#before my uncle came it was PRISTINE... i swear.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alias-b · 4 years ago

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Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts. Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

They say she saw It first.

They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

They say she felt no fear.

A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake.

Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

“Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing.

She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

“Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

“From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

“Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it.

Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game.

After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

“Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

“Yes.”

Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

"Who are you?"

"Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

Big eyes full and empty.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

She said nothing to that.

“Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable.

The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

“You’ll know.”

Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home.

Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

This girl she ignored was all she had left.

“Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

“You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss.

She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

Down.

Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples.

A gloved hand curled into hers.

“Am I dead?” She asked.

“Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

“Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

“Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

"Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

“I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin.

She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

Existed together in one space.

Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

“Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

“Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

Except love, she thought. Except desire.

Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

“Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

It was a soft prayer.

He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart.

A squelch.

Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions.

A scar thickened.

Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue.

A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

“Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

“Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

“We were built to last forever.”

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise imagine #mine #writing

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fandomfanfics12 · 5 years ago

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Home Lives With You-Part 7

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 7/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: Sorry for the wait! Next part should be up within the next few days! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

When Peter woke up the next morning, the house was a flurry of movement; Morgan played with her dolls, blissfully unaware of what was going on. But downstairs Tony was vacuuming and Steve was preparing something in the kitchen. it took Peter a moment too long to realised that someone was coming over.

“Morning Pete!” Tony called, turning off the vacuum cleaner and grinning.

“Morning sirs, who is coming over?” Peter mumbled, still half asleep. A heartbeat later he realised his slip up and Peter took a step backwards, he shouldn’t have asked. “Sorry sirs, you don’t have to tell me.” Peter stuttered, nervously glancing up at Steve who didn’t look up from the flour he was measuring.

“it’s just some family friends.” Tony said and Peter nodded, keeping his eyes down at the floor. He could feel Tony watching him and it made Peter wish he had the ability to turn invisible, to simply disappear.

“oh, okay.” Peter murmured, starting to back away.

“You alright Pete?” Tony asked and now Peter could feel Steve’s attention on him too, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“Fine.” He started to back away, to make his escape when Steve spoke.

“Why don’t you help me make these brownies? They were my mother’s recipe and I know you’ll love them.” Steve said and Peter’s entire body tensed up as anxiety flooded his system.

“Oh uh, okay can I get dressed first sir?” Steve nodded, eyes studying Peter.

“Sure, whenever you’re ready.” Peter nodded before heading back upstairs to change out of his brand new pyjamas into some brand new clothes. Everything in his life was so shiny and pristine and new. He’d heard several kids whispering about it in the hallways and in his classes at school. The new phone, clothes, backpack, shoes, all of it. Flash had glared at him all week, had even tried to provoke Peter into fighting. But his body still ached with every movement and Peter wasn’t stupid enough to take the bait. Peter got dressed, he’d shower later. Peter’s main goal now was to make sure he didn’t piss off Steve and he was pretty sure that Tony had noticed how much he’d pulled back, turned inward. Peter had let his guard down for a minute, let these people in, he was foolish in thinking that they’d be any different from the Thompson’s. they were all the same, violent and cruel. The difference was that the Thompson’s had been honest about it.

“is it just me or is Peter acting different?” Steve asked as soon as he had disappeared back upstairs. Tony rose a brow and made his way over, lifting one of Steve’s hands and pressing his lips against the knuckles.

“he’s been different.” Tony murmured and a shot of guilt flashed through Steve.

“You know I didn’t mean to get violent right?” Steve whispered and Tony nodded.

“He’s not sure what to think of us anymore, and that’s okay. It’ll just take time before he remembers that we aren’t going to hurt him.” Tony murmured but it only made Steve feel worse.

“He was finally starting to adjust and I ruined it, didn’t I?” Tony shook his head.

“No sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong. it’s going to be fine.” Tony promised but still the guilt reverberated through Steve, he needed to make things right with Peter.

“what should I say to him? To make things good again?” Tony shook his head and took a step back.

“Stevie he’ll come around eventually but if you try and force it he’ll just pull further away. Just let it happen on his terms alright?” Steve nodded, knowing that Tony was right but hating that that was his only option.

“I hate that I’m the screwup.” Steve whispered and Tony groaned.

It broke Tony’s heart when Steve got like this, he hadn’t seen Steve in this headspace for a while now and it scared Tony to see him like this today.

“you are not the screwup. You are the glue that holds this family together alright?” Tony murmured and Steve nodded but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you want me to organise an appointment with the therapist?” Tony asked and Steve nodded after a moment.

“Okay.” Steve whispered and Tony nodded as a sense of relief washed through him. Good, therapy was good for Steve. Kept the PTSD and anxiety at bay during the rough times. Tony stood up on his tip toes and pressed his lips against Steve’s wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck. Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s waist, pulling him closer. There was a cough behind them and Tony pulled back, turning to see Peter who had gone bright red.

“sir?” he asked, motioning to Steve’s brownie concoction.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it.” Tony said and went upstairs to check up on Morgan, giving Peter and Steve the alone time they needed to repair their relationship.

“You alright Pete?” Steve asked, watching Peter as he mixed the ingredients together. Peter’s stomach clenched at the sound but he nodded his head, pretending like he was perfectly fine.

“I’m fine sir. After this is done I’ll go upstairs while your friends are over. I swear that they won’t even know I’m here.” Peter said and risked a nervous glance to Steve who frowned.

“Why would I want you to hide up in your room?” at that, Peter shrugged. Every time Mr Thompson had told him to hide out in his room, Peter has asked himself that exact question but had never come up with an answer. But it had been necessary for Peter’s survival so he hadn’t argued.

“I’ll just study, it’s fine sir.” Peter lied even though he didn’t want to have to hide out in his room. But maybe it would be safer. Mr Thompson had been more prone to violence when drinking, Steve seemed to be the same. Was he planning on drinking today?

“Pete we want you to be a part of today. I want you there alright? You’re a part of this family now.” Steve murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. Peter wanted to believe it, wanted to relax around Steve. He hated how uncomfortable he felt now, but what was he supposed to do? If he let down his walls he’d just end up hurt again.

“Okay sir.” Peter said because there was nothing else to say. His heart was hammering inside of his chest and his mind racing a million miles an hour. You’re a part of this family now. but then his mind flashed back to Steve’s bloody and swollen fists and a wave of discomfort rolled through Peter again. He couldn’t let his guard down here, he couldn’t trust the Stark-Rogers’ he needed to get out of here before he got hurt.

There was a loud knock at the front door that sent a grin onto Steve’s face. He turned just in time to see Morgan bolting for the front door and swinging it open to reveal Bucky.

“Uncle Bucky!” he immediately bent down and scooped her up into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“dragă!” Bucky said and she giggled at the familiar nickname. He moved inside the house and his grin grew larger when his eyes landed on Steve.

“Hey Stevie!” he said, his voice light and laced with laughter as Morgan clung to him. It warmed his heart to see his daughter in his best friend’s arms.

“Hey Buck.” Buck wrapped his free arm around Steve in an odd half-hug, and then they separated.

“Tony.” Bucky winked and Tony chuckled.

“How was the drive?”

“Good, long, but totally worth it.” he glanced at Morgan who giggled.

“Can’t believe my daughter stole my best friend.” Steve grumbled and Tony let out a laugh.

“honey you’ve got to let that go.” Steve scoffed and Bucky rose a brow.

“Sorry Stevie, but dragă’s the only one for me.” Bucky shrugged and Tony pursed his lips together.

“You have to meet Peter!” Morgan insisted and Bucky’s head whipped towards Morgan.

“Peter?” he all but shrieked, looking back to Steve.

“Your competition for her affections.” Tony said and Steve saw Bucky’s eyes widen dramatically, sending Morgan into a fit of giggles.

“dragă?” Bucky asked and Morgan giggled.

“Princess why don’t you go get Peter while we talk to your uncle.” Steve said and she nodded. Bucky put her down and she took off back upstairs.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked and Tony moved beside Steve, taking Steve’s hand.

“The social worker who led us to Morgan made a call asking if we’d take in an emergency placement.” He rose his brows and nodded.

“So you’ve taken in another kid?” he asked and Steve shook his head.

“Peter’s a teenager.” Now Bucky seemed shocked, looking back and forth between Steve and Tony.

“A teenager?” they nodded and Steve tensed up, preparing to defend any objections that Bucky may have to Peter.

“Peter’s lovely.” Tony murmured and Bucky scowled.

“I can’t believe I’ve already lost Morgan to a teenage boy.” Bucky grumbled and Steve laughed. Tipped his head back and let it rumble out of him.

“That’s what that reaction was?” Steve asked and Bucky’s scowl deepened. Then he was laughing and Tony joined them, the laughter subsided and Buck shook his head.

“How is it with a teenager?” Steve and Tony shared a look, it had certainly been a bumpy ride so far-but that was not Peter’s fault.

“It’s not what we expected, but he’s a really good kid.” Tony murmured and Steve nodded in agreement.

“So when are you adopting him?” Bucky asked with a raised brow and Steve shook his head. They’d agreed that they weren’t going to say anything, not until it was official.

“dammit Barnes, as soon as we can get the papers drawn up.” Tony grumbled and Bucky chuckled. Morgan returned moments later, a frown on her face.

“Peter said that his side was hurting again.” The smile’s dropped from Steve and Tony’s faces and they made their way back upstairs, Morgan and Bucky on their heels.

Peter groaned on the bed, his stitches were burning and his body shuddering.

“Pete?” it was Steve who spoke and Peter’s body tensed. Shit.

“I’m fine sir.” Peter murmured and flinched when Steve’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“No you’re not, what’s wrong?” Peter shook his head, he didn’t want to upset Steve.

“I’m fine! Seriously!” Peter insisted and Steve pulled back, looking more hurt now.

“Pete?” he asked, voice gentle and soft and Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

“Can I take a look at it?” Tony asked and Peter nodded. When his shirt was lifted someone gasped and Tony sighed.

“have you been taking your antibiotics and using the antibacterial wash?” Peter shook his head.

“Why not?” Steve asked, a hint of irritation in his tone that made Peter cringe.

“I didn’t want to waste it on myself. I thought it would be better if we had it here already in case one of you got injured sirs.” Peter explained and Tony sighed.

“Peter we would have bought more medication in that instance, alright? Please take your medication.” Peter nodded, opening his eyes to see the unfamiliar stranger. The man was built like a brick, solid muscles and oh so very tall.

“this is uncle bucky.” Morgan said and Peter attempted to smile but was intimidated by the man.

“Hello sir.” Peter managed and Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly.

“you can just call me Bucky.” Peter looked down at his hands, it was a trap, a punishment waiting to happen as soon as he was informal towards the guest.

“thank you sir.” Peter said and Bucky scrunched up his nose.

“we should probably get this barbecue started Stevie, Nat’s going to be hungry when she gets in.”

“Aunt Tasha’s coming?” Morgan’s eyes practically popped out of her head and Bucky scrunched up his face.

“I’m guessing that was supposed to be a surprise?” he asked and Steve nodded.

“Way to blow it.” there was an ease in his voice, a lightness that should have been comforting but the words put Peter one edge.

“We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute. “ Tony said as the others exited Peter’s room.

“sir?” Peter asked, sitting upright.

“Please take your medication Peter, and use the antibacterial wash alright?” Peter nodded, not wanting to look at Tony.

“Okay sir.”

“And are things alright with you and Steve?” Peter nodded, his mind flashing back to the night he’d first met Steve and Tony, when he’d seen Steve jab Tony in the elbow.

“Fine sir.” Peter said and Tony frowned.

“you’re not lying to me are you Peter?” Tony asked and Peter hesitated only a moment before shaking his head.

“You do not need to worry about me sir.” Peter assured him and Tony sighed.

“Peter, it’s our job to worry about you now alright?” he nodded but didn’t move, held his breath and counted the seconds before he had to exhale.

“I’m fine sir. I promise.” Peter swore but Tony just rose a brow. But he mercifully didn’t subject Peter to anymore questions, just nodded his head.

“Let’s get you fixed up.”

Eventually Peter and Tony came back downstairs, Peter looking better now.

“When’s aunt Tasha coming?” Morgan asked and as if she’d been summoned, there was a knock at the door. Tony opened it and Natasha strode in wearing black jeans, a leather jacket and high heeled boots. She held a basket in her hands which consisted of exotic chocolates, a teddy bear and a snow globe of the pyramids.

“Tasha!” Morgan cried, running towards Nat who set the basket aside to pull her in.

“Hi baby girl, how are you?” she asked, squeezing Morgan tightly. Steve glanced at Peter who was yet to be noticed by Nat but it was only a heartbeat later when a gasp fell from the woman’s lips.

“And who is this?” she asked as she straightened up, taking in Peter.

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am, I’m Peter.” He held out his hand and she ignored it, pulling him in for a tight hug. To Peter’s credit, he only winced slightly.

“And how do you know the Stark-Rogers family?” Natasha asked and Steve shifted his weight uncomfortably, stomach dropping out of him. Sometimes Nat could be as delicate as a freight train.

“We’re fostering him at the moment.” Tony said and her brows rose.

“I didn’t know you wanted another kid.” Her eyes darted between Tony and Steve, hurt and betrayal written all over her face.

“I was an emergency placement ma’am.” Peter said and her brows rose.

“what am I forty? You can call me aunty Tasha.” Nat told him and he nodded.

“Thank you ma’am.” Nat’s eyes met Bucky’s who simply shrugged, the room awfully quiet.

“if I had known I would have gotten you a present, I’m sorry Peter.” Nat said, filling up the silence that had filled the air. Peter just shook his head, retreating ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry about it ma’am.” Peter murmured, not even looking slightly disappointed.

“You can have the chocolates.” Morgan held the package out to him and Peter squatted down so he was eye-level.

“That’s your chocolate miss, but thank you for offering.” She pouted but didn’t argue, her sweet tooth getting the better of her.

Tony sent the email to Susan White on the PTA informing her that he would be unavailable for the bake sale tomorrow. Truth was that he and Steve had done enough damage to the Thompson’s for a week, Tony would get his own turn eventually.

“Daddy come quick!” Morgan’s voice rang out through the whole house and Tony followed it, finding her in the kitchen, Steve beside her and Bucky just out of Steve’s view with a phone in hand.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, eyes assessing her body for any injuries that she could have had.

“the flour is too heavy!” she pointed at the bowl on the counter and Steve rose a brow.

“The flour is too heavy?”

“Uncle Bucky asked if I could get him the flour and it’s too heavy!” her bottom lip quivered and Tony narrowed his eyes, she was good.

“it’s alright princess I can get it.” Steve turned and went to pick up the bowl but it didn’t budge. So he added a second hand and pulled, flour went flying and Tony let out a bark of laughter as Steve’s entire front was covered in flour. Morgan was wildly giggling and Bucky stepped out, shaking with laughter himself. Steve rose an unimpressed brow, shaking his head and stuck his tongue out at Bucky.

“Haha Barnes, you’re hilarious. Turning my own daughter against me, what’s next you’re going to go after Peter?” at that Bucky shrugged, a smirk splayed on his face.

“Might do.” Steve turned and his blue eyes met Tony’s alight with laughter.

“Did you have something to do with this?”

“No your best friend was the only adult corrupting our child, I was just a witness to her crimes.” Tony said and Morgan pouted at the words.

“Crimes?” Bucky asked and Tony nodded somberly, turning to the basket on the table.

“guess daddy and I will just have to eat these chocolates tonight.” Tony teased and Morgan rose a defiant brow.

“No!” she shrieked, rushing over to Tony and wrapping her arms around his leg.

“tell me you love me the most and I wont.” Tony said and Bucky gasped.

“it’s a trap, dragă don’t do it.” Bucky pleaded but she was grinning up at Tony and he felt a smug sense of satisfaction roll through him as he knew he had won.

“I love you the second most daddy.” Tony’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and Bucky, the smug asshole, lost it laughing.

“mmhmm.” Tony said but handed her the chocolates anyway because she was too adorable to resist.

“let’s go see what aunt Tasha’s up to.” Tony said, taking Morgan’s hand and leading her away. He got the feeling that Steve wanted to talk to Bucky today, alone.

As soon as they were gone Steve began to wash the flour off of his face.

“She’s such a cute kid.”

“was this her idea?” Steve asked and Bucky nodded, sitting down on a bar stool.

“Absolutely, she’s so smart that it’s insane!” he shook his head and Steve nodded.

“How are you Buck?” Bucky’s smile slipped away and he shrugged.

“I’m alright, just try to keep busy with my job. How are you?” his eyes dropped down to Steve’s hands, they were still swollen and there were scabs on the knuckles.

“Peter’s last fosters were abusive, I mean you saw him. And last night at Tony’s boss’ birthday the guy was there and I just…”

“lost it?” Bucky asked softly and Steve nodded his head.

“I haven’t been like that since, well you know.” Bucky nodded his head.

“I know.” Steve had known Bucky since he was a teenager, they’d joined the military together and Bucky had seen Steve on his darkest of days. He knew how Steve could get if his mind went to a dark enough place.

“Is that why the kid is so jumpy around you?” Steve nodded, another wave of guilt crashed through him.

“I think so. God that makes me feel sick to think about. We were getting along and then I just blew it.” Steve shook his head, and Bucky pressed his lips together to form a thin and hard line.

“But you’re okay right? last night was just one incident?” Steve nodded, shifting uncomfortably.

“Of course Buck, I’m going to go take a shower now though, get this flour off of me.” and just like that the air was light again and Steve felt like he could breathe.

“Totally Morgan’s idea.” Bucky promised and Steve rolled his eyes.

“sure thing.” but as he started to walk away, his hands began to tremble just a little.

Tony was sitting alone in the living room, just taking a moment to himself when that moment was ruined by Bucky’s entrance.

“Tony can we talk?” No. Tony just wanted a moment of peace, a breath to recalibrate and put on his sociable and bubbly personality.

“what about?” Tony asked instead as Bucky sat down on the couch beside him.

“I’m worried about Steve.” At that, Tony squeezed his eyes shut. Bucky had been there since the beginning of Tony’s and Steve’s relationship, had been Steve’s best man at the wedding and had been in the court room when they adopted Morgan. Usually Tony and Bucky got along just as well as Steve and Bucky did, but there were still times when Bucky acted like a protective best friend who wasn’t sure if Tony was going to break Steve’s heart.

“He tell you about last night?” at that, Bucky nodded.

“mentioned it.”

“I’ve already emailed the therapist, he’s got an appointment on Thursday.” Tony said, staring up at the ceiling.

“He’s been having nightmares and panic attacks again, hasn’t he?”

“Maybe.” He’d had a couple, nowhere near as bad as when Tony had first married Steve. Steve was more in control of his mind now, he knew when the warning signs popped up.

“is it to do with Peter? Because if this is triggering him-“ Tony’s eyes snapped to Bucky and irritation flared in his gut.

“Now you’re overstepping.” He snarled as the anger and defensiveness rolled through him.

“this all started back up when you took Peter in right? he doesn’t look well and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it, I know you have. And I’m sure Peter’s a good kid but if it’s harming Steve then-“

“That’s enough Bucky.” Tony snapped but Bucky wasn’t about to back down, it was quite the opposite and it was only irritating Tony more.

“don’t forget that I was there when Steve was at his worst, I don’t want to watch him go through with that again.”

“That is why I booked him in with the therapist.” Tony grumbled, a headache forming behind Tony’s eyes.

“are you sure that’s going to be enough?” no, Tony wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t doubt himself, he couldn’t doubt Steve. It had to be enough, Tony wasn’t sure what he’d do if it wasn’t.

@smallnjh @picklepotatoe14 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine @meyamoadriytu @loveliestdisappointment

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rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 10

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: How to Piss Off Gabriel Agreste

AO3 link

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Gabriel Agreste was displeased.

Honestly, that was an understatement.

Gabriel Agreste was infuriated.

He had allowed Adrien his little temper tantrum, the slamming of the door and stomping to his bedroom, expecting to let the boy stew for a bit until he had calmed enough to be reasonable. In the meantime, he had assured Mlle. Rossi things would progress as planned.

