#but where she draws the line is air in the tyres

[three-cake-sandwich]

my coworker snapped at me yesterday because she’s sick of my leftist feminist opinions because i

are you ready for this?

put air in the tyres of my own car instead of calling my dad whom i do not live with to do it

if that’s too much for her she’s not ready for how left wing my opinion can get

[ask-a-w]

Absent Mind Chapter 6: Confused and Confounded

AO3

FF.net

Previous chapter: Chapter 5 - Into the Unknown

Next chapter: Chapter 7 - Rest and Recovery

---------

Ada was all but sprinting out of Ingrid’s home, the front door rebounded off the wall and the sound made Skadi jump to her feet as if she’d been kicked. It set off a long line of nervous barking and Ingrid immediately bent down to comfort her beloved pet, rhythmically murmuring soothing words and smoothing out her coat.

Fearing a noise complaint, Ingrid remained at her house despite wanting to accompany Ada. Leon’s wife hadn’t given Ingrid the chance to ask if she wanted to come along for the ride.

It took Hunnigan several minutes to calm her dog down before gathering her things. Her overnight bag was in a closet within the entryway of the house, awaiting such situations and was now called upon. 

Her earpiece buzzed as she waited for the line to be accepted. A groggy voice came through. An old friend, one that had been in the business as long as she had, gave her updates. 

“Havenwood– that’s a medical school ain’t it?” Ingrid asked as she started her car. 

Her friend’s reply rang out in her ears, “Yes but there is an operational working hospital connected to the teaching facility too. It is located just outside city limits.”

“Why was Agent Kennedy taken to a civilian hospital?” She fired off another question and barely made it past an amber light. 

There was a sigh on the other end. “I’m not sure. I’m drawing up a blank here. It’s like his records are being purposefully hidden.”

Hunnigan frowned at that response. She could only access the database on her work issued laptop that was in her office. Fifteen minutes later, she was on the roof of DSO headquarters and inside one of their private helicopters that was taking off. 

She had her laptop balanced on her knees, the screen cast a faint green glow on her visage as she furiously typed away on the keyboard. Occasionally the chopper would drop or lift as the air churned and Ingrid would clutch her device, white-knuckled. Her fingers brought out the archives, searching for information that could, in any way, pertain to where Leon had been found and where he had been previously.

- RESTRICTED ACCESS -

LOG IN: ___________

Ingrid entered her password. Rejected. She attempted it again and once more it was rejected. 

“What the hell?”

The pilot’s voice ran over the comms, “Somethin’ the matter?”

Hunnigan slammed her laptop closed. “No. How much longer?” If she wasn’t in such a noisy environment, she would have done this old fashioned way by calling the hospital to get the rest of John Doe’s information. But it didn’t hurt to try. 

-------

At Havenwood hospital, John Doe lay unconscious in bed. His head was wrapped up, injury caused by blunt force trauma and bruises of varying shades of purple and yellow marred his face. The staff said he was lucky to be alive. His identity remained unknown to them as he had yet to awaken but the presence of a suited man indicated that this patient was a special individual. 

In the distance, Ada was thankful the roads were relatively clear at this time of night and the drive out of the city wasn’t too long. The tyres of her car screeched to a halt upon reaching the parking lot situated behind the two-storey facility. Ada tugged on a red leather jacket and had just stepped out of the vehicle before an older agent approached her, flashing his DSO staff pass in her face, “This way, ma'am.”

A long time ago, she would have restrained any stranger that approached her, just to verify his identity. But tonight, she wasn’t in the mood. Her nerves were frayed and she was just on the edge. If this was a trap, they would have gotten to her already.

However, there was something familiar about this middle-aged bespectacled man… Didn’t she encounter him recently in the past week? That’s right, he was at the bio-security conference. 

Before she could say anything more, he had already turned away from her and Ada had no choice but to follow him into the hospital. His quick gait indicated he was not in the mood to chat. 

The scent of antiseptic hit her nose as soon as she was escorted down the sterile white hallways. The interior of the building looked fairly decent and nothing was unsettling her. After a few more left turns, she was led to a room situated at the end of the corridor. 

Ada had been briefed about Leon’s condition by the mysterious agent. Her husband remained in a coma after receiving some trauma to the head and had yet to wake up. Her lips settled into a grim, thin line upon hearing about his medical status. Head injuries often had long-term complications. 

The man remained outside as Ada disinfected her hands and waited for the doors to slide open before she entered the ICU properly. Her footsteps slowed as she took a good look at the patient lying there on the bed.

The first thing that caught her attention was Leon’s head. It was all bandaged up but small tufts of golden hair peeked out from underneath the dressing and glistened from light coming from the bedside lamp. It was an unmistakable shade of blonde that belonged to her husband. That was definitely him. 

His handsome face was almost unrecognisable with the myriad of contusions and it broke her heart to see him in this state. Her only consolation was the absence of a breathing tube which indicated that he could breathe on his own. The rest of his body was covered under the sheet. She could only hope it was relatively unscathed. With a sigh, she took a chair and pulled it over to his bedside.

-------

Another fifteen minutes later and the DSO helicopter touched down on the hospital roof. Ingrid waved off the chopper pilot and took the stairs, two at a time until she reached the desired floor. Suite 2012A, Intensive Care. It must have been worse than she had imagined. Anxiety wrapped her stomach into knots. Breathing heavily from sprinting down a few flights of stairs, she located the nurses station, presented her badge and asked to be shown to his room. 

The nurse practitioner walked ahead of her, reciting procedures while in the room. Hands cleaned and absolutely no outside food should be given to the patient. She categorised the information, creating a list in her head. 

She dropped her bags outside his room, pushing it well out of the flow of traffic in the hall. A sink and cleaning station was just outside the door. From the window, she could see Ada sitting beside the hospital bed. But she still couldn’t see Leon. 

There was another person that caught her attention though, DSO Director Martin was lingering at the other end of the corridor, talking into his phone. His presence answered the mystery on who was pulling the strings… Ingrid would have to tread carefully but right now, her friend was in need. 

Hunnigan went to the sink and turned on the faucet, meticulously picking under her nails, the industrial grade soap pungent in her nostrils. She dried her hands and held her breath as she opened the door. 

It felt like the wind was knocked out of her when she finally saw him. His eyes were puffy and remained closed. Skin had an awful violet tinge to it against the bleached, sterile room. Gauze criss crossed his cranium, a few wild blonde locks sprung forth like weeds through concrete sidewalks. His lips were split, cracked at the corners. 

For a moment, she tried to tell herself she had the wrong room. Leon would never look like this, so broken and bruised. This man looked small in the bed, as if he’d been there for a hundred years. It was Ada’s presence that remained sharp, like a hard slap to the face. No need to pinch her, she knew this was no dream.

She stood in the same spot for several minutes, waiting to be acknowledged. Her eyes dropped to the medical chart hanging at the foot of his bed. Tried to make out words in the illegible scrawl. Things like “hematoma” and “contusion” caught her eye. 

-------

Leon’s thoughts were hazy, an unfocused dream filled with scrambled images and muffled voices. He could see Lanshiang, with all the smoke and fire everywhere. There was Ada and the mutated Simmons, on the tower high above the ground. Leon had to protect her. He could see a helicopter, and Helena. They had boarded it, and he found the compact left by Ada. Leon thought they had taken off, but the images became even hazier. He needed to wake up.

The blonde man grumbled and moaned as he began to stir. His whole body felt sore and stiff. Leon opened his eyes and saw the hospital ceiling above, and felt himself lying in a bed. At least he was somewhere comfortable. He tried to sit up, but it took great effort, he felt his head beginning to spin from the attempt and he abandoned the idea. 

“Ugh, my head…” Leon mumbled as he rubbed his temple and felt the bandage. He looked up and saw Hunnigan. Not surprising. Then he saw Ada, which he found very surprising. Both women looked quite worried as they stared at him.

“Ada?” Leon asked, feeling very confused. “What are you doing here? What happened? Did we make it out of Lanshiang?” 

She would never simply come to him like this. Something must have been seriously wrong if she was here keeping vigil at his bedside. Plus, her outfit looked entirely different from when he saw her last. 

Ada was vaguely aware of Ingrid’s presence in the room but she was too focused on her husband. How badly hurt was he? Would he ever wake up?

Then, her wishes were granted as he stirred and groaned. His words made her heart sink. 

Lanshiang?

Ada shared a worried glance with Hunnigan before gazing back at Leon. 

Ingrid held Ada’s glance for a moment, it was uncomfortable but she’d rather have her eyes anywhere than on Leon’s broken and bruised body, the strange outline under the white sheets forcing her mind to imagine the limits his body had been pushed to. What lay beneath those sheets?

Both women shared the same thought- how serious was his concussion? 

“You should take it easy with your head injury,” Ada replied as she reached forward to adjust the blanket that had fallen off his shoulders. Hopefully he would be able to spot the wedding ring on her finger as she did so. She also thumbed a switch on the side of the bed that would help to elevate Leon’s upper back. 

