#but for the joke I’m afraid we’ll have to take their kettles away

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

One day I’ll do a TMA S1 thingy to that audio version of the tumblr post about boiling tea, because I can hear Elias yelling

“DO NONE OF YOU OWN A FUCKING KETTLE!?”

So clearly.

I must spread the vision.

[unknowncountrygirl]

Drunken Confession: Ben

Jae arrived in his typical outlandish behavior, wielding two large bottles of Fire Whiskey.

“Look alive boys, our Thursday night just got a lot more interesting!”

“Where did-” Charlie started but waved his hand, “you know what, never mind, I don't want to know.”

“I got cups in my trunk! Gather round boys, it's going to be a good night! Hope you don't have anywhere to go early in the morning.” He summoned his and Murphy's side tables and put them back to back to make a small table in the middle of the room. He then placed the two, rather large bottles on the tables, and went to dig in his trunk.

“This is?” Orion questioned, picking up one of the bottles.

“Irish brewed Firewhiskey, aged in barrels for years. It's the good stuff.” Jae mentioned, placing a array of cups on the table.

“You and I have different ideas of what good stuff is.” Murphy eyed the amber liquid that Orion was sloshing around.

Charlie got off his bed and walked over, looking at the small shot glasses.

“So... You brought it for us all to try?” He asked innocently.

“I have something actually more interesting in mind.” Jae said slyly. “Unless you are all a bunch of softies.”

“Hardly.” Ben replied deadpanned, picking up the second bottle to crack it open, and began to pour it into the glasses, filling them to the top. “What were you thinking Jae?”

“We've all known one another years now, lets get to know each other a little bit better.”

“This is your way of just trying to get information from us that you can blackmail us with later.” Murphy looked up at Jae, feeling very suspicious of him. Jae said nothing, just smiled slyly and took his shot before pouring himself another.

“Take a drink if you have ever used a unregulated potion, I'll go first.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Ben lifted an eyebrow, but played along and poured himself a drink before taking a drink. Charlie, Orion, and Murphy simply nodded as they were handed their own drinks, not touching the liquid to their lips.

“Take a drink if you've ever... Seen a dragon?” Charlie tried. Jae, Ben, and Charlie took long sips.

“You are going to have to include something that we have done.” Murphy almost pouted with a smile on his lips. “Like if you've been voted most dashing Quidditch Commentator.” It was silly, but an excuse to take a drink himself.

About 20 questions, some laughter, light conversation, and the entire first bottle of Fire Whiskey, most of the boys were starting to feel the effects. Ben and Jae held their liquor the best, more then likely because this was not either one's first time drinking underage. Charlie and Murphy were about one drink away from being completely gassed, and Orion was one away from finding world peace.

“Oh, I've got a good one.” Jae slurred slightly. “Take a drink if you've ever had a crush-” All the boys lifted their drinks, but Jae finished his thought, “on Iris!” They all laughed lightly, but the laughter died out when all five of the boys continued to take a shot.

Murphy and Charlie almost immediately sobered up, and Ben froze like a statue.

“Soooo, we have all had dreams of Iris Rosewood?” Orion clarified.

“Is that a question we are suppose to drink to?” Murphy questioned, looking down into his glass.

“More clarification, perhaps I shall word it this way...” Orion drawled, “if you have a crush on Iris.”

Again, the room fell silent as all five boys took another shot.

A couple of the cleared their throats, Jae coughed into his hand. It had become incredibly awkward, incredibly fast.

“This is uncomfortable.” Charlie broke the silence.

“You all may have crushes on her... But I've loved her.” Ben admitted, swirling his Firewhiskey in his cup. “We have been through too much, and she's been there every step of the way for me.” The other boys stopped murmuring and looked at him. “She brought color and vibrancy into my world and I repaid her by hurting her. Hell, all I ever wanted to do is make sure no one ever hurt her and I think by doing that I've been the one to hurt her the most.” He stated more to himself then anyone else in the room. “I think I've done so much damage that no matter how much I love her, what hope I ever had that she could reciprocate is gone. It died when Rowan did.” The air in the room when from light and jovial to heavy and dark in just a few sentences. “I'm going for a walk.”

“If you get caught after curfew-”

“What? Get detention?” Ben stood, grabbed a jacket of his that had been on the end of his bed and left the dormitory.

His foggy mind supplied that going to the Forbidden Forest was a good idea, and he headed that way. Thunder boomed and lightning popped overhead and he thought briefly about heading back but he continued.

Half way down to the forbidden forest, the sky opened up and let down a torrential rain like Hogwarts had not seen in a very long time. Ben hated getting caught in the rain and made a beeline for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half giant wouldn't mind if he waited out the storm in his house. In about twenty steps he was pushing the door open and going inside.

It was dry and he pulled his wool sweater off and shook his hair to remove excess moisture.

“Hagrid?” He called, but there was no light on and Fang lifted his head up to give him a look. He figured Hagrid must not have been there and walked over to the fireplace and put some logs in a pile to start a fire. He ran his hand over the mantle feeling for matches or anything, but decided to cast a simple spell to ignite the wood. There was instant warmth in the hut as he held his hands out, warming his fingers.

The door to the hut opened, and he turned, his wand at the ready to see a figure in the doorway that was far to small to be Hagrid.

“Ben?” The voice called, before stepping into the light of the fire.

“Iris?” He asked, sliding his wand up his sleeve. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for Moondew for growth potion, I need it for my Herbology project and Snape is being greedy.” Iris explained as she peeled her wet rain slicker off and hung it on the coat rack. “What are you doing out here? Isn't it past curfew?” Ben opened his mouth to tell her, she cut him off. “Never mind.”

“What?” “You'll just say something snarky and I've had a good day, so we'll just leave it alone.” Iris stated as she took out the little jar from her bag and inspected her Moondew leaves. He was about to remark that he wouldn't have done that, but that in itself would just prove her right.

She placed the small corked bottle on the table and stepped over to the fire.

“Where's Hagrid?” He asked.

“He's presenting at the Ministry about Thestrals. He won't be back until tomorrow I think.” She informed him, holding her hands out to the fire, a content look on her face. “Fancy a snack? I know where Hagrid keeps his tea, and I have some chocolate and orange scone in my bag.”

“Why do you have scones with you?”

“I wasn't sure how long I'd have to look for the Moondew, so I brought something to eat with me. Plus sometimes I have to bribe Fang to come with me.” She explained as she went to collect the tea he had stashed on a shelf and get the kettle ready over the fire. Ben felt himself blink rather hard, the effects of the Fire Whiskey starting to turn on him. He was suddenly very hot, and the room was a bit spinny.

He had already shed his sweater, and unbuttoned his collared shirt before he made to sit down on the rug in front of the fire. In hindsight, he should have sat farther from the fire, but he honestly wondered if he would even be able to make it to the chair without spilling himself on the floor anyway. Iris was also Head Girl, if she found out he had been drinking she would either have to report him or deal with it herself and he didn't want to incur her wrath.

He twisted his neck, feeling a pop that seemed to relax him as Iris held out a plate with the scones on it. He took a bite,

“these are really good. Did the house elves make this?”

“Oh no, I've made friends with Pits, he let me make some yesterday down in the kitchens.” Iris explained as she tenderly added the tea into a pot and poured the hot water into the hilariously floral teapot that Hagrid had.

“You could make friends with a dung beetle.” He joked, only partially. She laughed lightly.

They sat in silence for a while before the tea was ready and he watched as Iris poured the tea into two mix matched floral cups and handed him one. He reached for the cream and noticed that Iris blew on hers and drank it straight. It was a new little tidbit of information for him to lock away.

“Do you remember back in 2nd year, you wouldn't go up into the astronomy tower so we turned the artifact rooms ceiling into the night sky?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What made you think about that?” Ben asked as he looked over at her. She shrugged.

“We had tea and scones then, remember?” She gestured at the scones with her teacup. “I just... I like that memory.” Iris admitted.

“Back when I was afraid to even-”

“Would you just shut up!” Iris snapped, clacking her teacup loudly against the saucer. “It's a memory that makes me smile, and that I enjoy, why do you constantly try and belittle things that make me happy? Are you that full of bitterness anymore that you won't let anyone enjoy something as simple as a memory?”

“You're defensive tonight, what has you so wound up?” He snapped back just as angrily.

“I'm defensive?” Iris shouted, standing up to tower over Ben, ready for a fight that had been brewing for weeks. “You're the one that can't even let me relive a memory from when we were twelve without you belittling it!”

“I don't like reliving those memories, it was when I was weak-”

“It was when you were kind.” Iris cut in dangerously. He placed his hands on the floor and hoped that he could stand without falling over. He stood on his feet and looked down at her, truly looked at her for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Iris used to have this childlike innocence about her, with her round baby face, porcelain skin, blue eyes that were wide open for the world. He wasn't exactly sure when the last time he took the time to study her, more then likely before Rowan died, and it looked like everything she had experienced had finally caught up with her.

It was only a matter of time, one can only keep loading the camels back before something as simple as a napkin will break their back. He wondered when it was that Iris had finally broke, and wondered if anyone had even noticed. Iris was the unbreakable, she was the epitome of what people wanted to be, of course people thought she was sturdy as stone. They had taken her for granted.

Hell, he had.

Her lips were almost always in a natural smile, now seemed to be downturned in nature. Her eyes, those were what had grabbed him when he first made eye contact with her because he had never seen eyes that were just that blue, had always been bright and happy. Now, they looked like the good china that people put away for safe keeping, dust piling on it where you can see the color, its just muted. Everything about her seemed muted. Her skin, her hair, she was a soul with the weight of a Kingdom on her shoulders. There was more expectations on her at seventeen then that of twenty people.

Ben felt regret in his belly, and he couldn't keep up this conversation. He knew she was far too close and one push would send her over that edge. He had done enough to push her there, he wasn't going to be the one that pushed her to the breaking point.

“I'm not going to have this conversation.” He shook his head, beginning to button up the few buttons he had loosened earlier. Rain be damned, if he had to get soaked to get away from her and let her cool down, he would. He was just about to walk to the door when Iris called,

“You want to know what I think?” Iris told him firmly, it was not really a question but a thinly veiled declaration masquerading as a question. “I think that you're still terrified.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered over the door knob, and the rational part of his brain that would have told him to walk away was flooded by Firewhiskey. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She was not going down this time, and she was not going to be ignored. “You are still the terrified Muggleborn you always were, only it's the fear that people will still see you as that person.”

“I am not-”

“I can see it in your eyes! You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me.” She pointed at herself. “I know you better then anyone, Benjamin Copper!” It was a fact that was mildly terrifying, and he hated to admit that. “It's a different type of terror, but it's still there and it still controls you down to your core-”

“No it doesn't! I'm a not that person anymore!” He shouted at her. It wasn't the first time he had raised his voice at her, but it felt much different then the times before. Because she had struck a nerve.

He wasn't the one in control anymore.

His delicate control that he had been clinging to since after the buried vault was quickly disinigrating in his hands and he was scrambling to keep it.

“You haven't become brave, you've become cruel!” Iris told him. He could almost see it like an actual image in his mind, she was taking a sledge hammer to his carefully constructed statue of power, bravery and control. Others had chipped away at it, but Iris had come in and went for the Achilles heel that only she seemed to know existed. “Your trauma is what navigates every single decision you have made! Every decision has been made in fear from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts!” Another critical hit, cracks that could never be fixed started to grow threatening to topple over all of himself.

“That's not true!” He yelled back at her, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Really? Give me an example.” She dared him.

Her attack seemed to stop because she had chipped away and found the one part of his bravery that wasn't an act. That one tiny part of himself that had been bright and true since the beginning.

The part that she overlooked.

Because it was her.

“You.” He stated simply. Iris jumped a bit at the declaration, clearly not seeing his answer coming. “You terrified me. You were loud, outspoken, brave, already good at magic and dueling, you came from a pure blood family, and you were attractive. What wasn't intimidating about you? Especially to a muggleborn like me?” It was his turn to talk and he was going to seize the opportunity, as it seemed he had shocked her into silence in the middle of a fight. “But I approached you first, remember that? I thanked you for standing up to Merula. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I rejected that fear to talk to you because there was something about you that felt like a damn gravitational pull!” He took a step closer to her and she held her ground, starring up at him. Her eyes were still alight with fire but there was something else there, a vulnerability that he had seen in her eyes too often since the buried vault. “From brooms and books, to time in the artifact room, I cared about you more then I cared about anyone else, so much so that I went with you to the buried vault! Despite the fact that I thought I would die, I went because I cared more about you then I did myself!”

Iris's lips were in a tight line, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head.

“Ben don't.” She warned, almost knowing where he was going.

“You're right, every decision I have made has been in fear... The biggest fear I have above all others-”

“Ben stop!”

There was no stopping now. He had regained the control.

“The fear that some how, in some horrible way that I can't control, that you will be hurt or die because you put everyone ahead of yourself in the most reckless and honorable ways!” He felt like he had become a new man, and that he had become braver in the years since the buried vault, but the fire whiskey in his veins was a form of liquid courage that he was sure no potion could replicate. His thought process was interrupted by stinging on his cheek.

Iris had slapped him.  

“Don't you dare say it.” She warned, her voice like ice. “Not after the way you have treated me-”

“I love you!” He wanted to shout it at her, hoping that if he yelled louder then her that she would realize he was being truthful, but all it would do is prove her point that he had just became cruel. She closed her eyes, and he watched a her fight within herself, her fingers curled into fists and he was worried for a moment that she was going to deck him. “Iris.” He reached out and placed a hand over her curled fist, “I love you.”

She shook her head but made no effort to pull away from him. They had went to war with one another and now both stood in front of their dismantled battlements.

Iris was the first to move, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his sternum.  

“I miss you, Ben.” Iris almost sobbed. His hands let go of her fists, and wrapped protectively around her back, holding her tightly. He lowered his head, his nose resting on the top of her head and breathed deeply.

He had finally admitted it, and said it out loud, given it a sense of being. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and he didn't know he had been carrying it around with him.

“I'll work on being less cruel, and more kind again.” He promised her.

“I'll accept that.” Her hands that had been balled up and resting against him opened and she laid her palms and fingers out flat against his chest, before moving them up to wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug. She had to stand on her tip toes in order to get her chin to rest on his shoulders. “Remember when I used to be taller then you?” There was a lightness in her voice that he had missed, and he smiled.

“Yeah, now you're short.” He joked.

“You're no giant yourself.”

“At least I'm taller then you.”

“Everyone is, except for Professor Flitwick.”

“Even that's pretty close.” He laughed and she tapped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and smiled gently, placing the hand that had previously slapped him delicately on his face.

“I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“I'm just surprised it took you this long to slap me.” He told her honestly. “I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm going to endever to do better.” Iris nodded and wrapped her arms around him again and listened to how fast his heart was beating, and smiled, knowing hers was beating just as fast.

He had not expected his drunken evening walk to end like this.

[littlemessyjessi]

“Don’t Tempt Me”: Harry James Potter Imagine: Halloween Series

Harry James Potter x Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader There are still some spots available for my Harry Potter Halloween Series so if you're interested go and check it out and submit a request through the ask box. Prompt:  "My god, you literally fly around on a broom with a ball enchanted to beat the hell out of you and you’re afraid of a muggle horror movie?”   “Puppy eyes will not work on me.  If you jump in these leaves, I will murder you and wear your skin as my Halloween costume.” Requested by: @thestuffs-stuff​

In reality, it really should've come as no surprised that Harry James Potter, The Chosen One, celebrity extraordinaire of the wizarding world would end up with a muggle.

Love the wizarding community as he may...you were a breath of fresh air when you had no fucking clue who he was.

That was amazing to him ... especially after the fucking catastrophe that was the second war the part that he played in it.

But you... you were this undeniably sassy muggle who hadn't the foggiest who he was...or cared for that matter.

And he just found that more enchanting than any spell he'd ever seen.

It took a fair bit of convincing for him to win you over anyway and honestly, he figured he'd blown it the day he decided to tell you he was a wizard.

He understood the shock of course- having a good deal of his young life without the knowledge of magic and definitely not in believing he possessed it.

However, you took it surprisingly well ... even if you were determined to do things the muggle way.

Just as you were at that very moment.

He watched from the kitchen window in Godric's Hollow, the house his parents had together.

For the longest time, he resisted the very idea of it as it had also been where they died but eventually he decided that it was time to wash away the old memories and let new ones bloom.

New ones with you and when you were around everything just seemed so much better.

After a year of dating, he'd asked you to move in with him.

Harry loved you so much and couldn't stand the thought of not living with you any longer.

He'd proposed about fifteen seconds afterwards.

You promptly informed him that you weren't ready for marriage any time soon and you honestly didn't know if you ever would be and he accepted that.

"We'll take our time, love." he shrugged. "I'm in no rush just so long as I know you're around. You just let me know whenever you're ready."

It was a challenge- living together that is-  with him having become so used to doing things the wizarding way and you, of course, doing things the muggle way.

He had to remember at times how to do simple things.

However, he'd admit that sometimes you made life so much more difficult for yourself when he could literally just wave his wand and it'd be done.

But you were stubborn.

Which is exactly why the brisk autumn wind whipped at your cheeks as you raked the leaves smattering the back yard.

The kettle whistled and he didn't hesistate to pour your both a steaming cup of tea before heading out to give you a much needed break.

You were that way.

Once you got started, you had a bit of tunnel vision and you'd work yourself into a tizzy if it wasn't finished.

He admired your spunk and your drive...but sometimes you needed to chill out.

"Love." he called as he closed the door behind him. "Come have some tea."

"Just a minute, babe." you said. "I'm almost done."

"The leaves will still be there in a minute but the tea will be cold in that time." he said with a small smirk. "Now come on."

"Oh, fine." you said, leaning the rake against the fence and joining him on the swing.

You sipped the tea and your eyes closed at the taste.

"Harry James, you really do make a nice cup of tea." you complimented.

He twirled his wand around his fingers, "Thank you, love."

You rolled your eyes at him but the smile played at your lips.

Soon enough you'd finished your tea and you returned to your lawn tidying while Harry occupied the swing and just watched you.  

You lifted an eyebrow at him suspiciously and he feigned innocence.  

“Puppy eyes will not work on me.  If you jump in these leaves, I will murder you and wear your skin as my Halloween costume.” you threatened.

He held his hands up in surrender, "Don't mind me, love.  Just enjoying the view."

"Potter, if you're going to stare, the least you could do is help." you teased.

"Well, I tried to help last week and you yelled at me." he teased.

"I did not yell at you." you gasped. "I simply told you that not everything had to be done with a wand."

"You seemed to like my wand last night." he smirked.

"Harry!" you laughed in surprise.

He cracked at that, "I can't believe I just made the wand joke.  All of wizarding community would disown me immediately."

"I highly doubt that." you laughed raking the last of the leaves into a pile. "Now then, all finished. I just need the bags and then I'll be- Harry! How could you?!"

Two strong arms had promptly yanked you backwards into leaves where you crashed into a firm chest and colors of autumn danced around you.... before littering the lawn again.

Harry's laughter filled your ears and you tried to pummel him.

"Harry! James! Potter! You watched me do all that and then you- you- you- ugh! That's it! I'm skinning you and wearing you for Halloween! I warned you!"

"Oh, love!" he chuckled as he leaned up on his elbows and tried to kiss you.  "I'll clean it up!  Come on!"

"The muggle way!" you said and shoved him back into the leaves.

"The muggle way, yes." he agreed still trying to get a kiss.

"No you won't." you rolled your eyes.

"No, you're right.  I won't." he laughed and promptly flicked his wand and muttered an enchantment and the leaves were all tied nicely into big black bags by the fence.

You glowered at him, “Don’t tempt me.” 

"Aw, come on, love." he said trying his best to tickle you into a good mood.

"You're watching The Exorcist with me." you informed him and he paled instantly.

You rolled your eyes, "My god, you literally fly around on a broom with a ball enchanted to beat the hell out of you and you’re afraid of a muggle horror movie?”  

"Love, that's different.  That little girl is bloody creepy." he said with a shudder.

"I can not believe I'm going to marry such a wuss." you said throwing your hands up.

Harry froze for a moment before rocketing up to look at you.

"Wait...what?" he asked, those emerald eyes of his searching yours.

"I said, I can't believe I'm going to marry such a wuss." you clarified.

"Marry?" he asked.

"Yes, marry." you said. "That is if you still want to be my husband. Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" he said tackling you. "Yes, love.  Anything you want.  I don't care where or what or how.  I'm in.  Let's do it!"

You erupted into a fit of giggles, "Alright, Mr. Potter.  A wedding it is.  And I suppose if I'm to be reasonable about it, we can do things your way.  With magic.  But for the love of God, I will be having some muggle traditions."  

"Anything you want, Future Mrs. Potter." he said, lips against yours. "I don't care if we get married in a pile of leaves by a Squirrel Priest."

And at that, you nearly passed out from laughing too hard.

Fin.

Hope you enjoyed, loves!

All my love, Mama Kennysaurus

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[tma-more-like-suffering]

How to Successfully Attempt Murder

starring, Elias Bouchard as the murder victim.

A/N: So even though this technically isn’t a reader insert, its still in second person because- uh- because I’m currently stuck writing in second person? Like, okay, I’m having fun, alright? Lemme be.

But hey. For everyone who has repressed feelings of anger towards one Jonah Magnus, this one’s for you.

-

"Hey Mel- oh. Are you... going somewhere?"

Melanie startles, almost dropping the cup of coffee she has clutched in one hand. You stop just shy of the kitchenette doorway, feeling awkward for have accidentally snuck up on her.

"Jesus- I didn't hear you coming at all."

"Yeah... sorry. What're you doing?"

"I'm-" her expression goes through a series of stages, each somehow more interpretive than the last, "I- I went out to get coffee, that's all. And I thought I'd bring some for Elias..."

You squint at her, suspicious, "Elias?"

You don't know how, but Melanie's expression remains completely smooth beside the slight twitch of her eye, "Yes."

"Riiiight." You know that she can probably tell you don’t believe her. Still, you gesture at the cup, "You're going up to deliver that to him, then?"

Melanie glances down at the beverage, "Ah- yeah." She pauses, seemingly thoughtful, before her eyes settle on you again, "D'you wanna come up with me?"

Frankly, Melanie is acting very suspiciously right now. You know for a fact that this isn't just her 'having' gotten Elias a coffee while she was out. But you don't quite know what she's actually up to, and you have a feeling that something is about to happen.

"Alright, I'll come with."

-

You're standing beside the door to Elias's office, falling just outside his line of sight. Melanie told you to wait out here as she delivered her 'coffee' but left the door ajar just so that the conversation inside can be easily overheard.

"-I assume you don't believe me, then? That murdering me would also kill you?"

You can only imagine what kind of look must be on Melanie's face, right about now, "I-I-I don't know what you're..."

Despite the topic of conversation, Elias sounds unnervingly calm. You're not even the one who’s tried to kill him and yet you still feel a twinge of annoyance, "Coffee is not as good for disguising tastes as you might think. And it's even worse at disguising texture. Dissolved pills always leave such a- hm- chalky residue."

Melanie bristles, "Look, Elias, I never-"

"I assume this is your first time attempting to poison someone." You silently shake your head. Poor Melanie, Elias doesn't even sound fazed, talking about an attempt on his life like he's just scolding her for coming into work late, "Do you actually know how many painkillers it takes to kill someone, or were you just hoping I'd take enough to get sick, and you could finish the job... manually?"

Melanie takes a deep breath, but even from here you can hear the fine tremor underneath it, "Why...? Why bother asking then? Why bother if you know everything?"

Elias chuckles, unperturbed, "I don't know everything, Melanie. Do you know how exhausting that would be?

"I'll tell you one thing I don't know," he continues, "and that's how to convince you that I'm trying to help. Honestly, you're one of the lucky ones. But not if we're all dead thanks to an... overzealous-" you wince, "-attempt at independence."

Melanie sounds like she's gearing up for a fight, like a toy with its key turned too many times, "I don't need you to-"

Elias interrupts, speaking with an infuriating condescendence, like he's just turning down Melanie's request for a promotion the third time this month, "Let's have no more clumsy assassination attempts, alright? And we'll say no more about it. Consider this your first warning." His voice swoops lower, quieter, dangerous, "Next time I shall have to escalate matters, and that won't be a pleasant process for anybody."

A pause for dramatics. "Understood?"

Melanie grits out her own assent, "Yes."

Melanie seems now to be a problem neatly taken care of and filed away, never to be considered again except maybe for his own occasional amusement. There's an audible smile in Elias's voice, "Good."

Next thing you know, Melanie storms out of the office and straight past you, looking too angry to have remembered that she left you standing there. You blankly watch her go, mind spinning in lazy circles while considering the conversation you overheard.

"Will you close the door before you leave, Alex?"

You don't bother to stop long enough in his office for a chat of your own.

-

It’s curious, really.

He said, 'I don't know everything. Do you know how exhausting that would be?'

He's some form of omniscient, that's for sure. Maybe like a maid working in a Victorian household, always on top of the gossip. Whether that be creating the gossip himself, or simply being the agent who spreads it, that depended on the time of day.

But he can't know everything, all the time. Because that would be too much.

Which means there are loopholes.

"Hey Rosie."

Little nosy Rosie looks up, smiling politely as you stop by to say hello. It's not a very comfortable smile, because anyone who's anyone knows to stay well away from the Archives and their staff. Not Rosie though, little Rosie has quite the fine palette for juicy bits of gossip, reason why she bothers talking to the lot of you, "Hello Alex. Everything well in the Archives?"

You wave your hand dismissively, "We're getting along, I suppose. Lot of excitement with all that murder business, you know how it is."

There's that gleam in her eyes now, that 'oh, what's this?' gleam of curiosity, "Not quite, no. Listen, did I hear it straight that Jon's back? Even after being accused of murder?”

You shift, getting yourself comfortable leaning against Rosie's desk, "Well, they dropped the charges, right? Turns out they had it all wrong, Jon wasn't the one who took a pipe to some old man's head. I mean, look at him? D'you think he'd do it?"

Rosie squirms under your gaze, looking distinctly guilty, "I suppose not. He's a bit of an arse sometimes but- maybe not murder."

"Oh, it's all right Rosie, if my body ever turns up dead you know where to look." You wink. Her lips quirk up in a smile. It's just a spot of joking you two are doing here, really. You turn your head then, just slightly, pretending to look around a bit when you spy a tea kettle boiling away in the corner. "Having a cuppa?"

"What?" She follows your gaze and startles, "Oh! No, no, that's for Mr. Bouchard. He takes his tea this time of day."

You make a low noise in the back of your throat, casually interested but not obviously, "That so. You deliver his tea all times of the day, then?"

Rosie gives you a bemused look, as if she suspects you're trying to turn your nose up on the fact that part of her job is to bring tea to her boss. "It's only twice a day. He's never broken from schedule, doesn't bother me for it otherwise."

You hum an empty agreement, "Seems like the kind of man to keep on schedule."

"I should get to that actually," She pushes away from her desk and starts to her feet, "The water's probably done."

"Yeah, alright." You push off of her desk, giving her nod as you wander over to the door of her office, "Nice chatting with you Rosie. You should come down to visit the Archives sometime."

The last thing you see is her indulgent smile, the kind you give someone when you're only putting up with them until they're gone. In this case specifically, it's a -I don’t want to get caught up in whatever goes down there in the Archives, no thank you- kind of smile.

Oh well. You got what you came for anyways.

It's rather easy after that.

A month of seeing neither hide nor hair of him, Jon comes back. He looks remarkably harried, and you don't think you'd have even noticed him coming into work had you not been in the reception area during that time. As such, you watch him rush straight past you and for the stairs, and you can make a guess for where he's headed with a single-minded focus like that. It seems like Elias has a lot to do with the nonsense that occurs down in the Archives, and people can't be happier having someone to blame.

You pop down in the Archives and tell Martin that Jon's back. He sighs in relief. Even before becoming scarce at his own workplace, it was always Martin that Jon kept the most contacts with, only to completely drop off the grid these last few weeks. Somewhere in the midst of your conversation Melanie comes marching in, a crazed look in her eye, and you know what she's planning too.

I mean, what better time than when the boss-bossman is distracted, eh?

An uncomfortable few seconds of watching Melanie stomp about before she leaves, the door closing behind her with a bang. Martin sighs tiredly and you know that he wishes she would just stop with all of this. These days, he’s more and more like a tired father of two toddler who has accepted his horrible lot in life, and yet still his children continue to insist on making it worse.

You give him a comforting little pat on the back. As far as you’re concerned, it's their loss if they insist on putting their heads in the lion's mouth.

