took. He sank against the wall, gathering Archie into his arms and burying his face into his familiar’s side. Glistening tears wet Archie’s fur as the cat dragon purred loudly to offer comfort. 

Hisirdoux’s breathing evened out. “Arch, what have I done? What can I do?” he whispered, clutching the familiar ever closer.

Archie placed a large paw on the boy’s chest, near his heart. “You can go after them. Tell them what you know.” 

Douxie nodded after a beat and gathered himself, quickly walking out of Merlin’s tower and towards the western wing of the castle.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The king and his court mages piled into a carriage in preparation for the trip to the port where they’d depart to Spain for the royal summit. Merlin and Morgana sat next to each other and shared a look when the carriage lurched forward. Of course Merlin enlisted Morgana’s help, she’s a trusted source of chaos. He felt for the Crowlord’s aura in the tower and nodded to her once he confirmed Corbin was away. While Arthur was distracted, they sent their magic out. Tendrils of light bobbed, weaved, and merged to form two fluorescent lime balls. They floated around as if to get their bearings, then flew at the west tower. Nestled just below the ridge leading from the doorway was a sack of Dworkstone, its contents belonging to various trolls imprisoned in the castle dungeons. One ball started to vibrate just before it pushed to the center of the sack, starting the movement needed for a mother of an explosion The other flattened into a shield, curling itself around the sack. And they waited.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

You were still curled on the floor, Corinth in your lap when the crows began to beat their wings against their cages. Corinth was panicked but managed to push what coherent thought she could into your mind.

“The door… danger... hurry…” She struggled, taking off out the window in a flutter of black. 

You felt the disturbance, dread rising in the pit of your stomach. Scrambling to your feet, you barely managed to stand before a loud boom shook the tower. The shield swelled, Trollfire stretching the ward into the room. Your frantic hands undid locks and bonds as quickly as they could, ushering the crows to safety through the large window. The ward began to thin, crackles of green sparks coming undone as the fire fought against Merlin’s magic. You barely managed to throw the last crow out the window before the ward burst into a violent, moving wall of green flames.

You were pushed into the far wall, falling and splitting your brow on the cobblestone. All you could hear was ringing as your vision went white, slowly fading back to normal. You were trapped under the desk and a few chairs, too weak to lift them off. The screech of a hawk sounded far off as your hearing faded in and out. Fire blazed all around you, easily spreading along the hay bedding in the open cages. You coughed, smoke already in the air. Wait. It shouldn’t be this low yet, it’s only been a few moments since the explosion. You quickly sobered into a panic when you realized the wood piled on top of you was burning. Great. Now you were scared and disoriented. A perfect mix for getting out of sticky situations. The only thing to do now was wait.

Douxie could swear he felt his soul leave his body. He was on his way to tell you-- well, everything. You were his everything. He felt it before he heard it. The tingle of troll and human magic filled the air before a loud explosion shook the western tower. The western tower? Fuzzbuckets, you were on duty today! Crows flew from the open window, a whole murder blackening the sky for a few moments. They’d dispersed by the time he made it to the tower entrance. There was a small crowd a few paces back, Lancelot and another knight inspecting the swelling ward full of fire. Douxie pushed through the crowd just in time to see Lancelot raising his sword. 

“No! Everyone run!” he screamed. 

Lance was already going full swing when he heard it, looking back at Douxie in fear. Douxie grabbed the knight and made the best ward he could on short notice before the shield burst. They were all blasted backward, a few serfs’ tunics setting on fire. His dark hair was thoroughly windswept, his entire body frozen in shock on the ground. Lancelot might have been screaming, but Douxie couldn’t hear it. Blood dripped down his pale face, but Douxie couldn’t feel it. He could have been floating, his head was so light. Sure, his ears rang, his hands trembled, his chest heaved, but all he could feel was you. Your confusion, your panic. You were definitely inside. Douxie struggled to his feet and stumbled forward into the tower, ignoring Galahad’s voice yelling for him to stop.

If he wasn’t suffocating before, he sure was now. Douxie brought his hood to his mouth to filter some of the air and began searching for you. It wasn’t a very big room, but between the fire, smoke, and items strewn throughout, it was proving more difficult than he’d hoped. 

You let out a groan, the table pushing splinters into your leg.

He whipped his head towards the source of the sound, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. “Y/N?! Y/N, where are you?” he cried.

Weakly, you spoke through a great cough. “...Douxie? Is that you?” 