Indeed, Leon did notice the wedding ring, making him raise an eyebrow. It was not the kind of thing he had ever seen the Asian woman wear. While he was appreciative of the change in his posture, he just kept quiet, still wondering if this was a sick trick. An after effect of being in an environment tainted by the C-virus?

An uncomfortable stillness fell over the room as Ada tended to Leon, anxious fingers tugging and pulling at the pillow behind his head, the blankets draped over his shoulders. The one good thing was that he did not pull away from her touch even though his expression screamed wariness. 

“I am your next of kin, handsome,” Ada said softly as she looked into his blue eyes sincerely before continuing her words. “And Lanshiang was almost three years ago.”

The silence that ensued was awkward… Ada was not sure how Leon would react to the news. He was a different man back then, almost jaded, until they finally sealed their union. And he slowly embarked on a path of healing, to become an even better man for himself and her. 

It took a few seconds for Leon to process the information. What Ada told him was utterly confusing. She was his wife, and Lanshiang was three years ago?

“What?” Leon whispered in disbelief as Ada adjusted his blanket, staring back into her eyes. She appeared to be honest with her response, but he just could not be sure around her… He felt a dull throb arising in his temples from the current situation. 

Thankfully the tension was interrupted by a middle-aged male doctor who entered the room.

“Ah, it’s good that you have woken up. And what a relief it is to see that you have friends.”

Ada glared at him coolly, “I’m his spouse.”

The doctor failed to notice her icy stare. “Then we can discuss your husband’s condition…” He turned to look at Hunnigan, “If you don’t mind, please vacate the room if you’re not related to the patient. You may visit him later.”

Ingrid was more than ready to comply and barely got off the chair when Mrs Kennedy intervened.  “She can stay. She’s his work supervisor and deserves to know,” Ada lied easily. Plus, she owed the brunette after abandoning her so suddenly. This was the next best thing she could do in this situation. 

It was a stretch of the truth. 

The doc shrugged and walked over to Leon to check his vitals. “Well, you have suffered quite a concussion, sir. There was some serious swelling and bruising but they seemed to have subsided slightly. Good news is you have no broken bones and the other parts of your body are unaffected.”

He gave his patient a somewhat stern look after he was satisfied by Leon’s pupil dilation response, “You still need to take it easy though. Don’t want to open the stitches on your forehead and get it infected now either. Even though you were in a four day coma, you might need some time to walk again. 

“He also has amnesia too. The past three years are missing,” Ada added on. 

“I see,” the medical professional replied flatly. “Head injuries may cause some memory loss. Give it time for him to recover.”

The raven haired woman made a small ‘hmm’ noise and helped to adjust Leon’s pillow a little more. “How long would it take?”

“It differs from person to person. It can range from hours to months,” the doctor said matter-of-factly. 

“I can transfer his past medical history, if it’ll help with the prognosis,” Ingrid quipped, the doctor turned to her, lips pursed a moment before looking back towards Ada. Ingrid looked between him and her, “I’ll relay all the information to them both later. I believe they need some time to catch up.”

There was a polite nod of her head and the FOS agent turned her attention towards Leon.

“Relax, rest up. I’ll handle everything else.” There was a poignant smile on her lips, briefly there and then gone as she pushed her glasses up and moved out of the room. 

Ada returned Hunnigan’s nod, grateful that Leon had a trusted colleague and friend after all these years.

Outside the room, Reginald was nowhere to be seen. Ingrid lifted her bag and carried it towards the nurses station. Once there, she brought out the laptop and logged into the archives to fetch his medical files. Heavily censored to protect him and the DSO but as complete as possible to allow the medical professionals unhindered care.                                             

She retrieved her phone and created a text message. 

[txt] Heading out once his doctor prints his medical files. Please, keep me updated.

Ada’s cell buzzed moments after the brunette left the room. It was probably a text from Hunnigan and she would read it later. For now, all her thoughts were on Leon, who had not spoken a word at all. 

The blonde’s countenance remained blank as everyone in the room spoke. Leon was stunned, and at that moment nothing seemed real. It had to be some sort of weird dream he was having, he just had to still be sleeping or in some kind of coma.

Leon could only lean back on his pillow, staring vacantly at nothing. The ache had subsided for now but he could not form a coherent thought for several moments, as his mind tried to piece everything together. He finally turned to look back at Ada, with a twinge of nervousness.

“Is this real?” The blonde asked Ada, the woman he had been pining after for years to no avail, whom he suddenly found himself married to. “We’re together now? We’ve… been together?” Leon hoped Ada knew what the last question meant.

Ada’s hazel eyes met the doc’s gray ones and the older man cleared his throat, “Don’t stress if you can’t remember anything, sir. Just take it easy for now. Your recovery is most important. I’ll take my leave.”

When they were finally alone, Ada finally answered his questions. “Yes, yes, and you have to be more specific,” she teased him gently, hoping that he would know that she was being genuine. 

Seeing how dry his lips were, Ada poured a cup of water from the conveniently placed pitcher on his bedside table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks,” Leon replied and watched as she found a bundle of wrapped straws from a small container beside the pitcher. She unwrapped the plastic and placed the straw into the cup, holding it gingerly against his lips. 

“Take it slow, you don’t want to choke.”

He nodded and took the water from Ada, still feeling very uneasy when her finger was an inch away from his mouth. But deep down, he was still glad when the doctor left, giving him and Ada some alone time. The blond gingerly sipped the water and licked his parched lips. It did not seem like this was a dream after all.

“You know what I mean.” He said after he drank his fill and Ada set the cup aside. “Have we had sex?” He did not feel like teasing him was appropriate right now, but Leon really could not be mad at Ada in most situations. “How long have we been married? How were you not taken to prison?”

Somewhere in his heart, he honestly hoped that he was married to Ada, living a happy life together, but he had been badly burned in the past and it all seemed too good to be true. The blonde wished he could remember anything.

Her husband’s words did sting but there was no point being upset over his memory loss. Since he was not convinced by her loving wife demeanour, Ada put on her default cool cat expression, “Naturally. Numerous times a day.” There was a small smile on her lips as she gazed at him with yet another playful look.

Leon blushed at Ada’s reply about sex and broke eye contact with her. He inwardly cursed his amnesia.

Her eyes softened after she answered his first question. “We’ll be married for two years this summer,” the raven haired woman exhaled another soft sigh as she poured water for herself and drank deeply from the same cup her husband just used.

“Lanshiang is a long, complicated story. All the answers were on the flashdrive I left for you.” This was not the right time to go into detail about Carla, it would just befuddle the blonde’s mind even more.

“I guess everything worked out fine then. The world didn’t end. We’re still here, alive.” The agent said softly. He remembered the call from Chris, telling him that Ada was dead, and how relieved he was when he saw she was still living.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Leon told his wife. “I was worried about you. I always am, but I see things have changed a lot.” He sunk back down into the pillow a little more, finally beginning to relax a little. “I hope this amnesia is only temporary. No one’s died since Lanshiang, have they?

Chris’s partner died… and there were also the civilians in the city that paid the ultimate price due to Carla’s skewed quest for vengeance. Her husband, though strong on the surface, was still soft at heart. If she told him the bad news, she feared it might aggravate his current condition.

“Death is part and parcel of life, Leon,” Ada replied cryptically. “But if you mean anyone from Raccoon, they are still well.” How long will their luck last however, she will never know. For now, they were content with each passing day.

“Okay,” Leon replied, satisfied with her answer.

Ada leaned back in her chair and got comfortable, “Just rest now, handsome.” She won’t run away and she will be there for him this time. 

Her husband closed his eyes but his mind was still fretting. Plus, the sensation of being hooked up in two places made him uncomfortable. After more than ten minutes of restlessness, he grunted and Ada tilted her head, “How can I help?”

He was feeling bashful about his complaint. But if the woman in front of him vowed to be with him in good times and bad, he should be comfortable around her. There was nothing that she hadn’t seen already. Leon pointed to his arm and the urinary drainage bag, “These are bothering me. I wonder if they can remove them now that I’m conscious.”

“Let me call for a staff,” His wife pressed a button and a nurse appeared a minute later. “Is it possible to remove the IV and catheter?”

“I’ll need to check the doctor’s orders for this.” The nurse departed as swiftly as she entered. 

A hush fell over the couple once more as Leon gazed around the room. Ada decided he needed some space for himself. 

“I’ll be returning home for a short while and I can bring some photographs to help jog your memory. Do you need me to bring anything else? Toiletries? I’m sure you would like to brush your teeth and maybe have a shower once you are cleared to walk.”

Ada was certain he would request shampoo and his hair gel. Leon was always looking presentable.

“Yeah, my toothbrush and toothpaste. And… whatever else you think I need, like hair products.”

Leon felt self-conscious mentioning this to her, a bit embarrassed that Ada already knew all the little things about him, but now he did not know hers. Everything was going to be awkward for him. Leon began thinking it would be best if he tried to piece things together from what he last remembered. That could be saved for later. Now, he just wanted to rest his mind.

“One more thing, where do we live?” He asked before she departed.