Heading upstairs, you find Rosie's office empty. It must be if she’s settling the little dispute going on up in research. The kettle is however turned on, because Mr. Bouchard has always been a man of schedule.

It's easy, to slip in something into the water.

-

Elias can't know everything, all the time.

He knows he needs to keep an eye on his Archivist's development. The brunt of his gaze has always rested on Jon and it’s obvious that none of you Assistants can ever hope to stand in the same regard, not really.

Elias keeps an eye on Melanie. Melanie is unstable. She doesn't like her actions being controlled; she doesn't like being trapped here in this place. Never mind that she agreed to join the Institute on her own violation, it's her free will that matters to her now, or at least the illusion of it. Melanie is the kind of person who isn't afraid to fight for what she wants.

Elias keeps an eye on Tim too, though he pretends he doesn’t. It just makes sense. Tim is almost like Melanie, but he's been beaten down too much too soon, and won't take it out on Elias. His target is instead Jon, who seems to be at the center of most of his problems and is a much easiertarget. As long as that continues to be true, Tim is content on simply being indirectly snide towards Elias.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on Martin. Oh, he knows that Martin is just as angry with him as any of others, but Martin has never been the kind of person to do anything about it.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on you. You know what people think of you. That you're kind of an airhead. Always lost in your head, can't be bothered with the world outside it half the time. You're the kind of person that likes keeping their head down and quietly working away at your desk, and that hasn't much changed since... well, everything.

Nah. The murder thing isn't even on the top of your list. You'd just like some peace and quiet down here, for once. And, well, Elias seems to be the root of everyone's problems, including yours...

Still, there's no point in doing anything without at least enjoying the results. You researched extensively on what kind of poison to buy, taking into mind Elias’ oh-so-kind lecture to Melanie about picking your poison. It wouldn’t have done for him to taste something off about his tea the moment he took the first sip.

So, after exactly the time it would take for his tea to kick into effect, if you compensate for the time he would take to drink enough of it, you check in on Elias.

The first thing you see is the man collapsed onto his desk, eyes wide open and mouth frothing. The second you see is Jon, staring at the now dead body in front of him with surprise.

"Oh. It worked."

Jon's eyes snap toward you, "Wh- Alex? Did you do this?!"

You rub at your ears at the pitch of Jon's voice, an octave or two higher with hysteria, "I didn't know it'd work, you know?"

"You killed him!"

You shrug, slipping inside the room. "Sure." You can't be bothered to close the door behind you as cross over to the desk. Jon scampers out of his own seat, edging warily to the other side of the room. He can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn't call the cops immediately.

You check for a pulse on the body and find it missing.

From the furthest corner of the room, Jon stutters, "Y-you're insane."

You can't be bothered with an answer.

Fascinatingly enough though, Elias's eyes are still moving. They rove around wildly in his sockets, almost like they're the only way he can convey his surprise at being got. It's still unnatural though, and you have the strangest surety that it's an important detail.

Jon by this point has left the office, and you should really clean up here before someone comes in. Still, it almost feels like things aren't finished here. You have the strangest sense when it’s obvious that a story hasn't reached its conclusion.

You cast about the room and stop at the pen stand, holding fancy fountain pens that look like they cost more than your entire salary. You grab onto one, sliding the cap off by neatly jamming your thumb nail into the line where the cap meets the body of the pen, and look down contemplatively at the eyes that have stopped pinballing wildly, fixed on you. They almost look scared.

Well. This is going to get messy. At least you know that Melanie will be willing to help you clean up the body.

Tip of the pen poised; you get to work.

[freddiesaysalright]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 5

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @namelesslosers, @headl0ng, @captvianswaan, @folietracksix​, @baltimoresweethearts​, @killer-queen-87​, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil​, @misslolasworld​, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen​

A/N: It’s the grand finale! Thank you again for all the lovely responses to this fic! I can’t believe I’m almost done with the Disney AUs already! also i barely proofread this because i was so excited to post it so if you see a typo no you didnt

Warning(s): brief descriptions of abuse

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

Frank and his daughters came home about an hour after you did. You were already back in your servant clothes and waiting by the door. You took their cloaks and bags, and began hanging them on the rack in the main hall. 

“How was your night?” you asked politely. 

“It was a splendid evening, Y/N,” Frank answered. “More than you could ever hope for.”

“I’m sure it was,” you returned, holding back a smirk. If only he knew. 

“I’m relieved to see you have not stolen anything else from my wife’s closet,” he sneered.

You shook your head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been thoroughly educated.”

“Very good,” he said, seeming displeased that he couldn’t goad you. 

But nothing could spoil this night. It was perfect. 

“Is there anything you need before going to bed?” you asked. 

“I’m fine, but you’ll of course help the girls get changed,” he said. 

You nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He watched you suspiciously as you followed your step sisters up the stairs. You were calm. Too calm. And you were humming, which you didn’t normally do. Plus the tune was something he had heard somewhere - but no event would have had you in attendance. His frown deepened. Something was up.

***

Gwilym returned to the palace two hours later, empty handed and broken-hearted. Rami and Ben were waiting on the steps for him, but as he walked up, he only shook his head. They sighed, disappointed for their friend. Thankfully, the remaining guests had all gone home. 

“Sorry, mate,” Ben said. 

“There was no sign of her?” Rami asked. 

“No,” Gwilym said. “Even the carriage tracks just seemed to disappear. It was like she just vanished.”

“So, all we’ve got to go on is the shoe?” Ben wondered, holding it up. 

Gwilym had only entrusted his best friends with it, and they had kept it from his father. 

“It’s made of glass,” Gwilym said. “Which means it only fits her.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Rami asked. “Try the shoe on every woman in the kingdom?”

“Only the single women,” Gwilym said, as if it were obvious.

Rami and Ben shared a surprised look. 

“I hope you’re joking,” Ben said. 

“Far from it,” Gwilym replied. “I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to marry her.”

Rami sighed. “Very well, then. But let’s start in the morning.”

“Thank you both,” Gwilym said, relieved. They had every reason to leave now. Both had duties at home, and had done what was socially expected. With the ball over, there was no obligation to stay. “Really.”

“Of course we’re gonna help you,” Ben said. “But I’m with Rami. Starting tomorrow.”

“You guys go on up, I’ll be right behind you,” Gwilym insisted. 

His friends shrugged, but did as he requested and went inside. Gwilym remained, holding that glass piece of you carefully in the crook of his arm. He looked out into the night sky, hoping somehow you could feel his desperation. 

“I am coming for you, my darling,” he said quietly. 

***

You yawned as the sun peered into your room through your curtains. You were feeling unusually light this morning. Like you were still floating just above the ballroom floor. With a contented sigh, you stretched and forced yourself out of bed. Frank and the girls would be needing their breakfast soon, but you knew you had a little extra time today. They’d certainly have a bit of a lie in after the late night. 

You threw your dress and apron on. You did a spin around your room, giggling as you imagined Gwilym there with you. Then you had to slow to a stop. It was a fantasy, nothing more. One glorious night. But now it was time to return to reality and your true life. Still, you could cling to the dream for one morning.

Humming to yourself, you put the pot on to boil and began prepping plates for breakfast. You set a pan atop the stove to start some sausages when you heard the jingle of a bell. You looked at the wall. It was coming from Eleanor’s room, so you guessed she was up. You asked Elsie to start the food and went back upstairs to get your step sister dressed. When you reached the landing, you saw Frank emerging from his room, already dressed. 

“Good morning,” you said kindly. 

“Y/N, what did you get up to last night?” he asked. 

“Why, nothing, sir,” you said. “I cleaned up, as you instructed, changed clothes, and got a head start on some other chores. When those were done, I occupied myself by reading.”

He seemed skeptical. “I see. I hope you weren’t reading anything too fanciful. You mustn’t fill your mind with...unrealistic dreams and fantasies.”

Your brow furrowed with confusion. What was he implying?

“No, sir,” you said. “I try to keep everything practical.”

“Good,” he said. “Now get to work.”

You nodded, a bit perplexed, but continued into Eleanor’s room.

***

In the morning, Gwilym was the first up. He hardly slept at all. He wrote a decree for his father to send out, that he and Ben and Rami would be making the rounds through town and the countryside to find the owner of the missing shoe. They would begin today, and search until the prince had found his lost love.

To his shock, the king agreed to this. He read over it at the breakfast table, nodding at each point. The ladies were to try on the shoe and if it fit, it must be the girl who Gwilym met at the ball.

“Very well,” he said. “You’ll begin today?”

“Yes,” Gwilym said. “I want to find her as soon as possible.”

“Alright, son,” the king replied. He looked at the prince and offered a sincere smile. “And best of luck.”

Gwilym beamed. “Thank you, Father!”

And so, they began their search within the palace, where the out of town noble guests were staying. Gwilym had his doubts about those girls because he met them before you even came through the door. But he knew everyone deserved a fair chance. When the shoe fit none of those women, they made their way into town, with a few guards along for protection. 

***

Frank received a letter from the palace early in the morning. He looked it over and you saw a flash of...something cross his face. You couldn’t place the emotion though. It seemed almost like a glimmer of hope. His eyes glanced over at you before quickly turning to his daughters. 

“Girls, get yourselves looking nice,” he said. “We’ll be having visitors from the palace this afternoon.”

“The palace?” you questioned, without meaning to, but you could hardly help yourself. 

“Yes, but that isn’t any of your business, Y/N,” he snapped. “Get my daughters ready and then proceed with your chores as usual. You are not to make your presence known while the visitors are here.”

You nodded apologetically. As you made your way back to the kitchen, you wondered if the visitors Frank referred to could be Gwilym and his father. Was he looking for you? Something in your heart told you he was, but you hardly even dared to hope. Such a thing was the stuff of dreams. And yet, the ball seemed like a dream too, but it was as real as the tea kettle you carried. You began devising a plan. 

As the day wore on, you completed your chores quickly. You wanted to prepare yourself as well. Your gut was telling you Gwilym was on his way to take you away from here. And you had all the proof you needed in that slipper that was hidden beneath your bed. So when you finished sweeping the entrance hall, you ran up to your room to get it. Only, when you opened your door, you came to an abrupt stop. Frank was sitting on your bed, holding the slipper by the heel. One wrong move of his fingers and it would fall, risking a break. 

“Well, well, well,” he said darkly. “I had a feeling you had made your way to the ball. You’ve been far too dreamy to have had as dull a night as you claim.”

Your heart rate quickened. 

“That’s mine,” you said, feeling childish as the words left your mouth. “It was given to me.”

Frank laughed humorlessly. “Oh, likely story. I suppose this is another one of my wife’s things you stole.”

“You cannot stop me from this,” you said, ignoring the accusation. “The prince loves me.”

“Against his better judgement, I believe that’s true,” he admitted.

You blinked, surprised at your step father’s nonchalance about this. Did that mean he would accept it? No. There had to be something else he was getting at. 

“As it is, though,” he said. “You’re spoken for.”

You frowned as your stomach dropped. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. 

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket with his free hand. “And mine alone.”

A chill ran down your spine. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

“I’m not a slave, Frank,” you said. “I am free to do this.”

“I do not intend to make you my slave,” he said. “I intend to make you my wife.”

Your body went rigid as the blood ran out of your face. The very idea made your stomach churn. The thought of being his wife, sharing his bed, bearing his children...you nearly heaved right there in front of him.

“No,” you said firmly. “I won’t.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he said. 

“It’s sick!” you cried. “I’m your daughter!”

“Step daughter,” he said. “I will have this estate, Y/N. You will do for me what your mother could not. My son will be the true and rightful heir, and start a new line.”

“Are you not happy with the children you have?” you wondered, completely rocked to your core. “Why do you insist on a son?”

“Sons are the only useful offspring,” he scoffed. “Daughters are just mouths to feed until you can marry them off, and even then, what’s theirs will never belong to their family. It belongs to their husbands. Well, I am not going to lose everything because my previous wives were too weak to give me what I want.”

“I will not,” you refused again. “I’ll run away.”

“And leave behind your home?” he taunted. “The one your father built so lovingly with your mother?”

“It will no longer be a home to me if I am trapped in such a marriage,” you said. 

“I’m not giving you a choice, Y/N,” he sighed. “I’ll keep eyes on you everywhere, I’ll lock you in your room, whatever it takes. Or, you can submit to me now and become mistress of this house as you were born to be.”

“I’ll die before I marry you,” you spat. “I’ll die before I bear any child of yours. I’ll -”

“No need to go on,” he said. He was being alarmingly calm about this. “I know the rest. But you will marry me, Y/N. You will have my son, and you’ll do it all without complaint. Just as you have with everything I have ever given you.”

You blinked again. So everything he’d put you through was a test? A way to manipulate you into obeying his every command? He was...grooming you? Your stomach gave another lurch.

“But first,” he said. “We will need to squash your dreams of Prince Gwilym.”

“What do you -”

He cut off your question by hurling your slipper into the wall. It shattered with a crash, which drowned out your anguished cry. You sank to your knees, hopeless. 

“There now,” he said. “I’m only teaching you the harsh lesson of reality.” 

Tears fell freely down your cheeks. You heard loud knocking at the front door, but barely registered it. 

“That’ll be him,” Frank said. 

You snapped to your senses and started to rise for one last desperate escape attempt, but Frank was faster. You felt the blow of his palm against your cheek before you even saw it coming. You fell to the ground, face throbbing. You wanted to scream, or cry, or swing back at him, but you were completely numb from the shock. You couldn’t feel anything but the sting on your skin.

“Do not resist me again, Y/N,” Frank warned. 

With that, he walked out of your room, and you heard him turn the lock. You were trapped. You curled into a ball on your floor and wept quietly. 

***

Gwilym was relieved when the door finally opened. This was the last house of the day. He saw a man there, whose smile was...unconvincing to say the least. He bowed. 

“We are happy to see you, Prince Gwilym,” he said. “I am Frank Tarleton, and I believe one of my daughters is the girl you’re searching for.”

Gwilym raised a brow. “But you don’t know which?”

Frank blinked, taken aback, and then laughed an empty sort of laugh. “Good one, your highness. Please, come in.”

Gwilym looked at Ben and Rami who both shrugged. They followed Frank inside and into the drawing room, where two young women sat on the couch, looking nervous. Ben explained everything, with Frank nodding eagerly along. Something about the man struck Gwilym as slimy. He was too polite, too eager to please, and it seemed even his own daughters were made uncomfortable by him. Gwilym sighed. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled. 

He was beginning to lose hope. Who was left, if not these girls? And yet, neither of them struck him as the one he was looking for.

***

You listened carefully at your door, not daring to make any more noise. If Frank returned, he might do worse than strike you. But you could listen to what was happening downstairs. 

It was a bit maddening to hear, though. To be so close to Gwilym now, and yet so far. To be a prisoner now in your own home was worse than being a servant. And the worst part was seeing the proof of your identity lying in pieces beside you. You felt like the slipper. Broken. Completely in pieces. Like your dreams too. 

You heard the front door open and close again. You went to your window and watched Gwilym mount his horse, his friends on either side of him, and trot away toward town. Was that truly the last time you would see your love?

It couldn’t be. Now, you could hear Frank’s familiar footsteps coming back up the stairs. You knew you had to make a break for it as soon as he opened the door. You braced yourself. You had no time to pack anything, no time to grab money or valuables. You would have to break away with nothing but the clothes on your back and a prayer. 

You watched the doorknob turn, feeling as if everything was in slow motion. It creaked slowly open and Frank’s body appeared in the door frame. He reached for you, but you ducked under his arm, darted down the hall, flew down the stairs, and straight out the front door. 

You ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even daring to look back to see if Frank was in pursuit. You just hurtled toward town, hoping that anyone could help you. You would give up your home, and everything you knew - you would even give up your life - before marrying Frank. You had to escape, even if it meant becoming a beggar. 

You burst through the back door of the tavern, tears streaming down your cheeks, and chest heaving. Flying through the kitchen, you threw open the doors to the dining area and found Zelda behind the bar. She looked up at the commotion you were making, took in the sight of you, and her brow furrowed. 

“Zelda, please!” you cried, frantic. “I need help!”

You went to her, and she took you in her arms. 

“Y/N, what’s -”

She didn’t get to finish her question before Frank came barreling through. He must not have been far behind. You let out a scream. Zelda pushed you behind her and you cowered at her back. She put her arms out to shield you further. 

“Zelda, remove yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Frank threatened. 

“Don’t, Zelda, please!” you begged. “Don’t let him take me! He’s going to force me to marry him! Please!”

She stiffened in front of you. “Oh, no you don’t, Frank. I will not stand by and let you do this.”

“Stand back or you’re fired,” he warned. 

“I don’t care,” she shot back. “I won’t let you have her!”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to you,” he returned harshly. 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to move her, but Zelda was a stout woman with considerable strength. She resisted him, taking hold of his biceps and forcing him back several steps. Her advantage was clearly gained by the element of surprise. 

“Run, Y/N!” she cried. “Get out of here!” 

Panicked, you leapt over the counter and wrenched the door open. You threw yourself out of it, trying to ignore the sounds of the struggle behind you. You darted into the street and sprinted as fast as you could away from the tavern. You had no idea where you would go from here - but you could not stay and be forced into a lifetime of Frank. 

You glanced back. To your horror, you saw that Frank was emerging from the tavern and had spotted you right away. With a gasp, you turned back around and sped up. Only, as you turned, you didn’t realize what was in front of you. You ran right smack into a man’s back. The force of the collision put you on your rear in the dirt. 

Wincing, you looked up. Your jaw dropped. It was Gwilym!

He met your gaze and froze as well. For a moment, you were both back at the ball, when he’d come up to you on the stairs and asked you to dance. He recognized you instantly. 

“It’s you,” he whispered. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sudden stinging on your scalp caused you to cry out instead. Frank had fisted his hand around your hair and dragged you to your feet. 

“Your highness!” he gasped, noticing Gwilym. “I do apologize. My servant here has forgotten her manners.” He looked at you and continued through gritted teeth. “And her place.”

He yanked your hair on the last word for extra emphasis. Gwilym’s chest tightened as he watched Frank manhandle you. He briefly imagined himself drawing his sword and plunging it right into Frank’s chest, but he refrained. 

“Release her,” he ordered. 

Frank looked at the prince, bewildered. 

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

Gwilym’s expression darkened. “I told you to release her.”

Frank hesitated. 

“Now!” Gwilym shouted. 

You relaxed when Frank finally let go. Your scalp still itched with soreness. You desperately wanted to throw yourself into Gwilym’s arms but you were still afraid of what Frank might do. You did take a cautious step back. 

“Your highness, I’m dealing with an unruly servant girl,” Frank said. “But she is mine and I may do with her as I please.”

Your lip trembled and you shook your head. 

“That’s not true,” you sobbed. “You know it’s not, I’m your step daughter and you’re forcing me to -”

“SILENCE!” Frank roared, and raised his hand.

You shrieked and covered your face with your arms. But the blow didn’t come. You peeked out, lowering your shield just barely. Gwilym had taken hold of Frank’s wrist. Rami and Ben, who you just noticed being present, both had their hands on their swords. Now was your chance. 

“Don’t let him take me back,” you begged again. “Please, your highness, don’t let him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Zelda trotting up the street. She halted when she took in the scene before her. 

“Sir Tarleton,” Gwilym said, releasing Frank’s arm. “We were at your home and I asked you if you had any more women residing there besides your daughters. You lied.”

“It wasn’t a lie, really,” Frank argued. “Just an omission. You see, there’s no way this girl was at the ball when I forbid her from going.”

“If that’s true, then you are still in trouble,” Gwilym said. “All eligible maidens were to attend.”

“She’s only a servant -”

“I know you’re lying, Tarleton,” Gwilym interrupted. “Now stand down.”

Frank stepped away from the prince, shooting glances between him and you. Gwilym turned to Ben.

“The slipper please, Ben,” he said. 

“No!” Frank protested, starting toward you, but Rami stopped him.

Ben handed Gwilym the slipped you’d left behind on the staircase. You wiped your cheeks, clearing away the dirt and tears, and held your prince’s gaze. You smiled at him.

“I knew you were the girl from the tavern,” he said gently. “I knew I recognized you.”

“And the cemetery,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I remember.”

“How did someone like you even notice someone like me?” you wondered, amazed. 

“Because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he told you simply. “Inside and out. And from that moment in the cemetery I saw what you truly are - a princess.”

You flushed, looking bashfully at the ground. 

“I’m not really a -”

“Maybe not by birth,” he said. “But in heart.”

You met his eyes again. Those eyes that from the first time you saw them, told you the kindness of this man’s soul. 

He knelt down onto one knee, holding out the slipper. It made you ache for the lost one Frank smashed, but you were relieved that you had left one behind at the palace. You toed off your boot and raised your leg. Ben stepped closer to help you balance and you shot him a grateful look. Then, you slid your delicate foot into the glass slipper. It fit perfectly. 

Gwilym’s face lit up like a firework. Ben let go of your hand as Gwilym laughed, took you up in his arms and spun you around. You giggled with joy as well. He lowered you gently to the ground.

“Now, will you please tell me your name?” he asked. 

You chuckled. “It’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N,” he repeated, and cupped your cheek in his palm. “How beautiful.”

“No!” Frank shouted again, and this time Rami had to grab him to stop him. “No! You cannot take her from me!”

“The girl does not belong to you,” Gwilym said sternly. He turned and faced Frank. “I see very clearly now that you have been mistreating her. She is free to choose whatever she likes.”

“I’m her father!” Frank insisted. 

“Step father,” you said. Then you looked up at Gwilym. “I choose you, my love.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Sir Tarleton, you’ll be taken into custody.”

Frank’s eyes went wide as the guards moved to take him from Rami. They clapped iron rings around his wrists. He seemed too shocked to struggle. 

“Take him to the dungeon to await trial for his crimes,” Gwilym instructed. He faced you again. “And you, my darling, may come with me to the palace.”

“For how long?” you wondered. 

“Forever, if you wish it,” he assured you. 

“I could hardly wish for more,” you said happily. 

He took your hand and helped you onto his horse. Together, you headed for safety, and building a life together. In true love.

***

You and Gwilym married as soon as possible. The whole kingdom was thrilled at the wedding. Frank was tried and convicted for his abuse, but would not serve a life sentence, so instead of prison, he was banished from the kingdom. Even so, early in your marriage to Gwilym, you frequently had nightmares where your stepfather returned. 

Gwilym was as loving and patient a partner as you could hope for. He let you talk through your trauma, and he made sure to never do anything that caused you fear. His support helped you to truly heal. 

Your step sisters had to move from the estate, which was now yours entirely. Eleanor and Miranda were surprisingly happy to take over their father’s first business, the tavern, which they ran successfully with Zelda. They both eventually found merchant husbands and lived peacefully, and you were genuinely happy for them.  

But the greatest joy Gwilym ever gave you was your children. You had two boys and two girls, and they were the light of the whole kingdom’s eye - but especially the king, who lived a long and healthy life with his grandchildren. You had no other description for your life besides happily ever after.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 3

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Mortuary

There were always one or two friends in your life who you're never afraid will scold you or hang up on you in the early morning hours, even if the reason is because you had a nightmare about potatoes in your home growing lots of hair. Yin Zhou was this person to Lin Yan. He had two long strands of messy hair on his head, always wore unwashed shirts, and the eyes under his glasses could never focus because of how long he had spent gaming.

They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same elementary school, middle school and high school, and they were each that "brilliant other child" in the eyes of both their parents. Since childhood, Lin Yan, regardless of how hard he worked, achieved the high grades that Yin Zhou could have achieved if he didn't skip class every day. No matter how good his grades were, his parents would praise Lin Yan for his diligent and hard work. After the college entrance exam, the two drank a glass of wine as a farewell and celebrated them parting ways. Unexpectedly, Yin Zhou missed half a page of questions while writing the math papers, but he still went to the same university as Lin Yan, so almost two. So the friendship continued with the constant cycle of loving and hating each other.

Later, they were divided by their majors. Yin Zhou studied electronics and Lin Yan studied history. From then on, there was little crossover with the two majors. Without the pressure of competition, the two of them became much closer, playing games, flirting with girls, talking about politics; there was no end to their activities.

The 'regular place' referred to the bar.

When Lin Yan walked in, he saw Yin Zhou shooting his shot with a girl at the bar unsuccessfully. Lin Yan called his name several times before he turned around. Yin Zhou opened a bottle of beer and his eyes widened: " Yo, you weren't responding to any of my calls or texts. Were you on a date?"

Lin Yan drank half the bottle in single breath, and said calmly, "I've got lost and was going around in circles."

"Got lost?!" Yin Zhou stared at him for a long time. Seeing that Lin Yan wasn't joking, he couldn't help but smile and said, "Are you feeling alright? If you're feeling sick, let this brother take you to the hospital."

Lin Yan was in a weird mood because of all the strange events that had happened. Now, his voice wasn't very strong either. He simply put down the beer bottle, put his hands on the table, raised his voice and shouted into Yin Zhou's ears: "I! Saw! A! Ghost!!"

His voice was so loud that most of the people at the bar heard him. They turned to look at him like he was crazy.

Yin Zhou hid his face behind his hand and muttered about how embarrassing it was. After thinking about it, he raised his head and said with a dazed expression: "Was it a female ghost? Was it pretty?"

Lin Yan was at a loss for words and the muscles on his face twitched.

Then Lin Yan explained all the night's occurrences to Yin Zhou in extreme detail, but he started regretting it halfway through. Yin Zhou obviously was eating it up, and a pair of unfocused eyes were shining with an excitement that couldn't be matched in ten thousand years. He rubbed his hands together and stammered when he heard the section of the figure under the street light: "This is too unscientific, or maybe it's too scientific. I'll apply to use one of the labs tomorrow, maybe I can figure this out!"

Lin Yan wanted to smash the beer bottle on his head.

"You seem busy, I'll head out first."

Yin Zhou caught him before he walked away and scratched his head: "Alright, alright. I'm just kidding. Have a drink first and we can go back to my place afterwards."

"Let's be optimistic. If that thing is a guy, then you've got to get rid of him immediately. If it's a woman, then she should definitely get down on her knees to see what is under your jeans."

Lin Yan was actually very grateful to him when he drove Yin Zhou all the way to his house. He thought that unreliable people would have unreliable benefits. No matter how weird things were, he would really listen to them, but he immediately regretted it once they reached his apartment. The reason was simple: Yin Zhou's room was dirty and no living person would ever be found in this room.

The sight that Lin Yan was faced with when he stepped in the door made him scream inside. It's better to go home and be scared to death by ghosts. God only knows how he lives like this. It was a 10-square metre rental with rubbish and clothes littering the floor. There were mountains of instant noodle boxes on the table. Some of them were being used as ashtrays and there were cigarette butts floating in the murky soup. He had no idea how long they were left there, but they were exuded a rancid smell.

The laptop was thrown on the bed, and there was a line of characters moving across the screen. Yin Zhou rushed to take a look, and groaned: "It's been going on repeatedly. The program has to be changed." After he was done talking, he didn't pay any more attention to Lin Yan. He leaned against the headboard, flipping through his notebook and clicked to stop debugging, tapping on his keyboard with his long fingers.

"There is food in the cupboard. If you get hungry, grab something to eat."

Lin Yan opened the cabinet and inspected Yin Zhou’s selection. Various brands of instant noodles, rice vermicelli, pickled mustard greens, a large number of ham sausages that were about to expire. . . If this guy croaks one day, the number of preservatives in him would help him survive for at least thirty more years. If ancient people had eaten things like this, it could've saved conservation historians so much time.

"Do you have any clean clothes? Mine are soaked from the rain. Could you lend me some dry clothes first."

"There's some on the ground. Grab those."

After feeling Lin Yan's murderous glare, Yin Zhou reluctantly got up and slowly opened the wicker basket at the foot of his bed: "Yes, yes, my mother comes to wash my clothes once a week, and the clean ones are here."

After speaking, he threw him a graphic t-shirt.

"You earn so much from your projects yet you live in such a shabby place. You don't even own a washing machine, and that quality of life is catching up with you. Aren't you afraid that your arrogant old man won't give you money to marry a wife in the future? Lin Yan took off his shirt, stretched the t-shirt over his head and put it on. With the shirt over his head, he asked in a muffled voice: "Help me find a pair of pants."

Yin Zhou threw his hands up and said with disdain: "You're being so picky. A person uses so much stuff when they are alive but when they're dead, they only need a coffin. Why are you being so particular about this?" After finishing speaking, Yu Guang looked at Lin Yan with a smirk. : "Xiao Linzi's figure is good, the fitness card is not for nothing."

He glanced at Lin Yan with his peripheral vision and gave a sly smirk: "Little Brother Lin is in good shape, your gym membership wasn't bought in vain."