That had been a miscalculation. Adrien’s behavior had only escalated, as he somehow managed to escape the mansion—something Gabriel had only discovered later, when Nathalie had brought the tablet to him, with that picture on the Instagram social media account that was meant largely for Adrien to promote the brand. He had been permitted to use it for additional reasons, but clearly that had been a mistake.

Gabriel had been struck by the smile on Adrien’s face, though, carefree and happy… and alongside that of a boy he’d never seen as they cuddled in an intimate way that was wholly inappropriate for the brand. He never would have allowed such a picture with Mlle. Rossi.

But his hands were also tied by Adrien’s move—if he were seen to disapprove, many of his employees would be livid, not to mention critics. The LGBTQ+ community was well represented in the fashion industry. At this point, Gabriel would be seen as homophobic.

Furthermore, a third party had taken those pictures, meaning Adrien had found allies.

Nathalie had attempted to regain control of the account, to no avail. Hopefully the furor would die down quickly; Gabriel had the Gorilla out searching for his wayward son so they could nip this in the bud. But he’d come up empty thus far.

Mlle. Rossi had called, raging, and had required a lecture about tone and entitlement. She had been seething by the time he hung up on her, but Gabriel didn’t particularly care. She was outliving her use with her childish assumption he’d give in to her demands.

He had used the roiling emotions of a jealous fan to create an Akuma, but it had been defeated far too quickly for his liking,

Nathalie had returned with the tablet shortly thereafter, with a new photo and that hair. His hair had been pristine, never adulterated with anything so aggressive as dye. And now—! He matched his ‘boyfriend’—Gabriel was certain this was a fake relationship, but if he said such a thing publicly it would receive backlash—and they were feeding each other ice cream and laughing. Another picture taken by a third party.

Gabriel hadn’t even noticed the caption, or the following post essentially accusing the company of forcing him to work, until Nathalie pointed them out. Worse, there were comments from fans angry that Adrien was not permitted to play with that ridiculous band.

theofficialchloebourgeois: I didn’t know it was that bad, Adrikins. I’ll talk to Daddy.

alya.ladyblogger: @theofficialchloebourgeois Pretty sure this violates child labor laws, too. #LetAdrienGoToSchool

theofficialchloebourgeois: @alya.ladyblogger Will bring that up.

The Instagram tag the Ladyblogger had created had started going viral, even spreading to Twitter.

The TVi news was even using it. Curious, Gabriel clicked on the article they’d linked to.

Model Adrien Agreste Comes Out, Alleges Being Forced to Date New Gabriel Muse, Lila Rossi

Leaked Rossi text messages include threats

When he saw the image of the text messages, he hurled the tablet against the wall.

Nathalie gave him a reproachful look and he glowered at her. “You were due for an upgrade anyway,” he hissed, still trying to contain his rage.

Clearly Mlle. Rossi had become more than an inconvenience.

“Inform Mlle. Rossi that her association with Gabriel has ended, as she has provided an unsavory image for the brand. Announce that on the official social media. Make sure the announcement planned for tomorrow is stopped.”

A stress headache, perhaps even a migraine, was coming on.

Marinette returned home with freshly painted pink fingernails, and Jagged loudly praising her nonexistent design ideas.

“Marinette Dupain-Chang, would you care to comment on your relationship with former Gabriel model Lila Rossi?”

Oh, that had been tempting. ‘Former’? They hadn’t seen that bit of information before she’d left—she’d have to text that to Kagami and Luka, who would share it with Adrien. They’d agreed that he’d need to keep his cell phone off to avoid the GPS locater, until they’d gotten enough done.

Jagged posed for the camera, hugging her one-armed. “That horrid girl has been bullying my niece here. Kept her too afraid to say anything. But Uncle Jagged’s here to take care of his Marinette.”

Then he pushed past Nadja Chamack to enter the bakery—let in by her parents despite it being after hours. They presented him with a large box of macrons to thank him, and asked if he would be free to join the family for dinner the next night—specifying that ‘the team’ was welcome, too.

Adrien, Luka, and Kagami had been insistent that she should bring them in on the plan, that they have some adults they could lean on aside from Jagged, whose stay in Paris would only be so long.

Marinette hadn’t been certain about letting them in on the fake relationship details, but they had been appropriately horrified at Adrien’s treatment and had immediately been on board. Everything had fallen into place, and maman had insisted after tomorrow she would take her break from the bakery to coincide with Marinette’s walk to school, so she could escort her for her protection.

They had a plan, a script, for Luka and Adrien’s relationship. She just had to be ready early tomorrow to be escorted to school, and be ready for any media attention.

And they had decided that Luka should be seen with Adrien, saying goodbye before the school day with appropriate closeness. They hadn’t specified what it should be, but that part could be ad-libbed. Regardless, the media would eat it up.

She updated her parents over dessert fruit tarts, then pleaded exhaustion and headed up to her room to get ready for bed. On her way up, she texted Luka and Kagami the news about Lila.

Tikki looked a bit exasperated when she was finally able to leave Marinette’s purse, and for a moment she was worried the kwami disagreed with what they were doing, that she’d be disappointed.

“I didn’t realize Adrien had it so bad,” Tikki said instead. “That poor boy. I’m glad you came to his side; I know it might be hard to watch him in a pretend relationship with Luka.”

Marinette relaxed. Tikki was on her side.

“I knew his father was awful, but I didn’t know it was this bad, either. If we do this right, M. Agreste will be under enough scrutiny to give Adrien some freedom.”

“He deserves better,” the kwami commented, taking the cookie Marinette offered her.

Marinette nodded. “Do you think I’m doing enough?”

“You’re doing everything you can.” Tikki set down the cookie and put one tiny hand on Marinette’s. “And… I think Luka was right. You expect too much of yourself. I know you’re Ladybug, but you’re also Marinette. You don’t need to bottle things up. You don’t need to be perfect.”

Marinette was silent for a bit, thinking about that. She’d always tried to stay strong on her own—even during the worst of Chloé’s bullying, she hadn’t reached out. Part of it was learning that Chloé could get away with a lot because of her status; teachers were rarely willing to punish the daughter of the mayor, so instead Marinette had been told she was being too sensitive, or that she needed to be the bigger person and be an example. All she’d wound up being is an example of a doormat.

In the past year, she’d learned that what her teachers had done was considered gaslighting. She’d managed to let them convince her that her feelings weren’t important. Marinette had been afraid to tell her parents everything, because if they told her the same thing…

Ever since Alya had come, she’d been able to start growing out of that—all it had taken was someone standing up for her.

“Thanks, Tikki.”

The kwami sighed. “Honestly, I should have helped you take care of this Lila situation earlier. It’s gone on too long. I let you flounder, even after you were almost Akumatized. I didn’t even think about how this was effecting you. I’m sorry, Marinette.”

Marinette brought Tikki up to her face and kissed her cheek. “I was doing what Luka said—putting on a front. I need to trust you and my parents and my friends more.”

“We’ll learn together,” Tikki told her with a smile. “I’m so proud of you, Marinette!”

They snuggled cheek to cheek for a moment, and then Marinette went to the bathroom to prepare for bed, leaving Tikki to her cookie.

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starlightaxolotl · 4 years ago

Text

Stormfront Chapter One

words: 2.9K

warnings: none really, one swear word, implied alcohol being consumed by underage people but not shown.

I finally bring the long awaited first chapter of Stormfront, my Ninjago Next Gen AU fic.

One: Not Without Risk

Zane walked out of the hide out and down the street, drawing the hood of the plain blue hoodie over his head. He knew he was being followed. If he made it to the prop apartment, he'd be clear. With his connections offline still, he had no signal to upload the information he had gathered on this impromptu meeting, having been lucky to even have been in the building when the meeting was called. For convenience, they allowed him to sit in before he left. They hadn't wanted to hold him up, but insisted he listened.

It had given him confirmation of his biggest theory: Harumi was building a network, one that spanned the entire continent of Ninjago, and one of her contacts had found something she was looking for. Something that would be in the city in the next two weeks.

Zane's hands itched at the thought. If she had already gathered contacts in every corner of the continent, who was to say this wasn't some sort of play—a ruse to throw him off. They could easily know he was infiltrating but choosing not to apprehend him…

But why?

Zane's mind and heart were racing at equal speeds. It was a lot to take in.

They knew where everyone lived. It was pinned out on a map of the city and surrounding suburbs, and they couldn't do anything about it. If they moved, they'd just be found again, and there was no evidence to suggest they wouldn't also reveal they knew what Zane was doing, breaking in and slipping among their ranks sporadically under another new fake name each time.

He crossed the street, glancing over his shoulder. In the alleyway behind him, a figure sat on a motorbike, ready to go at a moment's notice. Their visor was too dark for him to make out any details before he turned his head back to focus on the sidewalk in front of him. Distantly, he heard the engine rev before fading, driving away.

He had been followed. He was likely still being followed if he had to guess. He didn't want to be right this time.

It was taking a chance, but he needed to do it. He internally switched on every communication signal. As soon as he connected to the network, he uploaded the information to the coded file, encrypting it as he did. He called in to Pixal.

It didn't even ring once before she answered. "Are you safe? This call is early. You are not at the safe apartment yet." Zane could hear the worry in her voice, the strain of trying to stay calm. After over twenty years together, it wasn't shocking that he knew her this well.

"I am on my way home now, honey. I think we need to have a family gathering soon. Work is getting busy." His words, even out loud and inconspicuous to any passing ears, were coded.

I am on my way to the safe house. I think I am being followed. We need to gather the others. I have information. It is urgent.

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

Gigi Walker liked to think that as first alternate for the debate team that meant she was incredibly skilled at last minute arguments and persuasion. She had, after all, talked her way into first alternate from third alternate.

Which, of course, is why she found herself standing between her father and the front door of their apartment, arms crossed. "Come on, I just want to go on patrol once with Uncle Kai-I really don't think I'm asking for all that much! Enver's been on patrol!"

Jay raised an eyebrow at his daughter, grabbing his phone from the charger. "Enver is two years older than you, and not my kid. Kai's house, Kai's rules. My house-which you live in last I checked, by the way-my rules. This isn't up for debate Gigabyte, Your mom and I both said you're not going on patrol until you're older when you and Grant turned ten and started training-which you already started earlier than we wanted, if you remember!" He crossed his arms as well.

Jay walked towards the dresser next to the door, opening a drawer to grab his keys. "And Kai is starting patrol later tonight than normal, and you have school in the morning. Which, if I remember right, you've been almost late every day this week because you've been oversleeping!" He reached out to touch his daughter's shoulder. He had a sad smile on his face. "Stop trying to grow up so fast, trust me on this one. You're gonna miss this once you become a full time ninja-when you're nineteen at the earliest." He pulled his hand away from his stunned daughter, moving past her towards the door.

Gigi's mouth dropped open and she twirled on the spot, grabbing her dad's arm. "Nineteen? Last week your only condition was I had to be an adult!"

A small snicker came from behind. "Don't make him push it to thirty." Down the hallway, holding a laundry basket, was an auburn teen, smiling wryly at his twin sister. "And next to uncle Kai, no one holds a grudge like dad."

"You left your uncle Lloyd out of this, he holds a grudge worse than any of us and you know it. Remember when you accidentally broke his nose, kid?"

Grant groaned, head dipping back dramatically. "He still won't let me live it down or feel good about the fact it was the first time I landed a hit on him in a spar!"

Gigi giggled, and Jay looked back at her. "I've gotta get going-I hope I'm not making a mistake by leaving you and your brother here to do your homework-it's not too late for me to take you to Lloyd's so Aya can watch you two."

With a huff, Grant lifted the laundry basket. "I've got chores to keep me busy, plus Gigi and I still have to study for precalculus tonight. Big test tomorrow, and if I don't keep her on track it's not getting done before you and mom are home."

Jay smiled and nodded, pointing a finger at Gigi. "Doors locked, no friends over, got it?"

"Got it." She sighed, watching as her dad left before turning to look at her brother, skipping down the hall past him. "You've got me covered for the evening then?"

Grant shook his head, and sighed. "This is a terrible idea, Gigi."

"If this was a terrible idea, then they'd have hidden the files harder than that."

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

Lloyd looked at Zane, who looked just as pristine as usual, though his clothes suggested otherwise. He seemed scuffed up and anxious. "So, we're all here. Rip the bandage off, what did you learn this time?"

Zane looked around the secure room and the familiar faces around him. His team, his family, everyone actively working on this mission. Except for Enver, though he was going to be working on it soon, Zane supposed. "I do not have much, but something is arriving in the next two weeks-something big. Something they've been looking for."

The air in the room was still, stiff. Zane continued on. "She didn't say what it was over the phone, but Lex, the woman who has been training me for guard detail-she vouched for me personally, saying that they'd be stupid to waste my firearm skills on meaningless turf battles-said that this item is integral to their plan, and that things will fall into place once it's in Harumi's hands."

Lloyd made a face at the mention of their greatest enemy.

Harumi had spent the better part of the last two decades underground, but in the last few years signs had come back that she wasn't done trying to destroy Ninjago by starting with them. Her last big move had been...traumatic to their team at best. Lloyd looked away, hand moving to his side. Even through his clothes, he knew the size and shape of the scar that was there.

It had been luck that he lived at all.

"I also have gained confirmation of Harumi's code name being the Spider, not the princess. This means that there is an individual being called the princess that is not Harumi. Logically, I would assume this to be some sort of child of hers, or someone she is appointing as heir of the cause for unknown reasons, just in case."

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

Gigi pulled her hood down as she walked into the party, grinning under the black lights which picked up the swirls of white makeup she had drawn on her face for the event.

The room was hot, packed wall to wall with people who swarmed around the makeshift stage in the abandoned warehouse. Maybe it wasn't as abandoned as she previously believed though, knowing now that these parties across the warehouse district were tied as recruitment events for the Oni's Curse as they called themselves now, rebranding from the Sons of Garmadon they originally were. It showed a few shifts. The movement no longer hinged on Garmadon as their leader, which...arguably might be worse for Ninjago in some ways. Gigi had only ever heard stories, but it sounded like Harumi could be even worse on her own. It even-

Someone slammed into Gigi's back and she shouted, barely heard over the music in the warehouse. A hand grabbed her wrist, steadying her before she could faceplant into the small gap in the flooring.

"Careful!" A girl yelled, muffled by the music and the mask she wore. Gigi could tell she was smiling behind it though. "Get's a little hectic here, ya know?" She started dancing, still holding onto Gigi's wrist. Gigi started to dance with her. "First time?"

The song started to wind down and Gigi nodded, reaching into her pocket to put her ear protection in. "Yeah, didn't know these were so popular!" She looked around, taking it all in. "Especially on a school night!"

The girl laughed. "That's half the fun-who cares if we have school tomorrow, tonight we live!" She tipped her head back and laughed harder. After a moment she looked back at Gigi. "What's your name, twinkle toes?" She asked with a nod at Gigi's shining shoes. She hadn't expected the black lights to make the glitter so radiant-it was just glitter!

Gigi smiled, holding out her hand. "Gigi!"

The girl took hers, giving a loose shake. "Everyone calls me Ruka around here." The girl-Ruka-looked around, pushing her dark bangs out of her face. "Let's get something to drink before some idiot spikes everything." She looked at Gigi, her dark eyes bright in the party lights. "You down to hang, first timer?"

"Uh..." Gigi faltered. She needed to be alert for the mission-if she found some kind of proof maybe she could get some intel about the initiation process that they didn't already know about. Sticking with someone who knew the place was a good idea. "Sure. I could go for a pop can right now."

Ruka laughed again, grabbing Gigi's hand to pull her through the crowd. "Pop can, you really are a newbie aren't you?"

Gigi shrugged, sticking close to her newfound guide. "Parents aren't usually out at night together, it's kinda new to be able to slip out of the house unnoticed." Gigi could feel the beat of the music in her bones as they passed a set of speakers, rocking her body at its very core. Grant would hate it here.

She so owed him for the cover up.

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

Before she knew it, Ruka was pushing an unopened can of soda into her hand and pulling her once again around the makeshift dance floor. Gigi thought she heard her say something about a quieter place to hang around at in the party, but she wasn't sure. Even with ear protection in, her ears were ringing, and she was sure she'd feel unsteady from the sounds for hours after leaving the party.

"You were right," Gigi said as she leaned against the railing, popping the can of soda open. "It is quieter back here." She took a sip of the soda as she watched the people dancing below. Ruka leaned against the railing next to her, and Gigi smiled at her. "How did you get involved in coming to these parties?"

"Long story, but basically...my cousins." Ruka pulled off her mask, putting her hand through the elastics to keep it on herself. "They like the party scene, I...can tolerate it with the right people." She winked and as the strobe lighting passed over her face, Gigi could have sworn her eyes were red. Like fire red, but the next second they were back in the dark. "What about you, first timer?"

Gigi chewed on her lip, looking down at the party below. "I heard there's a little more than just a party going on, probably just a rumor."

"What, like drugs?" Ruka sounded irritated. "This isn't the place for that, Gigi. They're pretty strict about drugs."

That caught her attention. Gigi turned again. "What? No, that's not what I mean."

A loud voice cut through across the music. "Hey, hey, Rukaaaa!" Gigi looked left at where it came from. A girl with a high, neon streaked ponytail was sauntering over. Her combat boots made the metal catwalk clang loudly with each stomping step. The teen seemed cut from stone, all angles and neon paint, like a walking piece of graffiti. She eyed Gigi as Gigi did the same. "Who is this poppet?" Her face was intricately painted, streaks of white crossing over her lips in an upwards curve, and bright pink smeared around her eyes.

"Raz, this is Data. Data, Raz. My cousin I was telling you about." Ruka's voice was tight. It confused Gigi why she was calling her Data when she clearly remembered her name was Gigi just moments ago. "We were just talking about why we came out here tonight, told her you were big on the party scene."

Raz threw an arm around Gigi, pulling her close. "Data huh? Alias? Or do your parents really hate you that much?"

Gigi gave an awkward laugh. "Nickname." The two looked nothing alike. Then again, maybe they were cousins the same way she and Lark were cousins, cousins because their parents were so close they were practically family, but with no resemblance. "Pretty awesome party!" Gigi took a sip of her soda. Something about Raz made her uneasy.

Raz grinned wide, eyeing the soda. "Surprised no punch, Data. You and Ruka seem like punch girls-well, I know Ruka is."

"Her parents would notice if she accidentally got spiked punch. Said her brother is covering for her." Gigi looked at Ruka, who was undoing her buns-how had she not noticed they were purple before now? Ruka combed through her hair, pulling it into a ponytail. "And it's her first time here, I'm showing her the ropes. How things run, stuff like that."

Raz nodded, her grin still present. "Well then, I'll leave you to it." She squeezed Gigi's shoulder, and through her jacket Gigi could feel her sharp nails. "Don't let her give you too much hell, Data."

Gigi gave another awkward laugh, nodding before taking a sip of her soda. Raz slunk off, sauntering across the crosswalk towards a group of equally painted individuals. Gigi wrapped both hands around the can, and listened to the music for a minute before speaking. "Your cousin is...a lot."

"Tell me about it."

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

Grant was practically pacing the floor when he heard a knock at his window. His parents were on the way home and as he pulled open the curtain, sure enough his sister was on the fire escape outside. He unlocked his window, pulling her in. "Go get changed, if they see you-why do you smell like smoke? Were you smoking? Oh man you were smoking-if mom gets a whiff of you we're both going to be grounded so badly-"

"Relax! It's from the train stop. Some ass wouldn't stop smoking and I couldn't get away from them. I'm gonna go shower, cover for me with mom and dad until I'm done?" Gigi shut the window behind herself, and sat down on the ledge to take her boots off. "I made a friend tonight, she's just so...she's amazing, Grant, she really really is."

"Okay, that's great. Does she know anything about the OC?"

Gigi faltered. "I don't think so. I think her cousin does though, so I'm gonna have to go back a few times to get some more intel-and you're right, you would absolutely hate it there. It's so loud and you can feel the music constantly and-"

Grant pulled his now shoeless sister off his floor, shepherding her towards the door. "You. Shower. Now. We can talk about it later!"