Ada watched as Leon went quiet. She knew he was slightly frustrated at his memory loss but she did not want him to shut her out. At the same time though, she was still peeved that he left his watch and ring behind. Her emotions were torn between relief and annoyance. For now, she would remain as neutral as possible. 

“A two-storey house just outside DC with two cats. I can bring you pictures of them.” 

Leon liked the thought of a house instead of his apartment. The cats were a tad unexpected, but that was fine. 

Ada reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you later.” 

He looked down at Ada’s hand, enjoying her tender touch. It was a comforting feeling. This marriage had to be real then. 

“See ya around, Ada.” The blonde replied hopefully. 

There was a ghost of a smile on his wife’s lips as she remembered a time when she used the same phrase on him. After a moment of relishing the warmth of his fingers, Ada released her grip and left the room. 

Amnesia aside, Leon was thankful his injuries weren’t worse, or that he might have suffered a more devastating type of brain damage. He did wonder what sort of mission he had been on when he was injured. Leon hoped that he had not just slipped on a wet floor, or something ridiculous like that.

Ada noticed the middle aged man from before was standing guard outside Leon’s room. Were they expecting her husband to be assassinated? 

“Is there anyone from your company that I can speak to?" 

Without glancing at her, Director Martin shook his head. Ada frowned, “Then who knew that I was his next-of-kin and contacted me? Who told you to keep a lookout for me as I pulled up into the hospital? And I would prefer that we don’t waste each other’s time and you give me the answers I need.”

He sighed and motioned her to follow him to the visitor’s lounge which was thankfully empty. His voice was a whisper, "I contacted you ma'am. He has a picture of you on his desk so that was how I identified you.”

Ada raised an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you used a voice modulator when you called me and you were also related to the secret assignment he was sent on. Not only that, he is not in a DSO medical facility so you want this off the book.” Her voice had a dark edge to it as she said the last sentence.

Reginald gazed at her with a hardened expression, impressed that Leon married a formidable lady who was his equal. “You are certainly astute.”

“My previous employment required me to analyze situations.” She crossed her arms and glowered at him. “I have no desire to know the details of his assignment. I need reassurance that he will be able to receive adequate medical care here because he has amnesia at the moment. And that his health is not compromised because he is not in a DSO facility.”

The man’s nostrils flared slightly, “Ma'am, Agent Kennedy is one of our best agents and we do not want any further harm to come to him either. I could have asked my subordinates to do this but I am taking personal responsibility as one of the directors of this mission. Is that enough for you, Mrs. Kennedy?”

Ada quirked a smile. “Indeed. If his health deteriorates in any way, I shall hold you accountable. Is that fair?” Reginald nodded, “You have my word.” 

“Good.”

Without another word, Ada strode off with her heels echoing through the ICU wing and left the hospital. 

[cognacdelights]

i wonder about something angstyy where indie comes to jj very upset because her and john b got into an argument or vice versa, maybe jj comes to her because of his dad, i think it would be interesting to see their emotional relationship with each other u know? love your writing bro xx

thank you so much, that really means a lot to me! Also, I got carried away with this one...

warnings: violence, injuries

JJ pushed open the corrugated steel door, the keys to the recovery truck nonchalantly dangling around his middle finger. His steel-toe-capped boots were heavy against the concrete floor as he strolled casually through the workshop after responding to an emergency call out in Figure Eight; jump starting a Porsche for a clueless trophy wife who was late for her yoga class. 

As soon as he heard the corrugated steel slamming against the rusted door frame, his boss pulled his head from the beneath the bonnet of the battered and bruised Volkswagen Beetle which he had been working on all morning. JJ casually nodded towards his boss, acknowledging him, “just a jump start. Took me longer to actually get there than it did to get her car running.”

“Easy money, don’t knock it,” Joe responded with a slight laugh - the kind which consisted merely of a rapid huff of air being expelled from his nose. His grease stained hands reached for the chipped mug of coffee that rested against the cluttered work bench as his beady, malachite eyes watched JJ as he waded through the mounds of tyres and unused car parts. “There’s someone for you in the office,” he nodded his head in the direction of the small, box room in the corner of the workshop, before taking a sip of his coffee. 

As he neared the paint-splattered door, he spied the familiar chestnut waves through the two frosted pains of glass. His calloused palm pushed down against the broken door handle, alerting the petite brunette to his presence instantly. The cushioned office chair slowly swivelled round and his sapphire eyes were met with two puffy, glazed-over orbs and an accompanying pair of tear-stained cheeks. Indie. 

A deep exhale surpassed his chewed-up lips as he took a few cautious steps towards her, a pang of anguish tugging on his heart strings as he fully embraced the state of the teary-eyed girl before him. He discarded the recovery truck keys on the paperwork-filled desk as he crouched before her, his clammy palms resting against the exposed skin of her thighs and his thumb rubbing tenderly across her the cellulite-plagued plains. 

“What happened?” his concern-riddled voice rose barely above a whisper as his soft, sapphire eyes peered upwards at her. 

“John B threw me out,” Indie divulged with a sorry-for-herself sniffle, her tone croaky as her strained throat struggled to push the words out. 

“He threatens that every other week, but he’s yet to actually follow through with it,” JJ offered his comfort. However, his instincts - rightfully - convinced him there was more to the situation; Indie and John B had been trapped in a tumultuous cycle of explosive arguments for months on end, but never had she turned up to the workshop in such a state before - especially when she was under strict orders from both JJ and his boss to stay away. 

“This time was different,” she elaborated her previous explanation as she choked out a sob, “he literally threw me out of the chateau.” Slowly, she twisted her arm to reveal the sore-looking graze which expanded down the length of her forearm, that she had acquired as her petite frame collided with the splinter-riddled boards of the decking. 

JJ sucked in a sharp breath of air, attempting to remain calm for Indie’s sake. He often played the role of Switzerland during their heated exchanges, patching up the holes on both sides of the conflict. However, this time, John B had crossed the line by laying a hand on her; in fact, he had more than crossed it - he had pole vaulted over it, and at some velocity. His lips pursed into a thin line as he inspected the wound; luckily, there were no splinters caught in the graze, although it was clogged with dirt and sand particles.

“I didn’t mean to smash dad’s ashtray. It was an accident,” another sorrowful sob crawled out from the back of her throat as her waterline brimmed with fresh tears, “I was looking for my lighter and it just fell off the table. He just started yelling at me, telling me that I was good for nothing and a waste of space. Then he threw me out and locked the door behind me. He never locks the door.” Her eyes glistened with an ever-flowing stream of tears as an inky trail of mascara meandered down her paling complexion. 

“It’s just an ashtray, Squirt. It can be fixed,” JJ reassured her in his soft tone. He pulled open the bottom draw of the desk, retrieving the first aid kit from beneath a pile of miscellaneous clutter. Dampening a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide, his indigo eyes flickered upwards to meet hers momentarily - showcasing the anger that was laced within the pearl-like speckles. “I need you to be brave for me now, pretty girl, because this is going to sting like a bitch.”

“Just do it,” Indie nodded with another sniffle, a stray tear dropping onto the bare flesh of her thigh. 

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged her with an understanding smile as he tenderly dabbed with hydrogen-peroxide-soaked cotton ball against the graze. Indie grimaced immediately at the contact, fighting an internal battle to not flinch, as the stringing sensation consumed her. Carefully, he cleaned the wound as best as he could with the minimal supplies he had to work with, making sure to rid the wound of all the sand particles, at least. He then placed a gentle, tender kiss against the graze before attentively covering it with a large band aid. 

Indie leaned forwards, coiling her arms around his neck tightly and burying her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed in his comforting smell - the specific concoction of sweat, weed and his favourite cheap aftershave comforting her instantly. Feeling the strain on his ankles, JJ languidly stood from his crouching position, pulling the petite girl to her feet in the process. His muscular arms entrapped her against his toned chest and his lips pressed loving kisses against her temple as she stood almost on the tips of her toes.

“I don’t know what to do,” Indie admitted solemnly, her slender silhouette shaking with each grievous sob. 

“I do,” JJ replied, unable to disguise the anger laced within his tone, “I’m gonna throw him through that fucking door when I see him.” Indie squeezed his robust frame firmly before peering upwards, into his dark and impassive eyes. JJ’s thumb softly swiped away the influx of tears which had spilled over her waterline before placing a tender kiss against her nose. “Go get yourself something to eat and then you can help out here, valeting the cars until I finish,” he told her softly, his thumb attentively caressing the small of her back through the thin cotton of her oversized t-shirt. 

“I charge $15 an hour for my service,” she attempted to make light of the situation - despising being in such a vulnerable state, especially in front of JJ.

“I’ll buy you a six pack of twinkies,” JJ bartered with a chuckle. 

“Deal.”

Send in a request here!