"Don't you dare call me Little Brother Lin, I'll show you want a real man is!" Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown by the bed, wiped off the ashes, and smacked his lips.

Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown near the bed, wiped off a handful of cigarette ashes, and smacked his lips.

"Disgusting."

Yin Zhou ignored him and spoke to himself as he flipped through his suitcase. "I remember I had a pair of new jeans, where are they going. . . Huh? What's this? Did my mother leave her clothes in here?"

This was. . .

The body was made of red satin, black lining, with loose sleeves that hung down, and there was heavy embroidery around the wrists. Yin Zhou shook it out curiously. Just as he was about to hold it up to compare it to his body, Lin Yan cried out: "Put that down, don't touch it!"

Looking at Lin Yan's pale face, Yin Zhou also noticed that something was wrong, so he threw the red clothes on the bed.

"These are mortuary clothes. It's for the dead." Lin Yan said weakly.

Yin Zhou's face also changed.

"This thing doesn't belong here."

Yin Zhou looked around his room, as if to relieve the nervous atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Is it wrong? How about I call my mother and ask if she left it."

Yin Zhou looked around his room. Trying to break the tense atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Was this a mistake? How about I call my mother and ask if she put it in here?"

Lin Yan looked at the clothes and said dejectedly: "No need, I believe you."

He was getting angry, thinking that this thing was trying to provoke him no matter what, and now it was involving his friend. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him.

For a while, both of them were speechless. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Under the light of the bright light, the red clothes were laid straight out on the bed like paper. Despite its bright colour, it was gloomy and had a terrifying appearance. The ancient style and the luxurious fabrics exuded such a cold atmosphere that it was like the sun had never touched it.

Ten minutes later.

Lin Yan picked up the car key on the table. He sighed and said to Yin Zhou: "I'm going back home. This thing is coming after me, staying here will only hurt you."

Yin Zhou spat out: "Don't give me that bullshit. It would be stupid to go back by yourself, just stay here."

What Lin Yan wanted to say was interrupted by Yin Zhou: "We're close enough that you're wearing my pants. Won't I be the one that will have to explain what happened to your parents if there's an accident? Don't mess with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."

After talking, yin Zhou searched under the bed for a while. He found another notebook and handed it to Lin Yan: "Do you think a ghost would be able to scare us to death? Hurry up, let's get some kills on Dota!"

Lin Yan was silent for a while, opened his notebook, and said with a smile: "You asked for it, I won't go easy on you!"

The light flickered and dimmed, and the room became more and more gloomy. Lin Yan knew instinctively that something was staring at him somewhere in the room. Maybe it had a pale face, wrapped in a red mortuary, and said sorrowfully: Your death is approaching.

This must be the weirdest night in his 22 years of life, Lin Yan thought. Once the sky begins to get bright, things will be over by dawn.

The red mortuary was like a long, stiff corpse lying on the bed, the sleeves folded across the front as if to remind him that this was only the beginning.

[ragingbookdragon]

Fistfights On Tavern Nights

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,570 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: I kept thinking about this scene and I had to write it out. Hey, two stories in one day, who am I! Enjoy! -Thorne

“We could always climb the wall?” He hummed as she suggested it, eyes shifting between the doors and the side wall. “C’mon Ratonhnhaké:ton, it’d be easier than barging in through the front doors.” Again, he hummed, still deciding and she let out a groan, propping her chin on his bicep. “Fine…take forever.” Connor snorted, glancing down at her.

           “You do not want to fight (Y/N)?” She glared up at him, countering,

           “Considering the fact that the last time I got involved in a head-on fight, I got shot? No. No I don’t want to fight.” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, asking,

           “What if we get inside and then we have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and we don’t have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and there are more soldiers than we realize are inside?”

           “What if we get inside and there aren’t more soldiers inside?”

           “What if-” An annoyed voice cut them off, scoffing,

           “Oh, dear god! Save the lover’s miff for another time! We’re on a mission that requires your full attentions!” The two assassins tipped their heads, catching sight of the older templar standing behind them, a look of irritation on his face. (Y/N) narrowed her gaze, ordering,

           “Hey, old man, shut it, or I’ll shut it for you. If we want your opinion, we’ll ask for it.” Haytham’s eyes went wide at her words, and for a moment, he seemed to be stunned silent. This prompted Connor to bark a laugh, quipping,

           “Well, well, Mister-Smart-Mouth is rendered speechless?” He glanced down at (Y/N), acknowledging, “Well done otsi'tsa.” She furrowed her brows, thrusting a thumb back at Haytham, who had a mixture of anger and hurt crossing his face.

           “What like it’s hard? He’s old. All you gotta do to make men feel bad about themselves is point out things they try to ignore. His knees pop when he tries to sneak.”

           “That is not true.” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, taunting,

           “You sure this is the game you wanna play old man?” She smirked, sweetly adding, “I really don’t wanna hurt your feelings.” Haytham took a step towards her, ignoring how Connor turned fully to him, soldiers squared and ready to defend her if the situation arose.

           “Try me.” She shrugged then pressed the back of her hand to Connor’s chest, directing,

           “Go fight without me, this’ll take a while.” He frowned, looking at her.

           “I do not want to leave you alone with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, meeting Haytham’s gaze.

           “Haytham’s not gonna kill me, are you Haytham?” The templar shook his head and she looked back at Connor. “We might get into a fistfight, but nothing serious.” She nodded to the fort. “Go.” The other assassin stayed a moment, before staring at his father, hissing,

           “If you start anything serious with her, I will finish it.” Haytham merely rolled his eyes but nodded and Connor placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear before taking off. Once he’d made it to the fort, she reached her weapons belt, undoing it before tossing it aside. After, she undid the hidden blades at her wrists, adding them to the pile. She raised her fists, challenging,

           “Alright, let’s go old man.” An eyebrow arched on his face and he inquired,

           “You’re serious about fighting me?” (Y/N) dropped her fists, deadpanning,

           “No, I’ve just got my weapons belt thrown aside and my arms raised because I enjoy looking like an absolute fucking idiot.” Haytham chuckled as he undid his hidden blade, stowing it in his tricorn before placing it on the ground.

           “You said it, not me.” She huffed, grinning as he pulled off his sword and pistol belts.

           “Okay, now I’m really gonna kick your ass.” He matched her grin, and she could see the seething anger stirring in his steel eyes. Stepping forward, she dared, “May the best fighter win.”

An Hour Later:

           Holding his arm, he trekked back up the hill. Clearing the fort had given the patriots new supplies, but he’d taken a few wounds of his own, meaning he’d be out of the fight for a week or two. He’d managed to stop the bleeding in his arm, but the cut still stung, and he bit the inside of his cheek at the pain. As he neared the top, he caught sight of (Y/N) and his father sitting side by side, passing a bottle back and forth. He’d never been one to eavesdrop unless necessary, but the way they laughed made him wonder what had occurred in the mere hour he’d been gone, and before he could stop himself, he started creeping behind them, silently listening.

           “Do you ever think Connor’s hard to understand at times?” (Y/N) hummed as she took a sip from the bottle.

           “When we first met, sure, but now? Nah. He’s pretty easy to read.” Haytham scoffed as she handed it over.

           “You’re joking?” She huffed a laugh, countering,

           “Pot meet kettle.”

           “I am not like him.” (Y/N) pulled a solemn face, nodding her head.

           “Yes, you are. The two of you are as stubborn as mules.”

           “That doesn’t mean I act like him, or vice versa.”

           “Haytham, you do realize you’re his father, right? Like half of that boy comes from you.” His face pinched and he raised a hand to his mouth, massaging his cheek.

           “You have a good left hook.” (Y/N) grinned as she took the bottle back.

           “Don’t change the subject.”

           “I’m not.”

           “Yes, you are.” She observed him a moment, then surmised, “You’re afraid to get closer to him because you’re scared it’ll cloud your judgment.” Haytham said nothing and she turned her attention to the street. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s scared too.” (Y/N) could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. “I can tell that he wants to know you…wants to have that connection to you…but he’s scared to put anything into the relationship because the future is uncertain.” He didn’t need to say anything, but he did anyway.

           “Uncertain? He is afraid we’ll end up facing one another.” She nodded, muttering,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton is stronger than you. His convictions and will are too. If the two of you came to blows…I’ve no illusions that you’ll walk away from that fight alive.” She handed him the bottle and Haytham stared into the whiskey before murmuring,

           “Why are you telling me this (Y/N)?” She took a deep breath before looking at him, staring into his eyes as she declared,

           “Because you gave my father a second chance to do the right thing.” At the mention of her father, Haytham’s eyes went wide and she continued, “I’m giving you the same chance. To be a better man, a better father to your son. To change what could happen for something better.” Connor, who’d been silent up until now, decided to stop eavesdropping, stepping forward.

           “The fort has been cleared.” The two turned to look at him from their spots, and he immediately glared at Haytham, condemning, “What did you do!” Connor started towards (Y/N) who grinned as he knelt beside her, gently taking her face in his hands. He tilted her head up, examining her. “Are you alright otsi'tsa?” She nodded, reaching up to grab his hand; pressing a kiss to his palm, she replied,

           “Honestly Ratonhnhaké:ton, if you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the time I came out of the barfight back in Saint Augustine.” She tipped her head towards Haytham. “Besides, I handed your dad his ass.”

           “You did not.” (Y/N) snorted, but it dissolved into a hiss as Connor dabbed at her bloodied lip.

           “Ow.” He frowned at her then turned his attention to his father.

           “You should not have aimed for the face.” Haytham pointed to his eyebrow.

           “She hit me in the face first. I was getting even.” (Y/N) glanced at him, wondering aloud,

           “I wonder how my dad would feel about his dear old friend beating up his innocent daughter.” She chuckled. “Hey, maybe I should send the old bastard a letter and tell him!” Connor’s lips tugged down, and he whispered,

           “Do not make light of what makes your heart heavy otsi‘tsa.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but he had a good point, and she sighed,

           “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He pulled away, holding out his hand to her. (Y/N) took it, letting him pull her to his feet before he turned away, offering it to Haytham. His father seemed surprised, but took it and as they all stood, (Y/N) offered, “Say…since we’re all tired and hungry, why don’t we get something to eat?” Connor dropped his gaze and Haytham said,

           “It’s getting late. I should get back to file reports-” She sent him a look then looked between Connor and him, and he followed, “I suppose the reports can wait until tomorrow.” Awkwardly, he gestured to the street. “Connor, (Y/N), would you like to eat dinner with me?” She nudged Connor in the side, and he looked over at her. Smiling, she nodded, and he sighed before agreeing,

           “Dinner sounds good.” (Y/N) took Connor’s hand and they started towards the tavern. Haytham followed close behind, watching the way they joked and laughed, and, for once in many years, he felt like his heart wasn’t on the verge of breaking. Perhaps (Y/N) was right…maybe there was still a chance to change.

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

Meeting Maturin (Pennywise x Reader)

You trudged from your bedroom into the living room and kitchen area, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You had slept a little rough last night, even though you'd been exhausted. Probably to do with the fact being that you were missing your lover, who had been away for a few days. Hopefully, he would be back today.

You wandered into the kitchen, hoping a large, hot cup of tea would do the trick.

And that's when you noticed it.

The more you were awake, the harder it was not to notice.

You walked over the window, your mouth agape and your eyes wide.

Outside...was different.

Very different.

From out your window, you couldn't see the familiar scene of Derry with the Paul Bunyan statue by the town hall. The blue sky, the white clouds, the sun or rain, the people. They were all gone.

There was nothing.

Derry was gone.

The scenery that had over taken Derry was something that you would have seen in the opening of a Sci-Fi film.

It seemed as though you were looking out at some kind of galaxy.

Was it a galaxy? Were those stars. Was that...a planet? It didn't even look like Venus or Mercury. Or any kind of galaxy you knew of. Just where in the world were you?

“Ah. You're awake.” said a voice.

Letting out a cry of surprise, you spun round and saw a man standing in your living room. He was tall with long dark blonde hair and a growing beard of one month on his face. His clothing – robes – were a dirty beige colour and looked something from an occult standard. His eyes were startling however. They seemed to change colour from a grassy green to an ocean or sky blue. Like oil swimming in water.

“Who the hell are you?” you spat. “Why are you in my home?”

“Calm down, (Y/N). I mean no harm.”

“How do you know my name? You're lucky my boyfriend isn't here, pal.”

The man huffed a laugh. “I know what our dear Pennywise is capable of. He won't do anything here.”

Your blood ran cold at the mention of Pennywise's name. “H-how do you know about Pennywise?

“I've known him since birth. I know him...relatively speaking.”

“What?” you squeaked.

The man sighed, almost annoyed by the way you had ignored his joke. “I'm Maturin. I am The Turtle. I am Pennywise's brother.”

Your eyes widened at this revelation; whereas Maturin's narrowed in confusion.

“He never told you about me.”

“He told me you were dead.”

Maturin nodded. “Yes, that would be the first thing he would say about me.”

“How did you die, by the way?”

The Turtle coughing in a discomforting way. “Well, I, um...I happened to be vomiting up a rather large galaxy and...ended up choking...on it.”

You gave your mate's brother a dead-panned expression. “That was a dumb ass move.” you hissed, very much unimpressed.

“Yes, well. It's not something I'm proud of.”

“He also told me you were a little dumb.”

“He's one to talk.” Maturin huffed. “There are some things that he's done that he's quite ashamed of.”

“I don't care. Now, can we get back to the matter at hand. Why am I here?”

“Ah, yes. The crux of the matter. Well, I brought you here on Pennywise' wishes.”

You blinked. “Why would he trust you? You hate each other.”

“There's a reason for that.” Maturin said, softly. “Come sit.”

Trying to ignore the twitching nerve in your temple, you sat on the couch with Maturin next to you.

“Pennywise told me.” he explained.

“That he discovered that another being has come to earth.”

“And just what is that creature? Is he like Pennywise or you?”

“He's very powerful. The Crimson King is a being that is just as powerful as my brother.”

“Just as?”

“I'm afraid so. The Crimson King is very much like Pennywise...but possibly without the fear and human eating.”

“And why has this Crimson King come to Earth? And why does Pennywise want me to stay in this...in this...wherever we are right now?”

“The Crimson King believes my brother to be his son. Which is completely false. He is not Pennywise's father nor mine. But,” he went on. “He does know about you. You, my dear, have changed Pennywise dramatically. If not completely.”

“Why would I change anything about Penny? He's never changed me into something else.”

“I—Penny?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You go by The Turtle, you numb-nuts.”

“Touché.” he cleared his throat and continued. “So, anyway, as I said, you have changed Pennywise. Somehow, The Crimson King has found out about you and wants to put an end to it. So, Pennywise turned to me. For help, of course. So, I took you to the farthest reaches in the Multiverse so that he would not find you.

“Multiverse?”

“The different realities and world here. The Macroverse being one of them. I assume Pennywise told you about the Macroverse.”

You nodded.

“Good. Then...welcome to the Macroverse.” and he gestured to the intergalactic scene outside your window.

You followed his hand and slowly got to your feet. You neared the window and gazed in awe at it.

“This is the Macroverse?”

“It is.”

“It's beautiful.” you whispered. “Have many people been here?”

Maturin shrugged. “A fair few.”

A small heartfelt smile blossomed on your lips at this. “So, he did all of this for me? He brought me here?”

“Well technically I did. But, yes, that he did.”

“But...and I don't mean to put a damper on Penny's actions. But if this Crimson King is like you and your brother, won't he be able to find his way here?”

“There are thousands and thousands of realities of which you might have been taken to. He'll be at this for days.”

“And yet he was able to come to Earth at the drop of a hat.”

“Yes, I know. It's complicated. The point is, is tat you are safe now and that Pennywise is dealing with him as we speak.”

“So, what do you get out of this?”

“Hopefully, some closure between us and we can put our differences aside and work together.”

“And it took you, what, a thousand years, a millennia to finally do that? Yeah. Okay, I'll take your word for it. So, how long have I been here?”

“In this world, two hours. But back home...about two weeks.”

“Oh...WHAT?!?!?!”

Maturin flinched at the sudden shrill pitch of your voice. “(Y/N), calm down.”

“Calm down?! I've lost two weeks of my life without even knowing it!”

“It was for your own good. My brother wanted you safe.”

“So, then where is he? How come your here and not Pennywise?”

“Because my brother is trapped in Derry. He has been since he first woke up on Earth. (Y/N), just wait until he—.”

“No. You can't just expect me to sit here and wait. You've practically sent your brother to his death sentence. He was right. You're a coward. If you wanted closure you'd be there to help your brother. So, why don't you go back into your shell and hide like you always have. Oh, that's right. You can't. Because you're dead!”

Maturin didn't even rise. He looked completely calm, as though he saw reason in what you said.

“Take me back, now, you pathetic reptile.” you hissed.

“I wish I could. But Pennywise told me to keep you here and then bring you back until the Crimson King was sent away. To wherever he came from.”

You could feel tears beginning to pinprick at the corners of your eyes at The Turtle's words. You just wanted to be home, away from here and back in Pennywise's arms.

You got to your feet and scrambled over to the kitchen. Maybe that cup of tea wasn't a bad idea after all.

As you switched the kettle on to boil a blinding white light filled your apartment. Turning round you saw another man in your living room. He was as tall as Maturin but he was bald with several odd looking symbols of his head with a scraggly beard. He wore the same robes as Maturin did and he looked more haughty. His eyes were different. One was silvery white and the other was a startling gold colour like Penny's eyes. 

Oh, great another one.

“Ah, Gan. What news do you bring?”

“It has done what needed to be done. The Crimson King has gone back to his own world.”

“Oi! Less of the IT.” you barked.

“Thank you, Gan. It's all right, now, (Y/N). You can go home now.”

“Good, then hurry up. I've already missed two weeks.”

Gan looked to Maturin and then back to you. The next second the house shook violently. You fell to the floor, screaming in fright. Gan and the Turtle stayed still. The whole apartment felt as though it had been sucked up through some kind of cyclone and was being tossed about every which way.

Then...

“Derry, Maine.” said Gan.

Using the kitchen counter to help you up right, you looked out the window that you were indeed back in Derry. If you were outside, you would have been kissing the ground by now.

“Thank goodness.” you whimpered, softly. You sagged against the counter.

“(Y/N)?”

“I'm fine. Just relieved.”

“We shall leave you in peace, now, (Y/N). My brother will be home with you soon enough.”

You nodded. Not knowing what to say. You didn't know if you wanted to scream or cry or run out like a mad man, screaming out Penny's name in public. You head was all over the place.

You weren't sure how long you been standing in the kitchen for but the next thing you knew was your numb mind waking up as a pair of arms slipped round your waist.

The sound of bells jingling. The sweet smell of candyfloss, popcorn and...blood.

“Pennywise.” you whispered, leaning in to the clown's hold.

“Hello, my little mate.” the clown purred.

And that's when the flood gates opened.

Tears flooded down your cheeks as you spun round in Penny's arms and wrapped them around his torso. You cried helplessly into his costume. He started purring. The sound was comforting you, helping to ease your sobs.

“Missed me, little one?” Penny cooed.

“So much. I was so scared.”

“I know. I can smell your fear. I did ask my brother to tell you everything.”

“And what of this...Crimson King? Is he gone? For real?”

“Yes. We may not see him for a long while. For now, let's enjoy the peace.”

“And make up for lost time.”

Penny smiled as he brushed a tear from your eyes. “Exactly. Come. We'll celebrate.”

You matched Penny's smile as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. “Couldn't have put it better my self.”

[jacensolodjo]

Warning for gore, torture.

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

Shane had gotten so busy again when it came to the war, that her personal vendetta against a single Cerberus operative had fallen to the wayside. She was sure that many people close to her would be happy to hear she hadn’t had a one track mind about Banes. Some things had to go before her need for revenge. Last time she had let everything else stay on the back burner to go after a single person, a scientist that had almost met his end at the hands of Toombs and decided that because he was ‘free’ that meant he was free from her own revenge, too many people had suffered. She had almost been too late to save Grunt, in fact. 

So, when she got a message from Miranda letting her know of a possible lead to Banes’ location, Shane had nearly found herself on the receiving end of a Phantom blade. With a reinvigorated shout, she used her omni-tool to form a blade that sliced clean through the Phantom’s throat. As the Phantom collapsed, bleeding out of the carotid and jugular, Shane pulled up the message. Knowing it was dangerous enough for Miranda to be doing the chasing of leads, Shane read through the message quickly before shooting off a brief ‘thanks for risking your life for this’. 

She was sending a quick message to Jack with the information when a Nemesis bolt slammed into her shield, staggering her slightly. She rolled her eyes at herself before training her Mattock on the sniper and taking it out in two perfect shots to the head-- one to bring down its shield and one to fling through its skull and out the other end. 

Message finally sent, Shane set off to finish the rest of her mission. Waiting for Jack to answer didn’t mean she couldn’t kill some Cerberus fucks on her own. 

The Commander was on her way back to the Normandy when she got the message from Jack that simply read “Fuck yes”. 

It took a few hours for Shane to get back to the Normandy, and then another couple hours after that for the Normandy to dock on the Citadel. It was there Jack lived with her students (not sharing a place though, instead Jack used the apartment Anderson had "living willed" to Shane, after a bit of convincing from Shane that they should "live together" if Jack wasn't willing to stay on the Normandy).

Shane found Jack at the Armax Arena with her students gathered. They had just finished a training session and Jack appeared to be informing them she would be gone.

"Until I get back, and who fu--reaking knows when that will be, Rodriguez and Prangley are in charge. Prangley, stop smirking. You're just the most experienced next to Rodriguez," Jack was explaining.

"Commander on deck!" Rodriguez called out, half joking. The rest of the kids went along with the joke, straightening to attention. Jack rolled her eyes before turning to look at Shane.

"You're a great distraction, good thing we were done," Jack said, obviously joking as well.

"I do what I can. You ready?" Shane replied, smirking slightly.

"Hell yeah. Let's get to it!" Jack said with a nod.

Shane looked at the students gathered, all of them wearing duplicates of the dark red hoodie Shane sometimes wore in place of her N7 one. These red hoodies proclaimed the wearer to be part of the Grissom Academy Psychotic Biotic Training on the Move “program” on the front, and a plea to "if found return to Jack" on the back of the hoodies. Jack's of course read "I'm Jack" on the back, instead.

The vanguard was struck for a moment by how young these kids actually were. They were barely into puberty, most of them. But Shane also realized that both she and Jack had been even younger than them when their biotics had been coaxed to the surface with violence and pain. A ghost of a pained, guilty look crossed Shane’s face, fast enough that even Jack doubted she had actually seen it. A moment later Shane was smiling in that wolfish way she always got when the hunt was on.

“Let’s get to it,” she agreed. She looked at the kids again before turning and striding off, Jack following barely half a step behind. 

One thing that often happened when Shane went on missions with just Jack was that she forwent the fully customized N7 armor that she had slowly cobbled together after leaving Earth. Instead, Shane was barely in more than fatigues, with only strategic placement of armor plating for various weak points such as the torso. She felt it complemented the fact that Jack went into battle in barely more clothes than she was in when they first met, back when Shane was reluctantly flying Cerberus colors. 

They used to bicker about how Jack really should wear armor, any armor. But eventually Shane had realized she wasn’t going to convince Jack to wear armor, so if you can’t beat them join them. And anyways, Shane’s biotics were more than enough protection as it was and she was better able to use them outside of armor. Especially when she needed to use her Vanguard class abilities. 

Like a pair of alpha wolves, the biotic duo disembarked from the shuttle onto the planet that looked like it hadn’t seen any living creatures in centuries. Both biotics had a kind of bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes as they followed the coordinates on Shane’s omni-tool. The Normandy was on the edge of the system, so as not to alert anyone who might be nearby to protect Banes. Next to that, Shane had been the one to pilot the shuttle, unable to bring herself to have Steve do it. He deserved some time off and besides he didn’t need to get involved in her personal vendetta. 

It took little time for them to find the compound, a building made of steel with no windows to speak of. It had at least two floors above ground, and who knew how many underground.

As they entered the compound they were both hit with the same thought: “This entire place reeks of Cerberus.” At least they knew they were definitely on the right track. Together they wandered through the eerily empty hallways, similar to the compound where Jack had been forced to become Subject Zero. 

Deeper and deeper they went, and Shane was quite sure they were actually underground now. 

“Look who has decided to willingly enter my lair. Commander Shepard and her pet biotic, Subject Zero,” a voice suddenly spoke from all around them. They both knew it came from multiple speakers placed throughout the hallway but it still made them freeze in place. 

Shane’s biotics flared to life instantly, blue whisking around her limbs and her teeth grinding together in anger. The true surprise was having Jack instantly at her side, placing a hand surprisingly gentle on Shane’s cheek. 

“Hey. Not now. Don’t let him win before things even start,” Jack said, looking Shane directly in the eye. It was rare for Jack to be the voice of reason and because of that alone it caused Shane to release the activation of her biotic amp, letting them disappear with a crackle. She let out a sigh. 

“Right, we don’t even know if he’s here,” Shane admitted. She was still angry but she had learned as a child to tuck it away for later. So she did. 

“You’re so close to your prize, right? Come on down, Commander. I’ll put the kettle on,” Banes said, laughter burbling up seconds later. Shane growled low but did her best to let his taunts roll off her like rain off a duck’s back. 

“Don’t you fucking worry, we’ll be there soon enough, fucker!” Jack spat before continuing to walk down the hallway. Shane followed suit, struggling to keep a handle on her anger and thus her biotics. 

“I have to admit, I thought I’d see you here much sooner. I guess something has changed since that fun adventure with Kahoku’s men,” Banes continued, and it was unclear if he could actually hear the two biotics speaking or not. 

Shane clenched her jaw again but kept her focus on the next few steps, and the steps after that, then around a corner. Deeper and deeper, further and further. He would get his soon. 

The Commander checked her omni-tool and noted that it estimated they were about half a mile underground by that point. Shaking her head, Shane turned another corner to be faced with a closed door that was also clearly locked and encrypted. The biotic pair stopped short, glaring at their newest impediment. 

“Whaddya think, can we rip it off its hinges, so to speak?” Shane asked, glancing at her lover. 

“Maybe if we work together. But he might just be expecting that,” Jack said, shrugging.

“Oh so you have been learning to anticipate,” Shane said teasingly. Jack lightly punched the other woman’s shoulder with a muttered “shut up”. 

After a few moments of just staring at the door, Shane walked closer and activated her omni-tool. Jack stood where she had stopped, keeping an eye on the way they had come just in case it was an ambush. 

“Kasumi sent me a cracker a while back, never really had to use it, though. Give me a sec, gotta remember how to actually use it,” Shane said, chuckling internally. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry it up, will ya?” Jack said with a scoff and an eye roll. 

Shane typed through the commands that Kasumi had taught her but frowned halfway through as the door gave her a giant red X after submitting the command to decrypt so she could then get to the unlock part.

“The fuck?” she muttered under her breath, trying the keystrokes again. She received another giant red X for her trouble and then a very loud klaxon began. It was enough to make her clap her hands over her ears (which had already been sensitive before Project Lazarus and had only become even more so after). 

“Ohh, I’m afraid you didn’t pass the test, Commander,” Banes’ voice came through, able to be heard even over top the klaxon. 

“Shane--” Jack’s voice managed to pierce through the klaxon as well, but sounded oddly distorted. 

Shane spun around and her eyes widened as she saw Jack suspended in mid air as if she was floating from her biotics. But she knew it was actually a force field holding Jack in place.

“Let her go!” Shane snarled, biotics roaring to life. 

“Subject Zero was never meant to be released to begin with. I’m just fixing the fuckup of my colleagues,” Banes said. The klaxon died away. 

“In case you fucking forgot, I’m here to get your head on a pike. All you’re doing is making sure I don’t make it happen too fast,” Shane said, voice suddenly turning deadly calm. She looked around the hallway before catching sight of the twin apparatuses in the upper corners, clearly creating the field keeping Jack suspended. Smiling inwardly, Shane aimed her biotics at both at the same time. The metal crumpled easily under pressure from her biotics. The field flickered then disappeared and Jack landed far more gracefully than Shane would have. 

“What? No! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Banes shouted in outrage.

“Ohh, sorry, Banes, we’re not playing by your rule book. Now open the fucking door!” Shane said, sneering at what had to be a camera angled above the door. 

“I am not that easy to catch, Commander. You want in, you figure it out,” Banes said. 

Shane quietly aimed her pistol at the camera and fired twice. The shattered remains clattered to the floor like rain. 

“What was that about anticipating?” Jack asked, unable to not get the dig in.

“Oh, shush,” Shane said, shaking her head. “You’re fine, aren’t you?” 