He hurried to the large pile of wood and began tearing it apart. “It’s me, it’s me, love. Please be alright, please, please, please, you can’t die. You’re not going to die, love.”

Hisirdoux heaved the table off you just as you slumped to the floor. He lifted you by the arms with a mighty roar, dragging you towards the open doorway. Galahad and the knight from earlier ran to catch you both as Douxie slipped into unconsciousness. 

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Two days. You hadn’t stirred for two days. The sun shone softly through the long linen curtains. Your familiar was perched on the headboard, asleep. Douxie was sat up by your bedside, bandaged hands gingerly holding one of yours while Archie slept on your legs. The boy had gotten burned pulling the debris off of you. He hadn’t left your side, save when the castle nurses forced him to eat, bathe, and sleep. They knew him well, uncoordinated as he was, and it broke their hearts to see him look so tired although the past couple of days were the most rested he’d ever been. He was scared. Everything had gone downhill when he found out you were soulmates and he blamed himself. 

“None of this would have happened if I’d just told you. You could have been away from the tower, safe with me. I was too afraid of losing you. All I knew was you loved someone else and I couldn’t let you guilt yourself into abandoning ‘him’ because we’re bonded. I was on my way to tell you, you know. I saw what you were thinking to Corinth and Archie convinced me to go after you. I-” his voice cracked, fresh tears coming to his eyes. “I love you, Y/N. I have long before I knew about the bond. I hurt you. I hurt us both. If only I wasn’t such a coward…” He was weeping now, head hung low and shoulders shaking. “I love you so much, and I still let this happen,” he stammered between quiet sobs. He brought your hand to his forehead, cradling it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you were.

He jumped when your hand slowly withdrew from his. His head snapped up, and there you were. Sun shining behind you like a halo, your eyes glinting in a tearful smile. You wiped the tears from his cheek, just like he’d done to you with the unruly slorr all those months ago, and let out a yelp of surprise. Douxie had thrown his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

“Doux! Your hair tickles,” you croaked, bringing your arms around him. He was crying again, just a little. His chest felt light. You were here. You were okay. Archie had woken when you jumped and was padding up to your face, pushing himself against your cheek. You sat up slowly when Douxie released you and patted the space next to you on the cot. He settled and looked up at you, eyes still sad.

“So, uh. How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” You cupped his face. “Douxie. I didn’t fall in love with a coward. I fell in love with the bravest, most selfless wizard in Camelot. Not to mention his adorable manbun. I love you too, Hisirdoux Casperan. Soul bond or not, I want to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

He brought his hand to yours, feeling the tiny curl trap blossom on the ring he made you. Gently, he took their hand in his, admiring the accessory. “Even after all I did, you kept it on.”

“And I don’t plan on ever taking it off,” you smiled. 

He slowly removed the ring, taking hold of your left hand. His eyes were hopeful and a little scared when he looked up at you, fingers pausing. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Promise?”

“With my whole heart, love.”

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss as he slipped the promise ring onto your finger.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Lance had lost his arm in the explosion but was rather excited about his new prosthetic. You two had healed as well, soon going back to work. Every time you passed one another, fingers brushed, kisses were stolen, and smiles were shared. The entire castle ended up hearing about how you two became so close, and soon enough, you were somewhat of a folk tale amongst the townsfolk. Now, every Christmas, soulmates exchange handmade gifts while sharing sweetbuns, now deemed a good omen for true love.

Even now, 900 years later, you’d hide your smiles as Arcadian couples surprised one another with things they’d made while ordering an eclair at Benoit’s. It’d been so long, but it seems some things stay the same, you and Hisirdoux included. Sure, you’d both grown in character, but around you, he was still the same lovesick fool he had been all those years ago. You still had your ring, which he’d embellished a bit on your wedding day. Douxie still thought about you as much as he did then. Today, while you were at your job at HexTech, you smiled adoringly at the words on your wrist.

“Your eyes are such a lovely color. Oh, how far we’ve come from clumsy accidents and runny ink. I love you, darling. More than you can ever know.”

[mnictasbcl]

For you

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 11th: First argument- first making up @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Markus, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor/Markus, Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: First fight, blood mention, Worry, Concern, Guilt, Argument, Injury, Not serious injury, Just ouchy, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, care, First aid, Mention of knife violence, Just a little stab, Making up, interface, Cuddles

Summary: Connor is self-sacrificial, Markus isn’t a fan of this, and they have their first argument.