#Ninjago #ninjago fanfic #ninjago next gen #ninjago stormfront #stormfront #stormfront au #ninjago next generation

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magicianapprenticelyra · 4 years ago

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Day XI: Music

Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Walterine Aster, James Aster, Bảo Nguyen, and Asra

Timeline: January, nine years ago

They say that music soothes the most savage of beasts. While Lyra herself wasn’t such a creature, her stomach reacting violently to anything she ate may as well have been one.

It’s been a week since Lyra arrived in Vesuvia. While she was finally free of lice, the young lady couldn’t hold much food down. Water and juice were fine, but solid foods, fruit and vegetables alike were almost immediately vomited back up. She couldn’t handle more than one spoonful at a time, every twenty minutes or so. By the time she’s finished with any bowl of gruel, it was too cold and barely edible.

At night, she couldn’t sleep because of her stomach gnawing at all hours of the night. No amount of water or juice could satiate it. There were times her uncle, Bảo, stayed by her bedside as she sobbed in agony. Before long, this left the man looking as haggard as the day he came to Vesuvia.

“I don’t know if she can do anymore,” Bảo laments one morning. His shop is closed for the day, allowing the man and his partners to discuss what to do next for his niece.

“None of my potions have worked,” Walt murmurs, sighing softly. “She doesn’t have bad reactions to them, but she’s not responding to any of them either.”

“Trắc ‘as been givin’ medicines too,” James reminds them. “Hopefully they get some traction soon . . .”

“What I’m worried about is the fact we got two sleepless people in the house,” Walt gestures to Bảo especially. The man’s falling asleep on James as they speak!

“I can handle it,” Bảo insists, almost immediately yawning.

“No, you can’t.” James exhales, gently rubbing his partner’s back. “Could we rotate in for ya, then?”

Bảo shakes his head no. “She not used to both of you yet,” he reminds. “Everything make her jump . . .”

“He’s got a point,” Walt sighs, shaking her head. “I hate to say it, but at the rate she’s goin’ she might not see the end of the month.”

Walt winces as some of the light leaves from Bảo’s eyes. He’s quiet, unable to look at her.

“Babe—”

“No no you . . . you have point,” Bảo reassures. “We . . . we need to figure the way to help her. I don’t want to write my sister her eldest is dead under our care . . . ”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Early in the morning, Lyra’s reluctantly awake. She’s nursing a cup of water in her hands, looking out of the window seat her uncle had installed. It, it was for her . . .

When was the last time she had anything been meant solely for her?

Before Lyra could muse on it any longer, the door’s knocked upon.

“Come in . . .” she rasps.

The teen turns to see her uncle entering with a bowl of soup, which was expected. Who and what weren’t however, are his partner, Mr. Aster, and seeing that her uncle has his đàn kìm in tow.

“Eh?” Lyra gestures to the instrument. “Làm gì đấy?”

“Muốn nghe, không?” Bảo offers, giving her the bowl. As Lyra grasps it, settling the bowl into her lap, her uncle begins tuning the instrument.

“Okay . . .?” Lyra replies, looking askance at Mr. Aster for an explanation, if there was any.

“He tinks some music might help,” James explains, looking sheepish.

“ . . . nhạc?” Lyra squints at her uncle.

A short exchange between the Leysan transplants leads to Lyra shaking her head as Bảo grins. James gives her a sympathetic look, which makes the teenager huff in amusement through her nose.

Before long, Bảo begins to strum a few scales, singing them in a silly, twangy matter to make his niece smile. Satisfied with the tuning of his đàn kìm, he starts to play a lullaby, singing softly.

Upon hearing it, Lyra winces. Memories strike her from behind, sinking that knife into her back. It . . . it was too heavy to think about with her current state. She spoons some soup into her mouth, swallowing slowly.

As she works the porridge down, Lyra’s eyes wander over to her uncle’s fiancé. He wasn’t like the other men she knew her uncle to like, though given geographical differences it was to be expected. She squints at the man, cautiously spooning another bit of soup into her mouth as her uncle continues to play. She can see that James is looking at her uncle with a tender smile. She’s glad for it, though unsure what to totally make of it.

Like him, his wife Walterine adores Bảo. To Lyra herself, they were an odd trio to say the least. Walterine is an accomplished magician, specializing in protection spells. James is a baker, working in the estate of one noble’s house in the Heart District four times a week, and running a small bakery out of Bảo’s kitchen the rest of the time. And then, there’s her uncle: he won the land his shop stands on in a mahjong gambit. He took it from dilapidated ruin to the pristine stationary/supply shop the Temple District knows to this day . . .

Before long, Bảo finishes the song. James and Lyra applaud his performance. He looks to James, a small, mischievous smile on his face.

“What are you doin’?” James inquires.

“Your turn,” Bảo replies.

“Wat?” James stares at his partner, incredulous. “Bảo—“

“I play as you sing!” Bảo strums a quick little melody, trying to get James to laugh.

He does.

Once the bespectacled man calms down, he coughs, shaking his head. “The notes from that won’t won’ match what I have in mind,” James replies.

“Then sing without this!” the man sets his instrument aside, gesturing to the space around them all. Go on, Bảo silently encourages.

James exhales softly, shaking his head with an amused smile. He looks to Lyra, who eyes him curiously in turn.

“Okay . . .” James clears his throat. Before long, he sings the intro, slowly enough for Lyra to hear.

The words are soft, and Lyra can barely understand it as is. Still, the man’s voice is lovely . . . soothing, even. As she spoons another bit of soup into her mouth, she pauses, listening to the next stanza that floats from James’s mouth.

“Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin. Siúil go socar agus siúil go ciúin. Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom. Is go dté tu, mo mhuirnín slán . . .”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She’s collapsed onto the floor again, glasses sliding off of her face. Her brown eyes stare into nothingness, unfocused as a dribble of drool escapes from the corner of her mouth. Asra swears under his breath, swooping down to support her head.

“Forget, Lyra,” Asra whispers, pressing two fingertips to her forehead. “Forget . . .”

The spell mists over her face. As usual, after an episode Lyra lays prone on the ground. Asra pushes his leather bag under her head as a surrogate pillow, to support her heavy head. The magician sighs, deciding to fix her a snack. There were some apples still around . . .

O*O*O

Upon returning to the ground floor of the shop, bowl of sliced apples in hand, Asra can hear her mumbling in her sleep. For Lyra, it wasn’t unusual for her to be talking in her unconscious state. That much hasn’t changed, at least.

“I'll . . . sell my rock, I'll sell . . . my reel,” Lyra murmurs. “I'll sell my . . . only . . . spinning wheel . . .”

Asra stops in place, staring at Lyra as she hums the rest of the song:

To buy my love a sword of steel . . . Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin. Siúil go socar agus siúil go ciúin. Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom . . .

#31DaysofArcana #The Arcana #fan apprentice #Asra #magicianapprenticelyra #The Temple District #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Uncle Bảo #the scribe writes

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beetlegoose01 · 4 years ago

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stolen whispers-chapter 2

AN: Chapter 2 is here!! I decided to post it on here as normal, I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Albus discovers Scorpius is missing and must rely on the help of his family.

Time: Spring 2028

Extra info: James Sirius is married to my OC, Iris. They have two children.

~~~~

It had been a few hours since Scorpius had left. Now at nearly 2pm, Albus was starting to grow concerned. Scorpius had a tendency to dawdle and get distracted by all the wonderful things at the market, but this was a bit ridiculous. Even for Scorpius. Panicking would do him no good, so he decided to try calling him. One ring...two...three...straight to voice-mail. Well, shit. He sighed, running his hand through his dark curls. He wasn't paranoid, but he decided to send him a text too, just for good measure.

Still nothing. But it hadn't been that long. Surely Scorpius would call shortly. Everything would be fine. But there was a pit in his stomach still, a strong feeling that something was wrong.

'Paranoia be damned.' Albus thought. 'I have to make sure he's okay.'

The farmer's market had cleared out mostly, several vendors were starting to pack up. Heart pumping in his chest, he approached the nearest one.

"Ms. Beaker!" He called.

"Al, dear." The old woman smiled kindly. "What can I do for you? I'm afraid I'm packing up my fruit for today."

"Have you seen Scorpius?" He asked impatiently. "My husband."

"Oh yes." Ms. Beaker said. "He bought my strawberries, such a nice young man. But I haven't seen him since. He seemed to have vanished."

"Vanished?" Albus repeated. "Thank- thank you. I've got to go now."

He walked briskly towards the end of the market, trying not to think of worse case scenarios. Just as he was hovering his finger over his phone, about to call him again, something made him stop in his tracks.

A discarded basket lay clumsily on the ground. Several strawberries were scattered clumsily across the floor. Its handles were bent, clearly messed around with, but at the same time recognizable to him. Scorpius brought it with him on market trips. He often joked that it made him look like Red Riding Hood, a muggle fairytale. Albus had even tied a silver ribbon to the handle as a gift.

"Scorpius..." He murmured, collecting the basket. Okay, maybe panicking was a good idea.

'Draco. I have to find Draco. He'll know what to do.'

Finding a secluded area to collect his thoughts, he apparated to the infamous Malfoy Manor. He didn't waste any time admiring the gilded gates or the fountains or even the proud peacocks grazing nearby. No, he had to find his father in law. Luck was on his side, because he found the older wizard outside, admiring a flowered hedge.

"Draco!" He gasped, rushing forward. He didn't care about being sweaty or rude for intruding. "Please- I need your...sir I need your help."

Draco raised his brow, now puzzled as to why his son in law had apparted to the Manor at such an odd time. "With what? Come here, son.”

"I can't- I don’t." Albus shook his head.

"Where's Scorpius?"

"That's just it. I don't know. He's..." He looked grim. "He's missing."

"What do you mean 'missing'?" Draco said, though he looked deeply worried. As if he already knew the worst was coming.

Albus made a frustrated noise. "I mean, he's gone! He was at the farmer's market earlier today and he's been gone for hours. I’ve called him using my mobile, but still nothing at all. No response, not even a text."

"And he didn't have any work or ...?"

"No."

"We can't assume anything. Perhaps you should wait here while I think of something."

"Draco, what else can we do? We can't sit here when he could be hurt or lost or-"

"Why weren't you with him?" Draco demanded, his temper rising. The two men were face to face, both more scared than angry. “How could my son be missing again?”

"In case you didn't realize Draco, he's a grown adult and can go wherever he likes." Albus retorted, not the least bit intimidated by his father in law. He may be shorter than him, but he was stubborn as sin, and nothing mattered more than Scorpius. "That isn't the point, I didn't think this would happen. Please, can we not argue and figure out what to do?"

"You're right." He sighed. He looked so much older, exhausted. "I'm sorry, us arguing isn't going to help. I know it wasn’t your fault."

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Two men that loved Scorpius in different ways.

"I don't want to think it's a kidnap, but if it is?"

Draco hummed. "The Malfoys have many enemies. It wouldn't surprise me." He fiddled with his wedding ring. "We can't assume though, surely we can..."

A letter dropped in front of them with a thud. It seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, no owl in sight.

Draco snatched it before Al could, scanning it over. He looked faint, dazed. Pale and sickly, he read it over once. Then again. His hands were trembling.

"Draco....Draco!" He waved his arm desperately. "What does it say?"

"It's Scorpius. You’re right. He...has been taken."

No. No this can't be happening. Not Scorpius. Anybody but Scorpius.

"By who?" Albus urged, growing more frantic by the second. "We can't waste time standing around or..." His eyes filled with desperate, terrified tears. "Is he alive?" He whispered. "I need to know."

"Yes, he's alive." Draco nodded gravely. "I don't know who they are, but they're Death Eater sympathizers. Read it- they want gold."

Malfoy,

If you want to see your son alive again, listen carefully.

Empty all the gold you have and bring it to us.

And, join our side to repent your sins of betraying the Dark Lord.

We will bring your son back safe and sound.

Send the money to ____ and come alone.

~~~~

L, M, S

Albus sighed in relief. "They just want money, that's easy, isn't it? We can pool in however much they want."

"That's not the issue. Think, Albus!" Draco snapped. "I would give them all the gold in the Malfoy vaults if it meant Scorpius was safe. But who's to say they won't comply once they have it?"

Albus frowned, thinking for a moment. "We have to try at least. L...M...S, who could they be?"

"And that's not all they want. They want me to join their side. To make up for my betrayal of Voldemort."

"You wouldn't." He said. "Nor would Scorpius. Let's bring the note to Jamie and Iris, see if they can decipher it. Maybe my dad can-"

"I have to."

"What?" Albus looked alarmed. His heart was pounding as he waited for Draco to explain himself.

"They don't just want money. Look at it closer," He pointed at the note. "If I refuse..."

"They won't tell us where he is?"

Draco's grey eyes were wide with fear. "Worse. They'll kill him."

~•~

Albus refused to rest until he found some sort of clue of Scorpius' whereabouts. Draco had reluctantly opted to stay at the manor, in case more ransom notes arrived.

His first instinct was to visit James and Iris. Iris was an accomplished Auror, and James...well he was good for moral support. Lily was off in Romania, so she wouldn't be much help.Then contact his parents who would help as well. His Aunt Hermione too. He'd want the entire Ministry of Magic to help rescue Scorpius.

"I'll send you a patronus if something happens." Draco vowed. He reached a hand to Albus' shoulder. "Please bring him back safely."

Albus nodded firmly. "I will."

He used Draco's fireplace, holding his breath as he traveled through the floo network. His mind flashed of Scorpius' sweet blue eyes and dimpled cheeks. Youthful but wise beyond his years. His first best friend.

Please be alright. Please.

He tumbled out of the fireplace in a heap of soot. He grunted, standing up, too determined to focus on the state of himself. Probably a mess, hair askew and clothes covered in dirt.

"Bloody hell, Al!" His sister in law; Iris exclaimed. "What are you-"

"Iris." He gasped. "I need your help."

"You better sit down then. You look a right state." She said, looking the antithesis of Albus. Neat, pristine and elegant with her dark hair down her shoulders. A book she had been reading was on the floor, no doubt thrown to the side after being startled by Al's unexpected entrance. Little Henry, still a toddler even dropped his blocks.

"Alligator!" Henry piped, pointing at Albus.

"Yes, sweetheart it's Uncle Alligator." Iris said softly. Henry seemed satisfied with that, and went back to his blocks.

"Thanks," Albus murmured, taking a seat as she gestured to him. She flicked her wand casually, and a charmed teapot started to whistle. "Where's-"

"Jim's with Jazzy, off practicing Quidditch." She explained, levitating the mug towards his shaky hands. Albus would have chuckled at the nickname, but felt too numb. "Right then, what's happened?"

He explained the entire situation, but it came out so weakly, it felt like he was vomiting. His stomach was queasy with anxiety.

"It's all my fault. I should have been with him, then it wouldn't have happened." He put his head in his hands.

"Stop it, Al. Listen to me very carefully, okay?" Iris said, after examining the letter. "It's in no way your fault. So stop moping, chin up, I'll help you out. We all will. James, Teddy, Harry, Hermione, my mum...everyone will help find Scorpius."

Albus stared at his tea, eyes watering. "I don't know." He whispered. "I don't..."

"Take a deep breath," She placed a gentle, comforting hand to his shoulder. "We will. I swear on it."

"I'm scared."

"I know. It'll be okay."

"You don't know that."

"You're right. I don't. But still I'm going to send an owl to everyone. We'll need as many people as possible to decipher this note."

"Are you sure you want to help out I mean with..." Albus gestured at her barely visible bump.

Iris narrowed her eyes sharply, summoning parchment. "Yes. I've made up the guest room by the way. You're staying here."

"I don't need to..."

"You are. I insist. You don't need to be alone tonight. And don't argue. You're no good if you're exhausted." She lifted Henry in her arms, bouncing him. "Now shoo, I've got to finish this one letter."

"Who else are you contacting?" Albus tilted his head.

"The second best Auror I know, the one who can help us find him and decipher any codes from these people."

"Don't leave me in suspense, Iris."

"You won't love it...but..."

"Iris." He pressed.

"It's Rose."

~•~

Rose. Rose Granger-Weasley was an enigma. They had gotten along as kids, played gobstones and quidditch for hours but as they grew older, things were awkward and distant. After school, they remained cordial. Still, if she was supposedly their only hope, he would (begrudgingly) comply.

"Hey there baby brother." James opened the guest room door. "Dinner's ready!"

"I'm not hungry." Albus said flatly. How could he possibly eat or rest or do anything when Scorpius was alone somewhere.

"Listen, I know you're worried about Scorpius..." James said. "But Rose is here, and she read the note. She has an idea."

"And? What is it?" He snapped.

"Hi Al." Rose poked her head from behind James.

"What do you want?"

"Nice to see you too, Albus." She said coolly. "My idea is...well, it really requires us both to work together."

Albus scowled.

"We have to give them the gold.” She said. “It’s the only way, for sure that they’ll bring Scorpius back.”

“There’s no promise they’ll just hand him over!” Albus said. “Draco said, he said they might just be using it as a trick- to bait us.”

“If they do turn on us, we’ll have a team of Aurors to fight against them. Iris, meanwhile since she’s-”

Albus gestured vaguely to his midsection. “Pregnant.”

“We don’t want her going into a possible battle. I’m not putting her, or our baby at risk.” James said, his voice hoarse.

“She’ll be doing research on these kidnappers. Find out as much information as she can.” Rose explained. “We could find out why exactly they want Scorpius. Why are they still hung up over a war that ended three decades ago.”

“Because they’re insane?” Albus frowned. “Who cares why? They have him, and we have to get him back!”

“Think for once, Albus!” Rose said, and Albus felt his temper rising again. “Finding out the why gives us clues as to how to find him! I know you want to gallantly rescue him, but you have to think logically. We have to plan this out.”

“While you’re planning this, he could be hurt or…” Albus gulped, refusing to say it. He knew they were all thinking it. “I’m not wasting time.”

“While you’re both arguing,” James interrupted. “You’re wasting precious time. I think Rose is right. Draco brings the gold to them, they bring Scorpius. If they don’t, we’ve got our team to kick their arses until they cry.”

“I wasn’t going to put it that way but…”

“Draco already wrote his response. Now all we need to do is find them.”

Albus wasn’t too confident in this plan. It sounded deeply flawed. But, if this was the one way to get Scorpius back, he refused to argue anymore.

#fanfics #harry potter next gen #kidnapping #scorpius malfoy #Rose Granger Weasley #albus severus potter #ocs #james sirius x oc #so many ocs #angst

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pyrewriter · 4 years ago

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Growing Guild

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Chapter Guide

I remember staying beneath the water for days at a time as we crossed the planet, our enemy didn't appear to have any interest in pursuing past land. Many suffered from churned stomachs due to the unsteady nature of the planet's waters. Only when we surfaced for circulating air to prevent stagnation and to survey the surrounding was their illness alleviated. With no way of knowing how other sects around the planet and across the system were affected, assuming they were hit at all I could only imagine. There was little point in dwelling on it however as even if I did know I could do nothing.

Instead I chose to focus on what Esyra had bestowed upon me, her helm and weapons were mine while the fate of the rest would be left to Ogethres. As a Vandal I was not allowed to wear a Captain's helm into combat but since it was Esyra's the final will, then ,should I live to obtain the rank of Captain, her helm would become mine. Her weapons on the other hand I could wield and they were far better than the standard weaponry that almost every Eliksni went into combat with.

Esyra's shock rifle was exquisite, instead of the cobbled scrap it was solid wood stock that covered much of what would be exposed parts so one could rest their cheek for better use of the aperture site. The sidearm was standard save for it's odd internal wiring, upon inspecting it further I found that the pistol could discharge whatever energy was left in the cell in a single high powered burst. Her twin Captain's blades were thicker and heavier than a marauder's, making them more durable and able to handle more arc energy. I inspected, cleaned, and repaired each reverently before placing them on their respective racks on the wall of my living quarters.

After many weeks' travel we arrived on the other side of the planet ,nearer to the Great Machine but there was even more enemy activity in this area of the world. However such problems would have to wait as we had a more complicated issue at hand. Many different Eliksni from many different guilds, bands, and communes with leadership ranging from Captains to other Arkons were evacuated and spread across different Ketches. I received more than a few looks as I helped to sort every Dreg, Vandal, Captain, and Sprog. Sorting was the easy part however, now we needed to get them all to their proper leaders.