“Let’s just figure out how to get in there, alright? This place is making my skin crawl enough as it is,” Jack said insistently. Shane had to admit she too did not feel at all comfortable in the compound, and not just because it was shockingly empty. 

Deciding that she wasn’t going to be able to get anywhere using more delicate, scalpel means, it simply meant she’d have to go ripping through things like a chainsaw. Or a tornado. Or simply a very pissed off biotic. 

“Well, let’s go with our first option, then. Rip the damn thing off,” Shane said. Her anger had been stoking the fires of her biotic control for some time. Though she would always admit Jack was the strongest human biotic, Shane was no slouch in that department either. Together, with the way their biotics interacted, they had found precious little could stand up to their might. 

And so, their biotics flickered to life. As they directed the independent tendrils towards the door, the usual sight of the slightly differently colored biotics twining ‘together’ and becoming brighter appeared. Despite how long biotics had been in the human population, nobody could say why exactly the biotics had different colors. The usual question of whether it denoted strength or gender had been dismissed. But it didn’t matter, so long as they worked as intended. 

With a resounding thump, the stream of biotics crashed into the door. With a simple thought, the stream flattened into a square shape and seeped into the little cracks of the rim of the door. Sufficiently covered in the biotic energy, both women yanked their hands back in unison. The door dimpled but did not get completely wrenched out of the jambs like expected.

Glaring at the door, they scarcely turned their heads to look at one another, instinctively knowing exactly how to proceed from here. 

As one, like two outraged Amazons, Shane and Jack screamed as they put all of their power into their goal of removing the door from its hinges. In seconds, spiderwebs of cracks sprawled across the door. A loud shrieking sound of twisting, ripping metal joined their chorus of screams and the pulse of the activated biotics. With a roar of triumph, they again moved as one to yank their biotic streams backward and thus ripped the door finally out of its place. They directed the door to fly over their heads and land behind them with a heavy screeching thud, then-- still almost eerily coordinated-- stalked forward. Both were breathing heavily from the strain but neither was willing to stop for even a moment to get their wind back. And if they had bothered to fully get a look at the removed door, or even felt it safe to look at the gap in the wall for more than a second to be sure of no trip wires, they would have noticed it was as thick as the two of them put together. The galaxy would have been hard pressed to find a singular biotic user who could do what they had done. And that was because they were so much stronger together than doing things separately or even delayed by more than a couple seconds. 

“You! Ruined! Everything!’ Banes screamed, eyes wild as he watched the biotic women stomping towards him. He held a pistol in one hand and his omni-tool was activated in the other. It was enough to make Shane stop for a moment before quickly returning to being directly at Jack’s side. 

“You and your entire organization are the ones to blame for this. If you hadn’t done what you did to either of us, well... we would be in very different places wouldn’t we?” Shane said. A growl rumbled in her throat as she saw him raise his gun. In the time it took to blink, her body had gone blue and she closed the distance shockingly fast. When he finally realized what had happened, one of her hands was clutching his wrist of the hand holding the gun while her other hand was wrapped around his throat. He gagged but could do nothing except twitch like a dying cockroach as she lifted him up solely by his neck and pure muscle strength. There was no need to use biotics to lift a man of his size. He was barely bulkier than Cortez or Joker. Certainly he was worth only half of Vega. 

“Yeah, yeah! You have-- guh-- us to thank for all of this!” Banes choked out, punching the hand holding him up over and over but it was all in vain. She couldn’t feel any of the blows in the midst of her biotic and rage fueled act of revenge. 

Jack stood nearby, upper lip curled in her trademark sneer. She knew Shane needed to do this part alone. Just like Jack had needed to hit the trigger on the bomb alone. It wasn’t a lack of wanting the help, merely that some things must be done alone.

“Yes, where the fuck are my manners? Thank you. Thank you for releasing the rest of my biotic potential. Thank you for siccing Thresher Maws on me not once but twice. For no good fucking reason! Thank you for helping the legend of Commander Shepard become that much more grand. Thank you for not leaving well enough alone and bringing me back to fucking life. And thank you, for being epic fucking morons about this entire Reaper invasion. The only true way to save humanity is destroying the Reapers, not trying to be buddies with them. But you... you aren’t going to live to see me do the job I was brought back to really do,” Shane said, voice growing louder then softer then louder again as she spoke. 

Biotics flickered around her then enveloped Banes as well. With a deep snarl, she flung him at a nearby wall. He collided with it with a resounding crack and crumpled. But he rolled over almost instantly and clambered back to his feet. When he did, there she was in half a blink of an eye and biotics whipping around her form as evidence of how she got there. This time she grabbed him by the front of his overly expensive shirt and stormed forward until she was pinning him up against a wall. He yelled out in pain, feeling his shoulders creaking as they were pressed into the solid metal and her fingers digging into him hard enough he could feel his skin break apart. 

“You and Leng and the Illusive Man... all of you pretend to be far more noble and powerful than you really are. But you’re nothing but little frightened pussies! I met the Reapers head on while you all stood back and decided control was the way to go. Well, look how fucking well things turned on when you tried to control me, to control Jack. Yes, Jack. Her name. The thing you tried so hard to erase by calling her Subject Zero. By calling her essentially nothing despite your goals.”

“I had nothing to do with the project on Teltin! Cerberus had nothing to do with it!”

“You lying fucker! Don’t pretend Cerberus didn’t bankroll that whole fucking thing!” Jack suddenly blurted, rage coloring every syllable. She speed walked forward but stopped short when Shane turned her head to lock eyes with the younger biotic. Shane’s own eyes were close to purple from the mix of cybernetic red and biotic blue. And the glow was bright. The look on her face was one that demanded Jack stay out of things. Jack had only seen that look before, when Shane had declined having Jack go with her when she went to track down the scientist who had nearly been murdered by Toombs.

Blood was starting to appear on the man’s shirt from where Shane’s biotically strengthened fingers had pulverized the skin. But she didn’t care. She was nowhere close to done. She released her hold on his front only so she could rip the shirt off of him. Casting a quick glance around she noted a solid metal desk nearby. A fancy one, holding a nice terminal and everything. With a sweep of her hand, a biotic field flung everything off of the desk. Then, with a grunt she flung the man up and onto the desk, face up. He yelled in pain again. The marks on his chest continued to bleed for a few moments but then clotted. 

After another quick glance, she used her biotics to yank a couple of lamps nearby. With further help from her biotics, she twisted the metal rods until she had him ‘tied’ to the table. One half loop kept his legs locked together and held firm against the desk. The other half loop took care of his arms. 

“Jack... I need you to sweep the compound,” Shane said, voice taking on an odd quality Jack had never heard before. 

“...What? Shane, you know this place is empty!” Jack said, a tinge of confusion in her voice. 

“Just do it! ...Please,” Shane’s voice again changed to one of soft pleading. 

“Nothing you do to that guy will make me think differently of you, Shane,” Jack said, finally realizing what the older biotic was trying to do. 

“Heh, what’s the matter? Afraid to show you’re just a wild animal?” Banes laughed. He was rewarded with a swift punch to the temple, knocking him senseless but not unconscious. 

“I’ve killed a lot of people in my time. You know that, Shane.” 

“I know. But you shouldn’t be forced to see what I’m gonna do to ‘im. For everything.”

“I’m not being forced. I knew what you were likely to do when we caught him. Just... don’t drag it out too much. We got better shit to do than rip this guy to shreds in pieces parts.” 

Perhaps luckily for both of them, Shane had no interest in prolonging the torture. Nor did he need to suffer as much as the ones personally involved in Akuze had needed to suffer. Regardless...

Shane activated her omni-tool and used it to toggle music that came on loud and heavy. She then removed the real metal K-Bar knife she kept in a sheath on her thigh. Sure, she could’ve used an omni-blade but Traynor was right about needing to have the tactile sensation of a physical item in your grasp. 

“Do you know... what it’s like to be burned by thresher maw acid?” Shane asked, tracing the tip of the knife from the man’s jawline down his throat and along his sternum. He shuddered but not violently enough to make any difference. 

During Project Lazarus, the burn marks from the Kahoku mission had been ‘fixed’ by Miranda. But that didn’t mean the scar from the memory was no longer in Shane’s mind. She still had one of the burn marks from the Akuze incident, though. When Shane asked her question, Jack’s eyes had immediately gone to the part of Shane’s back where the acid had landed when the Alliance Marine had been running for her life back to the transport. Jack had first noticed it when they had had sex the first time. She hadn’t had the nerve to ask about it, if only because talking about her scars with people wasn’t her favorite thing to do so she figured the same was true of Shane. It had only been later, when Shane had woken up from a nightmare, that Jack had gotten the story of the burn scars. Shane had another one on the back of her dominant hand, part of it healed from Project Lazarus.

Biotics rippled down Shane’s arm and enveloped the knife. Using a technique she had been working on for a decade, the blade of the knife began to glow red hot. 

“Y-you can’t do this! It’s against everyth--” Banes began saying, eyes widening. He stopped speaking to instead scream, a high pitched squeal really, as Shane pressed the flat of the blade against the man’s collar bone. The smell of burning flesh flooded the immediate area. Neither Shane nor Jack reacted to scent or scream. With a twitch, Shane flipped the blade to instead press the point into the flesh and stagger around the man’s chest. Angry red streaks appeared and the man kept screaming. 

“You see... it burns.. and it keeps on burning... nothing puts the burn out. It’s like the strength of a thousand ghost peppers but on your skin. Not even the burn creams we got out there helps,” Shane explained, raising her voice to be heard over his shrieks. 

Any other person on the Normandy would be horrified. Shane was breaking so many Alliance regulations it was dizzying. It was not the first ‘mission’ that would never even be written down by Shane. The only witness would be Jack, and Jack would never say a word. Not when it came to Cerberus assholes getting theirs. 

“I... got burned and kept burning for days. And that is nothing to what I did to your colleague. The man responsible for Akuze, remember him? Remember how I actually kept him from being murdered by the only other survivor? He would’ve stayed alive if he hadn’t tried to flee. He was safer in an Alliance prison!” Shane snarled, pressing the knife in deep against the man’s hand in a mimic of the partially gone burn scar on her own hand. His scream coincided with a giant crash of sound that faded as the man began to sob. 

The rock music changed to a song full of deep, long thrums. Which then turned into short ones. Before eventually a giant splash of sound then a crescendo. As the music changed, so did Shane’s position. She moved around until she was situated next to the man’s hip. 

“We weren’t responsible--” Banes tried to say again. Shane snarled wide, showing teeth that for a moment looked far too sharp. And made it clear exactly why she had morphed into the Wolf of the Alliance rather than the junkyard ganger dog of Earth. Then, she slammed the knife all the way into the hilt into the man’s thigh. Another echo of one of Shane’s injuries at the ‘hands’ of thresher maws. The only difference being Cerberus had actually not been involved in that one. The only one dealing with thresher maws that had not been related to Cerberus (curing the Genophage on Tuchanka notwithstanding). 

The music softened, almost dissonantly so. Banes was panting and sobbing, and it was clear he was not the badass he thought himself to be. He was even starting to have snot dribbling from his nose. Blood dripped to the floor, forming multiple puddles. 

“You know, if you had used the pronoun ‘I’ instead, I might have been inclined to believe it. You weren’t responsible for Akuze but... You were responsible for Kahoku’s men. Your colleagues were damn sure responsible for Akuze. You see, for a scientist you Cerberus lot are really fucking stupid! Your colleague, knowing I was there to take his fucking ass out of the gene pool, was still backing shit up on his own personal omni-tool. I know you know that I essentially stopped his heart with a shock baton which also fried his omni-tool. But he didn’t delete everything on the terminals. He had proof. Proof he kept for years! And probably opened the files every once in a while to gloat about how before Commander Shepard became the Commander Shepard ohhh he proved she can bleed like all the rest.”

Shane glanced over at Jack, who was watching in silence. It felt completely opposite to Jack’s usual demeanor. She was almost starting to regret bringing the younger biotic. She didn’t need to see this. 

Taking in a breath, Shane looked back at her prey. She then removed the knife only to shift her point of entry to the side of his leg. With a little biotic help, she jammed it into his leg just below his knee. Even Jack heard the crack as the bone shattered. This seemed to be too much for Banes to handle and he passed out cold. Shane growled low to herself, shaking her head. She wasn’t done just yet. Not yet. 

Shane locked eyes with Jack, who stayed quiet. The Commander then found a medkit nearby hanging on the wall. The box itself was rusted slightly but everything inside was fine. She hadn’t bothered bringing her own medigel with her, knowing these facilities had plenty of it. Even if it was abandoned or supposedly abandoned. 

The music changed once more, this time with a soaring crescendo that gave way to a drumbeat. Shane applied the medigel, only enough to bring him back around to consciousness. He yelled in pain as soon as his brain defogged. 

What Shane had brought with her had been a vial of acid. It wasn’t thresher acid, but it was just as good. She had found it among Mordin’s effects he had left behind in the med bay and Chakwas had nearly had a heart attack seeing Shane messing with it. 

Smiling, Shane wagged the vial a little in front of the man’s nose. He seemed to recognize it and his eyes widened. 

“You won’t get away with this, Shepard! Wait until the galaxy knows what the Hero of the Citadel does--”

Shane punched his throat, making him gag and cough unable to keep talking.

“Your colleague said the same shit, you know? What, you two brothers or something? It doesn’t matter. It does not matter. Because, see, I was part of the Reds back on Earth. Yeah, big surprise to you, right? I took care of that part of my history too, back on the Citadel when I was making waves after Eden Prime. I took care of your colleague. I’m taking care of you. Leng will get his, and so will the Illusive Man. And not a single fucking person will care when all is said and done because they know exactly what Cerberus has been doing. And ironically, what I’m doing to you is not at all close to what you fucks have been doing to fellow humans. What I’m doing is not close to what you Cerberus assholes have done to me, or Jack, or anyone.”

“Shane--” Jack said, stepping forward. 

“What?” Shane snapped then took in a breath. “What, Jack?” 

The music was barely audible now, a soft whispering thing. 

“The asshole here sent out a distress signal. Don’t know when exactly. But Joker says EDI picked up a few ships coming into the system, bearing Cerberus markings. We don’t have a lot of time if we want to get out of here without a fight.”

“What, you don’t want a fight today?” Shane asked, raising a brow. 

“You fucking know I always want one, but...” Jack said, before reaching out and grabbing Shane by the wrist. Shane looked at Banes for a moment before letting Jack lead her over to a corner nearby. 

“Listen, I’m not that Chambers bitch or anything but I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to fight a battle. We can fight some more Cerberus assholes any other day. But you need to finish with this fucker and then we need to leave,” Jack said, in a rough whisper. 

Ironically, Shane knew shit was serious when Jack was being the voice of reason... for the second time that day. The music changed to an almost triumphant score, a symphonic metal tune. 

“Yeah, alright. I’m almost done anyways,” Shane said, sighing. She kissed Jack’s forehead gently and lightly brushed her thumb across a cheekbone made to look sharper than it was through Jack’s usual use of makeup (in direct contrast to Shane’s general idea of going without as much as possible). Jack nodded then turned her attention back to her omni-tool where a map of the system displayed the Normandy along with the Cerberus ships making their way to the planet.

Shane walked back over to Banes, who had turned even paler than he’d been when they first arrived. Smirking, Shane engaged her omni-tool just as the music began to swell again. The omni-blade composed itself from spare bits then she used it to slice open part of the man’s shirt. She ripped the rest of it open all the way after accounting for the ‘restraints’.

“C-commander, surely we can come t-to some agreement?” Banes stammered, wheezing softly through what had to be a broken nose and a swollen throat. Shane had to admire his refusal to admit that he was dead meat on a slab. 

“The only agreement available is that you shut the fuck up and let me finish the damn job,” Shane snarled. 

“Please, please-- that isn’t necessary! It isn’t--” Banes stopped talking to instead give an inhuman and unholy screech of pain as Shane tipped the vial over and allowed some of the acid to splatter on the man’s chest. Some of it landed on the restraint. It ate through both skin and metal at an almost alarming pace. And Banes just... kept... screaming. Even when the acid ate through the layer of fat and muscle to go after the bones. When it did, Shane noticed the beginnings of Reaper tech. Her eyes narrowed. She dumped the rest of the acid into the already rather large hole in the man’s torso. Only when the acid met internal organs did the screaming stop. And coincidentally, the song ended on a single cymbal crash after a steady rhythm of drums. 

Shane took one of the grenades off her hip. She activated it with a simple squeeze then dropped it right into the hole the acid had made. She looked at Jack and nodded when Jack looked back. The pair exited the office, clearing the doorway as the grenade went off and made sure the body had been turned into mince meat and nigh unrecognizable save for a biological scan. 

As they turned a corner, Shane activated her omni-tool. The music turned off. Shane looked at Jack and laughed softly. 

“Let’s head back and prep for the next Cerberus hunt,” she said.

Jack chuckled despite herself then nodded. 

“Sounds good to me, Hero of the Citadel,” she remarked teasingly. Shane sighed and rolled her eyes. 

“I hate it when people call me that,” she muttered. Her words only caused Jack to laugh, which echoed throughout the corridors and followed them out of the compound.

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

“You know, I am glad for Cerberus doing one thing,” Jack said, quietly, when they finally returned to the Captain’s Cabin on the Normandy.

“What’s that?” Shane asked, puzzled. 

“Bringing you back to life. Having us meet. I know we don’t really talk about it much. But... with all the shit happening you deserve to know.”

Shane was quiet a while before smiling. She tugged Jack into her arms and kissed her, deeply yet with a gentleness that was rare. She held the smaller woman close when the kiss broke.

“Yeah... you’re right. That is one thing I am grateful for. Meeting you. Being with you through it all. I know you hate it when things get mushy but, I’m not sure where I’d be without you,” Shane said, lightly resting her forehead on Jack’s. 

Jack chuckled, in that way that almost sounded like purring. 

“Who knew Commander Shepard had a soft and gooey side?” she teased. 

“Oh shut up, asshole.”

“Bitch!” 

Shane snorted before kissing the woman again and dragging her over to the bed. It was time to celebrate a job well done.

[bellamyblake]

For the prompt:  “Are you cold? Then why are you shivering?”

A/N: Hey, guys! Something short I wrote the other day following a prompt I stumbled upon. There’s a part 2 I finished today that mirrors this one, only it’s about Bell being sick! Thanks for reading!

Things at camp were never calm. 

There could be less busy days or extremely horrible days but there was never peaceful days, at least not for Bellamy and Clarke.

Despite their mutual disagreement they worked very well especially during the hard days and without having to say so they were always there for each other, taking off some of the weight or forcing the other to take a few minutes off before completely going insane.

So when Bellamy starts feeling a headache forming before it’s even noon, he’s pissed off because there’s no sight of his princess and things were piling up at camp-kids ran from every direction asking him about hunting, water, wood chopping, herbs gathering and who’s to stand on watch today and he felt like digging a hole in the ground and hiding in it; 

Finally, when he snaps at Jasper who has decided that now is the time to ask about whether or not he and Monty can make more moonshine using the fire in the middle of camp and Bellamy gives him a hard “No!” and a speech that makes the kid’s eyes fill with tears, he decides it’s time to find Clarke;

He checks her tent, then the mess hall in case she miraculously decided to get lunch on her own without him having to shove her down there before finally heading to check the dropship. 

After calling her name a couple of times, he hears some commotion in the stock room where they kept all the medical herbs and supplies and finds her curled up in the corner, knees up, head buried in them.

“Clarke?”

“Go away!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’ll be out in a second.” he takes a moment to estimate whether or not she’s telling the truth and when she sees he’s not moving, she lifts her head up and snaps at him.

“I said go away, Blake, I’ll be there to hold your hand in a minute.”

He’d almost let his anger get the better of him when he notices how tired her eyes are and how red her nose is. 

He takes a step forward and realizes she’s shivering and bad.

“Are you cold?” she shakes her head at that “Then why are you shivering?” he prods curiously and when she opens her mouth to give him one of her flashy retorts, she sneezes not once but twice and groans frustrated, burying her head back in her knees.

He smiles-she was adorable like that-all messy and beautiful in all her sick glory, something tugged at his heart and he recognized it easily because it wasn’t the first time it happened, but for the sake of everyone and herself, he ignored it, came close and knelt, gently touching her shoulder.

“Princess....will you look up at me?”

“No.” she grunts back and he wants to laugh but holds it for her sake more than anything else. 

Carefully, he reaches and cups her cheek, picking her head up and looking at her estimating how bad it is.

It was pretty bad.

Her skin was clammy and warm, bordering on hot, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy. 

Her nose ran down, the liquid gathering above her lip even if she tried to suck her snort back in quite unsuccessfully, which made her even more miserable and frustrated. 

She tried to pull away from his grip and take care of it herself but he stopped her with a firm grip of his hand on her chin after which he pulled his sleeve up and brushed it away.

For a moment they just stare at each other’s faces and she can feel his breath fanning her hot face, her nose, though pretty stuffed, could detect the smell of him-of chopped wood and fire and as much as she was scared before, for being the one to get sick now, she feels a little comfort knowing he’s there.

“Think you can stand up?”

“Of course I can stand up!” she huffs, pushing him away, breaking the moment. 

She didn’t need Bellamy “asshole” Blake worrying over her. 

She could walk this off, keep doing her job even if she had a minor cold. It was nothing and she couldn’t leave him to deal alone with everything in camp.

She stands up so abruptly, though that she sways on her feet and staggers to the left. 

She thinks that’s it, she’ll hit the ground when his strong arm slides on her back and under her feet before she can say anything and he’s picked her up bridal style.

“You were saying?”

“Let me go!”

“No way, princess.”

“Bellamy, I mean it, I was just...it’s the blood pressure, when I stood too rapidly I lost my footing, you can let me go now.” he ignored her and kept walking straight ahead, exiting the storage room and heading to the line of cots on the left of the dropship, carefully placing her on the closest one. 

“Bellamy-”

“First of all, princess, it’s called iron deficiency and not blood pressure. You should know that, you’re the doctor around here.” he mocks her when he places her down on the cot “Alleged doctor I guess.”

“Doctor in TRAINING!” she huffs in his face but is interrupted by a cough that shakes her entire being and though she was holding onto his shoulders and trying to keep herself upright, she absolutely fails now, falls on the pillow with a thud that springs another joke out of him but she’s too dizzy and delusional to know what he’s saying. 

Her head falls to the side and she coughs her lungs out.

“Here-” he brings a glass of water to her lips and she takes a few sips after which she feels the gentle way of his hand on her neck, putting her carefully back on the pillow. 

When she opens her eyes and forces them to focus on what’s before her, she almost regrets it, because she’s never seen Bellamy Blake that worried before unless of course Octavia was missing or hurt. 

She covers her mouth when another cough interrupts her thought process and he curses quietly.

“What can I do?”

“Thought you knew more than me, jackass.”

“Come on, princess,now is not the time to be smart. Just tell me what to do.”

“Put more pillows behind my back so I don’t choke to death here.” she instructs and he quickly grabs the extra pillows from the other cots and puts them behind her, raising her up a little. 

She’s still shivering too badly so he picks another blanket and throws it over her. 

What she doesn’t expect is to feel his big hand on her forehead.

It’s actually so enormous, it’s covering her eyes too and she breathes in that familiar scent again, that calming one of woods and fire even if for just a brief moment.

“Dammit, princess, you’re...you’re burning.”

“I’m fine...just-” she coughs again and he winces at the sound of it cause it is bad. 

When did she even get so sick? How did he not notice it earlier? 

She did seem a little off last night...sleepy and leaning onto Raven’s shoulder a bit too much, trying to keep herself together. 

He had given it out to her being tired and swore that tomorrow he’d take on more tasks than her and force her to have an early evening but...why hadn’t he seen her red cheeks or her stuffed nose?

Why hadn’t he done something about it. 

“Just get me some seaweed tea and I’ll be fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ll make the kids bring some water and get it boiled in a minute,princess.” he’s surprised when she opens her eyes and he sees fear there. It takes him a moment to realize what it stemmed for until he remembered the empty medbay they were in, the big cold stony walls of the drop ship and her...lying all alone there, in all her princessy sick adorable glory.

She was afraid of being alone.

And he knew that despite everything she...didn’t have anyone else to ask to be here for her.

Wells was gone and she got along well with the girls but none of them were truly close to her. 

His sister was too preoccupied with Lincoln and Raven...things with her would always be hard because of Finn, no matter how much time had passed. 

The rest of them-Monty, Jasper, Harper, Monroe...they looked up to her but that was it...she was like a mom to them, he had even heard the kids calling the two of them mom and dad and as much as it annoyed him it was in ways true-she took care of them-she patched up their injuries, listened to their problems, gave advice, taught them which plants to use for eating and which to gather for her so she can use as medicine. 

They weren’t her friends...they were her younger siblings and all they’d do if they came here was worry and ask him a bunch of questions about “When will she be fine?” and “What are you doing about it?” that would surely make her recovery and his headache worse.

But he...he understood what this was like-they were leaders and though they carried it all on their shoulders and handled this camp in the most badass of ways, they could also...be vulnerable with one another. 

She may be a little shy having him see her like this, she may have tried to hide it but both of them knew that him finding her in that storage room was the best scenario.

“Or I could just radio them and we’ll tell them you feel a bit under the weather.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to.” he promises, reaching to squeeze her hand and giving her a light smile. “And trust me...this is fun for me too. Seeing the princess brought down to her knees-”

She slaps his arm and he chuckles.

“Shut up, you ass.”

“At your services, doc.” he salutes her and picks up the radio, before heading for the corner where he gives Monty and Jasper specific instructions without freaking them too much. 

When they come ten minutes later and try to barge in, he stops them at the dropship door and takes the steaming hot kettle from their hands before instructing them what needs to be done before dinner and making sure they don’t forget to bring Clarke some food as well.

By the time he comes back to her, she’s asleep, curled up on her side and still trembling really badly, her nose running and her cheeks flushed. 

He finds some clean rags and a bucket of cold water and he uses it to ease her fever, placing a cold cloth over her forehead. 

She exhales in her sleep and it’s one of the most adorable sounds he’s ever heard.

That is until she starts quietly snoring too. 

Her nose is stuffed but her mouth is opened and at first she begins it ever so quietly but at some point it raises to a louder pitch and he has to cover his mouth so as not to laugh at how a small creature like her can produce such a loud noise. 

Like a badass lioness, he thinks as he tucks a wet strand of hair from her cheek behind her burning ear. 

At some point an hour or so later, he wakes her up and forces her to drink some tea. 

Though she’s weak she still tries to boss him around, saying that they had to check on the wall and change Monroe’s wrist bandage and then something else he couldn’t make out but which makes his heart clench at the sight of her yet again-despite her condition, the kids and this camp were still her number one priority.

When the evening falls Monty brings up a bowl of soup and tries to convince Bellamy to let him see Clarke but he’s relentless.

“Monty, no and don’t even try to get in here, not you or the others. We don’t want you getting this thing and I have it handled.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t get sick.” he waves his hand “Now listen, send Miller here later so I can give him instructions for tomorrow” and once again reiterates how important it is that no one sets food inside the drop ship.

Monty gives him a weird look but nods once again before leaving. 

Soon after, Miller comes by and Bellamy makes him write down what needs to be done, tasks that will keep them busy for at least the next few days but that weren’t too dangerous or hard. 

It’d be enough to stir them away from trouble or drinking themselves to oblivion and give Clarke the time she needs to recover.

The next time she wakes, he tries to force her to eat some of the soup but she’s too weak, so the best he manages to do is give her more tea and lift her up enough to help her clear up some of the snots clogging her nose. 

“I’m so gross...I can’t believe hot shot threesome Bellamy Blake of all people has to see me like this.”

He wets yet another rag and carefully wipes her face from the sweat and awfulness of the disease and she leans a little too much into his touch, exhaling in relief. 

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“Huh?” she asks and it’s the most adorable cute huh in the world, he thinks, with her nose all stuffed and her eyes barely opened but pinned on him.

“I don’t sleep around.”

“Well congratulations to you.” he smiles “Is that why you’ve been so uptight lately? Haven’t had the chance to fuck it off?”

“Oh please, if someone needs to have sex it’s you, princess.”

“I’ll consider this an offer.” that makes him stiffen, mouth agape and she actually laughs at his face “That was rude, princess.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it, Blake. I know you see women as something to conquer.”

“That’s not true.” he shakes his head and she must detect the anger in his voice because her eyes open a little wider and she gives him a curious look.

“In fact, I hate that...my mother she...when we were on the Ark she had to sleep with guards to know when there’d be a surprised inspection. Sometimes she’d come back with bruises and I just-”

Clarke reaches to touch his wrist.