[kittym]

+ SAINT ( @sxint​​​ )

THURSDAY 11TH FEBRUARY. THE DOCKS. The docks smell of sea brine and metal rust and oil; of hard work and sweat. Kitty slinks through the shadows like an alley cat who has long since learned to evade the heavy footfall and boisterous voices of man. A walkie-talkie slipped from an unattended charging point is clipped to her belt, tapping with metronomic rhythm against her hip at each burst of swift movement, unconcerning chatter cracking occasionally over its airwaves. In her hand, a serrated pocket knife. The docks garage is quiet as she drops down beside another front tyre and jams the blade into rubber, a satisfying hiss escaping in response. The last thing her crew needed was on-site security trying to chase them down; no doubt War had a worker or two in their pocket. A second puncture is added for good measure. She straightens up, making for the final vehicle, when a loud sound rips through the early morning air. It reverberates off of the buildings, sending seagulls into a crying frenzy. Kitty freezes, her attention snapping in the direction of the boat. She knows a gunshot when she hears one. Someone’s voice bursts to life over the walkie-talkie: “We’ve got company. Everyone stay inside ‘til War is done.”

She runs. There isn’t time to think, not with her crew on the ship and Gabrielle Warden’s hounds sniffing around. Thick-soled boots splash through stale water, crossing the forecourt past scurrying workers and clambering up the ramp of the vessel onto the deck. Gold lights gleam down on a fear-inducing scene, Angels and Powers holding War off as best they can. Panting for breath, pulse hammering rabbit-hearted beneath her ribs, each exhale mists in the cold air. Kitty’s attention lands on Leon, two dark clad figures pursuing him. Her mouth dries. She could spot Saint a mile off; knows every angle of his body, even now. “Fuck,” she breathes out, half in anger and half in relief. “Saint.” His name leaves her lips whipcrack sharp, quick to move and put herself between him and Leon. 

Brown irises near black in the low light, her line of sight fixes on his. Something alluring lies in his green-eyed gaze. She can tell he’s enjoying this: the thrill of a chase and a taste of power. Her chin raises in defiance of it, keen to extinguish this situation like a cigarette underfoot. “We made a deal,” Kitty reminds him firmly. Slowly, she sheaths her pocket knife and tucks it away into her boilersuit. “You’re going to let me have this, Saint.” The idea of them stood toe to toe in conflict had once filled them both with dread to the point that agreeing on a set outcome where neither of them had to get injured seemed like the smartest plan. Now, though, clashing with him almost seemed commonplace. “You said yourself that you aren’t going to hurt me. And I don’t want to hurt you -- but we both know I will if you don’t tell your crew to stand down.” 

Drawing closer, she forces herself to soften and pushes the ghost of a smile across her lips. “Come on. It’s a few fucking crates of bullets, that’s all.”

[one-boring-person]

@jawline-of-steel I hope, as my new best friend (hehe), that you like this!😁💛💛👍 (I also hope that it's the right context and that😅💛)

You've Got The Wrong Girl.

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: bad language, implied sexual themes, very vague mentions of death and blood (but only if you look closely)

Masterlist

Somehow, David manages to exhale his next breath of smoke in an aggressive manner as he leans back against his motorcyle, muscles tense and stance almost uncomfortable, drawing the other's attention to him instantly.

"Where's (Y/n)?" Is Paul's first question, the tall blonde moving forwards slightly, craning his head around to look for his leader's significant other.

"I don't care." He huffs angrily, lips closing around the butt of his cigarette once more, blue eyes iced over.

"Ooh, what happened? Did she shove a pole up your arse?" Marko quips, smirking to Paul suggestively, only to yelp when David's hand snaps round to clip him round the ear, the platinum blonde's venomous scowl fixed on him briefly.

"You'd better keep your mouth shut, or I'll take great pleasure in doing it for you." He snarls at him, voice deceivingly quiet and threatening.

None of them speak for a few minutes, David's anger almost rippling off of him in static waves, keeping the air around them charged and tense, the four of them eyeing the area around them as a way to ignore this. Eventually, Marko and Paul wander off, bored as hell and feeling incredibly awkward, not quite noticing their leader's dirty look as they walk away, leaving Dwayne and David behind to brood in silence. Once again, neither of them say anything, until the dark haired vampire finally has enough of the tension, standing from his motorcycle and going to stand before David with a curious look on his face.

"What happened between you and (Y/n)?" He questions, blunt and to the point as always.

"What do you mean?" David's voice is monotone, blue eyes boring into Dwayne's pointedly.

"Don't pull that bullshit with me, you've been acting cold since you got here. The only time you ever get this annoyed is when (Y/n)'s said or done something you don't agree with." The tanned vampire points out, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a frown.

"I don't have to tell you anything." His leader responds, ees narrowing as he throws his cigarette butt to the floor, where he uses his foot to crush out the embers.

"No, but then at least act better towards the rest of us. You're not being fair on us." Dwayne snaps in reply, before he turns and walks off in a different direction, ignoring David as he let's out a low growl.

Sulking, David kicks at the tyre of his motorcycle, scowling at a surfer as they pass by, only to sigh in frustration and go looking for the object of his frustration: (Y/n), the girl who he somehow cares for, yet has the capacity to royally piss him off at any given time. It was, ironically, what drew him to her in the first place, her ability to completely go against what he asks without thinking twice about it, finding her personality a near perfect match to his. It's this thought that prompts him to go looking for her now.

He looks high and low, not entirely sure where she'd go without the boys, only to have an epiphany when he steps into the part that is lined with food stalls, figuring out exactly where she is in seconds. His icy eyes immediately find the back of her head amongst the sea of others, his legs instinctively taking him over to her, a habit he'll probably never kick, even in his long years of living. As he reaches her, David takes a hold of her wrist and goes to pull her into the nearest alley with the intention of talking to her, only to feel a little surprised when she digs her heels into the floor and stops still, her eyes meeting his challengingly.

"I'm busy at the moment, David. Would you mind coming back later?" She inquires with a false smile, pulling her arm from his grip.

"I would not. Come with me." He responds, drily, glaring at her as she cocks her head and looks at him.

"I'm busy, David. I'd rather stay here." She presses, shrugging as she goes to walk away, only to squeak suddenly when the vampire grabs her around the waist and carries her over his shoulder into the alley, ignoring the looks people are giving him as she hits him on the back, demanding that he let her go. Once out of sight, he puts her down, standing uncomfortably close to her to make his point, body outsizing her's with ease, though she doesn't back down, even as he places one hand on the wall behind her to stop her from trying to get away again.

"Well now that you've manhandled me in here, what do you want?" She sighs out, exasperated at the vampire's tactics, her eyes remaining fixed on his in defiance.

"I want you to stop behaving like a brat all the time, (Y/n). You've been testing my patience for weeks now, and I've had enough of it. Stop it before I make you." He threatens her, flashing his eyes slightly to make his point more obvious.

"Hold on, you want me to stop being who I am? And what in the hell are you going to do to enforce that, David? You know you don't scare me, even if you are a murderous person. You've got the wrong girl to be ordering around like that, something which you signed up for the moment you asked me out." She informs him, stepping forwards slightly, poking his chest to enunciate her words properly, unaffected by his tough guy act.

"I am well aware that you aren't a pushover, (Y/n). All I'm asking is that you don't put up such a fight all the time. Your sarcasm I can live with, because you put up with mine, but your attitude at times is something that has to stop. And as for what I'll do to you, you know full well what I mean." David growls quietly to her, leaning in close towards her neck, where he snaps his teeth, his canines pushing out long enough to lightly graze over her skin, images of him tearing into my skin flashing into her head, put there by the platinum blonde backing her into the wall.

"Controlling much, huh? Don't you realise that you can't make my decisions for me and control how I'm supposed to act? You shouldn't be asking me to adjust my entire personality to suit yours, David. If we're not getting along, we both need to change something. I'm happy to tone it down a bit, but only if you stop being so damn dominant all the time. I get that you're into that and all, but it doesn't always make for an easy relationship, so that's something you need to think through before coming here with your high-and-mighty orders for me." She explains to him, standing up straight as he leans over her, his eyes blazing with frustration.

For a minute, he says nothing, regarding her with an expression half-caught in anger, half in contemplation, a look of realisation seeming to creep into the hard lines of his handsome features, eyes softening slightly.

"Fine, I'm sorry that I'm controlling all the time, and I'm willing to stop being like that so much with you, but only if you do the same. We just keep clashing, and it isn't going to end well. I want to make this work, so I'll change for you if you change for me." He finally says, not quite backing up yet, clearly waiting for her to say something, too.

"Good. I'm glad we were able to work this out. I'll be less of a "brat" as you put it, but if I hear you trying to control the way I act again, I'll go right back to being the little bitch you know and hate." She promises him, smirking at her expression as his eyes darken.

Pressing himself against her, David grins to himself as he regards her face, enjoying the sensation of her body underneath his, even if it is obscured by the layers of clothing between them. Leaning in close, he uses his hands to pin her's to the wall behind them, their faces a centimetre or so apart, breath mingling, lips grazing one another as he speaks again.

"You'll still be my little bitch though, kitten. I'm not gonna let you go that easily. I'll change for you outside the sheets, but under them, well then you belong to me."