Thanks to the abnormal density of our enemy there was a high risk of being detected so landing a large number of ships was out of the question. Instead Brykis and myself were sent as escort aboard a skiff for Ogethres' chosen envoy to propose a congregation to discuss the return of all. In short Ogethres and all the leaders who agree are to meet on the water between the ships that will serve as a neutral area to prevent having to go to each leader individually.

A neutral ground provided no advantages to any leader as well as worked to prevent any kind of incidents from happening. House Dusk was system spanning and comprised of every house so factionalism was rampant and the lack of House identity within the new generations worsened the problem. Even if we survived the initial onslaught and exodus by throwing differences aside there was no telling how each leader would act in this calm period. To help ensure that every leader would come, three guards and a pilot of their choosing were welcome to accompany them. Some said they would think on the matter rather than agreeing almost immediately like most of the others. Leaders of smaller bands and communes were happy to be included let alone having their people returned.

It was a weeks time until the congregation but I did not sit idle in that time. I was assigned to prepare the Skiff our Arkon would be using as both transport to and a podium at the congregation. Since this was a relatively formal gathering of leaders only the most regal and pristine of Skiffs was to be used. Unfortunately no such Skiff was available so Ogethres chose one in a mild state of disrepair and then hand picked those who would work on it, I of course was part of this group. As a whole the craft was largely undamaged ,however, the hull was dented, discolored from ware and many parts were outright exposed.

Without the input of Ogethres himself we had no point of reference or point at which we were told stop so work continued until there was nothing left to work on. We worked around the clock on that Skiff to prepare it for the meeting, some worked themselves to the point of collapse but we continued until the day of the congregation. By the end the forward end had been almost entirely replaced.

Just as I stepped back with the others to admire the fruits of our labor my communicator chimed on the bench next to my armor. It was a message from Pyrrhaks, I opened it.

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

Sons Brykis, Ellrimksyt, prepare yourselves.

We accompany Arkon Ogethres to congregation.

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

I groaned, gathered what equipment I had brought with me to the hangar and headed for my quarters to finish preparing. When I opened the hatch Brykis was struggling with some of the straps of his armor, after helping him get settled he helped me in return. We grabbed our weapons, connected the ether tanks left, meeting with father on our way to the bridge. As all three of us entered the bridge we were greeted by Ogethres, "Prepared?" he clicked.

"Yes my Arkon, brought sons as asked, we ready to accompany" Pyrrhaks replied formally.

Ogethres let out a low satisfied hum before ordering "Follow to hangar, then we go congregation, discuss next group movement". He stood from his seat at the helm and moved passed us with purpose in his stride, gesturing for us to follow as he passed. Entering the hangar we were met with House Dusk banners and Eliksni forming a path leading us to the Skiff. An unarmed pilot ,as per agreed upon, was already sitting in the cockpit to ferry us. Climbing onto the spine of the Skiff we clanged our feet to confirm our readiness and we were off.

All but a handful of leaders did not appear at the congregation all of whom were leaders of smaller communes or bands. Talks were uneventful, consisting largely of how resources would be allocated to ensure all were returned to their people. I had zoned out for the grand majority of the discussions until something caught my ear.

"Leaders of small communes, bands, many seek to swear under you, Arkon Ogethres" an Arkon of another guild stated with an informative chattering.

A Captain of larger stature nodded his head "Indeed, word spreads, some good, other chiding, most of the three, your guard".

Ogethres paused for a moment to sigh before speaking, clearly and firmly "Those I favor, my concern only, regardless I accept those who swear under me, will gather during returns and-".

"Tell, who, what is your guard?" asked an ostentatious Baroness who was sent as a representative of a rather vain Arkon from one of the larger guilds.

Beneath my helmet I cast my gave about to the handful of Captains and Arkons and felt their many eyes fall on our Skiff. Most had indifferent or curious gazes but the Baroness's peered straight at my Arkon. Tightening the grip on my shock spear I too looked to Ogethres to see how he would answer. I saw his body stiffen ever so slightly, whether it was out of anger for someone questioning his choice of company or fear of infighting about to erupt I couldn't tell. Thankfully that tension quickly disappeared as he spoke, his delivery was practiced, "My guard, raised from sprog like all, taught like all, he is one of guildi, that all you need know".

The Baroness's seemed prepared for such a response, "Perhaps they show themself then".

“Irrelevant” another Arkon moaned, annoyed "All brought guard, what matter about his?".

Now the Baroness was annoyed "Quiet" she snapped with a chitter "Question not for you, it for Arkon who raised tainted-"

"Enough idle chide!" Ogethres barked, "Your guild in shambles, mine grows, my guard among my greatest Barrons, his sons earned Forge Rights. Pyrrhaks, Wllrimksyt, Bykis, worthy of Kell Guard!".

"Ellrimksyt HUMAN!" the Baroness retorted.

I failed hold my tongue, "I AM ELIKSNI, if need to demonstrate, come see for self!" I growled furiously, stepping in front of uncle. Bringing myself to full height I drove my shock spear into the Skiff's hull before spreading my arms wide. I heard Ogethres start to say something but he stopped when two sets of footsteps came from behind me. My brother Brykis and father Pyrrhaks stood to either side of me, out of the corner of my eyes I saw them drive their weapons into the hull and spread their arms as well. None dared return the challenge.

By the day's end the congregation had ended peacefully with everyone being moved to the proper Ketches to be returned to their people. Of course Ogethres had reprimanded and struck us for our actions following the congregation but I could tell he was ,as humans say, pulling his punches. In private he actually laughed and actually praised me for not taking the Baroness's insults and my father and brother for standing with me. Our guild had grown much thanks to the congregation, enough to fill the Ketch a pledging commune had brought with them which brought our guilds size to near double what it was.

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#destiny #eliksni #fallen #fanfic #eliksni fanfic #Ellrimksyt #Chapter 5

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starrybbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

impressions [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Clint Barton x Reader (Family)

Summary: you’re a new recruit, and Bucky has been keeping on eye on you on why you were hand-selected by Stark. One day he finds out why.

Word Count: 3083

Author’s note: imagine hawkeye being your uncle. the bants would be amazing. anyways, I’m trying to keep writing as much as i can, so if y’alls have any requests, it might come to life! :)

Warnings: it’s a long fic?? Maybe a swear ? some old man humor?

“Well, here we are!”

The car came to a complete stop right in front of the Avengers compound. It was huge, pristine. Almost scary-looking if it weren’t for the sight of two agents in the middle of the front lawn doing yoga.

“Y’know uncle,” you started, “I’m having second thoughts.”

“Oh, nonsense, Y/N” your uncle Clint chuckled. “Everyone is very excited to meet you, especially Wonder Boy.”

You rolled your eyes at the last part. You always wondered what it was like to work with that man. And now it was coming to a reality. You couldn’t thank your uncle enough for taking you under his wing. From a young age, he saw that you were very much interested in whatever “uncle Clint was up to.” It also helped that you had a sharp eye for accuracy.

Therefore, it only seemed fitting that while in school, your uncle would train you 3 times a week after school was done. Before you knew it, you became one of the best markswomen in the family. Next to your Uncle, of course.

The door opens to reveal a very giddy Tony Stark, embracing your uncle in a huge hug and some remarks about the family, the weather, the Knicks, standard dad stuff.

“And I’m assuming this is Y/N,” Tony said as he turned to you: he stuck out his hand, “An absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“If anything, I’m the one that’s starstruck,” you gushed, “I’m a huge fan of your technology and work in general. It’s pretty cool.”

“You see, Legolas!” Tony cheered, “I’m still hip and coool.”

“Man, don’t make me regret my compliment, Stark,” you groaned, “you sound just like my Uncle on trivia night.”

“Hey, hey, hey” Uncle Clint argued, “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute boss when it comes to pop culture references. The me-mes, if you will.”

“I’m gonna internally combust,” you sighed, earning chuckles from both Stark and your uncle.

“Walk with me, Y/N,” Stark started as the three of you made your way inside the compound, “so tell me a bit about the young markswoman.”

“Well, whatever my uncle told you, it’s pretty much the same. I’m 25, just graduated with my masters, and I happen to have very good aim. Grew up in Queens with my mom and younger brother,” you shared.

“Look at you! A whole degree!” Tony congratulated, “It’s a good thing Barton didn’t immediately put you into SHIELD as I first intended.”

“Believe me, it was a tug and pull,” you said.

And you were right. Your skills kept getting better in high school, and you remembered how badly Tony Stark wanted to recruit you. You were to be the next protege, and quite frankly you didn’t want any of that.

You remember clearly when Stark came to visit you during your senior year of high school and you flat out told him: “Listen, I’m a teenager. I’m very self-centered right now. I’m only 17, and the biggest issue in my life right now is whether or not I can afford to apply to my dream school. I’m tryna go to college. And maybe have a boyfriend, who knows. Point is: I’m not ready to be recruited.”

That explanation definitely shook your entire family, and Stark knew that you were S.H.I.E.L.D material, but understood your different passions. It was a very mature thing for you to say, and he was impressed. You vaguely remember telling him “I won’t let these skills go to waste. I’ll give you a call when I’m ready.”

And ready you are now. Granted, you would rather work on your non-profit to train kids to become S.H.I.E.L.D recruits, but you knew Stark would be more than happy to give you advice on how to successfully pull it off.

“Well, I’m overjoyed you joined our team,” Tony thanked profusely, “Your talent is amazing.”

“Anything my Uncle do, I can do ten times better,” you added.

“I won’t complain about that,” Clint said as he ruffled your hair.

“Are you ready to meet the rest of the team, Y/N?” Tony asked as you walked towards the door of the common area.

“I think so?” you hesitated, “Hey, uh, Stark? Is it okay that you don’t let the team know that I’m like, part assassin, part scary graduate.”

“Keepin’ it humble, I respect that,” Tony chuckled.

“Thanks, Tony,” you smiled, a small plan brewing inside you. Your uncle already knew of it, and when you guys made eye contact, he gave you a thumbs up.

“So how do you want to be introduced: intern? Assistant? Your Uncle’s dietitian, which by the way, he needs one.” Tony proposed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” your uncle scoffed.

“How about, shy intern training to become full time at the compound?” you offered as the three of you faced the door.

“Perfection,” Tony simply said, “Now, it’s showtime!”

Tony does his signature grand entrance and simply extends his arm out, earning one single applause from your uncle. It was very fitting.

“Everyone,” Tony Stark started, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Old Man Hawkeye. Well now, I present to you his niece!”

You slowly emerged from behind your uncle and shyly waved to the team, “Hey guys, my name is Y/N, and I just started my internship here.”

“Y/N is an absolute smarty pants I tell you,” Tony began once again, “she has a Master’s degree!”

Claps and cheers erupted with the team. Steve was the first to speak, “Well, I’m personally very proud of your accomplishments, hopefully, after your time here, you’ll consider staying here for the long run.”

You just smiled, you couldn’t believe that the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan was proud of you.

One by one, the Avengers went up to you greeted you individually. You were most excited to grow your friendship with Wanda and Nat, seeing was you three were clearly outnumbered.

“We gotta stick together the three of us,” Natasha commented, “It ain’t safe here.”

“It just reeks of testosterone,” Wanda added, “you’ve become mine and Nat’s blessing.:

Thor was super happy to meet you as well, as he now has a new opponent to challenge in drinking, to which you responded with “you’d be surprised at how much I can take, Mr. Lord of Thunder.”

Both Sam and Rhodey were very appreciative of you, and couldn’t wait to discuss anything and everything. Sam more about if you’re the prankster type, and Rhodey more on the topics of bad scary movies (this week’s choice: Jaws.)

Banner was super excited that there’s another person with a passion for the sciences and social work, and you knew you’d hang out in the labs a lot. Vision was just grateful that there was another person to add more inside jokes.

And then there was Bucky. Naturally, he was the last one to greet, but that didn’t stop you from sweating your balls out. You admired him greatly.

All he did was give you a handshake, flashed an adorable smile, and simply said: “Welcome to the team, Y/N, the name’s Bucky.”

You croaked a small thanks, and shuffle next to your uncle, trying to hide your face, ears turning pink from embarrassment. You couldn’t deny that Bucky was an attractive fellow. It would be like denying that the Sun is bright.

“It’s those eyes, I’m telling you,” your uncle said to no one in particular, “Stark, I really don’t know how you do it.”

“That’s what you got from a handshake between him and your niece?” Stark asked.

“Like I said, I’m cool and hip.”

You and Bucky just glanced and quickly smiled at each other before staring at the ground.

You could sense Bucky was gonna warm up to you soon.

。。

6 Months Later

Your ‘internship’ was better than anything you’ve ever asked for. Sure, no one knows that you can take someone down that’s double your size with a measly flip, but you showed your strength and ingenuity elsewhere.

You got to sit down during briefings, work alongside Stark to innovate tech, and even got to observe Hill and Fury as directors. All this information was more than you’d ever accumulate during your all-nighters in college.

You still trained with your uncle, but this was where it got tricky (but not like the Run-D.M.C. song, though). Certain supersoldiers were night owls, and others liked to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for their dumb run. This is definitely not college.

So what you and your uncle would do is go to the gym that was at the very other end at the compound immediately after breakfast. People knew there were offices in that general vicinity, so no one questions it.

You remember Bucky once asked what you’d do on ‘the other side’ and you would just reply, “lame intern stuff, filing, and organizing.”

He has bought it, but it just gets harder to hide this not so obvious secret. He knows you sometimes hit the gym because he knows you’ll “practically melt” if you were to step foot in one.

And he knows weird tidbits like your favorite spot to people watch, your favorite campus cafe, and what cat you would like to have as a pet (a black one, because they remind of a time when you wanted to be a witch).

Sometimes you’d be a night owl with Bucky and join him in the common area and you guys would just talk. And soon after, you guys became really close. Nothing was hidden from each other, and it was nice to confide in someone.

You were still shy around everyone else (minus the gals), and people knew you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Bucky would specifically notice all the details that he enjoys about you. You’d do the same, only you tried to conceal any indication that you liked Bucky.

Your uncle would notice it too. “You know, one of these days he’s gonna catch you slipping. I’ve heard him ask for you around the same time you come train with me,” He mumbled, sipping some tea out of his mug. Mornings like these were the best: tea time with your uncle.

“Is this in relation to our feelings for each other or the fact that I can probably beat up Bucky?”

“Hmm, either work. So you do like him, eh??” Clint chuckled.

“Great,” you huffed, “another person knows.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his eyes,” Clint commented, “no one has eyes as beautiful as his.”

“... Don’t you have blue eyes??”

“Yes. But the point is, you gotta reveal your skills now,” your uncle added.

“What if he thinks I’m weird?” you whined. Your uncle just stared at you and continued drinking his tea.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Clint consoled. Both of you heard some footsteps coming from the hallway, and saw a freshly showered Bucky emerge.

“Speaking of the Dreamboat,” Clint said, “Bucky!”

“Good morning to you too, Clint,” Bucky smiled, “you’re in good spirits today.”

“That’s because Y/N has to tell you something life-changing,” Clint gasped, winking at you to see if you got the idea. He quickly scurried towards the gym and left it at that.

“Goddamnit uncle,” you mumbled, a laugh escaping from Bucky. Your cheeks flushed red as you lowkey checked him out.

“So, what’s this ‘life-changing’ statement of yours, sugar,” Bucky inquired, his nickname for you throwing you off.

“I, uh, um,” you stuttered, “well, I was thinking about, um, maybe training under someone. And, uh, I know we’ve, um gotten closer.” Bucky nodded in agreement.

“So canyoupleasetrainmeorsomething,” you quickly got out, your breath nearly turning into a heave.

Bucky looked at you with genuine happiness, “I’d love to, y/n. When did you want to start?”

You saw the clock: 9:35 AM.

Usually, you’d start at 10, so for him to see your stunts, he’d have to come slightly later.

“How’s 10:30 sound? I took into account the time it takes for me to get ready and my complaining.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky stated, winking when he said, “I’ll see you soon.”

You blushed once again and waved goodbye to him. Quickly you sent a text to Tony and Clint saying to gather towards the gym and to bring anyone that was free.

Bless Bucky’s heart. He didn’t know what was in store for him.

。。

9:50 am

The gym was quiet, as usual, with the exception of another agent running on the elliptical. You had changed quickly and briskly walked towards your uncle.

“No one’s here yet,” Clint observed, “Do they even know we have another gym?”

“Don’t worry I told Bucky to come at 10:30, and everyone else at 10:15, so we can warm up and give a real show,” you beamed.

“Well, it’s almost time, let’s just work out like a normal day,” Clint said.

“Aye aye, Hawkeye,” you saluted, mentally congratulating yourself that you came up with that on the spot.

。。

10:25 am

Sweat had been going down your spine, and you weren’t tuckered out yet.

One by one the team came walking in to observe what was going on, and so far, they were really impressed.

The first half-hour was you and Clint basically doing a mix of sparring, some agility tests, and a bit of archery. You didn’t want to show off just yet, but you’d throw a couple of tricks here and there.

Tony commented something about the “Manchurian Candidate walking towards the gym,” so everyone scrambled to make themselves look occupied, while also observing the scene was about to unfold.

You then looked to Clint and simply said, “Knives?”

“Knives,” your uncle responded.

And with the same agility you had before, you walked towards the indoor range to the side and picked your favorite knife. You quickly saw the clock read 10:28 so you decided to just go with the flow.

As if on cue, Bucky walked in greeting Steve, and then set his eyes on you. You hadn’t heard him walking into the room, and you just went ham on the knives.

Each target that would light up, you’d throw your knife and hit it in the dead center. The sound of the knives hitting the target would be unsettling to some, but it was just background noise to you now.

You then grabbed a bow and arrow and decided to hit the furthest target that you could see, which was a good 20 feet away. And just like with the knives, you’d hit the bullseye.

Your uncle decided to spar once more, but this time you were put up against an agent, John. John would train with you sometimes, and he offered to take part in the show today.

You started throwing punches, and John did not hesitate to strike back. It went like that for about 5 more minutes until you saw John struggling a bit. You did your classic flip maneuver and took him down. You and John started laughing, and your uncle came over to give you a high five.

You turn towards your audience and received some hoots and hollers. All but from one person.

To say Bucky looked mortified was an understatement. Here was a soft and reserved girl who wouldn’t hurt a single soul, throwing knives at targets and taking down a big guy.

Everyone had left the gym, and Bucky kept his mouth agape.

“Bucky, sweetie, you’re gonna catch flies,” you commented as you reached for his cheek and closed his mouth, “you seem, distant. Is everything okay?”

Bucky blinked, then spoke: “Did you learn that in a day??”

You laughed, “More like in 18 years, Buck.”

“Years?!” Bucky almost screamed.

“Yeah, my uncle has been training me since I was a kid. I like this stuff, it’s really fun and exhilarating,” you said nonchalantly, “Tony made me a SHIELD agent about six months ago.”

Bucky just had an incredulous look on his face. He really didn’t know what to think.

“It just… looked so cool.” Bucky whispered, “why didn’t you tell me earlier??”

It was your turn to not say anything, “I thought you were gonna think I’m weird, or like an overachiever like Steve.”

“Doll, do you know who I am?” Bucky asked as he stepped closer towards you, “I wouldn’t judge you for anything, and you know that.”

He pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on top of your head, “and, quite frankly you looked really hot while doing it.”

“Even when I put John in a chokehold?”

“That was the best part.”

Bucky let go of you slightly and simply looked at you with that longing feeling in those rom-com movies. You know which ones.

You decided to take it upon yourself and close the gap once more and kissed Bucky on the lips. He was a bit startled at first but soon caught on. Hands on your waist, he pulled you as close as humanly possible, and your hands immediately wrapped around his neck.

The two of you pulled away, breathing heavily. You sighed in content and simply said, “Everyone was right, your eyes really are dreamy.”

“Why not look at them all night when we go on a date later today?” Bucky said with confidence in his voice.