“I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t see women as something to conquer.” he says quietly “Only as something to admire because you’re badass.”

“Damn right we are.” she smiles and finally so does he.

“I can see why you made that assumption, though and I don’t blame you for it. If anything, it is my fault and my cross to bear.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself.” she scolds mildly when she turns to the side and he tucks her back in “We all make mistakes, it’s important that we learn from them.”

He nods and while he’s too busy thinking over her words, he misses how she fell asleep. 

A smile plays on his face when she starts snoring again but it quickly disappears when at around midnight her fever spikes too much and she’s shaking so bad, he has no idea what to do. 

The best he can come up with is change the cold rags on her forehead and force her to drink tea even if she’s barely conscious but it’s the worst when her snores quiet down and she starts coughing in her sleep. 

He’s afraid she’ll choke on it, suffocate so he does the best thing he can think of-he carefully moves her into a sitting position and slides behind her, pushing her back to his chest and holding her tight, trying to provide both the much needed warmth she so desperately craved and ease her breathing.

It works, she actually manages to fall into a fitting sleep but she’s still hot as hell and he’s starting to get really scared that her fever’s not breaking.

A few hours later he rolls them over to the side and covers her up with three blankets and his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. 

He smiles when her fingers reach and wrap around his collar, pushing it to her face and...smelling it in which makes him tilt his head in surprise before he remembers what he was about to do. 

He tries to cool her down as best as he can and at some point he’s so desperate he takes her hand in his and closes his eyes as he kneels by the cot.

“Come on, princess, I know you can do this...I know you can kick this stupid fever in the butt, alright? I know it. You’re damn Clarke Griffin...you’re stubborn and strong and beautiful and...and you never give up, alright? You can’t give up...those kids out there, they need you...they love you so much. And I need you too. I know I rarely admit it but...I’d be a fucking mess without you there to kick my ass, okay? So please just...get it together and stop playing with my poor heart here.”

There’s a silence for a few minutes and then he feels her fingers squeeze his hand back.

“You’re...telling me...you actually...have one?” he looks up all wide eyed and finds her eyes barely opened lips parted in a small smile and he can’t remember ever feeling so worried as when he reaches to touch her forehead and feels her skin having cooled down even if a bit.

“Your fever’s breaking.”

“It had no choice...I couldn’t leave you to deal with those insane kids on your own.” he smiles and actually cups her cheek with his big hand which is hot and feels good against her still shivering body even if she was technically feverish. 

She leans into his touch and smiles, allows herself this short moment of peace and quiet, a moment of vulnerability with the only person she knew she could show it to. 

He doesn’t make a snarky remark, doesn’t say something stupid, but just stays there and lets her act like a kid. 

She almost scolds herself for it, tries to pull away but he moves his hand to her neck and keeps her still, as if having read her thoughts.

“Hey, no...none of that.” he scolds mildly “I said you’re a badass but you’re allowed to feel...weak, you’re allowed to cry and be sick and feel vulnerable, okay? Just because you’re a leader doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings. Let’s not forget the fact that you are more or less a child like those idiots out there who call you mom just because you’re a few years older than them.”

“They need someone to look up to.” she says pinning her eyes to the cot.

“And you’re a great example but...what I mean is, you can let go a little, Clarke, you can...live your youth, alright?”

“And you can’t?” he furrows his eyebrows at that and she reaches to wrap her clammy hand around his wrist.

“You’re not seventy Bellamy...as much as your back says otherwise.” he huffs a small smile at that “I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with Octavia, having that responsibility but...I assume it forced you into adulthood way too early. You can ...relax a little too.”

“When I can go around camp and scold the kids for being stupid idiots...nah, this is more fun” he gives her a half smile but she sees through him and tightens her grip.

“You can let go for one night...the world won’t stop spinning if you have some fun.”

“Ahh, that drink you so much insist on us getting comes up yet again, Griffin?” he plays it cool again and she shakes her head, deciding she’ll pick this serious subject again another time,when she’s not too sick and barely keeping herself awake and he’s not insistent on holding the world, this camp and all the children in it on his shoulders.

“Well you did promise...all those months ago.”

“I’ll let you drink a barrel of that moonshine shit as long as you get better.” he must’ve realized what he said cause he stiffens at the words but he decides not to beat him up for it now, not when she’s about to doze off again, so she simply pulls at his hand and looks up with big bright blue eyes “I mean-” he tries to shrug it off but she just smiles.

“Come to bed, Bellamy.”

“But you’re...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You kept me warm and I am still cold and feverish so I need you to keep doing what you did before okay? No funny business!”

He chuckles and relents, carefully peeling off the blankets and sliding behind her, putting his hand on her stomach and pushing her to his chest. 

There’s something so comforting about being in his embrace-his big arm holding her tight, making her fears about disappearing into the sweaty nightmarish darkness of this sickness go away and his warmth...he’s like a fire that’s just been started, the freshly chopped woods catching the flames with ease, spreading a softness in her body that she didn’t expect, warming her up to the core, all the way to her toes that were always freezing and even though he makes a joke about her snoring, when he drifts off, she hears him snore too and thinks of woods cracking in the fire and how they sound like the deepest and most honest of belly laughs and she wonders...if she had ever actually heard Bellamy Blake laugh.

But she thinks she’ll make it her mission to witness it at least once, with or without the involvement of a barrel full of moonshine.

[caps-lockdown]

Poll Winner...Hotel Horrors!

Hotel Horrors

Hey everyone so so sorry that this took forever and a day to get out. The short version is I quit my new job because it was leading me down a dark path of anxiety and depression so I’ve been struggling with all of that nonsense and quite frankly lost the motivation to write anything at all. I want everyone to know that your mental health matters and no job (no matter the money or benefits) is worth putting that at risk.

Anyway, here’s the winner of my 200 follower poll! I do plan on writing the other choices eventually, but again I’ve been struggling HARD with writer’s block.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 5,586

Warnings: Mentions of booze, a few swear words. A crude joke. Pretty much all fluff with some panicked!Steve and switching of names.

Summary: Steve Rogers lost something extremely important at your hotel during an undercover mission. What will you do when you find out your celebrity crush was staying under your roof?!

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format, and I own no characters save for the reader and her coworkers/family. No beta, so mistakes are mine, ALL MINE I tell you!

ENJOY!

“Y/N my happy little orange blossom!”

You looked up from your mug, hot tea sloshing in your mouth until you could force it down. It was eight-thirty am on a brisk Monday in New York City, the hustle and bustle of morning traffic mixed with the grogginess of another too short weekend over. The hotel lobby had been quiet a whole half hour before your uncle had made his presence known. The Wilson hotel, named after your grandfather’s first dog had been in your family for just shy of sixty years, your father and uncle taking over when your grandfather decided to retire five years ago. It was a quaint but lovely little building, boasting just fifty six rooms and four luxury suites. Your grandfather had bought the building on a splurge, wanting to create his own income and become his own boss, much to the encouragement of your grandmother. It was an instant success, the small homely atmosphere mixed with the most affordable prices in the city kept you busy as a receptionist.

Things had slowed down just a touch now that the new year was here and the holidays were gone, people not traveling as much to make up for the money they had spent on presents for whatever they were celebrating. You were usually never caught dead at work on Mondays, never one to really enjoy the swarms of grumpy travelers in the early hours. Sundays and Mondays, until this week unfortunately, were your prized days off. That all changed the minute Mandy the other receptionist who usually worked days where you worked nights decided to bring her third hell spawn into the world a week early. A New Year’s baby. How lovely. Now because of the aptly named “Kia”, you were forced to pull double duty until her replacement started next week. So much for your Christmas wish of working less. You took it in stride though, after all Mandy was your soon to be cousin, your cousin Brent popping the question Christmas morning surrounded by all of your family. The very same family who was quick to point out that you were now the last of six children to be engaged. Or the last of six to have children. Or the last of six to be in a remotely serious relationship. And no, your crush on Captain America most certainly did not count. The only one who hadn’t spoken a word against you was Uncle Todd. He had always been your favorite, and you his. He never married, nor had kids of his own, so he was always quick to jump down your family’s throats. After all, he owned sixty percent of the Wilson and he turned out just fine thank you very much.

His only downfall was that he was simply too happy in the mornings.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, an annoyed expression passing over you as he lovingly patted you on the top of your head. He’d been doing it since you were a child. You had hated it since you were a child too. “Oh come now Y/N, surely you aren’t that hung over from the New Year’s celebration? It was a week ago after all. Put some spring in your step!”

“First of all, it’s too early for you. Now I know why I don’t work mornings.” You muttered the last bit into your oversized mug before draining the rest of your English breakfast tea. “Secondly,” you cleared your throat, picking up your electric kettle that sat at your desk and started on brewing your second cup, “You know damn well I don’t get hangovers Uncle. Fortunately I have your alcohol tolerance instead of my hopeless father’s.” The tea bag fell into your now full mug with an uninterested plop. “And thirdly, I’m only here because Mandy is out and Rachel doesn’t start for another week. Last I checked you don’t pay me enough to care about “peppiness” this early on a Monday.”

The shaking of his head normally would have you fearing for a spiel about being more carefree and positive, but the grin he was sporting brought a small one to your features. “We’ll make a morning person out of you yet Y/N. Carson here yet?”

“Nope, I’d wager dad’s stuck in traffic,” you pulled a face before adding “Again”.

“I swear that man will be late to his own funeral. I expect we’ll get a phone call any moment now, be sure to rip him a new one for me eh? Oh my new year’s resolution is to leave the house earlier so I can be on time my left foot.” You giggled, stirring honey into your beverage as he continued to rant and rave all the way to his office, the loud creak of his large chair announcing his defeat on the subject of your father’s constantly late arrivals.

As if on cue the main lobby’s terribly outdated phone rang loudly, a surprised yelp leaving your lips as you set the cup down and picked up the receiver.

“Good morning and thank you for calling the Wilson,” Your customer service voice was a common shock to your family and friends, the usual snark and sarcasm replaced with a sweet and patient tone. You quickly added, “Dad if this is you calling to say you’re running late, it’s been like this for five years. You don’t need to give us a heads up. We know you’ll show up, but you should know uncle Todd prefers it be before the next turn of the century.”

“Well Mandy your uncle seems like a reasonable man although I can assure you I’m extremely punctual.” The voice was certainly not your father’s, and for second you were extremely embarrassed and looking for quick way to end it. It wasn’t normal to get phone calls this early. But before you could do anything rash the person on the other line let out a short laugh. “I needed that laugh today, thank you. It’s been a stressful morning.”

“I’m sorry about that! I’m afraid Mandy is out, my name is Y/N.”Your face burned with the intensity of the sun as you quickly moved on, “How can I help you today mister….”

“Rogers. I’m sorry I assumed you were Mandy.”

“It’s alright mister Rogers.”

“Great.” He continued, taking a breath “Mandy alright?”

“Yep the baby just came early and she went into labor during our charity event last week.”

“How beautiful. I recall her saying something about contractions now that you mention it. Listen Y/N I was wondering if you could help me out on something urgent?”

“Sure mister Rogers, anything for my favorite neighbor.” You blurted out and then inwardly cringed at your own terrible joke, but again it was met by the stranger’s rough laughter. It almost sounded familiar. Like maybe you had heard it in person. Or on the television.

“Cute. I’m sure he…I mean I’ve never heard that one before.” The man recovered and you raised an eyebrow although he couldn’t see it. “So the long story short is that a friend and I checked in last week for your New Year’s charity Gala. It was stunning, had a wonderful time.”

“We had Pepper Potts as a consultant for the event, she’s incredible with event planning. Tony Stark donated some of the art work we auctioned off that night if you recall. Many were saddened to hear he wasn’t able to attend, but miss Potts looked lovely and did a great job.”

“That she did, and I’m sure he was there…in spirit I suppose.” The man got out hastily before recomposing himself. “Anyway I’m afraid my colleague and I were so partied out when we checked out the next day I realized I forgot a very important flash drive somewhere in my suite.”

“Not a problem mister Rogers, our suites are extremely private and we haven’t had any guests in them since last week so I have no problem calling housekeeping and seeing if they found anything. Just a thumb drive you said?”

“Yes a small black thumb drive. I’m super boring and predictable. And please, call me Tony.”

“Alright mister-“You stopped yourself, “Tony. What suite were you in? And we can check your friend’s suite too if you want to give me his name.”

“Oh of course suite number two. He was staying under the name Steve Stark.”

You held in a laugh. It was normal for high-caliber people and celebrities to check in under false names, sometimes even using the names of other celebrities. Kim Kardashian-West checked in as Princess Jasmine once somewhere.

“And you’re Tony Rogers. Funny, I’m sure Mandy didn’t catch that one. She isn’t the brightest crayon in the box I’m afraid.”

“I can agree with you there. “ The man laughed again, and you realized you were finding yourself in a good mood talking to this man. Why was that?

“Well I’ll do some digging and see what I can find. Is this a good number to reach you at Tony?”

“Yes this number is the right one to snag me at.”

“Perfect, I’ll get housekeeping on it right away as no one has been in there since your stay. I’ll call you in a couple days with our results. Hopefully we find it for you. Have a great day!”

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

You hung up the phone and promptly dropped your head on the desk. Where did you know that  voice from?

~~Earlier at the Tower~~

“For the last time Steve I haven’t seen your thumb drive!” Sam waved Steve away from blocking the game on the television in the common area. “Now you make a better mountain sized door instead of a window.” Steve huffed angrily out of the room.

“Haven’t seen it Cap, might I suggest checking your shoes?” Tony got out in between bites of his cereal, Bucky laughing with him at the Captain’s deadpanned expression. “What? Worth a shot.”

He stomped out of that room too.

Even Nat had jumped on the skeptical side, narrowing her eyes as he dug through his luggage again for the seventh time in the past two days, “Are you sure you didn’t pack it?”

This was it. This was how Steve Rogers was going to lose his mind. The sleep deprived and stress-ridden super solider pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths. It proved fruitless and he smashed his phone into the wall a day later at the suggestion from Tony to just call the Wilson. The same hotel Tony and him had stayed at the previous week for an undercover mission.

The team had accepted the circumstances, Strange and Nat running communications while Tony and Steve underwent massive amounts of makeup to change their appearance. Tony of course went the craziest. Bald cap, clean shaved face and a suit that made him look even more buff than he already was. Nat kept calling him “Daddy Warbucks”. Steve however had kept it simple. Changed his hair color, grew his beard out a little longer, contacts, and wore a slightly ill fitting suit.

Truth be told he didn’t understand why they needed to be there at first. “Catching art thieves” wasn’t something that usually required action from The Avengers. NYPD were more than capable most of the time, so it came as a shock when one of the owners of the Wilson reached out to them via email. The message didn’t say too much, other than a time, date, and small description of the group of men needing apprehended. Todd and his partner didn’t want these men getting to the very expensive masterpieces they were auctioning off for charity, and just wanted some extra security. Apparently the thieves had been snatching works of art for nearly a decade and hadn’t been caught. Tony loved a challenge and accepted. Todd suggested setting a trap and sending a couple of them undercover so as to not draw unwanted attention. As an added bonus Tony donated some of the art to be auctioned off at the Gala held in his hotel on New Year’s Eve. He even offered to put them up in two of their nicer suites for no charge.  

Tony was in the minute he mentioned undercover. He even took to making some secret compartments in their attire, you know just in case.

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

Speaking of the billionaire, he was now putting his phone back in his pocket, a smug expression on his face.

“Y/N the receptionist said she’d look into it and call back in a couple days. Now will you calm down?”

“I can’t calm down Tony, that thumb drive had all the evidence to put the art thieves away.”

“Wet Bandits” Tony corrected, Steve rolling his eyes. “The trial isn’t for another week and worrying is only going to force you into an earlier grave. So cool it.”

The blonde man ran a hand through his hair. He truly hated it when his friend was right. Though he’d never tell him of course, his ego was big enough as is. He let out a sigh, “Fine.”

“Great. Now make a list of places you were in the hotel during the Gala, we can go retrace your steps if they don’t find anything. I think your ancient brain is finally catching up to you Cap.”

Steve slammed the door to his room with that remark, seething with embarrassment and anger. It’s not like he had meant to lose it. He’d never lost intel like this before. Actually now that he thought about it he couldn’t think of a time he had ever lost something this important. Falling into his desk chair with an ungraceful thud, he began writing the places he had been during New Year’s Eve.

~~Flashback, Night of the Gala~~

“We’ll get right back to the Auction after the ball drops!” A jolly looking man, who the team learned to be Todd interrupted the evening, encouraging everyone to mingle and enjoy themselves. Tony didn’t need to be told a second time, making his way to the open bar while Strange noted his obvious distaste in their ear pieces.

People nearly trampled Steve as he got up from his seat, emptying out of the large conference room and into the beautifully decorated grand ballroom just outside. He couldn’t say he blamed anyone, being squished like sardines for the last two hours was starting to even get on his nerves. And he lived in a compound of superheroes with no real sense of boundaries. He was enjoying his solitude, no one recognizing him for the first time in years. It felt liberating, only having a select few know his true identity. He almost didn’t miss it.

He felt a slight shove into his shoulder, turning his body to glance down at the elegant figure draped in simple green velvet, your wide eyes burning into his in embarrassment.

“I’m…I’m such a klutz my apologies!” You stuttered out, giving him the smallest hint of a shy smile.

“No harm no foul. Tony.” He stuck out a hand, giving himself points for not messing up his alias.

You placed your small hand in his and immediately Steve was struck by how soft your hand felt.  But before you could give your name your heads swiveled at the shouting coming from the far side of the room. He noted how your eyes shown slight disappointment as you broke from the greeting.

“Forgive me. My relatives and booze never makes for a good outcome.” With a defeated sigh you turned on your heel, clicking away towards Todd, muttering to yourself. “Way to go Y/L/N, always running into gorgeous people and then running away.”

Ok, he missed it a little. You were the sort of someone he would have liked to ask to dance. If under different circumstances of course. Maybe. But silver lining, at least he had been able to catch your last name. He watched you run off with a dreamy look on his face.  

“Heads up lover boy, we got company.” Nat jolted Steve from his thoughts, four men entering the large room and nonchalantly casing the place. How these men had gotten away with stealing art for close to a decade was beyond him. Hiding within plain sight he moved to a vantage point high up on a stairwell.

“Tony you got them?”

“You mean Steve. I’m Steve, you’re Tony. Geesh that dime wasn’t in your orbit for more than two minutes and you’re this scrambled?” Tony teased, Steve groaning into his ear piece and earning a smirk in response. “Yea I got them, shall I go ahead and set the plan in motion?” He caught Steve’s nod and reaffirmed it with his own, making his way towards the group. “Then the game is afoot!”

Steve made a mental note to ask Thor for some meade after all of this was over.

The rest of the night went easy enough. The “Wet Bandits” fell for the trap, they were caught red handed and arrested on the spot. Steve managed to swipe a USB drive from the ring leader of the group before the police carted off the criminals, the crowd clapping and cheering for them. They looked like normal, non-super people, just doing the right thing at the right time. It gave the team a sense of pride, knowing even without their suits or names they still got the job done.

“Where should I put this?” He fiddled with the small storage device. Nat had mentioned it would most likely have very incriminating evidence on it. She also put extra emphasis on keeping it safe.

“I don’t know, somewhere close to your soul?”

“That makes no sense Tony.”Steve muttered from the punch bowl, watching his partner walk towards him, empty glass in tow. Typical.

Tony joined him while everyone began to count down the minutes til the new year, gloating about how he couldn’t wait to kiss Pepper.

“That’s rich considering you look like mister clean right now. Think of the headlines.” Strange muttered into the comms and Tony laughed, forgetting temporarily what he looked like in his present state. “Hey there’s that girl you were making eyes at Rogers.”

The contacts he wore were starting to itch from dryness, and Steve found himself exceptionally happy that the night would soon be ending. He couldn’t help but gravitate toward you, your smile and light laughter ringing over the small group of people around you.

“Hello again.” Steve tried to think of what Tony would do in this situation, and then decided the cocky approach probably wouldn’t go over well. Your eyes twinkled in the glow of the gentle lighting, the room dimming as it got closer to a new year.

“Hi again.” Sixty seconds to go.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier but you look stunning.” You were happy your blush was hidden in the near darkness of the room. The people were getting louder in their chanting of the time, Steve swallowing hard as your smile grew wider with the passing second. As so did his confidence.

“Thank you, that suit is an…interesting color.” Steve remembered his current attire and internally grimaced. What a claude you must think him, showing up in an ill fitting suit, beard barely groomed, his slightly red eyes. Of course he gets the gumption to make small talk and introduce himself and what happens? He looks like a homeless vacuum salesman.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…” He watched as you looked around the room, loudly calling out the numbers, unaware of how smitten he must have been looking at you. You seemed so genuine in your happiness, your smile beaming and lighting up the whole room.

“Five….Four..” He had no idea what was making him inch closer to you, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like he needed to be near that sort of energy. He hadn’t met anyone that put him so much at ease so quickly before. Why was that?

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, guests pulling on party popper strings and Todd and Carson popping bottles of champagne open with sabers. He laughed at you while you shook your head at your obvious relatives. Of course it had to be sabers. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the loud music. He blamed a large portion of it on the alcohol, although it did nothing for him. Whatever it was spread throughout his entire nervous system and pushed him to place a small kiss on your blush tapped cheek.

“Happy New Year.” He managed to get out, taken aback by his own actions. You didn’t seem to mind, only beamed a smile that seemingly blinded him. Which wasn’t difficult to accomplish thanks to the stupid contacts.

“Yappy Hew Near.” Your alarmed expression at your jumbled words caused Steve to let out a deep laugh, you joining in shortly after. The night concluded with the art being bought back by Tony, not truly wanting to see them go in the first place. He could already hear the argument he and Pepper would be having later. If the look she gave him was any indication, he fully expected Stark to be in sofa city for the better part of the new year. He headed back to his suite with a bounce in his step, happy with the overall outcome.

Steve’s happiness was gone the minute they got back to the Tower and he noticed the flash drive was nowhere in sight.

~~Present~~

Which lead him to this moment of staring at Sam while he went over his paper. There weren’t that many places on it which made for a short list. The lobby, ballroom, conference room, and of course his suite were the only places he went after swiping the drive. Sam took note of all of the sighs leaving the tall man’s lips as he perused the list, growing slightly annoyed.

“Steve, man you gotta get laid. Or go fishing. Somethin’. Anything that will make you less mopey.” His friend grinned, it sinking into a frown when Steve gave him murderous side eye.

“Sam I appreciate you inserting yourself into my personal life again but I still haven’t found that drive. It means everything to the trial and without it –“

”The Wet Bandits won’t be convicted and you will have failed this city…yadda yadda…” Bucky finished, putting his hands on his hips as he stood alongside Sam. “Seriously pal, we know. But worrying about it ain’t gonna make it appear out of thin air. Stop making it worse.”

“Easy for you to say Buck,” Steve scoffed. “You weren’t the one that lost it.”

“Well Cap, I guarantee it will be in the last place you left it!” Tony said, smiling cheerfully at him while he snatched the list from Sam, nodding once he had finished going over it. “We’ll find it, stop getting your old man undies in a bunch and go do something productive.”

Steve went running for three hours, the entire time thinking of ways to get away with murder.

~~~Meanwhile at the Wilson~~~

“I’m telling you Uncle I have torn these rooms apart and I haven’t found anything!!!”

You were laying on the floor of the suite Tony Rogers, or whatever his real name was had stayed in the week prior, your uncle staring down at you from the doorway that lead out into the hall.

“I can see that.” You uncle stated matter of fact, astonished at the sight. “Orange blossom it’s been two days and you haven’t found anything, I think you should give the nice man a call.”

“Ughmnpf” Was your response, your voice muffled from your face in the carpet. Housecleaning hadn’t found anything when they had cleaned both rooms, and you had spent the better part of forty eight hours digging through everything. Todd had rounded up a crew to search the rooms the Gala had been at just in case, and had turned up nothing. Well they did find your uncle’s most prized bottle opener that was shaped like a large great white shark he had gotten from the Caribbean three years ago, but that wasn’t doing anyone any favors. “He’s gonna be so upset Todd. I don’t know if I can to talk to him again.” You complained weakly, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

“Nonsense, if I remember him well enough I know he’d be very impressed with how you managed to tear these rooms apart looking for something he lost in the first place. Give yourself more credit.”

You dragged yourself off the plush floor and made your way to the phone located in the room, taking out a small slip of paper out from the pocket of your dark gray slacks and punching it into the phone. It rang four times before you were sent to voicemail.

“Hey you’ve reached the personal voicemail of Tony Stark, obviously I’m too wrapped up right now to take your call, so leave a message and I’ll call back when I feel like it.”

You stared into the phone in shock, the loud tone making you jump and sputter into the receiver.

“Ssss…sorry to call this number, I was told I could reach Tony Rogers here. This is Y/N from the Wilson, if you’re free to stop by at three this afternoon I’d greatly appreciate it. Thh..thank you.” You hung up the phone. Now you were certain you had been played. What was this mystery man playing at? First he gives you an obviously fake name and then gives you the phone number of THE Tony Stark?

“What’s wrong Y/N? You look like you just discovered spit in your cheerios. Which might I add hasn’t happened in years.”

“Um, who stayed in this suite Uncle? Tell me the truth.” You narrowed your eyes, attempting to look menacing in your bright mustard sweater and messy bun.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but it sounds like you’ll meet him soon enough. Which lucky for me, I’ll be here to record it.” Your face paled as your heart started to race.

Who the hell was coming to the hotel?!

~~~Three p.m~~~

“I don’t know about this Tony,” Steve muttered into his new phone, trudging up the slightly slick steps of the hotel. It was snowing, wet globs falling from the sky and sticking to the warm pavement creating a walking hazard for most people. He wasn’t most people though. “You called her. You should be here.”

“And you lost the drive, so you have retrieve it. Now get that stick out of your ass and maybe after ask her out afterwards. ” Steve rolled his eyes, the sass evident in the brunette’s tone. Everyone had gotten fed up with him over the last few days, although he was certain that was a massive understatement. “Let me know how it goes, I’ve got a meeting so I’ll talk to you afterwards.” Steve ended the call with a firm click, taking extra care at putting his phone into his pocket upon entering the lobby. Would hate to have to purchase a second phone within a week.

He was delighted to see you behind the counter, recognizing you from the gala. Granted your eyes were as big as dinner plates and you were choking on whatever was in your mug but you still managed to look lovely. He had it bad and he didn’t have the faintest idea why or how. But he did know that your smile had plagued his nights and swept through his days the entire time he had been looking for this drive. He would definitely be asking you out today.

“Hello I’m looking for Y/N?” Steve said politely, knowing good and well he was staring at her. He noticed Todd off to the side, clearly recording the whole ordeal on his phone. He had mentioned at the Gala that Y/N had harbored an intense school girl crush on the captain most of her life, and had been slightly looking forward to meeting him. Granted this was technically the third time they had met, but she didn’t know that yet.

“She’s right here!” Todd said brightly, your brain attempting to pick itself off the floor and reinsert itself back into your skull. You shook your head out of your shock and smiled, trying hard to calm your nerves. You could probably beat a hummingbird with how fast your heart was racing.

“He’s right I’m Y/N. You must be mister Rogers.” You mentally smacked yourself. Of course he was. His small grin at your expense made the humiliation twenty times worse.

“That I am. Any luck finding my drive?” He was trying to be direct. Right. He had no business here otherwise. You lowered your head, both out of disappointment and guilt.

“I’m afraid not. I personally searched both suites myself for hours and couldn’t find a single black flash drive. I’m so sorry but I was hoping maybe if you revisited the room that it would jog your memory?”

“Good luck with that,” Todd chimed in, your gaze ripping from Steve’s blue eyes to look at your uncle sharply, “It looks like a bomb went off up there.”

“I think it’s a decent idea, sure.” Steve admonished, finding himself at wits end over the matter.

You nodded and lead the way to the elevators, your uncle electing to stay behind much to your behest. Perhaps you would have a heart attack on the way up and that would be the end of it. No, that was being too optimistic. You took the space closest to the far wall, keeping your distance and blush ridden skin as far away from the super solider as possible.

“Ya know this isn’t the first time we’ve met.” Steve said simply, giving you a heartbreaking smile. “You quite literally bumped into me during the gala. And I was with you during the countdown later on that night.”

“I surely would have remembered running into you mister Rogers.” You retorted back just as simply, attempting to study the buttons on the elevator in great detail.