It's all she has in her to respond with a smile and a nod, going to reply before being cut off by his hungry lips on her's, his tongue easily slipping into her mouth as she gasps in surprise, a battle of tongues starting instantly. Her hands try to pry themselves from his vice-like grip, only to find themselves taken in one of his and held easily above her head, his other hand slipping down their bodies until he reaches the hem of her shirt, pushing underneath and onto her skin, caressing it smoothly as he swallows her moans and sighs. Grinding his hips into her's, he moves his lips from here and trails kisses down her neck and jaw, leaving purple marks in his wake, the wet track of his lips chilling in the cool air around them, but she only groans in response, wishing she could wrap her arms around him, though a small part of her is enjoying being restricted. Pulling away, he moves back up to her ear, where he breathes over it hotly before speaking again, voice husky and at a lower tone than usual.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n), I can be less dominant, if that's what you want." He purrs, sounding genuine as his darkened eyes bore into her's.

"It is, but I can be less rebellious, too. If that's what you want." She chuckles, breath hitching slightly from the arousal.

"We'll see." He says ominously, before his lips have collided with mine again.

[rainandhotchocolate]

The girl next door

A/N ok yes it’s technically 1am but fk u all its STILL DAY 6 IN MY MIND anyway this is a !muggle reader x James fic, the classic girl next door trope :)) Enjoy lovelies! 

The girl next door

James watched from his window as a bright red car rolled up into the driveway next to his. The house next door was relatively similar to his own, a classic Victorian terrace with a balcony overlooking the front lawn and the back garden. James’ parents hadn’t changed the decorations much, wanting to keep it in line with muggle stereotypes as much as possible, not draw attention to themselves unnecessarily. The most they had added were two rocking chairs out on the front porch for them to watch the neighbourhood pass around them, doing muggle things.

James’ next-door neighbours, however, had done the exact opposite. Whilst they had to keep the front façade, heritage or some odd muggle council thing, they had painted the front a deep-sea blue, the door was porcelain white to match the balcony. Hanging down across the painted walls was lush ivory which vined its way across the façade and up the edge of the balcony, meeting a row of blueberry and raspberry plants that had never really sprouted. From James’ bedroom, he could see into the back of the house and garden, completely renovated so that there were large windows covering the kitchen and living space and led out into a complete mess of a garden, a huge oak tree in the middle, daisy’s and honeysuckles covering the grassy surrounding it.

When James was young, he used to watch with envy at the large tyre that was tied to the edge of the tree, watching the couple swing their young daughter higher and higher into the tree. He wondered if it was the closest thing muggle’s felt to flying.

He first met the girl next door when he was 8, when Euphemia and Fleamont had brought around a large pudding to greet the new neighbours. They had ushered them in, the woman wearing an oversized pair of overalls and covered in paint, the man in jeans and a jumper, holding the newspaper in one hand as he led them into the kitchen.

“We have a daughter around the same age as James.” He remembered them saying to his parents whilst he looked around at the brightly coloured utensils hanging around the kitchen.

“Y/N!” At her mum’s yell, Y/N came skidding through the open doorway, sliding further than she expected in her socks on the smooth wooden floorboards and grabbing hold of James to slow down.

“She’s a bit of a wild one, our Y/N,” her dad had said, grinning down at her as Y/N gave James an apologetic grimace, “Why don’t you show James the yard?”

She grabbed James’ hand and pulled him out the large back door, which was also a window, and led him towards the tree.

“This is a fairy tree, they like to sleep here at night, but if you’re lucky you might get to see one,” She winked, a piece of her curly dark hair falling into her face. She tried to blow it off with the corner of her mouth before shaking it off her face. She was wearing a bright pink dress, James remembered because he wondered whether she was going to ruin it as she grabbed hold of the tree branch and swung herself up and onto it.

“Come on! What are you staring for?”

“Nothing, coming,” He’d grinned up at her and pulled himself up, joining her on the large tree. They’d jumped around it for an hour before his parents came back into the yard and brought him home.

Being an only child, James took any opportunity he could do have her over or vice versa when she was bored and wanted someone to hoist her onto the tallest branch.

“I can see the whole way to London from here!”

“You bloody cannot,” James snorted, tickling the inside of her leg so she jolted forwards, having to grab hold of the branch in front to steady herself.

“Oi!”

“That’s what you get for lying,” James giggled as she tried to reach down and poke him, but she was too high up.

“Come up here so I can get you back.”

“Not even if Merlin was up there,” James danced around the trunk of the tree, avoiding her foot as it dangled, trying to find his head.

“What, like King Arthur? Stop moving! I promise I won’t hit you I’m just trying to get down,” Y/N held her leg still until James sighed and moved over so she could use his shoulders to climb back down. She hit him across the arm the moment she landed on a thick branch, her lip curling brazenly.

“You are so dead,” James growled at her, chasing her across the tree branches, watching Y/N giggle loudly as he got closer until he could tackle her onto the grass in a heap.

When they got older, well mostly when James went to a ‘faraway very boring nothing to talk about’ boarding school they drifted apart. It was natural enough, they still saw each other on break, chatting about their classes and friends. On Christmas eve, Fleamont and Euphemia would invite all the neighbours around for scones and tea and Y/N would sneak some chocolate for James and herself to share in the garden, watching the stars. When they turned 14, it was a bottle of wine from her parents tiny under the floorboards cellar and they giggled for hours as the wine made James feel light-headed and flushed and like he could do bloody well anything.

When the parents had moved into the sitting room for whiskey (well it was firewhiskey with the label hidden), James and Y/N had stolen a blanket so they could keep lying on the grass as the snow began to fall on their heads. James turned to look at her, face flushed from both the bottle of red wine and freezing air, eyes wide and twinkling as she looked up at the stars, a look of awe on her face. Snow had begun to land on her eyebrows and hair, sparkling brightly against her pale skin and dark curls in a halo around her head.

“Snow has got to be the prettiest thing on earth,” She’d said sitting up and looking across the garden as it settled in the grass and leaves. James was still staring at her and she gave him a funny look in return. “What?”

“You look so beautiful with snow in your hair.” James wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or himself but without giving it a second thought he leaned in and kissed her, softly, his heartbeat rising in his chest.

He’d pulled back slowly, watching Y/N’s mouth make a small ‘o’ and her whole body freeze momentarily.

“I’m sorry, it… must be the alcohol, I didn’t mean – “

“No it’s fine I just – “

“Why don’t we go back inside?” James’ heart was racing, his head catching up to himself. You bloody idiot.

“Oh, yeah ok.” James had given her a hand standing up, and they’d both walked back inside in silence, brushing the snow from their hair and shoulders.

Since then, things had never really gone back to normal. James focused all his romantic energy on Lily, Lily who would scowl as he walked past and became infuriated by the smallest of prods, but wouldn’t make him feel like he did that Christmas Eve. Hollow.

The next Christmas break, Sirius turned up on their doorstep, bruises covering every inch of visible skin, blood dripping down his lip and staining the side of his thin long-sleeve top.

“Hey… mate,” He spluttered when James pulled open the door, freezing up when he saw Sirius’ state.

“Sirius, Merlin, are you ok, get inside come on, MUM! DAD!” He yelled towards the stairs before reaching out and grabbing Sirius as he went to collapse on the front doorstep. They didn’t have anyone over for Christmas eve that year, Sirius still sickly thin, the fading bruises still deep blues and purples splaying across his face and legs. Sirius sat up with James all night talking about next years Quidditch cup and the best way to get a date for the first Hogsmeade weekend back, James continually flicking his eyes towards the bedroom window where lights were still on.

“Am I not as interesting as the darkness,” Sirius threw a pillow at him when James outright didn’t respond to Sirius’ question about how much frogs spawn was too much frogs spawn.

“Oh sorry, what?”

“What are you looking at?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Nothing, it’s nothing- “ But Sirius had already jumped out of the bed, masking his pain with a grimace and was limping over to the window. He gazed out, pushing James to the side as he tried to close the blinds, looking over into Y/N’s house.

“Ahhh, of course! I guess a hot girl is more interesting than I am,” Sirius snorted, still watching, “Ooo, a taken girl, much less interesting.”

“What?” Forgetting all pretence of composure, he hopped out of bed and rushed over to the window. He could see Y/N leaning up against the wall, smiling at something out of view. That something quickly returned, as a tall curly haired boy who lifted her up in the air and kissed her passionately. James felt something in his gut twist. He turned away quickly from the window, sitting back on his bed, determined to look calm.

“And here I was thinking that Lily was the only one for you huh?” Sirius grinned widely, prodding James, “Come on, there’s a million girls out there, I promise we can find you someone just like that.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow when James didn’t reply. He sat back on the bed and watched him, letting the silence hang.

“She was my first kiss.” James had said. He’d never really admitted that before. They didn’t really talk about that kind of stuff, more like what they could do, will do. Sirius remained silent, gripping one hand on James’ knee.

Y/N hopped out of the red car, opening the boot to help her parents get out the rest of the shopping bags and bring them into the house. Sirius wasn’t awake yet, and James was indulging himself by watching her smile up at her dad who had likely told a really terrible joke about fishing. The door closed and James found himself wandering back to his bedroom, wondering if she would go to her room and read or listen to music or something. Maybe she would look up to where his window was too, looking for him. James rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head. Stop being such a sap.