You smiled once more and quickly kissed Bucky on the cheek, “I’d love that, Buck.”

The sound of the door slamming open pulled the two of you out of a trance.

“Stark! You owe me twenty!” your uncle hollered as he motioned for the two of you to leave the gym.

You groaned. “I’m gonna internally combust, Uncle Clint.”

“Not before you stare at Bucky’s eyes again. Now get out of here, lovebirds. I’m trying to work out,” Clint grumbled.

Bucky grabbed a hold of your hand, walking with so much glee.

You looked outside the window and saw agents doing yoga.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yes, y/n?”

“Let’s go do some yoga,” you offered. It was the first thing you saw when you got here, and now you get to share that activity with someone you cared about. Bucky nodded in agreement and you guys walked outside, holding hands, basking in the sunlight and the birds chirping.

。。

Hope you enjoyed! :)

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky one shot #bucky #clint x reader #marvel imagines #bucky requests #writings #the winter soldier

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artemuerto · 5 years ago

Photo

The Thing that lives under the Bed AU or Shadows.

Note: Please, listen to a song Cat Pierce feat James Levy- Regret by almost the end.

This was not what i imagined happening but as Cat release this song i couldn't help but to sank in it and imagine as Tony would feel Peter as much as the angsty song tells you. And i know that by those last lines it could led to a tragic end for Peter, but is up to you to decided if Peter falls asleep forever to dream of Tony of if he ever blinks again.

I did call him sleeping beauty for a reason.

@starker-sorbet, @thestarkerisobvious, @starkerprince

Read on AO3

Startdust and Moonlight

Up to next morning, Peter didn’t feel tired nor restless, he imagined he had dreamed last night, however his mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember what his dream was all about. A sharp knock on the door alerted him.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, it’s time to wake up.” Groovy with sleep Peter marched to the bathroom and got ready for the day. His hair was suffering from a crazy case of bed hair, sticking all over the place as if somebody had played with it before he went to sleep; a distant tune rang beneath him making him blink fast trying to remember. Where did the music come from?

Once again, May knocked on his door, only this time, she appeared smiling at him offering a warm cup of coffee.

“You’re getting late for school, kiddo.” Peter said his goodbyes running out of the apartment after kissing her cheek and stealing her breakfast.

Peter’s mornings were very similar and casual. Tones of boring classes, boring topics, interesting topics, horrible teachers and lots of screaming, whether is the Cafeteria flood with kids and hunger or the long hallways filling with swimming legs and rush breathes as more than one student seemed to late that day.

His one free period was usually taken by the library, on the days Ned and Gwen shared the same hours, they would stay together, eating snacks and talking about their days, their classes, the weekly gossip, dating and the walk of shamed to the principal’s office.

By the early afternoon, right after the bell rang and the students started to leave the school, Peter would take his time. The season was changing, the raging heat was slowly decreasing, although there was no obvious turning on the trees nor any sing of snow yet, surely autumn was taking his time to arrive. The sun still shined above their heads and painted the sky with blues and magentas reminding him of cotton candy on the Carnival.

Waiting for the subway wasn’t really a chore, at least not for Peter, sure May hated it on the rush hours when everyone was trap like a can of sardines, but even then for Peter was a whole experience. Low were the times where Peter would take a seat, and even if he got lucky he would prefer to give it away to someone who actually needed it. He liked to daydream about the lives of the people who traveled with him on short distances on the subway, where would they go? Where did they live? Did they like the subway like Peter or would they hate it like May? Would the people love being in such a restricting place or would they rather be on wide open spaces?

Like that foggy gray ancient mansion Peter used to visit when little.

Wait— what mansion?

Going into a tunnel with the flutter of passing birds, Peter closed his eyes and saw it. The long roads of ladders cover in dirt and dead leaves. The lonely looking mansion resting in dry land and open space, the bindweed created a slithering path that he wishes to dance upon. The creaking of leaves under his bare feet was a delighted sound as he danced an old tune in violin. Would anybody be there to dance with him?

The flashing light of warm sun brought him back to the present. The people around were unconcerned of his thoughts and soon one and another left their places by the time they reached their destination. Confusion clouded his mind, was it a dream? He could recall the fresh memory of a place he was sure; he had never been before even when the details were so firm in his brain. Perhaps he had seen it in class? History was never his forte but Peter could swear it was straight out of a Victorian novel, those which he and his classmate were force to read in literature and study their times in real life back in the 1800s.

Maybe, that’s what it was. A simple made of memory from a past class.

Peter went home without another thought feeling the soothing warmth of sleepy sun at the back of his neck, innocent to perceive the glooming darkness that soon came to follow.

That night the Shadow was small. The longing in their whole being was palpable but the Light was so bright and pure that they could not do much. They questioned what could have changed and what could have happened to their Master for him to be so different in a blink of an eye. Their eyes had not deceived them, Peter seemed happy, content, curious and joyful for the passing of nights where he could play with them, Peter went as far as dancing with them in their home and he looked so thrill; the Shadow thought they had found the one. But now their master was so gloomy, a pale shade of gray where not even his sight would light up the darkness.

What happened to master Peter?

They waited and hoovered, holding back and longing. They stood back until Peter came into his room.

* * *

Peter said goodnight to May with a long sigh, they were both tired after a long day and even when he had a pile of homework soon to become a mountain, Peter wanted nothing but to sleep and forget.

«What Master wants, Master gets. »

Under the covers Peter stayed wiggling his way into comfort, his puffy socks were on and his pillow was extra fluffy he felt swimming in the clouds, the air around him stilled. There was no rusting of wind or lonely dragonflies looking for their partners in the open, like a bubble of peace Peter was surrounded by calm and serenity.

Shadow peeked in curiosity ventured under the bed, slowly reaching the edge of its domain, they had never reached that far before, their limits were bound to the stretch of the bed and the cold floor beneath it. The Light had told them so.

«Impossible to go. Perish you will. Consumed and forgotten you be. »

The Shadow remembers those words, the words that left them powerless and lonely. Cast away in their home waiting, always waiting for someone who would come and dance once again. Fill their home with music and passion.

And surely he came.

Peter came stumbling around, touching the frozen walls of the mansion, painting marks of mist and fog, dark trails of obscurity where not even the selfish rays of light could reach them, the candles flickered, trembled in Peter’s passing. Peter was made to dance for them.

Thanks to Master Peter the Shadow could move, could walk and run, they could dance once again. So the Shadow would dance for Peter.

The roaming of music came in whispers. Peter wasn’t sure on how he knew but he was certain, soon he would be able to hear it all clearly. The shy notes sound peaceful and inquisitive, as if they were waiting for him. And waiting they were.

Bashful tunes came closer and closer, prompting him to walk freely on their soft rugs. Open doors greeted him but instead of the massive dance hall he was accustomed to see, his sight was different. A wide room with oval ceilings and spiders hanging from it with short flames of candles.

“Where am I?” Peter questioned. The flicks of darkness danced its way to him drawing snakes of forms to get his attention.

«Your room, Master. »

“My room?” The large bed was made, the bed post had creamy wavy curtains and nets with opaline wind chimes sparkling and giving light to the space.

«Yes. Yours. »

“How is this mine?” Peter came standing in front of the wavy shadow and extended his hand with clear intensions of touching but never being brave enough.

«His room. Happy Master. Room Master happy. »

Peter still didn’t understand how it came to be his. Who could have given him such room? Who lived in that place besides his friends. The friendly shadows that love to play and dance with him. As if sensing his thoughts, the shadow beamed looking bigger than before, faster than before. The shadow circled him, surrounded him and for seconds Peter feared, were the shadows going to hurt him? The last time he was in that same position, not only him but his uncle was also hurt.

«No. Master, happy. Master, dance. Clothes for Master. And Master dance. »

The Shadows wrapped him in spirals of feathers, later on Peter could picture the difference, the difference between the regular darkness he knew and the absolute blackness that soon followed his eyes to the point where he couldn’t even see himself nor the palm in front of him. His body took another shape, long lost was the soft camisole he always seemed to have in that place and now, a fit white dress shirt, a high neck and a soft cravat was decorating it, resting in the middle a dime of gold. His slacks of a pompous fabric, but quite fit and also white trousers. And all that pristine beauty shined over a burgundy jacket brocade in gold.

He had no trench coat as the Shadow seemed no need for it due to of the extensive waterfall of tail from the vest. Peter could not believe his eyes as he moved and twisted and twirled within himself. A full body mirror came in view and Peter saw himself for the first time.

«Beautiful. »

Peter wasn’t sure who was talking but he recognized the voice from before. The other times he had been in the mansion, they were there with him, all the shadows and whoever talked right now. He took careful steps reaching the mirror, the person standing at his back was at the far corner of the room, so Peter was not able to see him yet, the soft light trembled and soon after died as the mirror broke in tiny pieces.

“Please,” Peter begged with shaky hands, trailing shattered pieces of glass, the Shadow feared he would hurt himself. “Please, don’t go.” Closing his eyes, letting himself be consumed by the lack of light, Peter begged. “Please, I just want to see you.” The Shadow smiled and all the lights came to life creating a path for Peter to follow.

“Dance with me.”

* * *

Everything is easy in the middle of the night Your eyes are stars, your skin moonlight But with the sun there comes the truth It bares the soul and wastes the youth

* * *

With each passing breath Peter could see him better. His hands were cold to touch, Peter’s fingertips reaching the man’s hands with care as he let himself be led toward the center of the room, spinning around in harmony and light feet, Peter’s still bare feet slid smoothly barely feeling the lack of warmth when his whole attention was placed on the man he had to know yet.

“What’s your name?” his curious eyes did not escape the handsome features of the person dancing, Peter was trying to remember. He needed to remember this person, he was sure, he knew him somehow but from where.

“Our always curious Master.” The man smiled all teeth white and shiny, causing a shiver down his spine as Peter couldn’t look away. At that recognition flashed past his mind and Peter came closer as possible. Was it the shadow? Were his friends? The man nodded short but sweet and with a change of tune made Peter take a turn and bubbles of laughter fluttered out of his pale lips.

“But what do I call you?” What to call them? They were his friends, but keep calling ‘it’ or ‘they’ felt odd in a passive way, like he long to connect with them in a greater level. A name could bring love; a name could bring pain but still gave the warmth of memories and knowledge. A named could give meaning.

“I had many names before.” The man explained. “But in here, in our home…” To make a point, Peter twisted once again and was brought to a tight hug. “Master can call us what he wished to.”

“Peter.” He stated. And the man tilted his head to a side in question, like that Peter could take in all the little details. Long, dark lashes outlining whiskey warm eyes that never seemed to miss him, a strong jaw with full lips surrounded by a trim beard, raspy and soft looking.

“My new name is Peter?” Peter wanted to laugh but snorted instead.

“It’s mine.” The music soon came to an end but neither felt like moving away. “My name is Peter.”

«Peter. »

The honey dripping feeling he got from a simple whisper made him shiver and his friend feared he would get cold. They, both, would find a fitting name.

* * *

Hours spent walking and moving, traveling around the open halls and still rooms. The shadow followed close aching to never letting him go. Bright chandeliers on top of their heads and dying candles alerted them it was time to go. The Shadow hurt in longing, he had his master, he had a name and his strength was coming back because of it; his master was right. With a new meaning he could live again, live above from the binding shackles of fear were no longer in his wrist, his Master had given them so much live and love.

The Shadow stood next to Peter as the boy sighed in deep sleep, with no one else around, he could drink in all beauty his Master is, was and it would be in all eternity. With his long curls expanding over the white sheets of the pillows, protected from cold in his comfort cocoon of blankets, the Shadow reached down to touch him, however froze in impression and fondness. Even in his sleep, his master called for him.

“Tony.” To Tony, Peter was made of stardust when his eyes sparkle and moonlight shine of all his pristine skin each time he dares to feel under his fingertips. Meant to guide his path in the sea of black that was his existence. For a short amount of time, faster than a blink, Peter saw him. His master saw him materialized in his world, not the realm of dreams and wonder and smiled at him, called for him. “Tony—” He didn’t have to hide anymore; he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. With one touch of his lips and his Master would be utterly and completely his.

Closing his eyes and holding a breath, Peter thought if that was what it felt like to be loved to death.

#starker #pro starker #starker moodboard #The Thing That Lives Under The Bed AU #a very human Peter Parker #Dark Creature Tony #in english #mis escritos #Arte Muerto #Dark Tony

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Fifteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Dawn

Five Weeks Later

He leapt out of the row boat onto the jetty, landing heavily. If there had been anyone around, besides the captain who’d rowed him over, they would have heard a sharp, muttered curse, watched him pause.

Then, he pushed himself up, staggering just slightly, and nodded his gratitude to the captain. The man nodded in return silently, then started to row away.

It felt like a very long walk up to the main and only street of Van Horn for Arthur Morgan.

Shady Belle. That’s where he’d start. Part of him knew, hoped, they wouldn’t all be there, that they’d have moved on, that would have been the smart thing to do. But how to get there?

Stopping on the street to catch his breath, Arthur looked right, then left. A few horses were tied to posts, but every establishment was quiet, even the bar. Then again, it was only a few hours until the sun would rise. The strongest looking horse was to his left. He started moving.

“Hey, girl... good girl...” he murmured to her as she lifted her head, shifting a little uneasily.

She soon settled, though, as he stroked her neck and murmured to her, slowly unwinding the reins from the post. She was beautiful, a piebald Hungarian Half-bred. He hadn’t seen one of those in a while.

Still softly whispering to her, he gripped the saddle and pulled himself up, hissing out a breath.

Bone-aching tiredness and this horse would get him home.

To her.

He encountered no one as he left Van Horn, urging the horse into a light canter. It was the first time in nearly over a month that he’d been alone. Guarma had been... He hoped to God he never had to be in a place like that again. He couldn’t stop his heart from aching slightly at those who were still trapped there, but he had faith in Hercule and his men. Besides, he had his own battles and problems to think about.

Dutch was one of those problems.

Later, think on it later. Just get home.

To her.

Christ. When had he last been able to think of her properly?

Not yet, not yet. Wait ‘til you see her.

If he saw her.

Only a few travellers passed him as he made his way to Shady Belle. He was just grateful for the quiet, and kept his mind blank, watching the paths he took. It must have rained a little while before as there were puddles everywhere and the mud was slick. The horse handled it well, though. He quickly took a shine to her.

Passing a bridge that would lead into Saint Denis and riding past the fields of Caliga Hall, he marvelled at how long ago all their businesses there felt, how much had changed since then.

How people had changed. How he had changed. How... How people had died.

His jaw moved.

Don’t think about that now.

He slowed the horse as they neared Shady Belle, coming down to a walk. He strained to hear as they passed the trees and shrubs that had once been so familiar. Then, he turned on to the main path and he saw it, the large, once great building, still intact. His gaze darted about as he rode down towards it, but he saw no one, heard nothing, not even crickets and flies. He pulled the horse to a gentle halt as she came to the fountain, and he dismounted slowly. The front doors were open, anyone could shoot at and kill him now, he had no weapons, nothing. Continuing to scan the area, he checked the saddlebag on the horse. Just a few coins and a map of Lemoyne.

Exhaling a breath, he turned towards the house, patting the horse’s neck gently. Looking to the right, there was a collapsed wagon, and to the left, the bandstand.

Her bandstand.

He moved to it. Peered in. Nothing.

He moved to the house. Rain had gotten in, staining the first few floorboards beyond the doors. Inside, it looked just as it had when he and John had first arrived to clear it out for all of them; books, papers and leaves strewn about, furniture turned over, bottles and cans piled together. People must have been using this place, but it hadn’t been his people.

He closed his eyes as he ran a hand through his sand and sea-salt thick hair. What the hell was he doing here. He had no way to track them. What if they really had all gone? What if... What if something had happened to them? Rubbing at his face, he moved to his right, into the closest room. He sat down heavily on the non-collapsed side of a faded chaise lounge and put his head in his hands.

He was so God damn tired. Exhausted. Like he’d never been before in his life. He’d never been the kind of man to give up, but now...

Hosea dead.

Lenny dead.

Charles, he didn’t know.

John, too.

Dutch...

Lifting his head and sitting back, he stared across the room into the next, his hands falling to his lap. The table they’d once placed maps and books on was still upright, two bottles on it and propped between them an—

He frowned.

... And an envelope. A pristine one, that very much looked out of place.

Pushing himself up, Arthur crossed the room to the table, grabbing the envelope.

Tacitus Kilgore, the front read.

Their alias.

A corner of his mouth lifted as he turned it over and ripped it open. He fumbled slightly as he pulled a folded piece of paper out of it and opened it, instantly beginning to read.

Dear Uncle Tacitus,

I do so hope you enjoyed your vacation. Lucky you! Leaving like that. And you always suggested you were too old for travel. I hope you and your cousins enjoyed yourselves. Me and your grand nieces have decided to take a trip of our own as the place has become so dreary and godforsaken in your absence. We have gone to visit relatives (from my Daddy’s side. You are not yet acquainted with them) in Lakay, a small village just north of Saint Denis.

It’s buggy and muggy but apparently neither is too bad at this time of year. Please come see us when you can.

Yours sincerely,

Caroline

“Well, thank you, darling niece ‘Caroline’,” Arthur murmured as he smiled, folding the letter back into the envelope.

The tone rang of Sadie, but also her.

He placed it back on the table, leaving it for any of the other men who might try their luck here for any sign of their gang.

Rolling his shoulders, he headed for the door, finding the last of his energy.

Lakay. Them. Her.

Soon, he would be with them.

—

He’d had to slow the gallop of the horse as they entered the heartland of the swamps. It was muddier here, the swamp overflowing to the paths and making the horse skid slightly. Despite his eagerness, he kept her to a light canter, not wanting any broken necks or legs for either of them.

It was quiet and dark, the morning light breaking through the large, heavy trees in thin shafts. He had to commend them, it was well covered, and he certainly wouldn’t want to bring an army through here to look for them.

He slowed to a trot as he passed through some muddy water and between two short wooden poles, small skulls attached to the top of them.

Great.

Then, he saw them. Shacks and sheds in an odd kind of circle, dim lanterns dotted around, and...

Abigail, Pearson and Tilly.

He pulled the horse to an abrupt halt and dismounted, unsure of how he managed to stay on his feet, his legs so close to giving out. He stared at them. Abigail, Pearson and Tilly. They were bent over a table, each working on a part of a meal, evidently. Then, Abigail raised her head. The knife dropped from her hand, clattering loudly on the table.

“Arthur?!” Her arms were around him before he knew it. Closing his eyes, he found himself smiling as he patted her back.

He wanted to sink into the warm embrace, but it wasn’t the one he really wanted.

“Hey.” God, his voice sounded terrible to his own ears. When was the last time he’d had water?

“’Hey’? Like you ain’t been away so God damn long,” Abigail half-scoffed, half-wept as she pulled back, smiling with relief.

“Had a nice time, Morgan?” Pearson asked with a grin, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, Micah tell you all about how lucky we was?” Arthur answered good-naturedly. He’d missed them all, and it nearly broke his heart to see how delighted and relieved Tilly and Abigail were, both of them crying, but he really only wanted to see one person. He was about to ask when Abigail gripped his arm.

“They took John, Arthur, at the bank.”

His heart dropped. “I know, Abigail, where is he?”

“They got him, he’s in Sisika Penitentiary, Arthur, he’s probably gonna hang!”

He rubbed her back gently, sobs rising within her again. “It’s all righ’, sweetheart, it’ll be all righ’. Dutch’ll be here real soon and we’ll get him back, I promise.”

Christ, John...

His heart ached.

Smiling gently at her, Arthur glanced between them all. “Where’s Annie?”

“Oh, God, of course, I’m sorry, Arthur.” Abigail wiped her eyes sheepishly, looking to Tilly. “She was on watch, wasn’t she? She should just be—”

“Arthur?”

That voice.

His gaze lifted.

There she was. Staring at him. A shotgun held in one hand by her side. Her hair tied back. Clean blue blouse and black skirt. Brown belt wrapped around her waist along with a gunbelt around her hips, two revolvers in holsters. His bandanna tied loose around her neck. Her lips parted. Her eyes shining.