“Not if I was undercover. I had a long beard, terribly fitting suit. Black hair. I’m afraid the contacts made my eyes a little red from the dryness. You were looking absolutely breathtaking, wearing a beautiful green velvet dress. I’ll admit I was pulled to you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you. What were your exact words at midnight?” Your breath caught in your throat when you met his eyes, the recognition hitting you like a freight truck.

“Yappy Hew Near.” You both said it in union, your face going from tinted pink to full on tomato red when you realized Captain America had kissed you on the cheek that night.

“I am SUCH an idiot I am so sorry!” You stammered out, hoping for the first time in your life that the elevator would NOT break down with you stuck in it with Steve Rogers.

“Hey doll it’s alright, really. I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t want to. Your smile is something else.” That caused you to blush harder, if that was possible. “Now let’s go see about that suite huh?”

You really hated how cool he was about the whole thing.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to get this over with as soon as possible you practically tore  down the suite door, the inside looking like a tornado went through it. After a band of criminals ransacked it. You tensed up when you heard Steve let out a slow and low whistle.

“You’ve uh…you’ve been busy.” He tried, not easing your nerves and surveying the area. “I believe you when you say you didn’t find anything.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Can you walk me through what happened when you got back here? It might help talking through it.” Steve nodded at you although he wasn’t looking in your direction, his tall stature breezing around the large room with ease.

“I went to the bathroom after taking off my jacket,” He looked in the closet. Nothing. “I took out the awful contacts and shaved.” You giggled as he mimed running a razor over his face in the bathroom. He placed the invisible facial tool down on the counter and walked back out, looking slightly behind you at the nightstand. “I placed my watch there and went to take off my sh…”

The sentence died in his throat, you becoming slightly concerned as he proceeded to stand ramrod still. “Steve? Did you remember something?”

He took off his right shoe, staring into it with a slack jaw.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Steve? You’re making me nervous, talking into your shoe and all.” You had begun to back away when a slightly hysterical laugh escaped the man’s throat, the timber wavering as he ripped the insole out of the piece of footwear. You were starting to rethink being alone in a hotel room with him.

It was only when he took out the small thumb drive from a hidden compartment in his sole that you began laughing too. But yours was partially due to extreme anger.

“It…was in…your…shoe….the WHOLE time…?” You managed to get out, heaving breaths and attempting to catch them while the good Captain continued to lean onto the nightstand for support, his own breath ragged.

“Tony….made a joke…about putting it…close to…my soul.” He stood up straight, slowly regaining composure which you were not finding helpful. “I must have been so tired that I thought putting it in there was a good idea.”

“Well clearly it was a good place, you couldn’t even find it. But who uses a shoe? Honestly.”

Steve had the good sense to look embarrassed, running a hand through his hair and offering an apologetic smile. “I am so embarrassed. You tore this hotel apart looking for this and I had it the whole time. The team will never let me live it down once they find out.”

“Who says they have to know?” Came your reply, already heading to the suite door and pulling it open with a bit of effort. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

“What’s the catch doll?” He held the door for you and you gave a mumbled thanks.

“Drinks. Right now.” You said confidently, looking into his eyes, his real blue eyes with ease.

“Can’t I’m afraid.” Steve grinned at your sad expression. “We have dinner plans first.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, beaming another mega-watt smile.

“Maybe we’re SOLE-mates mister Rogers. Shall we?”

You both laughed the entire way to the restaurant down the street.

The end.

Tags: @kaytizzle @pies-wands-and-more @cuffski @giggleberts 

[thefreckledone]

Pompeii Chapter 54

Sakura watched the changing colors of the leaves as she continued driving, enjoying the chance to zone out. There were so many things competing for her attention: her job, her roommates, the upcoming election; it was nice to have this time to herself. When she first started this commute, she’d seen it as a hassle, a waste of time.

Now?

Now it was the only chance Sakura had to think in peace and quiet.

She kept her thoughts light and loose, choosing not to ruminate on her anxieties and doubts. Instead, she completed her long drive home in easy, blissful silence.

Sakura climbed out of the car and grabbed a few packages from the back seat, smiling to herself. There was a secondhand store near the clinic where she worked and she had found quite a treasure trove. 

“Sakura!” Zaku exclaimed, hastily hopping down from the fourth floor of their home.

Sakura watched, not even flinching at the heavy thud. She was used to the reckless abandon with which her roommates maneuvered themselves, even though it drove the doctor within her absolutely insane. “Hey Zaku!” she greeted in turn, accepting the arm he threw over her shoulder without complaint. “How were things here?”

“Same old, same old,” Zaku replied. “A couple of fights broke out and were resolved pretty quickly. Ashura and Indra’s spar got a bit out of hand and they destroyed one of the walls. Yamato repaired it without problem, good as new.”

Sakura frowned slightly, brows puckering. “They don’t usually roughhouse so much.”

Sakura could feel Zaku’s shrug through the arm around her shoulders. “I think they got a bit antsy because you stayed at the clinic overnight. No one outright said anything but tensions were higher than usual today.”

Sakura shook her head. “There was an emergent case yesterday afternoon that lasted past clinic hours. By the time everything was stable, I was too tired to drive home safely.”

“I know,” Zaku said. “I’m not chastising you, Sakura. Though you do know that any of us would have been willing to come by and pick you up.”

Sakura snorted, ducking her head against his shoulder. “I’ve seen you drive. I don’t trust any of you behind the wheel of a vehicle. And I wasn’t in the right headspace for the less conventional methods of travel that each of you offer.” She paused, clearing her throat. “How are you, Dosu, and Kin doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the news has picked up and started circulating stories of Orochimaru and his apparent activities. Are you concerned at all?”

Zaku rubbed at his neck, over the mark left on him by a childhood of experiments. “I don’t believe them. It’s just another tactic of fearmongering to try and score votes in the election. Orochimaru isn’t active. He can’t be. We’d know.”

Sakura watched him, wary. “You’re sure?”

“Sakura, the seal isn’t even active. Orochimaru isn’t active, at least in Pompeii. We’d know. Trust me.”

“I do,” Sakura replied, regarding him with sincerity.

Zaku hummed, dropping the matter to peer over her head instead. “So what’s this you got in your arms?” he asked, squeezing her slightly before releasing her fully. Zaku swept the stack of boxes away from her. “Parcheesi? Monopoly?” He sounded out the words with uncertainty, mangling the pronunciations. “Are these items of summoning from the other Planes? I have never heard of the entity Parcheesi, but the name is similar to those from the Plane of Limbo.”

Sakura paused, fighting to contain the peals of laughter that threatened to overwhelm her. She succumbed to the urge, releasing full-bodied, belly-aching laughter. Her legs wobbled and she leaned her weight against Zaku, trusting him. When she first met him, he was thin, malnourished, barely surviving off the land. Now, his limbs were strong and steady as he kept her propped up.

“Alright, I’ll bite; what are these things?” Zaku asked once Sakura reclaimed herself and took half of the games from him.

“These are board games,” Sakura said. “Tonight we will have all of the unhealthy snacks, play a ton of board games, and watch some terrible, hilarious horror movies. If we don’t wake up tomorrow with a sugar hangover then we did it wrong.”

“Ah, I have heard of these board games!” Zaku said, looking a mixture of proud and excited. “They play them sometimes in the shows I watch. Sakura, are we performing a friendship rite!”

Sakura giggled at his phrasing. “Well yes, I suppose you could call it that. Friendships rise and die on the board of Settlers of Catan.”

“Oh and we can get Sai to make kettle corn!” Zaku said, nudging Sakura toward their home. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s get started!”

Sakura chuckled, feeling the weight of her exhaustion and responsibilities melt away in the face of Zaku’s excitement. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Zaku.”

He bounded away ahead of her, yelling out for the rest of their roommates. Sakura followed at a slower pace, unsurprised to find everyone situated in the common room by the time she arrived.

“So Zaku said something about ‘board games,’” Yamato said, standing to greet her and take the boxes from her hands. “I’m afraid I am not very familiar with the concept.”

“Huh,” Sakura murmured. “I thought you might be the only one who would. Did you not play board games with the Senju?”

Yamato shook his head, following Sakura as she headed into the pantry to rifle for snacks. “I wasn’t allowed to play with the Senju.” His mouth curled with disdain. “Hashirama and Tobirama did not want me to ‘spread Orochimaru’s perversions.’ I did observe the Senju play Sorry quite often. They enjoyed the irony of built-in insincere apologies.”

Sakura snorted, shaking her head. “Why does that not surprise me?” She turned to Yamato, assessing him for a moment before placing a hand on his arm. “I’m glad we will have a chance to make some better memories about board games tonight.”

Yamato’s frown eased into a soft smile as he regarded Sakura in turn. “I am forever thankful for whatever good fortune there is in this world that allowed my path to cross with yours.”

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat as she held Yamato’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes drawing her in. She leaned forward, hand tightening on his arm to brace herself. Yamato lifted his free hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Sakura rolled up onto her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She pulled away, flushing at the awe she saw lingering in the depths of his eyes. Sakura cleared her throat, smoothing her hand down his chest as she broke eye contact. She didn’t think she could withstand everything she could and could not read in his gaze.

“You know that I’m thankful too, right?” Sakura said, desperate to make sure he understood. She knew how little he valued himself and she wanted him to know the truth. “This relationship goes two ways. Having you in my life...I could not imagine my life without you. You are so integral to where I am now; who I am. Your presence in my life is as much a blessing to me as mine is to yours.”

“Sakura,” Yamato said, voice thick as he caught her around the waist and drew her near. He ran his other hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head as he angled her face up to his. Sakura didn’t dare breathe as she held his eyes, entranced. “I-”

“Sakura!” Ashura called, voice reverberating through the pantry. “Where are you? Kin is cheating!”

“Am not!” Kin yelled back. “Sakura, Ashura is being an asshole!”

Sakura and Yamato stared at each other for a moment, silent, before bursting into laughter. They drew away from each other reluctantly and returned to gathering snacks. 

“I’ll be there in a moment!” Sakura shouted. “Try to resolve the situation like adults!”

“Fat chance of that,” Yamato said. “This bunch is more competitive and bloodthirsty than any of the Fae Courts, the Senju included.”

“Oh gods,” Sakura said, going pale.

Yamato watched her for a moment, snickering. “You didn’t think this through did you?”

“Listen, I’m a veteran of the Great Spoons War of `11; I’m used to competition.” Sakura chewed her lip. “I just didn’t contemplate giving beings who are used to actual war and battle a new method to flaunt their skills.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh boy.”

Yamato hip-checked her, grinning when she stumbled before righting herself. “We’ll have fun. Stop worrying.”

“Alright, alright,” Sakura sighed. “Time to face the music.”

0The board games actually go over better than Sakura expected. While there are moments when things get out of hand (i.e., Ashura setting Kin’s hair on fire; Dosu making everyone’s ears pop), everyone really enjoyed the games. Some enjoyed them a bit too much, but those who weren’t as into the games had the Harry Potter marathon to watch instead.

Sakura was sprawled out on her stomach on the floor, legs tangled with Indra’s as they played Settlers of Catan. Yamato was a surprisingly ruthless conqueror and Kin was a late blooming upstart who threatened to topple his reign. Sakura was just scrambling to stay relevant in the game. 

“This is not how the game of conquest plays out on the battlefield,” Indra said grumpily, scooting closer to Sakura.

“Really,” Sakura drawled. “It didn’t consist of rolling dice and earning sheep?”

Indra knocked his knee against her thigh. “I’m serious,” he said, though the joke eased the pucker of a pout from his face. “Conquest was all about strategy and meticulous planning. Not luck.”

“There was a little bit of luck involved,” Ashura chimed in from the table where he arm wrestled with Dosu. That had been a well-placed suggestion from Yamato to keep them from roughhousing.

Indra rolled his eyes. “Maybe for you, but mother and I actually planned out the conquest of Pompeii.”

Sakura rolled slightly, regarding Indra fully. “Conquest implies someone to conquer. Who was in Pompeii before you?”

“It wasn’t really a who,” Indra said. “In those days, the primordial forces were much more active. Their magics were young and vibrant and...alive perhaps? Not sentient by any means, but alive in its own fashion. The land defended itself from intruders. To live upon it, to be accepted by its magics, the land had to be conquered. So that is what we did.”

“You and the heroes who accompanied the Maiden,” Sakura said.

“Yes, my mother,” Indra replied, eyes softening as he reminiscenced.

“Did she...did she die in the conquest for Pompeii?” Sakura asked hesitantly, taking his hand.

“No,” Indra said, mouth firming in a scowl. He clung to her hand, folding his fingers through hers. “No, that came later. Pompeii was poisoned and turned upon its inhabitants. To save us, to save Pompeii, my mother made the most difficult choice, the final choice.” He sighed, squeezing her hand. “She didn’t even give us a chance to say goodbye. She knew we would’ve done everything in our power to stop her.”

“I’m so sorry Indra,” Sakura said, hearing the raw edge to his voice. Though it had been centuries, millenia even, since his mother’s passing, Sakura could tell he was nowhere near over it. “Death is always hard, especially when you aren’t allowed to say goodbye.”

Indra looked away, clearing his throat. “In any case, the conquest of Pompeii was a slow, steady build, a subtle masterpiece of tactics. Nothing like this drivel.”

“Catan isn’t ‘drivel.’ You’re just being a sore loser,” Kin said with a roll of her eyes.

Sakura felt Indra’s legs tense like he was preparing to pounce and she opened her mouth to deescalate the situation, when the doorbell rang.

Everyone turned to Sakura.

“Did any of you invite people over?” she asked, untangling herself from Indra to stand.

“Who would we have to invite?” Kin asked.

Sakura hummed, picking her way through the other bodies and scattered snacks toward the door. She wasn’t surprised when Sai sidled up behind her, offering silent support and protection should it be needed. Nevermind the fact that anyone with ill-intentions towards members of the home could not even enter the property.

Sakura checked the eyehole, blanching when she realized who was on the other side.

She hastily removed the charms and locks on the door, throwing it open to greet Tsunade.

“Sakura,” Tsunade greeted, crossing her arms. “May I come in?”

“I’ll step out,” Sakura said, nodding to Sai. He stepped back into the house, leaving Sakura alone with Tsunade. Sakura moved to lounge on the patio furniture, inviting Tsunade to join her. Tsunade took a seat gracefully, keeping her eyes trained on Sakura. “What brings you by this evening, Tsunade?”

“You’ve learned since you’ve arrived here,” Tsunade said.

“I beg your pardon,” Sakura replied, nonplussed by the non sequitur. 

“You’ve wised up to the schemes of others. Once, you would have invited me inside without hesitation. Now, you refuse to let outsiders in, preserving the natural protections erected by lack of invitation. It is wise.”

Sakura frowned, a pang ringing clear in her heart as she contemplated the woman she once was when she arrived in Pompeii. She missed parts of that woman, the kindnesses she could afford before all of the betrayals. But Sakura knew she couldn’t go back to who she once was and, truth be told, she did not wish to. “Pompeii changes people, Tsunade, as I am certain you well know. Why are you here this evening?”

Tsunade huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Much more direct than when we first met. I’m not sure if I appreciate it or not.”

Sakura shrugged. “I care little for your appreciation. I have not the time to worry for the thoughts of others.”

“So I see,” Tsunade replied, something similar to respect threading through her tone. She sighed, turning her gaze to the open night sky. “In any case, I am here to ask a favor of you.”

Sakura hummed to indicate that she was listening.

“Have you been paying attention to the election?” Tsunade asked, keeping her eyes skyward.

“How could I not?” Sakura asked bitterly. “This emergency election is inadvertently the result of my fight with Kaguya.”

Tsunade laughed slightly. “I’m afraid you’re giving yourself a bit too much credit. Certainly, your battle in the forest was the impetus that removed Minato from office, but it was not the catalyst. Minato has a history of wanton negligence; it was only a matter of time before he was deposed.”

“Yet his supporters have submitted a new candidate in his place,” Sakura said, leaning back to regard the night sky as well. It was easier to speak such harsh truths while she contemplated something cool and distant. “And Itama seems to be gaining ground rapidly.”

“It is hard to displace the centuries of intrigue and politics that put the Senju at the top,” Tsunade said. “Even an incredible event like you striking down Kaguya is not enough to remove the claws of the Senju from their hold on Pompeii and its people.”

Sakura raised a hand to her throat, tracing over her scars there. “So, in your eyes, it was all for nought?”

“Not at all,” Tsunade said, startled as she redirected her eyes to Sakura. She cleared her throat, looking away again. “What you did...it changed the course of Pompeii, the course of history, irrevocably. Kaguya has lingered as a bad taste over the supernatural world for millennia. Sakura, you are the reason there is an influx of visitors and residents moving to Pompeii. You are the first God-Killer since the early years, when everything was chaos and destruction. There is no denying that your actions will have long lasting consequences.”

“You believe that Itama will win the race?” Sakura asked. “Despite the fact that he is such an obvious sock-puppet for his siblings?”

“Was not Minato the same?” Tsunade countered. “You were not here for his initial election, but I was. It was the exact same rhetoric that Itama now uses, the same fear-mongering that won him the seat in the first place. History repeats and the citizens of Pompeii are too myoptic to realize it.”

“So you think Itama will win,” Sakura said.

“It is a distinct possibility,” Tsunade replied. “It’s more likely than I would care to admit.”

“That’s why you’re here today,” Sakura said, satisfied that she figured it out.

“It is. Itama, despite all the evidence laid at the feet of Pompeii’s citizens, is a strong candidate. People take comfort in that which they know and they know already what they would receive with a Senju in charge.”

“You’re Senju yourself,” Sakura couldn’t help but point out. “Why not couch your election with your family name?”

“I’ve long been separated from the Senju name,” Tsunade replied. “I chose to pursue the path of witchery, turning my back on the Fae heritage that was mine by birthright. I could no more use the Senju name than you could.”

“So why approach me about the election?” Sakura asked. “I do not have a family name that holds any clout.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Tsunade said with a smirk. “You may not hail from any known clan, but the title of ‘God-Killer’ holds more sway than you may think.”

“But that title isn’t even a sure thing,” Sakura said. “There are some who already doubt the events that unfolded in the woods.”

“They are fools,” Tsunade said. “And they will know. Soon.”

Sakura turned to stare at her. “What are you asking of me?”

“I would have you endorse me, explicitly and publicly,” Tsunade said. “Some of Pompeii has thrown your hat in the ring as a contender; your word is important to them. They will likely throw their vote behind whoever you yourself choose. To ensure that Itama does not take the mayorship, I need your support.”

Sakura swallowed. She had a feeling that this might have been what Tsunade was fishing for and yet… “I’m not sure I can,” Sakura said, caressing her scars. “I don’t want to get involved in this election. Tensions are so high...I do not know if I can withstand another battle.”

“You are already involved,” Tsunade said with a hard voice, unable to show sympathy. “Your toppling of Kaguya is what landed Minato out on his ass; your actions tipped the scale. The people of Pompeii are outraged in your name; you are a deciding factor in this election whether you like it or not.” Tsunade stood. “You may not wish to support me; hell, I’d understand if you don’t, but you must choose someone. You must endorse someone or it is probable that Pompeii will fall to Senju rule once more.” Tsunade’s lips twisted. “And I doubt you would care for the treatment you’d receive from them.”

Sakura watched as Tsunade took her leave, an acrid taste coating her tongue.

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [33]

[CW: References to human trafficking/trading. Focused on recovery and healing.]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 8)

Trust.

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Cricket chirps. Soft footsteps and the whir of the wheels. The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle that sat in the cupholder of the wheelchair and the jostle of the fabric. A Q.B. uniform, a splayed black coat hugging a figure on a wheelchair and a black tracksuit moved in choreographed harmony. Like shadows that dissolved in the still darkness of night. Slinking between the buildings, on the empty, balmy roads that were laid out like grids. Zizi rode the remotely operated chair with tranquillized silence. She looked as restless as Jared felt. Their encounter had unearthed something that reared its ugly head from the past. A hungry monster, that sapped their peace and energy alike. It made everything feel uncomfortably personal and Jared was left feeling vulnerable. Akira’s prodding earlier that day did not help. And he found himself wishing now that Novara had been anywhere else but with her. Tariq’s relatively neutral presence was welcome, they did not ask each other for elucidations. The men had let the moment stir them into a wordless acceptance. Soon they were ascending the elevator of the living quarters for the trainee BioHackers.

There was a soft rap on the door. Akira locked eyes with Nova, before she slid off the bed to answer. She immediately had to flatten herself against the wall to give way as the men pooled in after the wheelchair. She had only dealt with patients, who were amputees. From the way Zizi rolled into her life, it already felt like she was going to be more than that. Akira quickly realised she could only be helpful by staying out of the way.  A part of Nova was relieved that Zizi was unconscious as her limp body was lifted to the bed. Nova busied herself with the MedScan feature of her CommCube. “I’m going to need some things from the hospital wing…” “I’ll get them.” Akira was eager. She wanted to be useful and she had enough experience in the field to manage such a simple task. Nova quickly listed what she needed. “I’ll go with Shira…” Jared offered, speaking of her, but not to her. He sought a reason to not be in the room because he did not want to make matters worse for Zizi when the tranquilizer wore off��� And for himself. The woman was likely to have enough on her plate with just Nova. “I don’t need your help.” Akira responded sharply. Jared’s brief disappearance after he abruptly left their conversation on the pretext of getting food left her prickly. The time he took in getting back was warranted, given the circumstance, but she still could not reconcile with the fact that he did not find a single moment to let her know or give her a heads-up. Instead, he chose to just go AWOL. Jared did not see the reason for her hostility and bit back the urge to respond in kind.   “I need to get stuff checked any way... Mind if I come along, Kira?” Tariq muttered. It felt like the easiest way to keep things on an even keel. Novara looked stressed as is. He did not really give her a chance to protest and led the way out. Akira strode out, wearing her stormy demeanour and offering Jared a side-eye he did not think he deserved. === Tariq lightened Akira’s mood as they shared some joy over Ezekiel’s fate. He took pleasure in describing exactly how things transpired. They marvelled over how well Nova handled it. “If the serum doesn’t work as intended for whatever reason, I’ll tell whoever asks that I tried some shit, ‘kay?” Akira’s question was anything but. It was a declaration. She sifted through the cabinets and drawers for all the things that Nova needed for Zizi. Patches, IVs, NG-Tube, electrolyte solutions… Akira picked up a straitjacket for good measure. Tariq would have protested if he had seen her do so.  He instead, was surreptitiously pocketing a vial of the advanced shealing serum. His injured hand had not come out of his pocket at all and he did not let Akira know of it. “You were nowhere close to the scene. I was…” Their whipping scars were still raw, and they were arguing about who got to take the blame for this situation. Everything Akira collected was shoved into a sling bag. “We’ll see how it all pans out. T… I can carry all this on my own. Get some rest, will you?” Tariq looked haggard. After everything with Ezekiel and being the one who found Zizi, she could see why. These were not the kind of battles he fought. Akira implored him to take some time for himself. And this was without her knowing about his injuries. “I-” She was quick to interrupt him. “Y’know you’re going to wear yourself out and eventually make a mess of everything…” They knew she was only half-joking; it was a quality the two of them shared, among others. He really was out of his depth. His presence would not hinder, but it would not aid either. With some reluctance he agreed and promised to check back on all of them later. “Don’t worry about it.” Akira sought some solace in being the one reassuring her friends today. I can do this; I can be there for them too.   === The three pairs of eyes were trained onto Zizi after she had been adequately replenished with fluids. They watched as her limbs slowly came to life. Slowly and barely as the tranquilizer finally wore off.  Jared considered bolting out of the room. Instead, he waited by the door, away from Zizi’s immediate field of view. Akira on the other hand stood beside where the woman lay, crowding her a little. Nova sat on the other side of the bed. “Hi Zizi… I’m Akira… How’re you feeling?” Jared and Nova let her take the lead. Another new person. The voice sounded friendly enough, Zizi did not open her eyes yet. She felt a mattress under her. Her head was cradled by a pillow. Such simple luxuries… She found herself relishing them with an embarrassing amount of contentment. “Sorry about the slight mess… by the way.” Akira added and averted her gaze briefly, afraid that if it lingered too long on Zizi, she might betray sympathy in a manner that came off as pity. She unnecessarily fussed over folding a towel that was drying on her chair. There was nothing else there. Just the sheets on the bed were sprawled, and the cabinets of the kitchen were still slightly ajar. Zizi wasn’t going to notice those things anyway. She was still addled by whatever she had been injected with. Her movements were slow, but she turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes. Her eyes widened instantly when they fell upon Nova, whose eyes were still bloodshot and swollen from the tears she had shed.  Zizi drew a ragged breath and the flash of fear in her expressions dissolved into a resignation. I know Nova meant well and I know Ezekiel didn’t.   “Can I talk to you?” Zizi’s voice was barely a whisper. Akira missed Zizi’s request. “Should I brew us some tea? I’ve got some… generic green, jasmine… mint… chamo-” Jared did not. He tried too hard to tune it out that it only resulted in him being more attuned to it. At least she isn’t rapping anymore.   So he interrupted her. “I think Zizi wanted a moment with Nova.” Akira was already filling the kettle. She set it down and put her hands on her hip lazily. “They’re both here, right? I’m ju-” “Alone.” She narrowed and squared off with Jared. “And you think that’s a good id-” He cut her off again. His tone was slightly impatient. “They’ve spent time together already…” Jared did not expect to get into the thick of things with Akira right now. He could not see that she was trying to normalise things in her own way. That they were simply not in agreement about how things should proceed. Aki drew a deep breath. If you cut me off one more goddamn time… She did not think it through when she decided to drag Zizi into this. “I think she can tell us that herself…” “Shi- Akira!” Jared exclaimed, completely flabbergasted with Akira’s behaviour. She certainly was not being prudent, but he too was not thinking clearly. Akira raised her eyebrows in an unspoken and pettish question.   What? Zizi purposely kept her gaze off the source of Jared’s voice. It was less familiar to her than his face; less likely to trigger her slip into rap mode again. A part of her feared it may lead to tranquilization again. As easy as it was to slip into nothingness, she wanted to enjoy her autonomy for what it was worth. She could hear the famous Red Knight trying so hard to act professionally while Akira approached the matter more on instinct. The intimacy between them was hard to miss and the friction was palpable.  Neither of them was wrong. The exchange was like a tennis match, till she was dragged into it. And Zizi intervened like an umpire would. She was not too reluctant to ask for what she wanted. The world would have crushed her a long time ago if she had chosen silence. “I would like to talk to Nova - alone…” She did not hesitate to make her preference known. Choices had been a rarer luxury in captivity. Now that she was out, she lapped at every chance she got to exert her will. Her voice was clear, but soft, it demanded attention in a way that a louder voice never could. They were forced to fall silent to give her a chance to speak. And Akira did have the grace to do that, even though she was fuming. She deliberately avoided looking at any of them. There was a flash of an inexplicable venom and deep mortification in her eyes, best directed towards the panel of the induction stove. “If that’s okay with you…” Zizi addressed Nova this time. Akira did not know those words were not directed at her at all and managed a weak nod as she set her tea box aside. Novara recognized the question was for her and apprehensively nodded too, much more eagerly, but did not say anything given Akira’s assumption. Her friend was feeling prickly and Nova did not want to make matters worse. Technically, this was Akira’s room and they were all taking a lot of liberties intruding this way. Nova believed in Akira’s inherent generosity. Akira was now resolutely quiet and chewed on the inside of her mouth. For once she understood why Jared chose silence sometimes. It was he who filled it, to reassure the victim in the room. “I think it is brave that Zizi would like to spend some time with Novara after everything…” And accidentally diminishing the other victim in the room by adding words addressed to her. “You should know how difficult that is… and how much courage it probably takes...” Jared had not expected this to be as much of a struggle.   Akira’s head hung for a moment. Her body lost something, like bones, because her petite frame slouched. In a motion akin to slithering, she dragged herself out of her own room, muttering. “Right… Well, excuse me, then.” Jared followed and closed the door behind him, leaving Novara and Zizi alone. He wanted to be within earshot and reach. Akira’s concern was a consequence worth considering. He did not tell her that though, perhaps he should have. He lingered in the corridor. Akira did not. It was her turn to take a solitary walk. And he let her go. - Nova looked a little apologetic, not for her friends’ behaviour per se, she knew that they too had been through a lot, but given that Zizi didn’t have any context, it was probably uncomfortable for her to witness. “Don’t worry… There is… That’s just Jared and Akira.” The medic’s voice was soft. And she casually broke the illusion Jared had tried to create. Nova did not see the reason to build walls around the woman. They had been through so much together. Zizi was not uncomfortable in the least. She was left amused. “Don’t worry… I’ve seen much worse.” Nova shuffled in place. Her knees sinking in and out of the mattress.  “I- I’m so sorry… Z, I-”  A choked back sob, a stifled sniffle and a shaky breath. “-I never meant for any of this… For...” “I know." Zizi replied simply. Nova gulped and looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes. She did? She blinked away the tears. “I could kinda see you hated it… I saw past his shit eventually and… I’m sorry too.” Zizi did sound apologetic herself. She wanted this time with Nova, just to let the poor BioHacker know, that Ezekiel did not win. That he did not succeed in villainizing Nova. Nova wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly. “You… you shouldn’t have to be.” “I did try and kill you.” Zizi thought she could handle this heart-to-heart with ease. She could not. She resisted the urge to break into a rap again and gently massaged the stub of her arm as it began tingling. It had been a tough few month, among the worse of Zizi’s life at least in terms of raw, physical suffering. To be torn up repeatedly, one way or another and painfully be put back together. But she had lost everything before and she held on. She could do it again. She would. Nova’s reassurance was bland and honest, and she noticed Zizi’s discomfort.  “I’d want to kill me too, in that… situation. Are you ok? Can I get you something?” “No… I’ll be fine… He called you Supernova...That was never a compliment, was it?” That derogatory name. A darkness found its way into Nova’s being and she shook her head with an added vehemence. But it was not his voice; it did not grate against her being. “No… No, it was not. But it is nothing compared to what you, to what you and Ge-” She could not find the nerve to say his name. The name that no one would use again, not for him. There was no one left to call. Zizi had come to terms with losing the man she temporarily shared that hidden room with. Death was not uncommon in the Pit. Nova had not. She could not bury what happened, like Ezekiel presumably buried Genzo. Did he even bury Genzo? The thought chilled her. Ezekiel had thrown Genzo to the wolves before he was ready, before Nova’s serum had made him whole. Zizi was made to watch the fight where he was taken down. He was not brought back to the hidden room that night. Nova did not know about Bloody Blitz – The Pit of Doom…  So, when she inquired about Genzo, Ezekiel simply stated that he was gone, and that she was responsible for it, for not fixing him well enough. And that day Zizi lost the little freedom she had. As did Nova who was pinned like a butterfly, under the weight of the life she could not save. And the life she now had to – Mine! Zizi thought, before Ezekiel’s voice rang in her head. “No more going to the Bloody Blitz till Nova has perfected the serum…”  From that day onwards, the pain she received had been methodical and at Eze’s hands. It was solely for the purpose of testing the serum. She was reduced to nothing but a lab rat. At least she always came through. I do owe my life to her. Nova finally understood what Akira meant when she compared degrees of suffering. Pain was pain. But Zizi had had it so much worse. Nova sidled closer to her, tentatively. Zizi did not mind, she was quite accustomed to Nova’s presence in her private space. It was refreshing to see her softer side, one that was not governed by the strings Eze pulled. Strings he did not want Zizi to see, but she had. “You did the best you could for Genzo…” These were not empty words. Their fingers found each other. The skin on the back of their hands sat in such stark contrast, their palms less so. Nova knew Zizi’s anatomy too well, to not know anything about her as a person. It felt unfair and wrong. Her soft mutter carried a whine attesting to that. “He, he never quite told me where he… where he found you both…” “What did he tell you?” The counter question sounded a little sharp. Nova clammed up a little, her words were a jumble, just like his answers had been, if he ever indulged her questions to begin with. She had to stop asking when it irritated him enough to make matters worse for Zizi. “From, prisoners of war, to criminals, to street rats… drug addicts…” He deliberately gave enough answers, for Nova to never know which one was true or if all of them were. He played with her, till it was amusing. Till he could revel in the friction between the women.   She wanted Zizi to have the whole truth as much of it as she could offer. There was an insistence in the way she spoke. “He made me believe you were dangerous, like you were… you were both on death row. That is why we didn’t mourn G-” She shortened the name to a letter, so it didn’t keep getting caught in her throat. “-because Eze said, he didn’t deserve it. But he did! He deserved it!” Nova forgotten to breathe between the slurry of her words, now she gasped in short, exhausted sounds. “Everyone does. And I did not believe him, but…” She looked at Zizi pointedly now. Unflinchingly, fearlessly. She wanted her to know, no matter how dark her past truly was… Nova didn’t think that it was okay for her to suffer the way she had. “Even if any of what he said was… is true… Nothing made- nothing makes what I did okay… What he made me do… what he made me do.” She switched between talking about it like it was something in the past, because her hope reminded her that it was. But her grief anchored the pain, Zizi’s and hers to the present. She licked her lips. She finally stopped; the woman had not expected to spiral into this conversation.   Nova had poured all this out, for the second time today. It felt easier to divulge this time around, because she had gathered her thoughts while talking to Akira.   Zizi let her, in silence, clutching onto the medic’s hand gently. It truly was inspiring to finally meet the real Novara. I am surprised the world has not chewed you up and spit you out, Novara. You must be doing something very right. Empathetic, empowered and brilliant. “All the things he said were somewhat true… I guess. Genzo and I were drawn against each other in the pit… and we fight to knock-out or kill… So…” Zizi licked her dry lips. Nova immediately reached for the bottle of water, she helped Zizi sit up enough to sip from it. She gathered the will to go on. “He found us on the brink of death… and promised to save us, but only if he could keep us for himself.” Nova’s skin crawled. But she should have figured. Especially recently after everything else Ezekiel had done, so blatantly, with such little regard for the pain he caused. “How- from?” Zizi closed her eyes again, the lyrics of her rap rose in her throat. Nova was familiar with Ritonix’s entire discography – Zizi had screamed her way through the songs on every encounter with Nova, the needle and the syringe full of the serum. Zizi did not want to trigger the medic. She wanted her to know that she felt safe now. Zizi also did not want to answer the question. She pursed her lips. She thought of Jeremy. He only wanted to save her… To save them. He had been kind; she did not want to implicate him in this either. He would most likely end up taking the fall for it all. He would be the likely scapegoat, because Bloody Blitz was an intricate system. It ran too deep and what could a handful of agents possibly do to fight it. Zizi did not want the people who were trying to help her, to get entangled with that monster. Upon noticing the doubt and fear flit across Zizi’s face, Novara felt rankled. This was betrayed in the way she swayed a little. “It’s ok… It’s ok.” Nova murmured, to Zizi and to herself. Genzo and Zizi had been brought to her with severe injuries. The first time she helped them, it was out of desperation. They had just been her patients and Ezekiel had convinced her that using the serum would be mercy. And then it became a habit. Nova had questions then and she had questions now, but she did not get a chance to ask them. Zizi had already shared enough and she had a question of her own, one she could not ask Tariq… or worse, Jared. She could not allow herself to feel this vulnerable around them. But Nova had already seen her at her worse. She massaged her right arm with more vigour now as she arrived at an unnerving realisation. “…Nova, what exactly happens to me now?” All this time, Zizi had leashed the fear that leapt from the uncertainty of the situation. And now the leash broke. “I- You… It will never-” She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Nova could not afford any hesitation marring what she wanted to say. Despite the ambiguity of the future, she would not let Zizi suffer again. Her eyes opened with her usual fierce resolve. “You will never be traded again or belong to anyone again like that. That’s for sure.” There it was again, that conviction, that felt so true that reality crumbled against it. Her radiant hope did not convince Zizi entirely, but the Fighter smiled weakly. Nova intended to do whatever it took, to keep her promise. She could tell that there were more sorrowful secrets buried in the woman’s past and she did not want to try disinterring them. Not right now. Zizi did not need to relive any more horrors. It would not help recover and that was of paramount importance. “And we don’t need to talk about everything right away… You need to rest, and I need to run some more tests… if that’s ok.” Zizi quickly slid lower into the bed, craving the comfort more than she was willing to admit. Her body had not felt the embrace of soft covers and a mattress for far too long. “For the last few days, I thought Ezekiel forgot me and that felt like a blessing… Dying in that cell. This- This feels like a miracle…” she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Nova’s administrations, this time willingly and trustingly. Nova used the MediScan feature on her CommCube and recorded the vitals and other measures again. And stayed with Zizi till the woman fell asleep.

Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam

[soundofseventeen]

If We Were A Movie (Kim Mingyu)

Hi babes! So Erin and I geeked out bc we finally reached 400 followers!!! We cried a bit and really thank you guys for everything! It’s not possible without y’all! Enough rambling. -Bee

“Another win for the ever-talented Kim Mingyu.” You raised your hand for a high five which he eagerly slapped. “Stop being such a good actor or we’ll probably have to build you a separate room for all your wins.”

“It’s luck,” he shrugged modestly. “And my ridiculously good looks.”

“Who are you if not your own biggest fan? Okay, so there’s an after party going on if you wanna go or we clear the rest of the night to get you to start packing because need I remind you that you leave for this next movie in five days.” You unlocked your phone and rambled off the rest of his schedule, each time grinning wider than the last until his laughs betrayed him and you looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“Do you ever get a day off?” He shook his head. “I think you’re more concerned about this coming month than I am.” He took out his own phone and compared it to yours. “Jeez, you’re more of an overqualified agent than my assistant. Wait, I have a physical the day after tomorrow? Since when?” He gestured you to start walking to his dressing room so he could change.

“Since you agreed to the role three months back.” You shrugged. “Maybe if you paid more attention, then you’d know.”

“But not even my agent knows-”

“Your agent’s job is to make sure you book your roles and you don’t risk it, hence your lack of scandals. I’m just here to make sure you keep yourself alive and well because your fans will probably kill me.”

“I knew I didn’t just hire you for your cute looks.” He closed the door in your face, giving him the last laugh.

You pounded on the door, laughing. “You hired me because you needed a friend!” Well from what he’s told you at least.

He opened it, sticking his head out. “And you’re a good one at that. Now please let me get dressed so I can go to this party while you enjoy your night off.”

“Hey, unblock me while you’re at it you coward!”

*

You threw the shirt along with the rest of the rejected pieces of clothing. You weren’t expecting to be invited along to all sorts of parties and social gatherings (that was more Mingyu’s scene) but because you were constantly by his side, it’d make sense for you to dress the part in case it happened. All your casual and formal clothing had been packed in different suitcases (and as low maintenance as you were, you liked messing with him because he could honestly pack like it was the end of the world...well it didn’t help that his stylist Xu Minghao tailored his wardrobe to perfection and often made it a point to show it off, subtly of course.)

You checked the time, surprised to see it was a quarter to two (and that Mingyu had refollowed on every social media account he previously blocked you on but it was otherwise fairly quiet from his end.) If you didn’t get any sleep soon, you’d be too tired for your day to yourself. You’d made plans to do something by yourself whether it be a haircut, buy new clothes, or maybe even get yourself that book you were eyeing; you just wanted some quality time with yourself and if you didn’t start that now, it’d be...awhile. You left your pile of clothes right where they were, just in case they’d be better looking in the morning. You washed the makeup and dirt away from your face as you changed into your most comfortable pyjamas (which you were too lazy to do so hours ago), hearing the kettle whistling, signaling that your water was ready for your nighttime tea. You’d managed to pour yourself a cup before you got an incoming call from Mingyu. “Hello?”

“Y/N MY LOVELY ASSISTANT,” He bellowed from his end of the receiver and you had to turn down the volume despite the fact it was on speaker because he was that loud when he had a little too much alcohol in his system. “CAN. YOU. HEAR. ME.” You turned it down as low as it could go. “OH NO. OH NO. OH NO. GUYS I LOST Y/N.”

You laughed. “Mingyu I’m right here in the kitchen, getting ready to sleep. Are you home yet?”

“YOU’RE AT MY HOME. WITHOUT ME? HOW DO YOU HAVE MY KEYS? DID I LEAVE THEM IN YOUR CAR AGAIN?”

“Go home and get some sleep please. Call me in the morning.”

“I LOVE YOU BUDDY.”

“Me too pal. Me too.”

*

You watched in irritated amusement as Mingyu and his costar hung out behind the scenes as the subplot progressed onscreen, peering over at you occasionally just to make sure you hadn’t abandoned him completely, but also making sure he could see you in case he needed you to save him, not that he needed it. You knew one of his personal rules was to not date who he worked with, but this one seemed to bend the rules a bit. So far, they’ve had dinner after hours, went shopping a couple of times and even had Mingyu blow off parts of his day that you had planned for him to get done. All in all, you were amazed at it all. He was fighting it and fighting it well but you also knew you had to give him some kind of hell for it. After all, he’s missed several meetings even if they weren’t all that important; it was just mostly scheduling fanmeets, interviews and just anything to give his upcoming movie publicity. (The fans might’ve done that enough though.) They were called back to the main screen not much later with you telling him it was the final shot of the day and you’d meet him back in your hotel room, so while they were getting ready for the big climax, you used that as an excuse to grab breakfast/lunch/dinner.

You’d been there since early in the morning, only snacking on pretzels and whatever what was put out on the table and if you didn’t get food in your system soon, you were sure you’d pass out from lack of nutrition. (As it was, you were cranky and your headache wasn’t helping.) Fast food was, unfortunately your only option, so you grudgingly ordered your meal (and another for the ever ravenous boy because he’d cause a mini scene until you relented so you spared yourself the guilt trip early.)

Getting to your suite, you set everything on the counter, kicked off your shoes and turned on the TV, getting some rest before eating. (Being an assistant was more tiring than you let on. Mingyu tried his hardest to make it easy for you, treating more like an equal rather than someone who was constantly waiting on his orders. You very rarely saw his diva side, which he used only when cast and crew were both assholes not only to him, but to you. He admired your efficiency, occasionally buying you a card saying he appreciated what you did for him, and your friendly demeanor even when you were put in the worst circumstances. It was only at home and your you time when he released the frustrations.) You hadn’t even known that you had fallen asleep until you felt someone shaking your shoulder telling you to wake up. You opened your eyes to find Mingyu looking at you with slight concern and you waved him off, standing up and stretching. “I didn’t hear you knocking.”

“I just got home and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite and go for ice cream afterward but I can see you got dinner covered and you look too tired to...get up again.” Which was true. You fell back on the couch which had made him pause his sentence. He shook his head and instead brought the bags of burgers and fries to you, taking a spot next to you. He passed you your order (which had grown cold) and changed the channel, growing more unsatisfied with every show he skipped. He finally stopped when he saw one of his old movies, wordlessly asking you if you were okay with it and you just shrugged. He smiled to himself, turning the volume up and finally taking a bite of his burger.

It was his first lead role, having just finished a television series as a supporting character (Jeon Wonwoo’s no less), which had you questioning why he had wanted to hire you of all people. He had seen you at a cafe and over the course of watching you carefully organizing your notes, taking various phone calls (because in this day, everyone preferred standard texting and email), and overall meticulously and painstakingly writing out your agenda for the week, right down to being able to pencil in a nap, he introduced himself to you. Of course you were starstruck and even a little afraid; of course you had a crush on him because of course you religiously had watched his show and were -unsurprisingly- counting down the day until you had a moment to watch his debut as a lead, not a side character. You first thought it was all a joke, some prank that was waiting to happen because of a date you had rejected a few days prior. Even when he reassured you that the offer was legit, you were skeptical because you were a student, not someone who had experience scheduling people’s life into your notebooks and keeping them busy.

He convinced you though, and as he got bigger, so did your paycheck, enabling you to pay off your debts and continuing your schooling online. He was happy with your choice because it meant he could spend time with someone around his age, and not lose his roots of being a young adult, trying to get parts of his life together. He didn’t tell you this sober but one night that he had too much to drink, he called you, emotions and alcohol impairing his speech but being able to thank you for being in his life and that the real reason he hired you was because he wanted someone to call a friend and remain faithful and not let fame get to his head. Thinking about that now, made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, despite shivering from your cold drink sliding down your throat. “I’m glad you hired me,” you commented to no one in particular, but you know he needed to hear it sometimes.

“Even though I scared the shit out of you?”

You mulled it over just a bit. He only reason he had come off as intimidating as he did was because of his height. He towered over you and you were initially afraid that if you rejected his offer, he would do something, so you fearfully agreed. Needless to say, he was as scary as a housefly. “Even then.”

He smiled in your direction. “Me too.” And just like that, his own eyes closed, the long day washing over him as he fell asleep, the burger half eaten on his lap.

*

The movie, needless to say, was a complete success, breaking his previous record and going straight to #1 at the box office on opening weekend alone. It helped with all the time he spent with his costar outside of the filming sets and with whatever you were able to book whether it had been planned from the get go or some strings his agent had helped pull as well as charity events.

Kim Mingyu had a certain boyish charm to him that had eyes on him constantly and the more he was seen in public, the better. His biggest asset, ironically enough was his clumsiness. Most, if not all, of his fans related to him due to clips you constantly uploaded to social media of him dropping things, falling from his bed, him forgetting about that last step at the top of the stairs which because you were busy recording, often had him tripping over it and taking you down with him.

Any dating rumors were squashed as quickly as they surfaced, which intrigued his fans as well as his costar’s and many quickly integrated, shipping them and discussing conspiracy theories that proved they were secretly together.

It was a funny thing seeing them fighting amongst the fans that were convinced it was you dating Mingyu. I mean, with all the time you spent together and all the times you’ve blocked each other and going live about it, it did seem rather likely. You yourself almost believed it, but you knew better and how well he maintained his professionalism with everyone. In all the time you’ve worked for him, he’s been in one steady relationship with someone when he went back to his hometown after his big break and was outed. It was apparently quite the scandal. Your quick thinking gave him time off and how to address the situation when the time came but that you knew of there was someone else a little before you were hired.

It seemed he brought back the zombie trend with his latest blockbuster because in the weeks that followed, you saw a lot of makeup tutorials that resembled the undead and official merch were popping up everywhere. You showed them all to Mingyu who never ceased to be awestruck and sometimes even dumbfounded because he was just doing his job: being someone else while maintaining his own personality.

His latest success meant a lot more interviews which was fine with you both until you had to leave him for a week because of a termite infestation that occurred in your apartment complex and while the bad news was that it was condemned, you were able to throw your belongings in a storage unit and you decided to deal with that after Mingyu took time off. During that time, you had a realization of just how much time you spent together. It was strange looking a few feet away from you and not seeing the six foot human within eyesight and sometimes you could swear that you heard his voice somewhere. You missed him terribly, you’d admit that much. It was one thing when y’all had vacation time and purposely silenced your work phone but it was another thing to constantly be checking on his replacement to make sure he was on schedule and you followed up with Mingyu himself because he knew how you could be. His favorite phrase seemed to be, “There was a little hitch...kidding!”, followed by his predictable events before ending with a subtle whine of when you were coming back which had him counting down the days, even though yougave him a wrong estimate.

The day you were due to come back, you were running late, leaving you frustrated because you had planned to surprise him over breakfast, but because life and delays, you didn’t get to him until late afternoon. According to the day’s schedule, he was at a fan meet, so you hightailed it to the venue and arrived, skid marks all but visible as you flew in. His replacement assistant looked relieved seeing you back, adjusting the headphone/microphone set that allowed you to hear what Mingyu and his fans were discussing in record time. You caught a lot of questions of why he looked so bummed and if everything was okay, and you could imagine him smiling as he assured everyone he was fine. He was not fine; he didn’t have you, according to everyone.

So you went up onstage to where he was at, putting a finger to your lips to hint at everyone waiting for him to remain silent. Because he was the star, he was at the very end, so it was quite a trek in your opinion at least, turning off your headset so the feedback wouldn’t give you away. You were behind him as a preteen fan finally reached him, trying to hold in her giddiness at seeing you two together. You waved her and her grin widened. “H-hi.” She held out a picture of him for him to sign. “C-Can I ask you a question?”

Mingyu nodded, the already preparing himself for his own generic answer as he autographed the photo. “Fire away.”

“Would you consider yourself brave like your character?” She eyed you when you put your hand over your mouth to hide your snort. Mingyu was about as brave as Winnie the Pooh going after heffalumps. It was you who often had to kill the spider to stop him from burning the place down. (No, you actually stopped by his place once to see him dousing his kitchen table with gasoline.) He’s even said he was staying with you once the apocalypse happened. (He was convinced it was inevitable.)

It still surprised you when he shook his head. “My character can do things I can only dream of like leading people and saving them and telling them what they need to hear. I can’t even say something without being afraid of what someone is gonna tell me…”

“Can I ask you something else?” She whispered this so low you almost missed it had Mingyu not nodded.

“If you could say something without fear...without consequence, what would it be?”

Smart kid, you figured, in both the question and the way she said it. It was a question that had you pondering.

Mingyu also seemed caught offguard by it, racking his brain to see how he could answer. Finally he spoke. “I guess I’d tell someone I’m close to how much I love them.”

“What’s stopping you Oppa?”

“A lot of things, I guess.” Her eyes widened and when they flickered to you, you shook your head, and used it as the opportunity to announce your presence by grabbing his shoulders and making him jump. You were really curious about who he was talking about, but that wasn’t your business.

“Yah, you punk,” he scolded you, “you were supposed to be here two days ago.” He broke out into his signature grin. “I missed you.”

“And they're here to see you,” you gestured towards his steadily growing line that had their phones out, recording the little interaction. You backed away slowly as he returned to his adoring fans, hearing everything they said, smiling at some of the comments and laughing when you heard something particularly funny (mostly when they mentioned him looking cheery because of a certain someone cough cough you.) Once the event was over, he rushed over to engulf you in a well deserved hug because in Mingyu time, a week was the equivalent of two years. You wrinkled your nose. “You’re gross and sweaty. Go shower and change your clothes. I’m gonna help everyone pick up.”

“But I wanna take you out to dinner. I haven’t seen you in a week. My shower can wait. ”

“I’m not going near you until you’re clean,” you pointed out. You folded a few chairs and took them to their place. “Why are you still here? Go.”

*

You felt like you could use the shower, but at least you felt useful. The crew thanked you tenfold and bid you a great evening as they retired for the day. You were happy to report to Mingyu (once he got out that is) that this was his last thing for awhile so he could finally go on that vacation he was planning, which sucked on your part because you just got back and you were already gonna separate again. And not to mention the house hunt you were about to go on. You walked back to where the dressing rooms were, hoping to rush the actor.

He was already waiting by one of the front doors, leaning against it. You walked up to him and he surprised you by meeting you halfway, saying nothing. He ran a hand through his damp hair, studying you, a very un-Mingyu like thing to do.

“Hey,” you greeted him shyly. “You ready to get going?”

He walked up to you slowly, a rather bashful smile appearing on his face, giving him the look a child who’s about to ask if he could have ice cream before bed, and expecting a no in return. “I...just have to do something first.” He bit the inside of his lip, exhaling slowly, gaining courage before taking your face in his hands and kissing you hesitantly, slowly, carefully, but reluctantly pulling away to assess your reaction, foreheads touching. You remembered what he had said to the young fan earlier, blanking out on what to tell him. The only logical reaction was to stare at him puzzled, and he chuckled, despite it not going how he quite imagined it, his voice sounding deep and labored. “I talked to a fan earlier, before you got there, and she asked me if I could do something and not be scared and she asked why I hadn’t done it yet…”

“Me?” You cut him off.

“You heard?”

“I caught a few of your conversations but I thought you’d had enough of everyone asking why you were sad. I didn’t think…” You exhaled. “Why me?”

“Why not you? Everything you do for me...to pushing me so I’m on top of it, to assure me I’m doing all I can, to just making sure I’m not overworking myself, and-and even with how much time we spend together...how can I not pick you?”

“It’s my job. I’m supposed to do all of that.”

“Y/N, not even my agent knows what I’m supposed to do until she has orders from you that it’s been okayed from physicians to trainers to nutritionists. I...I don’t know anyone else that would go that far. I’m pretty sure you even know when I’m about to get sick because sometimes I get a hint of something medicinal in my drinks.”

It was hard to look away from him, especially when his gaze was unwavering and he was as close to you as he was. You cared about him and his wellbeing; it was obvious enough when you let him get an extra hour or two of sleep instead of rushing him out the door to get from point A to point B, and when you cut off his sugar supply when he’s had enough; you even squeezed time in with his old friends because he worked hard, sometimes too hard. You tenderly brushed his hair from his face. “Me?” you repeated incredulously.

He nodded, looking as sure as he felt. “You.” He finally allowed himself to smile. “I just...I really love you.”

Your heart pounded at his confession. He had thousands, if not, millions of admirers worldwide, a dream to everyone who had known or met him, and his own heart...was yours. You hadn’t expected your eyes to shut to keep the tears in, but they did and it was your turn to exhale. “Mingyu.” You paused. “This isn’t just something because I just came back, isn’t it?”

“I missed you the whole time you were gone,” he confessed. “But it was also more than that. Every time you’re not around, it’s hard for me to focus and get everything done. It’s like part of me is missing and it’s dumb because I know you’re always here, but I’m afraid that one day you’re gonna go somewhere and not come back and the only thing I’ll have to remember you by is a text saying you’re sorry.” He shook his head at the thought, his confidence deflating because you hadn’t said anything to accept or reject him.

“Kim Mingyu, I think I’d at least tell you in person because really? A text?” You smiled at your half assed attempt to make him laugh, but you poked his cheek upward. “I-I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to. We’ve done too much together as it is...and it’d be a shame to not know what could be between us.”

He perked up at that. “I...you mean that?”

“Oh my god Mingyu! Just ask me out or I swear-” He cut you off with another kiss, this one longer and more passionate and full of happiness that radiated onto you.

[lexiseigneur]

Chapter thirty: The rise

When Quinlan departed to retrieve their blood rations she did not accompany him. He suspected she was avoiding Nigel as well.

A small booklet slid out from the usual newspaper. It was colorful and ridiculous. Quinlan stared at the comic for an entire minute, attempting to comprehend what drivel this was. Red letters covered half the cover and spelled: “SUN HUNTERS OF NEW YORK CITY, book one.”

Underneath the title spread a drawing of half a dozen people in combat gear only vaguely reminiscent of the actual clothes the real Sun Hunters wore. On their necks were tattoos of a sun at least ten times larger than the real ones. Quinlan flipped through the pages and his frown grew more intense.

After many of his battles in the Roman army, people had told tales of their victories and much of their stories had been romanticized versions of the actual events. This was not different and just as irritating. When a familiar face appeared on the glossy paper, he stopped flipping mindlessly. He cringed at watching his depiction but then when Lexi’s appeared, he was torn. They had made her too tall and broad-shouldered, but the eyes somehow were hers. Quinlan placed the booklet back inside the newspaper and quickly forgot about it.

“What is this?” she asked the next day when the comic book fell from the folded newspaper.

Only Quinlan still read the news. Her only interest laid in the scientific work of dead people. She only used the paper to start fires in the hearth.

Quinlan who had been in the process of rewaxing his denim pants stopped and put down the tub of melted wax.

“Nigel left that for us…I’m unsure why.”

She made herself comfortable on their new couch and read the short comic. Quinlan picked up the wax again but his attention was on her and the rustling of paper.

“Oh my God…They called you Quentin…and I’m Ollie. This is hilarious.”

Quinlan emitted a non-committal grunt. As she went on the silence was only broken by her snorts and brief laughs.

“We are depicted as ruthless soldiers in there. Mysterious and old. Unable to understand computers or any modern technologies. How would that work? Can you imagine trying to function if you cannot change with the times?”

“It would have been quite impossible to remain an effective warrior, indeed.”

“Exactly! So about that email address…”

Quinlan growled and she gave him a mocking look from across the room. He was still spreading the wax with a clean cloth when she stood beside him, holding the comic open to a particularly large depiction of their fictional counterparts.

“Do you mind if I frame this and hang it above the hearth?”

“If you do, I shall use it for kindling.”

She burst out laughing and when he frowned her laughter only intensified. She wiped at her eyes which were tearing up. Quinlan grabbed her by the waist and attempted to take the comic from her. She screamed in delight and held it out of reach, stopping his attempts by kissing him until only her lips mattered anymore.

***

The next evening when he dressed to pick up their blood rations, Lexi asked him to wait. She took a piece of paper and wrote:

“Our teeth are not that pointy and we can use computers quite well. Besides that, I quite enjoyed your comic.

Lexi.”

On an envelope, she scribbled the name of the author and the publishing house’s address then put the folded letter inside.

“Oh please do not encourage him,” said Quinlan.

Lexi looked at him with suspicion.

“I believe I will go with you today…in case you are tempted to lose my letter on the way.”

***

 A week later she plopped on the couch next to Quinlan and put her computer on his lap. She appeared displeased.

“Is that your letter?” he asked.

Eponymous to the author of the comic, the website looked simple and unprofessional. In between snippets of the artist’s life, there was a picture of his hand holding the letter as well as a caption.

“Which one of you assholes sent me this? I almost pissed myself when I read the signature.”