Then he froze. Standing at the side of their house was Sirius, looking up at James and waving fervently, smiling like an absolute dick. He saw him exaggerate waggling his eyebrows and mime walking up to the front door.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” James mouthed at him, giving him the finger and trying to swat him away from the house. Sirius grinned wider and walked out of James’ vision. James sprinted back to the living room banging on the window loudly as Sirius walked up to Y/N’s front door and knocked. James stopped banging immediately as her mum answered the door and craned forwards, desperately wishing he could hear through glass. She brought him into the house and closed the door.

When Sirius returned James jumped him.

“What the FUCK,” He hissed, eyes flashing at Sirius who continued to look very satisfied with himself.

“Oh, calm down, I didn’t do anything too wild,” He winked, making his way to the kitchen, forcing James to follow him in a huff.

“You need to tell me exactly what you did.”

“I just invited her over – “

“What? Why? She doesn’t even know you!”

“For a little party we are having,” Sirius continued as if James hadn’t just spat a little in his face.

“Party?”

“Just a small thing, it will be fine. I’ve already cleared it with your parents!” He grinned as James went to tackle him.

As it so happens, Sirius (for once) was actually telling the truth and had only invited a small group of people from Hogwarts who lived around London and had gone home for Christmas. Marlene arrived first, holding a bottle of firewhiskey and a wild grin, followed closely by Alice and Frank who brought mince pies, and Remus and Peter who had brought a selection of sweets from their parents. They were sitting in the front living room exploding snap when the doorbell rang. James sprung up, flattening out his shirt pedantically.

“You really weren’t lying Pads,” Remus shook his head at James, “He’s smitten.”

“I told you,” Sirius sang, chuckling as James gave him daggers.

“Ok please, she doesn’t know we are wizards so please tame down the whole… fact that we are wizards.”

“Well said, Prongs,” Remus gave him a small clap.

“Oh, shut it the lot of you.”

“James are you going to get the door?” Euphemia called from the kitchen.

“Yes, mum, I’m going now!”

“Hurry up, she might leave,” Marlene winked at James but he ignored her, moving down the hallway a little too quickly, having to stop himself from slipping into the door in his socks.

Ok, calm down, it’s just a lowkey Christmas hang, nothing to worry about. Chill.

He took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face, swinging open the door. Y/N was standing in the cold, covered in a large fluffy coat, arms tucked inside to keep warm.

“Finally, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Y/N smiled up at him and James felt his entire pep talk get thrown out the window as he remembered how her how face scrunched up when she smiled and it made his heart jump. He silently thanked the stars when he heard Sirius slid up beside him.

“You came! James has told us all about you, come in come in,” Sirius elbowed James subtly, and James opened the door wider so she could step inside.

“Looks like you haven’t changed a thing,” Y/N stepped out of her wet boots and looked around the hallway.

“I honestly think I’d be worried if it had, my parents might have gone mad,” James felt himself fall back into the easy rhythm of conversation with Y/N as he led her back into the living room, Sirius on their tails.

“So this is a bunch of people from school, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Remus, Peter, and well you must have met Sirius this afternoon?”

“Yes! So nice to meet you all, and actually put faces to names,” Y/N beamed around at them all, finding a place beside Remus on the floor.

“He talks about us?” Marlene made a loud gasp.

“I’m shocked,” Alice shook her head in mock amazement.

“You all suck,” James hissed at them, quickly returning to his previously plastered smile state, “We were just playing cards. Do you know any good games?”

They continued playing cards, Marlene sneaking them sips of Firewhiskey when they were sure that James’ parents weren’t about to come and drop in another bout of snacks, with only one minor mishap with the cards when Frank slammed too hard on two similar cards resulting in Remus spinning Y/N around as a card exploded.

“What the hell was that noise?” Y/N looked disorientated, blinking vehemently.

“Car backfiring,” Marlene smiled, her eyes still slightly panicked. Frank was mouthing I’m sorry to James as he quickly wiped down the table with his hand.

“Right…” Y/N still looked confused but dropped the topic. Alice yawned loudly, stretching out her back on the soft carpet behind her.

“I’m actually getting super tired, might head off?” She turned to ask Frank, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I have to be home before 12 anyway, my parents love Christmas,” He grinned at James, sending him a sly wink. James rolled his eyes, praying that Y/N didn’t see.

“Well if you’re heading, I might… catch a ride,” Marlene held back a laugh as she attempted a muggle phrase.

“Uh, yeah, sounds good,” Alice poked her in the ribs, shooting her a look to shut up. They all stood up, Marlene grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and putting it back in her bag.

“Sorry boys, and Y/N, you’ll have to live without for the rest of the evening.”

“Fine with me, it tasted way different to anything I’ve ever stolen from my parents,” Y/N laughed, smiling warmly up at Marlene. James wanted to hug her. Or something. Perhaps he was getting delirious.

They waved goodbye, leaving the house before apparating together away, James cringing when he heard the loud crack!

Sirius kicked Remus in the leg and gave Y/N a smile.

“Would you like a hot cocoa? Remus makes the best, I can help him find the ingredients.”

“I don’t think she want –“ James started, feeling increasingly panicked. He hoped his eyes accurately said don’t fucking leave me alone I’m a mess.

“I’d love one!” Y/N cut him off and Sirius’ smile widened.

“Perfect, come on Remus,” He pulled him up, Remus giving James an apologetic smile before following Sirius out of the room. A silence fell over the two of them, and James found himself beginning to stress over whether it was comfortable or if he should interrupt it or if that would make it seem like they couldn’t just hang out in silence anymore and would that be worse?

Thankfully, Y/N spoke first.

“Your friends seem nice,” She was leaning back on her hands, looking up at him with her y/e/c eyes.

“They’re a bit mental, but in a good way,” James chuckled, fixing his hair unconsciously. Y/N laughed loudly when she saw his hand ruffle through his already messy hair.

“You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“I’m no-“

“Oh shush, I’m nervous too… it’s been a while I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess it has.”

“I broke up with Dan – my boyfriend last month,” She avoided his eyes now, leaning forward. James saw her face flush slightly but didn’t say anything, pretending not to notice. “The first thing I wanted to do was come over and lie in your garden and just forget about it but you were at school and we hadn’t really spoken since… well, you know.”

“Yeah,” James replied dumbly, wincing at his lack of conversational aptitude.

“I just, miss you, you know?”

“Yeah, I miss you too. I pulled the best prank on one of our teachers and I just wanted to send you an o- letter, but I didn’t know if, you wanted to hear from me I guess,” He laughed awkwardly, reaching for his hair but stopping himself.

“I’m sorry for running out on you like that it was, well it was my first kiss.”

“Mine too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, what do you think I am, Casanova?” James snorted at her and she grinned sheepishly.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about girls from school, especially um, Lily? I just presumed that it was something you did.”

James laughed properly now, a large booming laugh he hadn’t felt in a while. It felt good to talk to her again, even if it was vaguely awkward small talk.

“I honestly am the worst with girls. I think everyone presumes I’m some smooth mover and then doesn’t talk to me.”

“Well obviously, if you’re calling yourself a smooth mover,” She joined in, her face scrunching up as she laughed at him.

“Oh, fuck off,” James threw a pillow at her, but she just laughed harder, blocking her face and letting it fall to the ground.

“I had a massive crush on you, you know.” She spoke quickly, like she’d been holding it in and let it out all in one breath. James stared at her, momentarily stunned.

“So, your answer me kissing you was to splutter and run away?” James teased, unsure whether this was still a casual conversation or not. His heart was beating in his throat and he swallowed hard.

“I was 14, give me a bit of credit, I was having a mini heart attack,” She gave a soft chuckle, but also looked increasingly uncomfortable, swinging back and forwards on the floor.

“You were the one who got me drunk!”

“Ahh so you’re going to blame it on the alcohol huh?” She gave a knowing nod, her lip curling cheekily.

“I will give some credit to the alcohol for giving me certain encouragements.”

“Fair enough.”

A silence fell over them again, but this time James felt calmer, like a weight had been lifted from his chest and allowed him to look her in the eye again.

“I am sorry I didn’t respond how one should have responded,” She cringed at herself as she spoke.

“Ahh, don’t stress about it. Honestly I don’t know what I would have done if you had just sprung that one me either.”

“Mmm,” Y/N simply hummed in response, her head crooked to one side.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are the worst fucking liar.”

She huffed at him, tucking a curl behind her ear. James watched her hand carefully. He wondered what it would feel like to do that for her, to graze the edge of her cheek, cup her chin.

“I guess… I guess I was just wondering,” She bit her lip and James resisted the urge to stare at it. “How you would have reacted.”

James felt his whole body stop. He forced himself to nod in reply, suddenly very aware of how alone they were. And how easy it would be to just lean down…

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“Cocoa!” James could have killed Sirius in that exact moment, and by the expression that dawned on Sirius’ face, he could tell.