Then, she was striding towards him. The shotgun ended up in Pearson’s hands, from him catching it as she either dropped it or thrust it into his hands, he didn’t know, didn’t care.

As Ada threw her arms around his neck, his eyes closed and his own wrapped around her. He held on to her tightly, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

She was safe. She was alive.

“I knew you couldn’t be dead, I knew it,” he heard her whispering, her voice cracking, “They’d have put it all over the papers, we’d have known, we’d have just known...”

He just held her, letting her surround him.

She held on just as tightly, taking shuddering breaths. It was several moments before she pulled back abruptly and gripped his shoulders, her eyes darting over him.

“Are you hurt? Your skin is all red, what happened?”

He gazed at her, keeping a hold on her waist. “I’m fine. A little thirsty and hungry, but fine.”

“Come here, come on.” She was taking his hand and leading him somewhere, and at some point the others must have disappeared because they were no longer there, but he just looked at her.

Her hair was shorter, he suddenly realised. It now fell to between her shoulder blades rather than near her waist. He was going to ask what happened when she turned to him, having led him behind a barely-standing shed.

“Sit down.” She dragged a crate closer to him.

He obeyed, trusting that it would bear his weight. It did, and he placed his hands on his knees as she pulled a bucket of water closer, a rag swimming in it.

“It’s clean, I promise,” she murmured, though he wasn’t fazed.

Gripping the rag and squeezing some water out of it, she then started to gently wipe at his face, and the coolness of it felt like heaven.

“Tell me what happened.”

He cleared his throat as he gazed at her. “Ain’t you gotta keep an eye out?”

“Oh, nothing happens around here.” She smiled lightly. “Well, apart from the Night Folk, but they loiter around the western roads.”

“The Night Folk?” The name rang a faint, tired bell.

“That’s a story for another time,” she answered, raising her eyebrows slightly as her smile widened a little more.

She swept the cloth down his neck before dipping it back into the water again. His fingers brushed against her skirt, gripping the material gently.

“You haven’t changed. Well, ‘cept the hair.”

She met his gaze, dabbing at the part of his chest she could get to, her smile lingering.

“You have.”

“Ah, well, ain’t no barbers in Guarma.”

“Guarma?!” Her hand dropped as she stared at him. “What the hell were you doing there?!”

“Micah and Javier didn’t say?”

“Oh, well... I heard they’d come back but I just... stayed on my watch. I didn’t really know what I wanted to hear.” Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, she gripped at his shirt. “Come on, let’s get this off while you tell me.”

As he raised his arms to help her pull it off, wincing slightly as various aching muscles protested, and she started to wash him, he told her everything, beginning to end. How the bank had been surrounded almost instantly. How Hosea had been shot before them. How they’d blown a hole in the wall of the bank and escaped. How Lenny had been killed as they ran. How they had waited in a dingy room in a boarded-up building for darkness to fall, hiding like rats. How Charles had made himself a diversion, drawing guards away. How they’d managed to get onto a boat and convinced the captain to let them stay. How there had been a storm and the boat had caught fire somewhere in the ocean and they’d had to abandon it, jumping in to the water. Guarma and the hell it had provided. The journey back.

The only comment she gave throughout was that Charles had survived and found them and was still with them. Other than that, she just washed the dirt, sweat, sand and sea-salt from his chest, face and hair, expressionless. Even Hosea and Lenny’s deaths elicited no response from her, but he didn’t let it trouble him.

“Christ...” she finally said after he’d finished, exhaling a long breath. “... and Bill and Dutch are coming?”

“Yeah, we thought it’d be best if we went one at a time with quite some time between us to try and draw as little attention as possible.” He cleared his throat, wanting to ask for water to drink but not wanting her to leave him, even if only for a short while. “But what about you all, how did you all get away? What happened after we left?”

“Pinkerton men came minutes after the explosion.” Her lips twitched at his expression. “Yeah, we heard that all the way at Shady Belle. We packed everything up, came here, not before we exchanged shots. Everyone is fine,” she quickly continued at his mouth opening, “Well, couple of scratches and bruises here and there. Couple of shots to legs and—”

“Whose?”

She pressed her lips together slightly. “Mine. Don’t worry, all right, stop,” she swiftly continued again as he frowned and opened his mouth again. “I’m fine. It didn’t hit anything vital, just meant I couldn’t do much for a little while. Still limp a little and it aches every now and then but that should go away, hopefully.” Her features fell slightly. “Tilly got it worse. Bullet grazed her neck, but she’s okay, thank God. Oh, and there’s this...”

As she brushed curls off of her forehead, he saw it; a thin white scar starting from the upper right side of her forehead, going almost diagonal across it, and curving down past her left eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ...” One hand gripped her chin gently as he angled her head, his gaze following it. “What—”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She lifted her head out of his touch, smiling lightly. “Nice, huh?” She was already continuing before he could answer. “Anyway, Sadie knew about this place. We reconvened in some woods up north the night it all happened, that’s how Charles found us, and then she and Charles rode ahead, chased away the men who were living here. Like I said, been quiet since then.”

Arthur kept a hold on her skirt as he looked at her. He knew it was pointless to worry about what had already happened, and she was fine, but guilt still set in. He should have been there.

His hand found her free one, lacing their fingers together. “How you been?”

“Fine,” she answered, soaking the rag again.

“Ada.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

She exhaled a breath as she met his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “You made me cry, Arthur Morgan. More than once. I won’t forgive you for making me feel, cowboy.”

His chest tightened. He knew she wasn’t saying it to make him feel guilty, that she was just teasing, a little. He just couldn’t help but think about the burdens she’d had to carry, how she’d worried day after day. He’d had escaping and saving Javier to keep him occupied, combined with dehydration and near starvation. Even on the boat back he’d just slept, eaten, drank, then slept. God, the guilt could’ve crushed him. He knew apologising wouldn’t even begin to make up for it.

Taking the rag from her hand, he dropped it and took her by the waist, drawing her on to his lap.

“Arthur, I didn’t mean it...” she began to protest gently.

“It’s all righ’, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

She fell silent, her head resting against his shoulder. He tightened his hold on her, his chin on top of her head. She released a breath, her arm sliding around his back.

“What you been up to while we ain’t been around to make things excitin’?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing against her skin.

She didn’t move, taking a breath. “Oh, the Night Folk have made things very exciting. Other than that, we’ve been lying low. And Sadie and I have been going after O’Driscolls.”

Jesus Christ.

Arthur lifted his head, looking down at her. “What?”

Drawing her head back as well, Ada smiled. “Don’t give me that look. I told you we would, and we’ve survived so far, obviously.”

Well, can’t argue with that.

Arthur exhaled a breath. “Righ’... Does she know?”

“Yeah.” Her hand slid up his back to settle on his shoulder. “I told her a few days after we got here.”

“About everythin’?”

“Yeah. I think she could tell something was up, anyway, had been able to for a while. She also thinks I’m hell bent on revenge like her.” Her eyebrows rose slightly as she brushed her fingers against his neck. “Which I suppose I am.”

Jesus, he had missed out on some things.

“Really?”

She smiled slightly. “I just want peace of mind. I just want to know.”

He took her free hand. “You found any sign of him?”

“We’ve interrogated a few and asked them but there are so many Thomas O’Driscolls, though, it’s hard to narrow them down. The ones we’ve caught didn’t seem close enough to Colm to really know anything.” Meeting his gaze, she smiled again. “Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking about me.”

She cupped his cheek and he leaned in to the touch, so, so grateful to feel it once more.

“Made you cry, did I,” he said quietly, a corner of his mouth lifting.

She snorted lightly, gazing at him in such a way he felt he didn’t deserve.

“Not just you.” She said it before she could stop herself, taking a breath when he frowned. “Oh... My Faithful was hurt during the fight. I had to shoot him to put him out of his misery.”

His heart dropped.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry—”

“No, please...” she cut him off gently, a small smile lifting her features again. “It’s fine. You men just keep breaking my heart, don’t you?”

He exhaled a laugh, caressing her back. “I’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“You can start by not going anywhere, Morgan.” Her arms wrapped around his neck.

“That I can do, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing against his damp hair. Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, she lowered her voice a little. “Morale’s low, Arthur. Well, was low. I think you all returning will boost things.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised, you all ain’t had it easy.”

“It’s been okay, just...” She pressed her lips together. “Molly’s gone.”

"What?” He frowned.

Well, shit... That wasn’t good.

Ada shrugged. “She just disappeared, days after we got here. No one seems to mind, though, I think they all seemed quite relieved. And I’m assuming Abigail told you about John?” She sighed as he nodded. “People are worried.”

“I know,” he murmured, “I feel like an ass, I didn’t even have a chance to think about him while we were out there.”

Her fingers stroked his hair. “Well, Sadie and I have tried to think about what to do, while the general consensus has been to just wait for Dutch, whenever he would return.”

The words just came out. “Well, I don’t know if he’s the right person to make a judgement call right now.”

She looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

He shifted a little, his thumb absent-mindedly brushing over her ring. “Somethin’ happened in Guarma.” He laughed shortly. “Well, not just Guarma. The last few months have been bad call after bad call. I can’t blame him all for that, though, it’s also circumstances but... In Guarma, he killed a woman. An old lady. With no good reason. And he... I don’t know if he’s in his right mind, anymore.”

She caressed the back of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before murmuring, “You need sleep, Arthur Morgan.”

He smiled, realising it was the first time she’d kissed him. “Yeah, I do.”

Moving off of him carefully, she took his hand once more. “You can have my bedroll. It’s not particularly comfortable, I’m afraid, just an inch off the rickety, old boards, and we don’t have many blankets to go around. Or maybe one of the hammocks would be better—”

He rose, shaking his head. “It’ll be fine. Anythin’ is better than the floor of a boat or Guarma ground.”

She squeezed his hand. “Let’s get you some fresh clothes and something to eat first.”

He was left alone to change and eat, besides Ada sitting right beside him for the latter, though, and he was grateful for it. Charles grinned and hugged him and Sadie slapped him on the back when they returned from hunting, but they just said they were glad he was back and okay before they moved on, leaving him alone. A damn good man and woman. They all asked if he was okay at one point or another but having heard the tale already from Micah, who’d been the first off the boat and first to arrive back, they were all just glad to see he was there, letting him eat as much stew as he wanted.

It started to rain at some point, darkness falling with it, keeping everyone in the main shack, and they were all quiet, Micah, Javier and Arthur, and Uncle, of course, dozing and catching up on their sleep in hammocks while everyone else did the little odd jobs they’d got into the routine of doing. Ada caught Sadie’s eye as they cleaned their guns, sharing a warm, relieved smile.

The quiet didn’t last long, though.

“Dutch! Dutch is here!” Susan cried as she shoved the door to the main cabin open, beaming, her eyes shining.

Dutch van der Linde stepped in to the small cabin to the sound of gasps, cheers and greetings. He smiled widely at all of them, the men waking up with a start and everyone rising out of their seats.

He could barely get a word out before Abigail was speaking over everyone, words pouring out of her.

“Dutch, Dutch, they got John!”

“Okay, okay,” he said with a gentle chuckle.

“He’s back!” Tilly cried as the men, finally out of their hammocks, entered the main room, grinning, and Uncle cheered.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes before meeting Dutch’s gaze, nodding at him and exchanging weary smiles. Everyone was crowded in the room now, standing in a circle around their king. Arthur stood beside Ada as she folded her arms, lifting her gaze and smiling at him.

He still couldn’t believe it. God, he couldn’t wait until they were alone.

She seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing as her teeth bit at her lower lip and the hint of a smirk appeared. She looked away after a moment, a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks as she turned her attention back to the room.

Dutch was looking between them all, half in shock, half in exhaustion, shaking his head slightly.

"How’d you folks find each other? What happened?" He chuckled tiredly again. ”Can, can somebody get me a cup of coffee or somethin’?”

Pearson leapt into action, moving to the back of the cabin.

“It was Sadie and Annie who saved us and got us movin’, Dutch,” Tilly beamed, giving each of them a wide smile.

“Yes,” Herr Strauss piped up, “After the robbery in Saint Denis, they got us away from camp before any more Pinkertons could turn up. Then Mrs Adler and Mr Smith drove away the degenerates who were living here!”

Pearson returned, handing Dutch a tin cup of coffee.

“Did they, now.” Dutch looked at Sadie and Charles, smiling gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs Adler, and Mr Smith, we owe you. And...” He looked to Ada then, and... she didn’t like what she saw lingering in his gaze. “Annie. Remind me...” He exhaled a short laugh. “It’s been so long, how did you come by those blueprints of the bank, again?”

Her eyebrows rose, as did several others. She knew where this was going. Had known this was what it would come to, but she kept control.

“At the party?” She adopted an air of faint confusion. “I went upstairs to investigate what I could and found them on a table in the mayor’s bedroom. Why?”

“What were you doing upstairs?”

This was the Dutch she knew him to be. Smiling, eyes cold.

She frowned slightly. “I just said, investigating. Like we were all there to do.”

“And they were just lying around?”

“Yes. Anyone else could have found them, Dutch. It just so happened to be me.”

“Yes, it did.”

People shifted around them, discomfort filling the air, but she just held his gaze.

“What are you implying, Dutch?”

His jaw moved, a muscle twitching, the smile gone. “I have lost three men. Two dead, one in prison and somebody is to blame for that.”

Anger was rising and she didn’t do much to stop it from seeping in to her tone. “Well, that person isn’t me.”

Silence suddenly descended.

Oh, fuck.

Then, a voice came from beside her.

“Hosea mentioned the bank first, Dutch,” Arthur said evenly.

To her left, Sadie nodded. “If she was workin’ for Bronte, Dutch, or anyone else, she would have left. She stayed and worked harder than anyone to keep us goin’ and rebuild.”

The sudden murmurings of agreement from the group seemed to faintly rattle Dutch, to her eyes, anyway. Then, he found her gaze again, and smiled.

“My dear Annie, please forgive me. I believe my weariness from the past few weeks has clouded my judgement. I am sorry.”

She didn’t know how she managed the smile, as light as it was. “Of course, Dutch. I understand.”

Abigail stepped forward, a bowl in her hands. “Come over here and sit down, Dutch, have some food.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

The moment his back turned and conversations resumed, Ada dropped her arms and strode to the back of the cabin. Arthur caught Sadie’s eye and was taken aback to find anger in them. She nodded in the direction Ada had gone, and he headed in it.

Opening the door, the rain lighter, he stepped out onto the jetty that wrapped around the side and back of the shed, finding Ada standing at the wooden railing, her hands gripping it as she stared across the river.

“You all righ’?” he murmured, joining her.

“No.” The word leapt out of her, desperate to finally be released. “No, I’m not.” She inhaled a sharp breath. “Granted, he was partly right in his thinking, of course, I didn’t just find it but I did not do it on purpose, I did not know what it would lead to, I am not responsible for their deaths, I’m not.”

He realised, then.

She’d struggled more than she’d let on.

That’s why Sadie had looked so angry.

How many times had she had to convince Ada it hadn’t been her fault?

Had it been duty or guilt fuelling her over the past month?

“It ain’t your fault at all,” Arthur said softly, keeping his gaze on her hard features. “He was talkin’ in Guarma about... he thinks someone’s betrayin’ him.”

“Well, it’s not me.” She nearly spat the words out.

“I know, I know that.” His hand settled over hers, his thumb stroking her skin. “If he really thought it was you he wouldn’t have dropped it.”

“Maybe.”

He could feel how tense she was, see it, but this was going to have to be a conversation for another time. They were too confined, too close to the others.

“Hey,” he murmured, squeezing her hand gently, “Take me to Ophelia, I gotta see my other favourite girl.”

That made the corner of her mouth lift slightly.

“I’m competing with a horse?”

“Yeah, and I ain’t gonna lie, your chances ain’t good.”

He relaxed as she laughed and her fingers laced with his, leading him around to the front of the cabin. “Come on, then, you fool.”

Neither of them heard the quiet boots that moved along the jetty, pausing to watch them disappear out of sight.

Micah smiled as he lit himself a cigarette, his eyes shifting across to the river, watching the water move.

—

Ophelia, quite rightly, was slightly put-out when Arthur and Ada approached her. She tossed her head and whinnied loudly, snorting and eyeing Arthur.

“Hey, girl,” he murmured, releasing his hold on Ada so he could stroke Ophelia’s neck and forehead. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know, you’re all righ’, though...”

She’d told him earlier about how Sadie and Karen had found her at Shady Belle when they’d gone back to the house a few days after the failed robbery to see if any of the men were there. Men were there, but not their men. Luckily, Ophelia was smart enough to evade them and bolt away, and the two women had gone after her, finding her in a patch of woods.

The men had been Pinkertons, and they’d soon found out after a few trips back that the men would visit the house seemingly every day, even all this time later. Sadie and someone else would still go, though, to see if any clues were left, and it was Sadie who left a letter the last time they went, knowing making so many trips was risky.

Ophelia quickly settled, pushing her muzzle against him and snorting quietly. He smiled, continuing to murmur to her. Ada couldn’t stop her own smile as she watched, before another whinny drew her attention.

"Who’s this?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she spotted the Hungarian-Halfbred.

Arthur glanced over, stroking his hand down Ophelia’s neck. “Ah, that’s my new friend. Hijacked her from Van Horn to get here.”

“Oh?” Her smile widened as she stepped towards the horse, stroking her fingertips against her forehead. “Well, I think I owe you a thank you and debt of gratitude, then.”

“Have her.”

Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him, patting the horse’s neck. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. She’s good, solid, not a racer but got a good speed to her.”

“Well, thank you.” Her lips twitched as she scratched behind the horse’s ear. “You know, most women get jewellery.”

“I’ll steal that next time.”

She exhaled a laugh, her smile lingering as she gazed at the horse. “Hello,” she murmured as the tall piebald nudged at her arm. “I’ll have to think of what to call you. I suppose Lucky is a little too on the nose...” Raising her voice slightly so Arthur could hear, she said, ”What about Maggie? I always liked that name. Mags for short.”

“I like it.” He opened his mouth to continue, when his gaze suddenly darted over her shoulder and he frowned.

“Bill?”

Turning, Ada watched Bill stomp towards them, pissed off as always, his beard somehow bigger.

“Oh, thank God, here is where you all is!”

Arthur sighed and approached, waving him towards the main shack. “All righ’, all righ’, Christ, come on, inside. There’s hot food and coffee.”

“Oh, thank God...” Bill sped up, moving ahead of them.

Ada laughed under her breath as she watched him, and Arthur joined her at her side. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, her’s going around his waist, they walked up to the shack together.

“Glad to have us all back, huh?”

She snorted.“Hmmh... Things will certainly be interesting again.”

When they reached the shack and entered, Bill was still grumbling on to everyone.

“... asked everyone I could find and eventually someone knew! Said you fools were out here.”

He didn’t seem to realise everyone was staring at him, and Ada felt her stomach twist.

Oh, fuck...

“Shit, get me a drink or somethin’!” he said to Sadie, the woman clearly seething.

“Get your own damn drink!” Sadie shot back.

“In our absence,” Dutch cut in before Bill could speak, his tone sharp, “Mrs Adler here has been looking after things. Now sit down.”

Bill clenched his jaw, but seemed very much cowed, and went to sit down, when the voice rang out.

“This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency!”

Ada closed her eyes as people shot to their feet or hissed out a curse.

Oh, fuck...

“Already?” Dutch muttered, shocked, as she felt Arthur move behind her to peer out of a hole in the wood.

“Awh, shit...” he hissed.

“On behalf of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar,” Milton was carrying on, “the United States Government and the Commonwealth of West Elizabeth...”

“Here we go,” Dutch sighed as people drew or grabbed their guns.

“... we are here to arrest you! Come out with your hands up!”

Arthur had his back against the door, and was shrugging at Dutch as Ada turned, her jaw clenched. Arthur then moved to a window and before he could say a word to her, he was just left watching her stride to the back of the cabin as he heard Milton shout, “Let ‘em have it!”

Bullets instantly began thudding against the wood, flying through the open window and embedding into the wall.