The comments under the picture were quite unanimous: this was a hoax, a fake meant to scare the author.

“Why should it be so terrifying to receive a simple piece of mail from me?”

“Their image of us simply is not reconcilable with that of people reading…well, his work. Perhaps he was afraid that if you took time to read it, it would offend you.”

“Maybe you are right.”

She closed the website page and later from the corner of his eye, he watched her hold the comic over the trash bin. Then instead of throwing it away, she tucked it out of sight in a drawer.

***

In their bedroom the small window only let dim light pierce through. Lexi still hated the light but with it, her right eye was not completely useless. When Quinlan did not see, she would stand in front of the large mirror hanging on the closet door and cover one eye after the other. He had been wrong. Time had had no effect on the state of her vision. It was not a surprise so she was not disappointed. This was the new normal now.

From the closet, she took a fresh set of pajamas. Her eyes landed on a box in a corner, rested a moment, flew away. It was a brand new cell phone. She threw a shirt over it so that her resolve would remain intact. Lexi recalled the thought which had flashed in her head as the grenade rolled at her feet.

The people you love will die for the sole crime of standing by you.

And the man who had done this was still at large. Perhaps even the same who had cut into those collaborators. Lexi liked to imagine that it was. That way, only one person out there contained that much hatred which could fall on her dear ones. Though she still did not condone Quinlan’s violence the day he had plunged a needle in her neck, she understood why. It was fear and love. He had been correct, associating with monsters was a dangerous activity for humans. So painfully mortal humans.

“I have noticed a felled tree some way away. I will see if I can retrieve it before dinner,” said Quinlan.

The remark pulled her away from the unpleasantness of her thoughts.

“What kind of tree this time?”

“An ash. It’s quite sturdy which I believe is no longer a luxury but a requirement.”

His amusement seeped through and stretched her lips into a shy grin.

“Alright, the sun is still low, I will work a little.”

Lexi threw her pajamas on the bed then strolled lazily through the long corridor leading to the stairs. In between doors hiding unused rooms, the walls were covered with drawings she had made during their time in New York. She tried not to think that by now, Angela and Emma did not look like their portraits any longer. Too much time had passed. Angela had once been about as interesting as a loaf of bread but now, she could walk and speak. A little person.

Lexi climbed down the stairs with a steady gait. She did not trip often anymore. Especially inside the house.

She worked for a short time before the incongruous sounds of an engine bounced between the trees. Nigel had not made the trip to their house in several months and they had no special deliveries bound to arrive. Casually, she reached for her sword in the umbrella stand by the main entrance door. Just in case.

“A car is coming,” she told Quinlan.

“I know, I met them on the edge of the property.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“They asked me not to.”

“And you obeyed them?”

“They had sensible arguments.”

Lexi pinched the top of her throat where her growls had started. She lacked practice in suppressing them.

“We’ll have a chat about it when you come back. It will not be pleasant,” she said.

The car parked in front of the house and both Gus and Raul emerged from it. Her sword made a loud clunking noise when she forcefully dropped it back into the umbrella stand. With appreciative nods, they detailed the house. It was tempting to refuse them entry. Or even better, let them have a go and visit the house as they pleased while she ran out through the garden. Lexi did not like being ambushed. But the wave of relief at watching them approach was greater. She had missed them so dearly. Merely seconds after their arrival she had discerned several swears words. She opened the front door just a crack then walked away.

When they got inside, she had already switched on the kettle to make coffee. The men closed the door behind them and she scowled.

“Remove your boots, you savages,” she yelled from the kitchen.

“I told you,” said Raul reproachfully.

Their footsteps retreated which gave her time to gather the piles of printed articles and put them away.

“I don’t know what I expected…,” said Gus when he entered the living room.

“More guns. I expected more guns,” said Raul.

“Yeah, and swords. Above the chimney. And no TV.”

Lexi chuckled, abandoned the tray she had been preparing and rushed toward the hunters. She hugged them, an arm around each of their necks.

“So this is how I die,” said Raul in a strangled voice.

She loosened her grip but did not let go. They smelled of gun oil, leather and on Gus the faintest trace of baby powder. Raul relaxed and Gus rubbed her back gently when she sobbed quietly between their shoulders.

“Hey Lex, come on. Quinlan will kick our asses if he knows we made you cry,” said Gus.

Lexi snorted, let go of their necks and beamed at them.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“Frankly, we were wondering if you were dead and Quinlan did not want to tell us,” said Raul.

He was joking but Lexi felt the underlying truth of it. She returned to the kitchen, wiped her face on her sleeves and brought the tray. Then she gestured at them to sit down and dragged an ottoman closer to the table. They only had two chairs for the moment. Gus and Raul’s clothes and general rough appearances clashed wonderfully with the décor.

“He said you could see but…,” said Gus. The sentence was left suspended and he scratched his brow to mask his discomfort.

“Not very well on the right. I get by,” she said with a dismissive gesture.

As if it had not broken her heart to realize this.

Raul reached for a biscuit and bit into it gingerly. It was noisy in the awkward silence and Gus stared at him. Raul shrugged and finished it.

“Yeah I can see that,” said Gus. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy you’re okay but…”

His dark eyes bore into hers, recognized their altered aspect and shifted down.

“Frankly, I kinda imagined you were crippled. That was the only scenario that made sense. I thought you were worse than when you came back from Mexico. When you looked…”

“Haunted,” finished Raul.

Gus nodded. It was almost unbearable, their clear disappointment.

“So yeah I’m a little confused. No news, no nothing. And then we still have to train a bunch of assholes by ourselves. And with Eva in France…”

“What? Why is she in France?”

“Well, if you had checked the news you’d have noticed the outbreak there. An entire building quarantined when some Strigs got in. Two hundred people infected and euthanized,” said Gus.

“We sent your team there. They’re working hard to make sure this shit never happens again,” said Raul.

Lexi’s stomach filled with acid. Now she regretted her avoidance of the news.

“Are they okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing like New York at its worst. Nothing those guys can’t handle,” said Gus.

“But that’s not our main problem at the moment,” said Raul.

“Yeah, right now Mumbai is a fucking mess. And we don’t have time to train people for them. We have to contain it now or India is toast.”

“You’re going? Who is going with you?”

“All of us. All the available teams. In two days. Your team will fly directly from Marseille and join us there. Even the Chicago hunters are tagging along since their city is officially Strig free for a month now.”

“You missed that party. It was wild. I think I’m still hungover,” said Raul.

She grabbed at her stomach which was more and more uncomfortable. People would die there. Her friends would die there.

“So yeah. We came to tell you that if you wanna join, there are two seats on the plane with your names on them.”

“I…”

Would it be any different than it was in New York? No one but the hunters needed to know the Dhampir were there. She shook her head. A few hateful humans were not more dangerous than an infested city. With unknown geography to boot.

“You have two days to decide,” said Gus and he downed the steaming coffee.

“In the meanwhile, there are people out there who still want to hear from you. And they ain’t driving here just to do that,” said Raul. He unzipped his pocket and struggled to take out a thick bundle of letters. The stacked envelopes slid on the smooth wood and at the very top, she recognized Aanya’s handwriting.

“Eva couldn’t leave one herself so she just asked that I tell you: If you’re not ok, get better and come back. If you’re ok, fuck you for not being back,” said Raul.

Lexi made a wry face and Raul leaned back and lifted two hands in a defensive gesture.

“Hey! She said it, I’m just passing it along. I don’t agree.”

“I do,” said Gus.

Lexi folded her arms and avoided his piercing eyes. She did not blame him though it hurt.

“I had good reasons to stay here,” said Lexi.

“And now you’ve got good reasons to get out of here,” said Gus. His voice was strained by repressed anger.

“¡Cálmate, primo!” said Raul.

“No, couz’, this ain’t the moment for polite bullshit. I thought I knew you, Lex. When Zach lied during the trial and my phone rang, I knew it was because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about it. And when that grenade blew and you made it, I was sure you’d parade in the streets as a huge screw you. That you’d show those pieces of shit that you were gonna continue on just like before because they’d never manage to scare you away.”

Lexi could not get angry at him. He was right. She had been scared away.

“And don’t tell me you can’t get all the hate. People have been looking at me funny for a long time. Doesn’t mean I was gonna let them rot with the Partnership and get sucked dry by Strigs. Sometimes you gotta help people even if they don’t like it.”

Raul looked horrified and his gaze jumped from Lexi to Gus. Gus’ chair rattled as he stood.

“Thanks for the coffee. We’ve got to head back. Lots of packing to do,” said Gus and he walked away. She expected him to slam the front door on his way out but he didn’t. Raul patted her shoulder briefly and followed his cousin.

The noises of their car faded away and she remained sitting. Timidly, she reached for the letters then removed the plastic tie binding them.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.

The window doors slid open and Quinlan stepped in.

“Since they arrived. I beat them here by seconds.”

“You agree with him?”

“I disagree with the harshness of his words. They undermined how much you suffered. But his ultimate conclusion that you cannot stay away forever, I share.”

“Are you disappointed in me as well? For letting fear guide me?”

Quinlan’s hands enclosed her shoulders, warm and reassuring.

“No.”

She grabbed his hands, squeezed.

“How bad is Mumbai exactly?”

“It is very densely populated and as we speak, thousands of Strigoi terrorize its inhabitants. Thousands more are turning as we speak because the army there cannot keep up. Refugees attempt to flee and many fear infected people hide in their midst so they are turned away and sent back to the city.”

Lexi leaned back and looked into his clear blue eyes.

“Would you be disappointed in me if I refused to go?”

“If you still need time to heal, no. If you never plan on returning out there, then yes. You once told me I should care more about human lives. Now I care about those people and whatever you choose to do, I will go and help them.”

She smiled.

“Good thing I had already decided to go then.”

Quinlan deposited a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Read your letters, I will start packing.”

 Most were quite short. Wishes of good health from Sun Hunters. Laura’s and Aanya’s covered several pages. In the latter, there were clues as to the extent of Gus’ anger. All were difficult to read.

At the very bottom of the pile, she found an envelope which was not addressed solely to her. The handwriting was that of a stranger and so was the name. When she flipped it, the back was stamped with the words “Kent University”.

“Are you done packing?”

“Yes, we’ll travel light.”

“There is a letter for you as well. I have no idea what this is. From some university in Europe. I didn’t even know they had managed to open them already.”

There was a little small and hard object inside. As she tore the paper open, Quinlan arrived and peered above her shoulder. A USB stick fell on her palm and she kept it there, almost frozen as she read the letter with increasing puzzlement.

“Mister Quinlan & Madam Lexi,

I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive the intrusion into your well-earned retirement but as a historian, I cannot resist the temptation to contact you, eye-witnesses to the period I studied for the past twenty years. You will find enclosed the electronic versions of my works. I humbly ask that you critique them for any inaccuracies. In addition, my few surviving colleagues and I have written a manuscript recounting the events of the past years. We feel strongly that you both deserve a say in what is to be published.

I hope to hear from you, but I will understand if I don’t.

Best regards,

Prof. Ciara Morecci.”

Quinlan took the USB stick and walked away. But she ignored him because she could not break away from that letter.

Five times she read the lines, written carefully with a fountain pen on thick paper. It was a little bent in one corner where pressure had pushed the USB stick against the page. When she finally looked up, Quinlan stood by the printer. On the screen of her laptop were a list of files and the last one was simply named “STRIGOI”. He was printing the first volume. She observed as he took the first pages, gave them a cursory glance, snorted and took a pen to scratch away at the barely dried ink. Quinlan turned to her holding a sheet out as if to share a funny joke.

“What is wrong?” he said when he saw her expression.

“Nothing. It’s so mundane…she wants reviews for her work. I used to review other’s works all the time.”

She laughed.

“It was so boring! But now the prospect sounds…wonderful.”

She put down the letter but still stared at it. Quinlan wiped away the tears which still strolled down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying, beloved?”

“Because you don’t ask monsters to review your books.”

“No…one would probably not attempt such a thing.”

That evening, they read through the first volume and her heart swelled every time Quinlan would smirk or outright laugh. Soon, his own neat handwriting covered margins and the narrow spaces between lines.

***

Lexi wore her deep hood and elected not to uncover herself even as she and Quinlan stepped in the small shop a few blocks from the Sun Hunter’s headquarters. At the counter facing the entrance, sat a young woman with bright pink hair. She ignored them and continued reading her comic book while chewing on some gum.

“Good gods, there are so many of those things…” said Quinlan as he looked at the shelves covered with tightly packed comics. He turned to the vitrine by the door filled with figurines.

“There was a time when gladiators were depicted in much the same ways…”

Lexi picked up the latest adventures of the Sun Hunters of New York.

“I heard this shop belongs to the author…” said Lexi as she slid the comic on the counter.

The pink haired girl glanced at it and nodded.

“Want it signed?” she asked.

“If that’s not too much trouble.”

“ANTON,” She screamed.

In the back an exasperated voice replied,

“What?”

“Someone would like you to sign your latest comic,” she said and each of her words dribbled with sarcasm.

“Not even the people selling them enjoy those books,” said Quinlan.

“Continue screaming like that in front of customers and I will fucking fire you,” whispered Anton.

He dragged himself in the store, looking at his feet then as soon as he glanced up, froze in place. Regaining some his wits, he shoved his employee who seemed about to shove him back until she spotted Quinlan. Only his back was visible as well as his hood. His harness and sword were his only distinguishable features. The bubble she had been blowing burst and blue gum spread over her chin.

“Would you mind signing it?” asked Lexi and she pushed the comic toward Anton.

Their eyes detached from Quinlan and focused on her. Anton was a thin and sickly looking man with greying curly hair despite his young age.

“Of course!” he said in a high-pitched voice.

And with a shaky hand, he signed the glossy paper of the cover.

“Do you accept silver?” asked Lexi.

“Yeah…most of New York still does…”

Lexi opened her coat and their eyes zeroed in on the handle of her sword. She pulled a clip of bullets out of her hip pocket and extracted a single round which she put on the counter. Carved on its side was the Sun Hunter sigil.

“Would that be sufficient?” she asked.

He nodded so hard she thought he might hurt himself. She pocketed the comic.

“I heard this was to be the last issue…is that true?” she asked.

“Yeah…the story ends when New York is clear of Strigoi.”

“Does it now? Too bad…” she said and removed her glasses and hood.

“I am quite sorry if I scared you with my letter, it was not my intention.”

The man opened his mouth and a pathetic squeak escaped him. The pink haired girl elbowed him.

“It’s fine!”

“I’m glad to hear that. Have a nice day,” she put her glasses and hood back on and in a blur both Dhampir left the store and crossed the street to reach a mailbox. Quinlan dropped in the package containing annotated pages addressed to Professor Morecci. Once their shock faded, the pink haired girl and Anton started yelling. Lexi focused on their words and peered through the vitrine.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” said the girl.

“Find…find the surveillance feed or no one is going to believe us!”

“Even with it no one is going to believe us!”

“Damn it, woman! Do as you are told for once!”

The Dhampir looked at one another, smiled then made their way to the Sun Hunter headquarters. Gus was waiting for them and they had a plane bound for Mumbai to catch.

***

Slicing Strigoi was no longer at the forefront of Lexi’s mind. After the height of the Indian Strigoi outbreak, she found herself obsessing over the project she had left behind. When the thirst burned the back of her throat, and when they received bags of precious donated blood, she would be reminded of the articles gathering dust on the living room table. It took two whole months to create a modicum of order in the streets of Mumbai.

As soon as they were satisfied the cleaning effort would continue properly, Lexi and Quinlan returned to Greystone. The nominal summer had come and passed in their absence. There had been a few days where the real sunlight, not the orange glow, lasted for at least four hours. According to news from Laura.

Her mind bustling with ideas, Lexi finally sat down to work. Pretty much every scientific project started with a research proposal. If she wrote it decently enough, one of the very few universities already open might accept to pick up the project. In the header where she should write her name she hesitated. Should she hide her identity? The idea of publishing a research article as simply Lexi was laughable. She racked her brain then, planning on replacing it with something more sensible later, she wrote Lexana de Pierregrise. Then laying down on the pages everything she had already planned in her mind was trivial. In fact, she had never drafted a document so quickly though she suspected her grasp of the subject was shallow.

Then using the website the Librarian had created, she selected a group of three scientists whose expertise, even if not a perfect fit, might still be crucial. She emailed the file to them. It was nerve-wracking. But all she could do was wait for an answer.

“What are you making?” she asked Quinlan when she joined him in the garage.

She did not know why they persisted in calling it that way. It was clearly a workshop now. The wood he manipulated was still uncut and rough.

“I will make a few chairs.”

“Can I help?”

“I would love for you to assist but…aren’t you busy?”

“I just finished. I need to wait for them to answer.”

“Are you nervous? I’m sure your proposal is decent considering the effort you invested in drafting it.”

“That worries me but also how they’ll react when I eventually tell them who I am.”

Quinlan put down the measuring tape he had been using.

“How did you introduce yourself then?”

“I told them my name was Lexana de Pierregrise and that I used to be a scientist in an unrelated field. I mean, they’ll quickly figure out I don’t have any publications under that name but that beats scaring them before they even read the proposal.”

“Lexana?”

She shrugged.

“Somehow I did not imagine Dhampir parents five hundred years ago naming their daughter Lexi.”

“I like it, it suits you.”

Then maybe she would not discard the name after all. And he had himself changed names over the centuries. Maybe she would also get used to it. Quinlan picked up another plank and while she held the tape straight, he marked the wood with a pencil.

They worked in silence, not needing to share words to cooperate with this simple task. When dawn broke over the forest, they packed the tools and returned inside to dine before bedtime. After they slid under the blankets and she nuzzled the naked skin of his chest, he sighed.

“Perhaps you might aid me in another endeavor tomorrow?” he asked.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Professor Morecci chastised me the other day when she learned we have access to the internet. She assured me my penmanship was a delight but that even though we studied past history, we did not attempt to remain a part of it.”

Lexi snorted and propped herself onto her elbows to watch his face. Quinlan uncovered his teeth in warning which only added to her amusement.

“I like her style,” said Lexi.

She wanted, no, needed to tease him about it.

“Perhaps I could figure it out by myself. I’m sure it’s not complicated,” he said with a faint growl.

“No! No! I want to help you! I mean I’ve been wanting to make you an email address since the internet came back.”

“You want to help me so that you may laugh at my expense.”

“Well yes, obviously. But not just because of that.”

“You little vixen.”

His arms were suddenly around her and he peppered her neck with kisses and gentle bites.

***

Lexi’s newly formed team of biologists had obtained a federal research grant to start their work. Then before they received a single penny of it, they were informed that the U.S. government did not wish to fund them after all. She was not particularly surprised that this retraction took place just after the funding agency learned that she was a Dhampir. Her first impulse had been to bow out of the project and let the others carry on. Quinlan would hear none of it.

“How much would such a thing cost in the end?”

They stood at the living room table where her laptop showed the offensive email.

“Millions. Ten, thirty million?”

She let herself fall onto the nearest chair. The despair she had felt after her eye injury crept back up. Once more, others would suffer because of prejudice directed at the Dhampir.

“A reasonable investment. I’ll have the funds transferred to our American accounts.”

She gawked at him.

“When you said we had money I had not realized…”

“We have enough to live comfortably for several lifetimes. To be fair, we have very few expenses at the moment.”

Lexi jumped to her feet, laughed and hugged him.

“Let’s do this.”

***

The world slowly healed but some events still chocked Lexi, but not Quinlan. A law passed in the USA and soon other countries imitated it. It stated that people could be acquitted of murder if they killed a collaborator who had wronged them, in a fit of rage. All the defense needed was proof of the collaborator’s past as well as proof that the murder had not been premeditated. With the Strigoi Collaborator Personnel Database, that task was easy. Every citizen who had ever assisted the creatures in any manner was cataloged.

 The Dhampir observed from a distance as things changed, mostly in the right direction. They traveled often as Sun Hunters, then sometimes anonymously when Quinlan wanted to share sights of the Old Continent with Lexi. When alone on their land, they had millennia worth of memories to share and experience together. In that Bond of light, they found peace.

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

Isaac and the Angel - Chapter 21

Read on AO3

Israfil sits cross legged on Isaac’s couch, trailing his fingers along the mark branded into his wrist over and over again. The glowing green pigment that accompanied its appearance has since faded, leaving only a thin, dark scar in its place. He sighs, his gaze wandering to look out the window. This wasn’t how he pictured his day going.

This wasn’t how he pictured his life going.

“You’re still up?” A quiet voice asks from somewhere behind him.

“I don’t need to sleep,” he reminds Isaac, turning his head just enough to look at him from the corner of his eye.

“I know. But you seem to like to sometimes.” Isaac shuffles into the kitchen, flicking on the light switch. “I’m making tea. Do you want some?” he asks, opening a cupboard and removing a small box of teabags.

“I’m alright.” He’s never been particularly fond of the way Americans serve tea. It’s somehow even worse and less interesting than the way British people do it. He watches Isaac fill a kettle with water, setting it on the stove to boil. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbles, spooning sugar into an empty mug. “Been tossing and turning for hours but I wasn’t getting anywhere so I just gave up.”

“You need to rest,” Israfil murmurs, looking back out the window at the glittering lights of the city.

“One night of missed sleep won’t kill me.” The kettle begins to whistle insistently. Isaac moves it off the burner, pouring steaming water into the mug. He bobs the teabag up and down by its string. “What do you do all night?” he asks. “When you don’t sleep?”

Israfil shrugs. “Sometimes I go out. Mostly I just listen to music and look through your things.”

Isaac scowls, picking up the mug and coming to join Israfil on the sofa. “Don’t do that,” he scolds. “Nosy asshole.”

“I’m not nosy. Just bored.”

“Still. It’s rude to snoop.” He takes a hesitant sip of the tea. “Imagine the fit you’d throw if I started going through your stuff.”

“I don’t have anything for you to go through.”

Isaac scoffs. “That can’t be true.”

“Well, nothing you’d be able to get to anyway.”

“What, is all your stuff sitting in a cardboard box in the attic of Heaven?” Isaac asks. Israfil is fairly sure this is supposed to be a joke.

“There’s no attic in Heaven. Or cardboard.” He reaches just in front of himself, past the borders of the physical world, and produces a worn paperback book seemingly out of nowhere. “I keep most of my things in storage,” he admits, turning the book over in his hands. Invisible Man. He tosses it back in the direction he had pulled it from and it vanishes.

Isaac stares at him, mouth slightly agape. “How’d you do that?”

He wiggles his fingers at Isaac. “Magic.”

“Yeah, obviously. But how do you do it?”

Israfil considers the question. “I’m not sure,” he decides after a few moments. “I guess I’ve just always been able to do it.” He plucks a seashell out of the air, holding it gingerly for a moment before sending it back where it came from. “It’s as easy as… well, as picking something up, really.”

“So you can just pull stuff out of thin air with literally no effort?” Isaac asks incredulously.

“I’m not pulling anything out of thin air. Anything I summon has to come from somewhere.” He tries to think of a way to explain the principle as concretely as Isaac obviously wants him to. “It’s like… a closet that only I can open. And I can put things in or take them out as I please regardless of where I am in the world. But I can’t take something out of the closet unless it was already there to begin with.”

“But where does the stuff go?” Isaac presses, still not fully satisfied with the explanation.

“It just… goes.” Israfil shrugs again. “I’m afraid angels don’t operate as literally as you might like.”

He rolls his eyes, taking a long drink from the mug. “If I had known you had an infinite magical storage room I would’ve been making you store shit for me this whole time,” he grumbles.

“All you had to do was ask,” Israfil says.

Isaac pulls his feet up onto the couch, curling up against the slightly saggy cushions. The mug is clasped tightly between his hands, and he stares absently down at the dark liquid within. “How long do you think we have until Raphael comes back?” he asks softly after a few moments.

“I don’t know. Time is… weird.” Angels, in his experience, don’t really operate within human restrictions on time. “Could be days. Could be years. Could be twenty minutes, if he’s efficient enough.” He catches a glimpse of Isaac’s horrified expression and adds, “But that’s not likely. It’ll probably be a few days at the very minimum. And even then, he’s never been the type to rush something just for the sake of it. He’ll probably want to come up with a new plan, new strategy, consult with the other Archangels…” He trails off. “I’m sure we’ll be rid of him for a little while.”

He nods slowly. “You must know him really well.”

“Better than anyone,” he says automatically. “Though… I guess I didn’t know him well enough to know he was going to do all this.”

Isaac sips his tea quietly, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “Can I ask you a… personal question?”

“I think most of the questions you ask me are personal questions.”

Isaac shoots a quick glare at Israfil, but says nothing.

Israfil sighs. “Go ahead and ask. I don’t mind.”

“Are you still in love with him?” Isaac blurts out, as if the question had been sitting on the tip of his tongue all day.

He blinks, taken aback. He doesn’t recall ever telling Isaac anything about Raphael that wasn’t directly relevant to the situation at hand. “How did you—”

“Cassandra told me.” He looks both embarrassed and horribly guilty. “I just—I’m just curious.”

Israfil doesn’t respond right away. He knows his answer without even having to think about it. But he doesn’t think it’s an answer that Isaac would understand. “I don’t think,” he begins carefully, “that there is anything he could do to make me stop loving him. But after everything that’s happened… there’s no way I could ever be with him again. So the way I feel about him doesn’t matter.”

“But all he’s ever done is hurt you,” Isaac protests. “How could you—”

“You don’t know him like I do,” he says simply.

“But still, he tried to kill you twice!”

“I know.”

“So why,” Isaac snaps, “are you still in love with him?”

“Because I’ve loved him for as long as I’ve been able to love—which is a very long time—and that’s not just going to go away in the blink of an eye.” He rests his chin on his palm, staring blankly at the carpet in front of him. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like,” he says softly. “To be with someone for that long. How can I help but love him?”

“Does he even feel the same way about you?” Isaac asks pointedly.

Israfil can tell that Isaac wants to upset him, wants him to argue back. But Israfil does not like arguing. “I guess you’ll have to ask him,” he says, his tone even. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Well, maybe you should try again.”

“I can’t,” he repeats tersely. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

Isaac only glares stubbornly at him.

“Isaac,” he murmurs, “tell me.”

Isaac sighs, slumping back against the sofa. “I’m just… too freaked out. About everything.”

“Oh.”

“Every time I close my eyes I feel like an angel is going to creep up on me or something,” he mumbles. “I know it’s stupid and paranoid but… well, I’m stupid and paranoid, so at least it’s in character for me.”

“It’s not stupid.” Tentatively, with as little movement as possible, he reaches to lay a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know that but it doesn’t make me feel better.” He gives Israfil’s hand a quick glance but doesn’t comment on the gesture. “I just want to stay up tonight. Let it go.”

He lets his hand fall to his side. “Okay.”

They sit silently for a few minutes. Isaac goes back to sipping his tea, while Israfil stares vacantly out the window.

“Do you want to watch something?” Isaac asks after a while, leaning forward to set his empty mug on the coffee table.

“If you like.”

Isaac switches on the television, pressing a series of buttons that takes him to a screen with various folders of what Israfil assumes are television shows. “Do you want to go through and pick something?” he asks, offering the remote to Israfil. “There’s also Netflix, but these are all the shows I downloaded off the internet.”

Israfil shakes his head. He wouldn’t have anything to base his choice on. “You can pick.”

He scrolls through the list of shows before selecting something called The Good Place. He scoots closer to Israfil, reaching past him for a different remote sitting on the other side of the coffee table. He does not move away after doing so. “Listen, I’m sorry I said that thing about Raphael,” he mutters. “It was mean. I guess I’m just… cranky because I’m tired.”

“I’m not upset.” He shifts his weight ever so slightly, moving almost imperceptibly toward Isaac. He can feel Isaac’s thigh just barely grazing his own. “Is there something I can do?”

“No,” he says, “I don’t think so. Thanks, though.”

“You’re welcome.”

Isaac sits rigidly beside Israfil, his eyes fixed on the television screen in front of them. He seems… deeply uncomfortable. Israfil almost moves to the other side of the couch, but before he can figure out how best to do so without attracting attention, Isaac leans over and mechanically lays his head against Israfil’s shoulder.

“Is that… comfortable?” he asks carefully, eyeing Isaac’s somewhat awkward position.

“Not really. I don’t know,” Isaac says sharply, straightening up. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say anything.”

Israfil lifts one arm slightly, making space for Isaac. “I won’t say anything,” he promises.

He looks warily at Israfil but, with only a little reluctance, he nestles against Israfil’s side. Israfil wraps his arm around Isaac’s shoulders. He presses his cheek against Israfil’s chest, still staring at the television.

This is good, Israfil decides. It feels good to be… close to someone again.