“Oh shoot, I should really get home, I promised mum I’d help wrap dad’s presents before tomorrow morning!” Y/N had checked her watch and stood quickly, brushing the mince pie crumbs from her skirt. “I’ll, er, see you soon?”

“Yeah, yeah of course, I’ll bring by some treacle tart tomorrow,” James led her to the door and watched as she got home safely. He closed the door and immediately banged his head against it.

Sirius and Remus were staring furiously at him when he returned to the living room and sunk into the couch, feeling more depressed than anyone should on Christmas Eve.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT KISS HER!” Sirius whispered and yelled simultaneously, not wanting to wake up James’ parents.

“It really is poor form, mate,” Remus agreed, sipping on a mug of cocoa.

“I think I’m just going to die here now. Forever. Please leave me to mull in my failures.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up next to James’ face.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think we’d let you give up this easily.”

In a matter of minutes, the three boys had pulled on boots and jackets over their trackpants and snuck quietly out the front door and around the side of the house. They reached Y/N’s window slowly, careful not to make any noise that would have any neighbour poking their heads out the window and seeing three boys sneaking towards a girls bedroom window in the middle of the night. Not the best look.

“Ok, the lights are still on in her room, she said she was helping wrap presents. This is your moment!”

“This is stalking,” James hissed back, his stomach clenching. This was so so so stupid. And yet, the thought of surprising her, her big toothy smile at the window, and likely the firewhiskey, made him continue to follow Sirius. Remus walked behind, checking to see if anyone was watching.

“We will keep watch, go!” Remus pushed James forward lightly so that he was standing directly in front of it. He didn’t move, just watched the light flicker against the curtains.

“I can’t do this –“

“Shut up!” Sirius and Remus both hissed back. Sirius leaned forward and knocked on the window, immediately hiding on the right side of the wall, Remus on the left.

“You fucking – Y/N! Hey!”

Y/N had pulled back the curtains cautiously, opening them fully when she saw who it was.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered back, eye flickering to her door and then back to James who was now shivering slightly in the snow.

“I… well I was just thinking about what you said and…” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. She was examining him closely, expression unreadable. “I was thinking that you never got to see my reaction…”

He wanted to bang his head against her window. Maybe he would pass out and could pretend this was all a sleepwalking episode or something. She continued to watch him for a second before she snorted loudly.

“Fuck, I am so sorry I just thought, I’ll leave,” James closed his eyes for a second, clenching his fists by his sides. He was going to stab Remus and Sirius in their sleeps for ever suggesting this.

It happened so quickly James wasn’t actually sure it did happen. With his eyes still shut, he suddenly felt something soft press slowly against his lips. His eyelids flickered open quickly, just in time to see Y/N pull away, a small smile on his face.

“I… oh.”

“You’re right, that was a reaction worth witnessing.” She looked a little giddy, though James was sure he looked ten times happier.

“I mean I’m definitely happy with it.”

“Good.” She bit her lip again, pausing for a second before continuing, “What are you doing on boxing day?”

“Nothing,” James replied very quickly.

“Pick me up at 10.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

“I should probably actually get some sleep tonight.” Y/N giggled, her eyes shining bright against the moonlight.

“Yes, of course, sleep well, Y/N.”

“You too James.”

Y/N looked at him for another moment before closing her blinds with a wave.

James turned around on the spot, moving away from where Y/N would be able to hear him and jumping in the air, a fist in the air.

“Fucking YES.”

“Finally,” Sirius punched him in the arm, flanked by Remus who beamed at him.

“I’m glad this worked, the next thing was storming the place and telling her you were in love with her.”

“Very glad it didn’t come to that.”

“I’m not, I’ve always wanted to storm a house,” Sirius replied pensively, putting an arm around Remus and James, “But I’ll settle for this.”

 Advent: @maraudersandco​ @gollyderek​

All fics: @hermione-is-my-queen

James tags:  @blackpinkdolan @blushingskywalker @thebabblingbookworm   @cherrie511  @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco  @sly-vixen-up2nogood   @katbernoulli     @sirius-lysad   @cherrie511   @siriuslyjanhvi   @aikeia @evyiione  @minerva26love @your-typical-giggle

[fallenfurther]

FabFiveFeb - John

I’ve been struggling to get this one done, with other WIPs and fics dragging me away, however the idea finally came to me.  Also managed to get all five prompts in! This was a lovely piece to write. I hope you enjoy it too. 

Prompts: Lightening, “Where?”, soft caress, paper, concrete

******

A piece of paper fluttered in the strong breeze. John watched the old sun-bleached poster as it tried to escape its prison. It was pinned to the concrete floor by an old bicycle, its tyres long deflated and joints rusted. A few steps and he was standing over it. The wind was whipping his hair across his face and he occasionally had to blink the strands from his eyes. He knelt down and rescued the paper. He held it tight, trying not to lose or damage it in the wind, and tried to read the faded words. It took a moment, but he managed to make out the image of a big top tent. An old circus poster. John smiled at the flapping paper, revelling in the way at pulled against him and slapped his skin. Then he let it go. He turned and watched as the wind took it deeper into the abandoned industrial site. It danced through the air, twisting as it hit the ground. The sight filled John with contentment.

"That's littering."

The young familiar female voice startled him. John turned sharply to face the small ginger haired girl. Her hair was tied up in two little buns, one on each side, though a few loose curls fluttered in the wind around her face. The navy-blue dress, speckled with small white stars, barely reached her knees. Her bare feet were placed firmly on the concrete and John couldn't help but wonder if it hurt. What stopped John in his tracks was the way her big green eyes looked up into his with an expression of loving curiosity. Her gaze was thirsty for knowledge and John was compelled to oblige.

"It is." John stated, not quite sure why such an atrocious act didn't feel wrong. He knew he should be ashamed of himself, but he just couldn't be. It had felt so right.

"Why did you do it?" EOS blinked at him. The action was so familiar, yet John couldn't place where from.

"I don't know." John replied. "We have to go."

The urge to leave overcame John and he closed the space between them in seconds. He crouched down before the girl and offered his back.

"Get on."

"Why?" EOS asked. John looked at her over his shoulder.

"Because you have no shoes on. We can't have you walking barefoot out here. You'll hurt your feet."

John watched EOS tilt her head and think. Her little nose scrunched up slightly making the freckles on her cheeks dance. After a blink she smiled. It lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle, and John mirrored it. She stepped forward and placed her arms around John's neck. John slipped his arms under her legs and stood, causing her to jump up his back a little. The giggle that filled his right ear was priceless. He turned into the wind and carried EOS away from the industrial park. The wind tried to slow him down, and EOS had to told on tight, but he slowly made his way down the street. The sky above them slowly darkened. The wind started to die down as the first stars filled the sky. John looked up as he walked, forgetting that he should be watching his feet since he was carrying precious cargo. But the night sky always called to John and it was irresistible. His eyes darted over the small spots, looking for the familiar patterns he knows he'll find there.

"The Southern Cross is out."

"Where!?" EOS exclaimed and John felt her weight shift as she searched the sky for it. He stopped; a grin plastered on his face. Her enthusiasm reminded him of a young Alan, and it brought back happy memories of stargazing with him. John shifted EOS so he could free his arm and pointed up at the constellation.

"It's right there."

"There?" EOS reached up her arm up pointing at the False Cross. John carefully grabbed her arm and guided it over the Southern Cross.

"That star is the top, called Gacrux. That star is the bottom, called Acrux. That is Mimosa and drawing a line across to Imai, makes the cross. The Southern Cross can be used to find South, by following the cross like this, and it points to this star which is always South."

"Wow!"

John turned his head to see the wonder in her face. It felt so right being here with her. She was his. And the sky was theirs. He pointed out a few more constellations until EOS started to fidget. He let her slip off his back and soon she was running around in the grass.

When had they come to grass?

It baffled John. It felt like his mind was messing with him. He shook his head and looked up in time to see EOS do a cartwheel. Her merriment filled his heart and covered up some of his unease, and when she grinned at him, it was all but forgotten.

"Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did. It was brilliant, EOS!" John chuckled. Her face lit up with joy as she ran at him, ploughing into his body and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. John's body rocked as he steadied himself. She gazed up at him with love.

"I'm fast, aren't I?"

"Very."

"I'm faster than lightning!"

John chuckled. "I don't think you're that fast, but you're definitely faster than me!"

EOS's smile became a yawn, and John knew what to do. It was time for bed, it was late after all. He crouched again and pulled her into him. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs behind him.

"Let's get you to bed."

John carried EOS away from the grass towards their home. He took so much comfort from having her near. Her head rested on his shoulder and her warm body took away the cool of the evening air. Soon they were in their room. She slipped from his body and stretched, yawning deeply in the process. Her yawn set him off. He helped her into her nightie, a white dress covered in a silver vector pattern. EOS then handed him his pyjamas. He pulled on the NASA top and grey jogging bottoms. EOS smiled at him and climbed into the double bed. John held up the quilt and she slipped under it. He joined her and they lay face to face.

"Goodnight John."

"Goodnight EOS"

John gazed into the face of EOS through heavy eyelids. She didn't look sleepy at all, though he felt exhausted. Instead her little hand came up and stroked his cheek. The soft caress was all it took to soothe John to sleep.