“Get down!” Dutch yelled, and Arthur dove to the floor, watching Ada crawl across the floor to the back door.

“Arthur!” He looked to his right and saw Sadie moving, too. “Arthur, follow me!”

Gritting his teeth, he moved behind her, the bullets relentless.

“Asked everyone you could find, did you, Bill?!” he yelled as they passed the cursing man.

For once, the man had nothing to snap back, his face red.

“This is real bad!” Sadie called to him as they continued on, Ada already out of the door, rising to her feet.

He heard Tilly and Mary-Beth scream as the bullets were just not stopping.

And, yes... there was the unmistakable sound of a Gatling Gun.

“Stay down, all of you!” he shouted, when a bullet hit a lantern beside him, bursting into flames. Gritting his teeth as he and Sadie reached the door, passing through it and closing it behind them, he released a sharp breath, looking to her... and he then realised she was looking to Ada, the woman waiting for them, a revolver from her belt in her hand.

“Come on, this way,” she murmured, moving along the jetty.

“Where are we goin’?” Arthur said, keeping his voice down as they kept low, darting across the wooden boards.

“This way,” Ada answered, moving to the right, “There’s a trapdoor into the other house.”

“We can try to flank ‘em,” Sadie added.

Then, Ada dropped out of sight, and he noticed it a moment later; a square cut out of the jetty, revealing the muddy bank below. Sadie dropped down next, then him and he just followed them as they moved quickly under the stilts and wooden boars that kept the jetty and shacks up. The gang was firing back, he could hear, the sound deafening.

There was suddenly a square of light a few feet away and they ran to it, Ada lifting herself up through it first, then Sadie then him.

“Come on, quick,” Sadie murmured to him as they made it into the house.

“You fools weren’t listening to me, were you?” they could hear Milton shouting as Sadie took one side of the front doors and Ada took the other, Arthur joining her. “I showed mercy... you mistook it for weakness!”

Sadie met Ada’s gaze when, suddenly, there was silence.

“Why've they stopped shootin’?” she hissed as Ada paused, straining to hear.

“Now...” Milton continued, his voice ringing out. “... I will show strength, and you may mistake it for brutality. There is no escape for any of you! I shall hunt you to the ends of the earth and to the end of time!”

Arthur, peering through a gap in the wood, staring at Milton, felt rage surge within him.

Not on this fuckin’ day.

Not when he’d just got those he loved dear back.

“This idiot is really startin’ to irritate me...” he murmured, his jaw tight.

Still Milton was continuing. “I’ve killed your friends, and I’ve enjoyed killing them!”

And that was it.

Pushing away from the wood, he moved passed Ada, caught the rifle Sadie threw to him and kicked the doors open.

“... and now I’m gonna kill each—” Milton started to say.

“Arthur, wait!” Ada called.

But it was too late.

“Come on!” he yelled, aiming and firing instantly.

He killed the man at the Gatling Gun as he heard Sadie and Ada firing, and shots started to come from the main shack, too. The Pinkertons scrambled for cover as he saw Ada move to his right, her body in front of his, and, God damn, did she shoot, both revolvers in her hands now.

“We need to push ‘em back!” he shouted, but the two women were already doing just that, their turn to be relentless now as they stepped forward with every Pinkerton body that went down.

The lanterns did just enough to illuminate the Pinkertons in the darkness beyond, and he didn’t think, just all hate and pain and rage for Hosea, Lenny and John.

“Take them down!” Milton was screaming, but he sounded far off.

God damn coward.

“They’re comin’ from the side!” Sadie yelled. “Come on, let’s push ‘em back, keep goin’!”

“Don’t think for one minute you’re gonna have all the fun by yourselves!” Bill called out from behind them.

He had come out of the main house now, joining them and firing at the new wave of men approaching. They all took their own route through the wagons and sheds, fanning out and crouching and rising to dodge bullets and shoot back.

“Get them, get them, get them!” Milton thundered, but he sounded even further off, possibly retreating.

Good.

“They’re hidin’ in the trees!” Arthur called out. “Get after ‘em!”

They used the darkness to their advantage now, hunting the men down. Bullets struck the trees around him, not one finding their mark.

“We’ll kill every last one of ya!” Sadie yelled from somewhere close by, and she ran past him suddenly, overtaking him.

“I have had it with you bastards!” Bill was also shouting, but Ada, wherever she was, was silent.

Oh, God, please...

Then, he saw her, far up to the right, aiming and shooting, aiming and shooting, her features like pure, relentless thunder. There would be the fire burning in her eyes and, God, he had missed her.

“We need someone back here!” he suddenly heard Dutch from back behind them. “They’re comin’ down the main path!”

He saw Ada lift her head, and she started to stride towards the path.

“There’s more of them! Get on the Gatling Gun, Arthur!” she called to him as she broke out into a run.

He started running instantly. Shouldering the rifle, he pulled himself up into the wagon holding the gun as Sadie followed after him, using the wagon as cover, and to protect him. Swinging the gun around, he fired at the main path, feeling the power of the Gatling shaking his arms.

The Pinkertons shouted to each other, ducking for cover or even trying to run back, but he could see, behind a thick tree, Ada shooting them down.

“More on the left here!” Bill called.

“And to the right!” Sadie joined in.

“Keep your head down, I’m swingin’ this around!” Arthur shouted. “Keep your heads down!”

His people ducked and he fired in a circle, knocking down several of the remaining men.

“There’s more of them moving in!” Charles called, out of the shack now and somewhere in the darkness.

“Charles, this way!” he heard Ada yell from somewhere else.

He was distracted by the Gatling juddering slightly, out of bullets. Leaping over the side of the wagon, he shrugged the rifle off of his shoulder and joined Sadie, helping her on her side.

Suddenly, there was a small explosion to the left, and he and Sadie jerked, their heads whipping to it. Ada and Charles rose out of the darkness, shooting at the men who tried to scramble from the flames.

“That’s it! Run, you spineless sons of bitches!” Bill hollered, and, yes, Arthur could see them, retreating and running for the darkness.

Charles and Ada didn’t seem in merciful moods, though. They followed after them and Arthur watched man after man fall.

“Arthur!” Sadie’s voice caught his attention. Turning to her, he found her smiling. “We did it! That’s the last of ‘em!”

Then, there was silence.

Not allowing a sigh of relief yet, he squeezed Sadie’s shoulder as they rose, his gaze darting between the trees.

“I think you might be righ’...”

They moved to the main path, keeping a tight grip on their weapons.

“Annie? Charles?” he called out, seeing no sign of them.

Then, he saw them, moving up the path towards them.

“Here!” Ada called, a smile pulling at her lips as Charles walked by her side.

All the tension left his body as he blew out a breath, Sadie chuckling beside him, and Ada smiled, looking up at Charles who returned it. He patted her on the back as they neared and she said something Arthur couldn’t hear that made him chuckle.

“Well, that was a nice bit of excitement,” Sadie sighed cheerfully as she turned and headed back to the shed, Bill close behind her. Charles patted Arthur on the arm as he passed, Ada stopping before him, her smile lingering.

“You all righ’?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Just fine. You?”

“Yeah.”

The smirk returned to her lips, and he opened his mouth to speak when she closed the distance between them and gripped the front of his shirt, keeping him close as she tilted her head back, rose up on her toes and captured his lips.

His arm instantly went around her, keeping her tight against him as he revelled in every second of the kiss. She hummed against his lips, a sound akin to a moan, and he fisted her shirt, answering with a groan.

God, he had missed her, missed this, missed just being around her and feeling her and—

“Hey!”

They drew their heads back and looked to Sadie, a grin on her lips and an eyebrow arched. “C’mon, get in here, ya love birds.”

“Yeah, thank you for ruining that, we’re coming!” Ada called as Arthur chuckled.

“You’re welcome!” came the jovial response as Sadie disappeared inside the shack.

The rain started to pick up a little again as they moved towards the house, arms around each other.

When they were a few feet away, though, Dutch stepped out onto the jetty and moved down the few steps towards them, Micah close behind him.

“You saved us, Arthur,” Dutch said, looking very weary as he surveyed the bodies and mess.

“Well, me ‘nd Annie, Sadie, Bill ‘nd Charles,” he answered, keeping his arm around Ada who was silent.

“Yes, indeed,” Dutch smiled, meeting his gaze.

“Well,” Micah said, sitting on a step. “We ain’t been back for more than a few hours, and look at this...”

“What do we do, Dutch?” Arthur said without thinking. Force of habit, and he felt it.

“Well, clearly we need to leave,” Dutch said, a slight bite to his tone. “It’ll take them sometime to regroup.”

Micah was suddenly off the step, approaching Dutch with his hands on his hips.

Damn idiot’s tryna look like he’s part of the organisin’.

“Mr Pearson, Miss Grimshaw,” Dutch continued, calling back up to the shack as people looked out, “start packin’ up. Javier, you and Bill, get outta here. Go and scare off any scum still loiterin’ about. We need a couple of days...” He took a breath, then his shoulders dropped as he waved his hand. “Now go, please, gentlemen!”

They left with their instructions, leaving Micah, Arthur, Ada, Sadie and Abigail around him.

“What next, Dutch?” Arthur murmured, his eyes remaining on Dutch because... there didn’t seem to be much of a plan.

Dutch braced his hands against the wagon beside him, leaning against it as he released a breath. “We just need some time, I just, I, I need some time,” he stuttered slightly. “Now, we can’t go east, ‘cause then we’ll be in the ocean, so we’re gonna have to go north, I guess?” Arthur chest hurt as he looked at him fumble for an answer. “I just need somebody to buy me some,” his tone rose slightly as he slammed his fist down on the wagon, “God damn time, one of you.” He straightened, looking between them but not quite meeting their eyes.

“You’ll figure it out, boss,” Micah said gently, “You always do.”

“What are you gonna do about John, Dutch?” Abigail piped up, and, God damn, Arthur could see him being overwhelmed.

“John?” Dutch said, his gaze finding her.

Abigail frowned slightly. “He’s in jail.”

“W-we’ll get him, Abigail,” Dutch stammered even as he raised his hands in what once would have been a soothing gesture. “Just not, not yet.”

“There’s talk of hangin’ him,” Abigail shot back, her tone now rising.

“It’s not gonna come to that,” Dutch dismissed as he turned away.

“Dutch!” Abigail called after him, and Arthur felt Ada beside him, stiff and unmoving.

Dutch was already walking away, though, heading up to the shack, Micah following him. “Not now, Miss, I...” He waved his hand without turning. “... Not now.”

They watched him disappear inside. Before any of them could speak, Abigail turned to them suddenly, her eyes shining as she lowered her voice.

“I’m beggin’ you three, he’s...” She swallowed, looking between them. “... They’re gonna hang him. It would break my...” She looked away from them as she shook her head. “... the boy’s heart.” She looked back to them. “Please do something.”

“We will,” Sadie murmured, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

Abigail nodded, swallowed and then turned and walked away quickly, her arms folding.

Arthur blew out a breath as he met Sadie’s gaze.

“Okay,” she murmured to them, “That’s it, I’m gonna go figure out how we rescue this bastard.”

“Now?” Arthur asked quietly.

“Yes, now,” she insisted, “I’ll go into Saint Denis, see what I can find out.”

“Okay,” Ada answered before Arthur could, her tone just as quiet. “Will you be back for the morning?”

“Oh, you know I will,” the other woman replied, a grin pulling at her lips. “Damn, I’ve missed all this excitement.”

Ada smiled as Sadie nodded at them before striding for her horse. “A one woman army,” she murmured, drawing a chuckle from Arthur.

“That she is.”

Taking in a breath, Ada looked up at him and took his hand. “Right, then, bed for you, cowboy.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

—

“This is close, ain’t it?”

“What was it before?”

He snorted, settling on his side, his back to the thin cloth that acted as a curtain between them and the other ladies and Jack. Luckily, they were all asleep by now, exhausted from the excitement and activities of the day. The wooden boards a foot or so away was scorched from where the lantern had erupted earlier, but it was still intact and sturdy. Ada stepped across it, glancing out of the window, before she crouched and moved under the small, raised platform above that Sadie used to sleep on. Unbuckling her gunbelt and placing it to the side, she then untucked her blouse from her skirt and lay beside him, her back to his chest. His arm went around her, holding her against him.

She exhaled a long breath as her hand slid under his, making their fingers lace together.

“What a God damn mess...” he murmured after a few moments.

She hummed her agreement, and he wished he could see her face.

“Don’t think about that now, just get some rest.”

He was only quiet for less than a minute.

“I didn’t know if you’d still be here.”

He felt her hand tighten on his slightly.

“Of course I’m still here.”

Christ, the way she said it, the conviction... He wished it was just them two. He wished he could just... He wanted to put his mouth on her, to relearn all of her and just—

“I’ve got your journal.”

“Really?”

He could hear the smile in her weary voice. “Yeah. It’s one of the things that was saved. Mary-Beth ran up and got it.”

He paused. “Did you read it?”

She shook her head slightly. “No. Didn’t feel right to.”

“You should’ve.”

“Why?”

“Could’ve told you what I stupidly didn’t. How much you mean to me.”

She was quiet for several moments, to the point where he thought she might have fallen asleep and not heard him. He was about to close his eyes when she moved their hands up and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the back of his hand.

“Sleep now,” she whispered, tucking their hands under her chin.

—

The early morning light spilled in through the window, growing moment by moment. She could see dust dancing in it, endlessly falling. She followed the beam, her gaze reaching his features, the sunlight illuminating him in the semi-darkness of the shack.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him as she pulled her blouse on.

She’d missed him. Almost unbearably. She’d cried night after night after night as quietly as she could behind one of the shacks, face in her hands. Sadie had known, obviously. She’d given her her space, though, which she’d greatly appreciated.

Arthur wasn’t a distraction. He wasn’t something to take her mind off of her anxieties and irritations, he was... He was everything. He was what she wanted, what she needed, and everything that lay in between.

The separation had revealed that to her. It had also revealed that she could live this life nearly on her own, could look after and lead people, but she didn’t want to. She wanted someone, him, by her side.

And what he’d said last night... She thought her heart was going to burst.

She couldn’t help but think, then, of the girl she’d been before, the girl from Strawberry, the girl who’d wished and waited for more.

If only I could tell you what was coming.

And there was still more to come. More unnecessary gambles and putting people’s lives on the line, and Dutch... Something had changed in him, rather visibly, and Arthur had noticed it, too, even before what had occurred with the Pinkertons the previous night.

She thought she would have revelled in that moment, when he told her his doubts about Dutch. Would have had to have stopped herself from saying ‘I told you so’, but she had just felt... sad. It wasn’t the victory she had dreamed about. Despite all she and Sadie had done, leadership was now well and truly back in Dutch’s hands, even if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. She’d had to bite her tongue when he’d looked all them all, helpless and without a plan.

The kingdom was falling, and the king was the cause.

She’d have to talk with Sadie and Arthur, plan what their next and final move should be because this couldn’t carry on any longer.

Arthur jolted awake beside her suddenly, making her blink and return to the present. She watched as he realised and remembered where he was before his eyes found hers. She smiled softly, finishing buttoning up her blouse.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

“Hey.” He rubbed at his eyes groggily, taking her in. She was out of the blouse and skirt from the day before, now in trousers and a cream blouse, her gunbelt back around her waist. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Sadie and I heard about an O’Driscoll camp not too far from here the other day. We planned to go and check it out this morning.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Okay, but we gotta move on.”

She reached over and pulled her boots closer, pulling them on. “Yeah, but that probably won’t happen ‘till tomorrow morning, though. We have to figure out where to go, exactly. Be smart about our next move because we can’t take another surprise like last night.”

He gazed at her, feeling both sad and in awe.

There was the leader she’d had to become.

Clearing his throat, he leaned up on an elbow. “D’you want me to come?”

A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she finished lacing one boot and started on the other. “No, thank you. This is ladies business.”

“Ah, I understand.” He smiled, scratching at his beard.

God, I need a shave.

She finished lacing her boot and reached over to take a sheathed knife that lay on a folded pile of her clothes. It wasn’t the one Sean had given her, he noted as she pushed it into her boot.

“Hey.”

She looked to him as she finished tying her hair back with a black ribbon, raising her eyebrows a little.

“C’mere.”

Her smile returned as she leaned down at his murmured request and pressed her lips to his. He couldn’t help but groan quietly, his hand moving around to settle on her lower back to draw her closer. He felt her smile widen a little against his lips as her fingertips brushed under his chin.

“I have to go...” she murmured, doing very little to actually pull away.

“One more minute won’t hurt,” he drawled, his fingers caressing her back.

She exhaled a laugh, pulling her head back just slightly. “Do you want Sadie bursting in here?”

“Hell no,” he muttered as he released her, making her laugh again as she pulled back.

“Well, then...” She pulled a thin, dark brown jacket on as she arched an eyebrow. “Besides, you need to rest. Sleep, Arthur Morgan.”

“I know what I need.”

She did her very best to look scandalised as she swatted his caressing hand away, smiling. “Plenty of rest before any of that.”

There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Why, I don’t have to do any movin’.”

She gave a quiet gasp of disbelief even as she grinned, shaking her head. “You are a scoundrel.”

“You love it.”

Before she could respond, he leaned up and settled a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her again. Her body instantly relaxing and pressing against his did wonders for his ego. Yet, alas, a few moments later she broke the kiss and licked her lips to hide a smile.

“Come on, Morgan, let me go.”

“If I have to,” he grumbled, releasing her and watching her as she got to her feet, moving out from under the platform.

She grinned at how put-out he looked.

Like a cat that hadn’t been fed the moment it was hungry.

Ada pressed her lips together, though, when he also pushed himself up, grunting as he hit his head on the platform and muttering out a curse. Stepping out from under the platform, he rubbed his head and nodded towards the front of the shack.

“C’mon, I’ll see you out.”

Her hand found his as they walked out into the cool, damp morning air, the trees too thick to allow much light in to warm and harden the mud. She was about to turn to him and order him back to bed when Dutch’s voice sounded.

“White to D4...”

They turned together, finding Dutch sat on a chair on the jetty to their left, looking out across the water. Ada released Arthur’s hand as he frowned, watching the older man move his hands slightly as he stared out.

“... White to D4...”

She patted his arm and met his gaze, smiling lightly, then walked down the steps, giving him space. Rolling his shoulders, he took a breath and approached the man.

“You okay, there?” he asked gently.

“Workin’ it all out,” Dutch responded, not looking at him. “Once and for all, Arthur.”

Arthur hummed, leaning back against the railing and folding his arms, watching Dutch closely. “What now?”

Dutch’s gaze shifted to him. “We’re back... And I’m sittin’ here, and I am contemplatin’ the great journey of the sun, and considerin’ a famous chess move.” Arthur scratched his beard, his gaze briefly rising to meet Ada’s a little way off, her eyebrows raised. Dutch didn’t notice, his eyes back on the water as he continued. “Those oily enactors of a mediocre justice, the Pinkertons and their benefactor, the depressing millionaire Leviticus Cornwall, they want us, Arthur.” His voice had risen in agitation, his fists clenched. “They want us, and they are goin’ to have us.”

Arthur kept his own tone light. “Well, maybe they ain’t the problem.”

“Meanin’?” Dutch snapped.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, it’s just, well...” He chuckled slightly, then paused. “... I can’t help but feel we would’ve been better runnin’ off someplace else.”

Dutch now chuckled. “But the, the game ain’t over, Arthur. I mean, I ain’t, I ain’t played my, my final move but...”

As he trailed off slightly, Arthur had to stop himself from gritting his teeth. “I guess I’m more interested in savin’ lives than winnin’ at chess.”

“Then maybe life ain’t such a thing to cling onto so tightly!”

“No doubt,” Arthur quickly said, before gesturing towards the shack. “But what about the women?”

Dutch paused then, his hands dropping to his lap. He was quiet for a few moments. “You sound like Hosea,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I miss...” He took a breath, raising his eyes to the sky. “... him.”

It broke Arthur’s heart because, God, he did, too, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t back down. “I asked you a question.”

Dutch looked at him. “What do you think?”