Luckily, Hank is there to help and teach him a thing or two about relationships.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

“But this isn’t the Revolution, Connor!” Markus raised his voice.

Connor shook his head, smearing a streak of thirium off his cheek. “I know it isn’t. That doesn’t mean I’m no longer useful.”

“That’s… not what I’m saying. You can’t just run off into situations like that without backup!”

“Yes, I can.” He stared at the ground. “That’s my job, Markus.”

“Some days it feels like that’s all you think about.”

He blinked. That wasn’t fair. He… his job was no longer his sole purpose, of course, but he was still good at being a detective.

“You know what? I—I did it for you.”

The emotions brimming to the surface, combined with the pain radiating from his side, became overwhelming. Connor looked over the other android one more time before suddenly turning, storming away from New Jericho. He thought he could hear Markus shouting for him in the background, but he couldn’t comprehend it anymore.

  _____________

 That had been his morning. Fear, the mission, completing it—and an argument. Now, he was walking down the streets of Detroit, thirium trickling down his side, only one destination in mind.

He rapped his knuckles against Hank’s door. It opened after a few moments, the man half groggy with sleep, but he quickly moved into action upon seeing the android on his doorstep.

“Connor? What’re you doing here? I thought you were spending the weekend with Markus.”

Connor sighed, moving inside, not quite ready to answer questions. He just needed to pull off his coat, take a long, hot shower, and think about things—

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

He startled at Hank’s curse. Oh, right. He’d taken off his coat, revealing the gaping wound in his side.

“Apologies, Li—”

“Don’t go back to that. Just- just sit down,” Hank grabbed his arm, manoeuvring him gently but firmly to the couch, “I’ll go get the first aid supplies.”

Connor sat down without argument, glancing briefly to the Lieutenant as he rushed off towards the bathroom to grab the supplies. He started to feel a little guilty, coming into the man’s home without forethought to call ahead, especially with an injury. The guilt swirled together with the stew of other emotions in his mind, and he groaned.

This didn’t make sense. It was… it was too much, there was no logical pathway to sorting through each thing, and—

He was broken out of his thoughts by a wet nose sniffing at his hand. He chuckled, allowing Sumo to lick his hand.

“Ugh!” Hank’s outburst upon coming back into the room was warranted. Connor had forgotten about the thirium staining his hand, which the Saint Bernard was now licking off with fever. “The pair of you are disgusting, god.

“Anyway, I’ve got the android skin glue stuff. It’s just a surface wound, right?”

Connor nodded. “It didn’t damage any internal components or processors. Just nicked a thirium line.”

He was glad that Hank didn’t question him further quite yet, instead getting to work on the wound. It was only once the bleeding (or thirium leakage) had been stopped, the artificial skin sealing back up, did he begin.

“So… what happened?”

“A suspect managed to outsmart me briefly, with a knife; however, I did succeed in apprehending them.”

Hank nodded. “Right. That’s… kinda not what I meant, son.” His tone softened. “How did this happen? You were spending the weekend with Markus at New Jericho, not doing work.”

Connor frowned. “Yes, but I’m never truly off the clock. There were reports of an anti-android suspect breaking into New Jericho. I stopped them.” His gaze trailed off. “I… We do have some people for that in New Jericho, but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Noting there was more to be said, Hank didn’t interrupt. Shortly after a few deep breaths, Connor continued.

“Word was that they were after Markus. It was unlikely they’d be able to get through the walls of security, but I couldn’t take that chance. They were going to take him away.” The ‘from me’ was left unsaid.

“So…” Hank began. “Is Markus okay, then?”

Connor nodded curtly. “Yes. He’s fine. They didn’t get anywhere near him.”

Hank frowned. “So why did you come here? Not that I don’t love seeing you. But they have much better android care back in New Jericho. And surely Markus didn’t let you walk away looking like that.”

“Is that an insult to my appearance, Lieutenant?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Nothing wrong aside from the blue blood all over you.”

“That seems like an overstatement.”

“And it seems like you’re trying to distract me from the main topic.”

Connor sighed. “Astute as ever. Fine. Markus was… rather displeased that I suddenly went after the suspect myself, without waiting for any sort of backup.”

Hank groaned. “Of course you did.”

“But I had to!” Connor retaliated in defense. “I’m perfectly capable of taking down one… or two suspects. I was built for this. I took out multiple Cyberlife guards on the night of the Revolution, all fully armed.”