Arthur shook his head. “We can’t stay here. That much is obvious. But where are we gonna run to? I mean they chased us from the west, they chased us over the mountains, they ran us into the sea—”

“Arthur...” Dutch had closed his eyes for a few moments, rubbing his temple. He looked at him. “... do you have my back?”

Arthur looked at him, his hands on his belt. He felt angry. “Always, Dutch... but there’s more than your back to worry about.” Dutch looked away but Arthur carried on. “We need more money. We’ve been on the run for months now, and I seen you...” He lowered his voice as he leaned closer, some of the anger seeping in to his tone. “... killin’ folk in cold blood, like you always told me not to!” His voice had risen, though, as Dutch stood, shaking his head and stepping away, resting his hands on the railing. Still he carried. “And, I’m sorry, but I think that if we listened to Annie and Sa—”

“There is country in Roanoke Ridge, past Butcher Creek, I believe we could hold,” Dutch spoke over him.

Arthur couldn’t help it, the sense of relief that there was a plan of some kind. “Okay.”

“And you and Charles, you could take folks up that way. Micah...” Dutch trailed off for a moment, looking across the water. “... and I need to do some reconnaissance. I ain’t got a final plan, yet.” He turned to Arthur suddenly. “Arthur, I ain’t got a...” He trailed off again. “... I just need time.” He looked at him. “I need time, and no traitors.”

Arthur just looked at him, silent. Then, he turned and moved away, heading towards Ada.

She watched Dutch, his gaze dropping as he sat back down, his back to them. Her eyes slid to Arthur’s, her jaw clenched. She’d had to hold her tongue from snapping that Arthur needed rest, they all did, he and Micah included, and that she and Sadie could handle things, like that had been doing.

Her heart had fluttered slightly when Arthur had started to suggest that, but, there would always be only one leader here. Inclining her head, she gestured for Arthur to follow her as she turned and headed for the horses. Raising her gaze, she saw Sadie coming down the main path, raising her hand to acknowledge her as she drew her horse to a halt.

Arthur sighed heavily as he neared, running a hand down his mouth.

“Do you know it?” he asked quietly, watching her as she adjusted the stirrups on Maggie’s saddle. “Roanoke Ridge?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, taking a Repeater from the shed beside them and slotting it into the holster on the saddle. “There’s some caves up there, the locals call it Beaver Hollow.” She paused, then turned to him. “Be careful.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “We will.”

“I mean it. I don’t like it up there, Arthur, it’s...” She shrugged slightly. “It just feels strange. Charles and Sadie have run into the people who occupy the caves, the Murfree Brood, a couple of times, as I’m sure Charles will tell you, but...” She released a breath, gazing at him. “... Be vigilant, please.”

He stepped closer, his gentle smile returning. “Always am.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly, but she couldn’t help her own small smile. “We both know that’s a lie, Arthur Morgan.” She placed a hand on his chest, patting gently. “See you later.”

He caught her arm gently as she went to turn, drawing her closer. “Hey...”

She leaned into the soft kiss he claimed her lips with, her eyes falling shut. Sadie’s distant, pointed cough made her pull back after several moments, her smile wider. Gripping Maggie’s saddle, she pulled herself up and gathered the reins, gazing down at him.

Patting the horse’s neck, his smile lingered. “Come back to me, Miss Sawyer.”

“I will,” she answered, her features softening, before she turned Maggie as he stepped away, and headed for Sadie.

Arthur gripped his belt as he watched them, Sadie grinning at her and tossing her a couple of boxes of ammunition as she neared.

He watched them ride off, a tightening and anxiety in his chest he hadn’t felt before.

—

It had been far too easy rounding them up. Ada paced before the six kneeling men, tapping her revolver against her leg.

“I’m gonna ask again, and I’ll warn you, I’m really running out of patience.” She stopped in the middle of them, sighing. “Do any of you know Thomas O’Driscoll?”

A greying man tutted as he pulled a face. “Shit, you probably shot five Thomas O’Driscoll’s here, lady.”

She looked at him. “Colm O’Driscoll’s nephew. That Thomas O’Driscoll.”

There was silence, the men glancing at each other or staring at the ground suddenly. Ada glanced at Sadie who arched an eyebrow. That was different. The men would usually holler that they didn’t know a damn thing or plead that they didn’t know anything.

Ada returned her attention to them, looking from man to man. “Who can tell me where he is?”

The silence continued.

“Don’t make this hard for yourselves, boys,” Sadie called from behind her.

One of the men lifted his head and looked behind her, to Sadie, she thought. Then, he shot to his feet.

“Get ‘em, lads!”

“Shit,” Ada hissed as the men scattered and she spun, seeing a group of men running through the trees towards them, firing.

“Fuck, they must have gone out huntin’!” Sadie called as they ran for cover.

Darting behind trees, Ada gritted her teeth as the men they’d had captured moments before found their guns and joined in the firing. Flinching as bullets flew past them, some striking their trees, she looked to Sadie.

“Shit, there’s too many of ‘em, we better go!” Sadie called to her.

“We should spilt up and draw them off so they don’t follow us back to camp!”

Sadie nodded, gripping her rifle. “All righ’, I’ll meet you in Van Horn!”

“All right, be careful! I’ll give you cover!”

The trees were close enough together that Sadie could dodge bullets as she ran, weaving between them. Ada leaned out, firing at men. They were also hiding behind trees, though, giving no one an advantage. Bullets came from behind her, and she knew Sadie was firing to give her cover, so, taking a breath, she lunged to the left and ran. They had found the men at a top of the hill, so she took the route down the incline, sliding down it slightly.

“Go on, get ‘er! We got the other one!”

Oh, shit. Well, now I know the plan worked...

She sprinted as she reached the bottom, the men who were following her, mercifully, not firing. She and Sadie had left their horses some way back, near the road so they wouldn’t have drawn attention, but how the hell would she get to them from here?

She veered left suddenly, hoping she was going somewhat in the right direction.

“No, don’t, wait!”

No, thanks, I think I’ll keep running—

Something landed a little way behind her, and there was an almighty explosion. She grunted as the ground shifted beneath her, the force of it knocking her to the floor. She felt the heat of it on her back, the dust and dirt it threw up filling her lungs. Gasping in a breath, she grabbed the revolver that had fallen out of her hand and crawled forward, quickly pulling herself behind a boulder.

Coughing in to her arm to try and muffle the sound, she closed her eyes at the sound of movement several feet away.

“That’s his fuckin’ niece, you fuckin’ idiot! He’s been lookin’ for her!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know! Please, don’t, I—”

She jumped as a gunshot went off and a body fell, frozen in her spot.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @ntlmundy

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x ofc #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

Text

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT. AU) pt.4

04: Fraternizing with the enemy

Summary: A blast from the past, body painting and a possible threat?

Warnings: swearing, implying smut, angst

Word count: 3000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

Special thanks to @godlydolans for being in the story as Yashi Singh

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1389 years ago

"It took us three fucking years to get her to this point! Don't mess up now!" Hermes whisper shouts, pushing Apollo.

Apollo shoots his brother a disapproving look, followed by a subtle sneer.

"And I actually...like this one." Hermes admits shyly, almost as if he's ashamed of himself too.

Apollo's eyes widen, nearly popping out in shock and disgust for his brother.

"You like...a...human?" Apollo gags, shaking his head vehemently. The very thought nauseated him. Humans were never anything more than flesh to Apollo, not even now.

"We're meant to use them as a means to an end, not actually develop feelings, brother!" Apollo speaks matter of factually, still in disbelief that they're even having this conversation and only minutes before admitting the truth to Yashi Singh, their current reason for squabble.

"She's not...insufferable like the others." Hermes defends, only getting a backhanded slap from his brother.

"If you focused more on the task at hand, maybe we wouldn't be spending our immortality chasing mortal women in vain!" Apollo adds, turning back to the door in an instant once he hears them open.

A woman of mere five feet and seven inches walks in, lips pursed and that tiny freckle on her cupid bow a little more visible with the action. Black braids fall about Yashi's face creating soft shadows under her cheekbones, but the rest of her hair flowed down her back like black ink of a tilted piece of parchment. Her eyes are black, not soulless nor lifeless. Instead they are like two pristine stones of onyx, that light up with a purple flare when touched by candle light.

She tilts her head, revealing one of her golden earrings with one of her braids joining flowing ink on her back.

"Why are you here?" Her sharp tone takes the brothers by surprise, finding it unusual for she was nothing if not a classy, gentle soul. Hermes deemed her to be a hopeless romantic, while Apollo always knew despite her gentleness that she's also very stubborn and short tempered. It's unusual due to her heritage, Athena being her root to Mount Olympus, but they didn't think much of it.

"We needed to talk to you about something very important." Hermes speaks first, not giving Apollo a chance. He is the one that cares for the potter's daughter after all. He admired her pottery skills and even more her beautiful sketches. Her artistry demanded his respect and attention.

"If it's about you being gods of Mount Olympus, spare me. I know of your lies now." She lifts her head high, accentuating her sharp nose with the move, not failing to see the brothers pale once she uncovers their schemes in a simple sentence.

Six words...they knew it was over in six words.

"How?" Apollo asks, noticing Hermes is rendered speechless.

"Athena told me. It was enough for me to see through your lies and I can't believe I let myself care for either of you." Yashi puffed, turning her head to the side trying to forget how they affected her from the start.

The pull was undeniable, so pure and so strong that it took the breath from her lungs. The very first time Hermes smiled at her, she nearly had an orgasm right then and there, let alone when she let him take her in every way possible. She would have taken him as a husband without a second thought, but his deceit had made her heart close for him and there was nothing but a mist of hate in her heart and mind for him now.

She'd forgive his lies had they not mortified her pride and claimed her honor.

"Athena?" Apollo frowns, his incredibly handsome features darkening once he realized that the gods themselves are working against him and his brother. He couldn't understand how or why, wondering why that happened.

"She came to me in a dream and told me all of your dirty little secrets. Now I must ask you to leave at once and never return or the next time I see you I won't be as merciful, nor will my fiance." She dropped the news of her engagement on the brothers, ordering them removed from not only her home but city as well, effectively taking their chance of going home and crushing it to dust.

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Present

"I have rules, so listen up." Y/N licks her lips, trying not to stare at the rock hard abs that basically invited everyone's attention. It's impossible not to stare when two guys with godly physique are half naked before you.

"No touching while I work. Keep the chatter to a minimum...and bend your knees." She adds the last bit with a blush when Grayson's smile grows wide and alluding.

"Bend my knees?" He chuckles at her, suggestively raising his eyebrows and Ethan flicks his shoulder for the flirtation.

"So you don't faint, frat boy." She rolls her eyes at him to cover up how fast her heart is galloping inside her chest.

"Sure. But I can't promise to be quiet." Grayson bites his lower lip before smirking, forming a small dimple Y/N never noticed before, mostly because she both avoided to stare at his face and his company. Her eyes are enthralled with him.

His eyes were like crisp toffee drizzled in melted chocolate and framed with darling lashes. A button nose and burrowed cheekbones, his appearance only to die for. She couldn't help but notice leathery, nearly black strands flopping over his face which to her distaste are veiling some of his enticing features. So perfect, yet so frustrating that she could bear no social contact with that sensuous man.

"Fine." She huffed, reaching out and pushing back the loose strands of his hair back in place. It was an instinct more than conscious action, one that took her by surprise just as much as Grayson.

She blinked fast, realizing what she did, quickly gathering necessary paint to start her work on Grayson so he could let her poor heart rest.

"You know, I never liked this rule about KDRs and Kappa's not interacting." Grayson begins, his eyes flickering from Ethan who laid back on her bed in his underwear and fidgeted with his phone and back to Y/N and her laser focused gaze that burned his thighs thus making his job of keeping his downstairs in check much harder.

"Why is the rule in place anyway?" She looks up briefly, biting down on her lower lip to continue her work. She choose a turquoise paint, a blend of baby blue and green - colors they both love. She remembered that about him.

If that's not fraternizing with the enemy, what is?

"You don't know?" Grayson smirks, averting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment before deciding to inform her thoroughly.

"When Kappa's and KDR were first formed, our leaders were actually in love and dating. However, when they broke up, Kappa's house burned down the same night and Kappa's always blamed our frat for it. Since they didn't have a house and they refused to move in with KDRs as rules demanded, the Kappa sorority was out of commission in Dartmouth for the next two years, but they didn't stand idly by until KDR went down with them. They planted evidence and got our leader and two more members expelled from school and ever since then, the rule remained. It's to remind us that love can turn to hate and partnership to vengeance." Grayson explains, taking note of her small pause when her hand covered the last of his legs and the tattoos he acquired over the centuries.

"Sounds like Romeo and Juliet had they lived and gotten a divorce." She mussed, but her mind was all over the place. She must write it down in the Kappa's book, the sisters should know their history.

"Something like that." Grayson confirms, wiggling his hips lightly which prompted Y/N to giggle.

"Settle down Shakira, I'm done in a few." And with a few giggles in between, she finished Grayson and beckoned Ethan to stand in, deciding to paint him white and black. He always exuded a black and white aura in her mind.

"Do you ever miss home?" Ethan asks, knowing she's a freshman and probably has parents back home who love her.

"I...don't. My father's never home and my mum passed away a few years back." She answers, swallowing tears when her mother crossed her mind. She misses the people, but not the big, empty house.

"Do you?" She inquires before either brother has a chance to offer their condolences or pitiful looks she's used to receiving, but hates nonetheless.

"I do." Grayson interjects, looking to his brother.

"I don't." Ethan shrugs, like none of it hurts him. But he didn't lie.

Hermes likes Earth. He likes indulging himself in all earthly pleasures, women in particular. He's also very bitter about the last couple of years he spent in his world when he worked for Hades, his uncle. Hermes was his successor in case something happened, which made him gleeful. But when Hades took his sister Persephone as his wife against her will and tricked her to stay in the underworld forever...that really made everything impossibly hard for Hermes. He tried to save his sister, he fought for her freedom for he loved her and wished her to have a choice in those she spends an eternity with.

But he failed and he never forgave himself for that.

The only reason why Hermes would be interested in going back is to kill his dear uncle Hades and claim his throne, but never because he misses home. As far as he's concerned Mount Olympus can burn and all the treacherous gods that abandoned him and his brother can burn with it.

But that's not the only reason why.

Hermes doesn't think any girl will take him over Apollo, the actual patron of love and beauty and art. It's a complex from the past where Apollo was worshiped for his good looks and Hermes was more of a worker bee than worshiped by anyone other than the working class and the gods who appreciated him for being a messenger...and well, the dead who needed to cross over into the underworld who found him to be comforting and kind, despite his job. He liked his job for it gave him a chance to travel not only in this world, but other dimensions, however, it does leave one scarred and confidence damaged. He knows his fate is to live and die on Earth and he's made his peace with that.

"Oh." Y/N's unsure what to say, noticing some tension rise in the room, not wanting to start anything between the brothers. She focused on the task at hand, working her hands and her magic on Ethan's tattoos in order to cover them up, finding them just as dark as him.

She always felt Ethan has sharper features than Grayson. His cheekbones are more defined and his eyes are a little more intense which is why he's more intimidating than Grayson, but his entire body gives off a darker vibe, something she can't quite put her finger on, but knows is there.

"I, uh. I should warn you Blair had a video of us singing One thing and she wanted to use it against you." Ethan's words freeze her, making her nails dig into his sides unintentionally.

"Had?" Y/N's eyes connect with his. Ethan's expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his lucid eyes betrayed the poet and the dreamer. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked the bit of pain her nails caused.

"I may have stolen her phone and set it to factory settings." He glances at the phone he was so taken with previously, bringing about the brightest smile on her face. It destroyed any ounce of worry that overtook her features previously, making him very satisfied with himself.

"If we weren't in a house full of people who'd burn us at the stake, I would hug your mischievous ass right now!" She whisper shouts, jumping on her tiptoes ever so slightly from happiness.

"Your smile is reward enough." Ethan smiles back, genuine and soft for her.

Grayson clears his throat, ending their moment and reminding Y/N to keep working before someone suspects something.

Once done, the boys were all asked to leave and a very annoyed, tomato red Blair congratulated the girls before leaving them alone to their own devices.

Y/N immediately returned to her room, jumping to her bed with a deep sigh. She felt her mind wander like crazy, bouncing between two brothers who both seem to be interested in her which made the matter at hands much worse.

Even the sheets smelled of them after they spent hours rolling on them and she still couldn't force herself to change them. Grayson felt like - spring. He smells clean, like laundry and flowers freshly picked from the garden. Ethan is more musky - like autumn. His smell reminds her of earth after rain, the leafs and a touch of very expensive cologne.

She heard a peck on her window, making her roll on her stomach and lift her head only to find Grayson on his window with a large white paper and black letters she couldn't read properly until she stood and approached the window.

CHECK YOUR PHONE

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion, turning to her bed to grab her phone only to find a message.

Grayson: Took the liberty of adding my number to your contacts. Hope you don't mind.

He actually types full sentences instead of using abbreviations? I knew I like him for a reason.

Y/N: As long as it remains between us, it's not a problem.

She knew it wasn't right, but how can something so wrong feel so good?

Grayson: Wanna tell me about the art in your room?

Y/N looked around, finding only three paintings and all three looked different. One was a simple red rose, the other a cliff and the third...the one she liked the most was of the ocean at breaking dawn.

She stood up, closing in on the painting, watching every detail for it reminded her of something...of someone. And that's when she sees it - initials...her mother's initials in the bottom right corner.

Putting a hand to the initials, she feels her bottom lip quiver and her eyes brim with tears. There are more ways to immortalize your stay in a Kappa's room and her mother chose art - what she did best, her greatest passion.

She plops on the bed, staring up at the painting.

Y/N: It's my mum's. The ocean one.

She sniffles, seeing dots appear on her screen that indicate he's typing his response.

Grayson: Your mum was a very talented artist. That belongs in a gallery.

Smiling softly at the screen, she glances over her shoulder at Grayson who still stood at his window and he didn't bother hiding it or playing games with her. He's not running from the interest he's shown her and it's refreshing.

Y/N: Thank you for talking to me about this...I might have never seen it on my own. I owe you.

Grayson: Nonsense. I'm just happy you have a piece of her with you. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.

With the last message, she smiled at him, getting his famous tiny wave in return.

She turned the lights off, falling asleep with ease for the first time in a long time. Little did she know she'd be haunted in her dreams now as well.

Standing in darkness, Y/N found herself weary, but not scared. Not really.

"You're finally here." She hears a gaunt voice, turning in circles to find the source but failing until a spark of dark purple appears at her side and a woman takes form.

She stood before her, as clear as anything she had ever seen before, behind her a dark ocean turning wavy and a moon brightly shining, which in turn illuminations her face into almost a ball of light. Her eyes are emerald green, eclipsed by her pupils, her skin as pale as the very moon above her head. Her curved, nearly black lips resembled a smile, the black of her hair cascading down her face which perfectly matches her lavish black dress.

"Who are you?" Y/N whispers in wonder, feeling an unexplained connection to the woman before her, one reminding her of a connection she felt toward the gorgeous twins.

"Your past." The woman reaches out, her icy cold fingertips touch Y/N's shoulder, the black nail polish standing out against her skin.

"Your present." She starts to circle Y/N, her touch bringing shivers to Y/N's body.

"Your future." She steps before her, grabbing both her shoulders almost violently before a sneer-like smile takes her face.

"I am you and you are me and together...we'll bring the world to its knees."

Y/N wakes up, sitting up instantly. Her body drenched in cold sweat, her clammy hands shaken and her body numb and tingling from the nightmare...it felt too real.

Looking to her window, she sees Grayson's asleep, barely covered with sheets and a lot of the paint still clinging to his body. It helps her mind unravel and shake the dream off.

She sits in her bay window, watching Grayson instead of the sky until she lulls herself to sleep.

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Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @fallinginlove-16 @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid @dinnerwiththedolans @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck @godlydolans @flowery-dolan

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #ethan dolan x reader #Greek Mythology #GREEK GOD AU #greek gods #Apollo #Hermes #dolan twins greek god au #ethan dolan au #grayson dolan au

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