Hank patted his knee. “Look, kid, I don’t think anyone’s doubting your—”

“I’m not a kid.”

Hank took in a breath. “Maybe not literally. But you’re my kid.” That shut Connor up for a few moments. “Anyway. I don’t think me or Markus are doubting how good of a cop you are. But he was right. That’s a dangerous situation to go into alone. Maybe he was worried about you, too, just like you were worried about him. You don’t have any more bodies to hop into, Connor. This is all you got. You have to take it with more safety.” A pause. “Please.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m not disputing that.” He met Hank’s gaze briefly. “I just… I understand he was worried. I was worried. And I did take too many risks. But… I didn’t think this would end things.”

Now it was Hank’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“With me and Markus. He was really upset. He said, he said something like ‘the job is all I care about’. Or like that.”

“A fight isn’t going to end your relationship.” Hank laughed in shock, not unkindly. “You love each other. These things just happen. They’re not pleasant, no. I remember, with my wife…” A faraway look caught his eyes briefly. “We used to get into our fair share of disagreements. But they’re not what define you two. All that was behind your words was worry. And maybe you hurt each other with what you said. You just have to fix it.”

Connor took Hank’s advice in. It was… helpful.

“That makes sense. That… thank you, Hank.” He fiddled with the thick fur on Sumo’s ears. “So Markus doesn’t hate me?”

Hank laughed genuinely this time. “Of course not. In a different sense, do you think I hate you every time you go self-sacrificial on patrol?”

“Maybe not every time. I’d say there’s a 50-50 chance you show resentment after I make a… questionable work decision.”

“Well, I think Markus is a lot more patient than me. And I haven’t disowned you yet.” At Connor’s wounded look, he held up his hands. “I was kidding! Geez.

“Anyway, just… whenever you’re ready, go back over there. In fact, I can drive you anytime today. I’m sure he’s worried sick about you. Don’t want to turn that poor kid grey too.”

Connor laughed.

  _____________

 After showering and finding some clothes to put on, that weren’t stained blue, Connor accepted Hank’s offer to drive him back to New Jericho.

It was definitely the right decision. Not long after they’d pulled away from the house, Connor began to feel impatient to get back there. He’d left Markus alone after an argument, and after the whole threat on his life that morning. The suspects were stopped, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

Thus he was thankful when they pulled up at the location, thanking Hank with a grateful smile and promise to be back by Monday, before rushing out of the car.

Markus was no longer on the outskirts of the town, but he was sure he knew where he was going to be.

He was correct. Walking into the painting studio, he spotted the lone figure of his boyfriend at the far canvas, hands moving in the fluid motions of brush strokes.

Connor approached quietly, but perhaps his whirring yellow LED gave him away to the other deviant, who turned around at once, and seemed to breathe a large sigh of relief.

“Connor, you came back.”

He rushed over to Markus, stopping a couple of steps away from him. “Of course I did. I was just… visiting Lieutenant Anderson.”

“I could tell from the shirt.” He chuckled, gesturing to the baggy old DPD hoodie Connor was now wearing. “But… it’s a relief to see you. There were things I said, that…”

“I did too. I regret it. I don’t value my work over you or anyone else at all. I wasn’t thinking, shouldn’t have just ran out like that…”

“I know you don’t, Connor.” Markus agreed. “I wasn’t thinking either. What you did in the Cyberlife Tower, on the Revolution, with all those androids—it was amazing. So amazing it’s something you can really only do once. But despite the risk… you survived. And I’m so thankful for what you helped bring for our people. That was when I realised, I loved you.

“But that also means you need to be safe. We don’t have to take those kinds of risks anymore. Our people are free. There are, regrettably, individuals such as the attackers this morning who want to steal that from us. But we have the advantage now.” He stepped towards Connor, hand extending in an invitation to interface. “And I can’t lose you.”

Connor accepted the invitation, skin peeling back, white chassis visible and connecting to Markus in interface with a soft clink. He felt a rush of emotions, warm and fuzzy, and he sent back his own, some worry intermingling but overall, love and compassion.

“I can’t lose you either. But I promise, I’ll be safe.” He brought the connection away, arms moving this time to embrace Markus. “Safer, anyway.”

Markus chuckled. “You better be, Connor. Because if you get yourself killed, then I’ll kill you. And then I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson will kill you too.”

“And Sumo.” Connor added with a smirk.

“I don’t know, he seems too pure for that. But… whatever. Just don’t die.”

“Likewise.”