***

John could still feel the touch of a hand on his face, but it didn't feel the same. This hand was larger and coming from a different angle. He tried to open his eyes, but the light hurt. The hand stoked his cheek and he felt a cold wet thing being placed on his forehead. John groaned.

"It's okay, John. It's just a bad fever." His grandmother's voice came from somewhere near him.

John groaned again and closed his eyes. He focused on the cold feeling on his head. His body ached. Slowly his focus on the cold flannel slipped away as he drifted off to sleep again. He warmed at the idea of seeing EOS again.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner- One Shot:Empire State of Mind

Katie Stark and Steve Rogers- How it all began…

So this is a little different to how I normally write, so I hope you all enjoy it. I was listening to the radio and  ‘Empire State of Mind’ by Alicia Keys came on and it gave me a bit of inspiration.

Warnings: Language!

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Grew up in a town that is famous as a place of movie scenes

Noise is always loud, there are sirens all around and the streets are mean

If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere, that’s what they say

Seeing my face in lights or my name in marquees found down on Broadway

Something catches her eye on the coat hooks by the door. A light blue coat. A woman’s coat.

“Babe…” he begins, but she isn’t listening. She pushes past him into the apartment and glances around. There’s a pair of heels by the couch. Her blood runs cold

 “Kay…”

Pushing open the door to the bedroom she stops dead. There’s a woman in there. A blonde woman. Lying, in the bed. On her side. Her chest tightens, her word crumbles and she turns to her boyfriend, who is stood in the doorway, guilty expression on his face.

 “Katie…”

She punches him square in the nose, brings her knee up sharply into his groin leaving him groaning on the floor before she runs, stumbling onto the street. The rain is cold as she gasps for breath, shaking with anger. Before she knows what she is doing, she’s dug a huge scratch down the side of his car, his silver Audi A5, his pride and joy, with her keys. And then the red mist well and truly descends and she wrenches open her trunk pulling out the socket wrench for the tyres…

 “Katie…what the fuck…”

She hears his yells as she brings it down with a crash into one headlight, then the other in a fit of rage she doesn’t ever recall having had in her life before. A hand catches her wrist and she spins round, trying to escape out of the hold.

“LET GO OF ME GRANT!”  

“I will if you drop that…” She does, and it clatters to the floor as she looks up, tears falling down her face mingling with the cold March rain.

“13 fucking months.” She sobs, her voice quiet “What was it for you, all lies?”

“No, course not…I love you baby…you know I do, I fucked up….” She looks straight into those warm, hazel eyes, the eyes she loves so much and something inside her breaks and it physically hurts. She needs to get away.

“Fuck you…” she whispers softly before she turns and walks to her car.

 Even if it ain’t all it seems, I got a pocketful of dreams Baby I’m from New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York, New York, New York!

She is sprinting. The base is about to collapse on top of them, and they run through the tunnels, weaving in and out of the falling structure.

“We’re clear upstairs sir,” Agent Coulson says on the radio. “We’re good to go.”

Together they hurtle out of the doors and sprint towards a helicopter which is waiting. Agent Fury shoves her up and into the cab and the helicopter starts to fly up in the air just in time before the ground crumbles below them.

She presses her face against the window, glancing down as the facility crumbles. But that wasn’t what she is looking for.

Sir!“ she shouts, pointing when she spots her target.

"Move,” Fury orders the pilot. The pilot turns around and drops altitude, fast. Both whip out guns and she closes one eye and pulls the trigger. Windscreen glass smashes and the jeep swerves off the road and onto the grass verge, making her smirk slightly, Clint has taught her well.  She takes aim again but this time doesn’t get a chance. Loki aims his sceptre at the helicopter and hits, causing the helicopter to stall and lurch.

 “Jump…!” Fury yells, grabbing her arm. And she does. She rolls along the floor, covering her head as the helicopter passes over and crashes about 20 feet away.

 “Shit!” she groans as she gets to her feet, the jeep now well out of range, both hands grab at her hair in frustration.

“Director,“ Coulson says on the radio. "Director Fury do you copy?”

 "The Tesseract is with a hostile force,“ Fury replies, glancing at her and then back at the helicopter. "I have men down. Hill?”

“A lot of men still under,” Hill responds. “Don’t know how many survivors.”

“I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that brief case.” Fury commands.

“Roger that,” Hill complies.

“Coulson, get back to base, this is a level seven, as of right now,” Fury continues into the radio. “We are at war.”

“Sir, what do we do?"  she asks. He turns to face her and takes a deep sigh.

“He hit us hard…” Fury said, as the sound of another chopper approaching his her ears. “So we hit him back harder.” On the avenue, there ain’t never a curfew, ladies work so hard Such a melting pot, on the corner selling rock, preachers pray to God Hail a gypsy cab, takes me down from Harlem to the Brooklyn Bridge Some will sleep tonight with a hunger for more than an empty fridge

He rounds the street corner, someone is stood there selling something, yelling “Buy some time! Get your time here!” If only he thinks to himself. He spots a café and crosses the street, settling down at a table. He purchases a cup of coffee and pulls out his sketch book, sketching the large building that stretched above him. It’s only when he really paid attention he notices that it reads STARK across the side. He snorts, the building is just the type of thing he would expect to be associated with Howard’s son.

 “Waiting for the big guy?” a soft female voice says.

“Ma’am?” he looks up from his drawing, confused slightly as the waitress stands with the coffee pot in her hand.

“Iron Man,” she explains. “Lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Maybe another time.” He pulls out his wallet and drops some cash on the table preparing to leave when the Waitress speaks again.

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says kindly, “Nobody’s waiting on it.” She pours him some more coffee and as she walks away she says, “Plus we’ve got free wireless.”

“Radio?” he mutters. She turns back and smiled.

“Ask for her number, you moron,” An elderly man says from the next table over. He stares round at him, confused for a moment, then simply shakes his head.

Everything, even his fucking Baseball team is gone and finding that out is the thing that tips him over the edge, the thing that makes him lose his shit completely, the thing that had him cursing the fact he has been pulled out of the damned ice in the first place. At 10 pm he is in the gym, taking his frustrations out on a punch bag.

Fist after fist, punch after punch as memories fly before his eyes.

"There’s not enough time! I gotta put her in the water.”

“You won’t be alone,” Peggy whispers.

He grips onto his wrapped hands tight and punches the bag in bitter remembrance. He throws one last hard punch across the punching bag that makes it tear away from the ceiling, and broke the bag of sand apart. He is out of breath, trying to calm his anger down. He brushes the sweat away from his forehead and goes to pick up another sandbag by the chains. He starts to hook it up on the ceiling, takes a deep breath and starts again.

Then hears the door open and heels clicking on the laminate flooring of the gym.

“Trouble sleeping?” A soft, female voice speaks, a touch of amusement in her tone. Her accent wasn’t local. He looks up, and for the first time he sees her. Perfect lines, curves, and bright green eyes.

I'ma make it by any means, I got a pocketful of dreams Baby I’m from New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York, New York, New York!

They’re in Stuttgart. They’ve traced Loki.

“The sceptre is dangerous.” she says, her eyes flashing as she watches “That’s how he got Barton and everyone else under control. That has to be the first priority, stop him using it.. But even without it, he’s powerful…”

“Alright I’ll take Loki…” he speaks, inhaling. “You start moving these people out to safety.”

She nods, and slips off to the left. He turns to watch Loki again, waiting for his opening as Loki bears down on the old man who has challenged him.

“Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example.” And then, as he raises the sceptre and it started to glow blue he knows he can’t wait any longer. Instinctively he flies out from the shadows, diving in front of the man, blocking the blast with his shield. The beam reflects and knocks Loki down backwards.

“You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing” he says, as the crowd starts to dissipate around them. 

Loki cocks his head, but his attention is soon drawn to a point over his shoulder.

 “You know we really have to stop meeting like this” she says loudly as she draws level with him, staring at the dark haired man whose attention flickers to her.

 “Hello, again Agent Stark…” Loki’s twisted grin spreads across his face

“Yeah, hi…” she shrugs, waving, concentrating on keeping him talking enough to let people get out of the way and back up to arrive “How many times is this, 3? You know you could just ask me on a date…” “It is nothing but sheer, dumb luck that has kept you alive the last 2 times we met…”

“Well technically the first time we didn’t meet. You sent that big fire shooting robot thing after your brother, you didn’t actually come yourself. Why was that? Too scared?”

He side eyes her. She’s good. Definitely has Howard’s gift of the gab. He sees Loki’s grin slip again, before he sneers down, his attention flickering from the woman to his left and over to him.

 “And you. The soldier. A man out of time”

“I’ve got a shot…” Romanoff sounds in his ear and he gives a little smirk.

“I’m not the one who’s out of time.” 

But it never works out how you plan, does it? As Romanoff sends him a warning, Loki replies by sending his own- a blast of blue at the Quinjet, which maneuverers upwards just in time. And then they fight, the 3 of them. Ducking, diving, kicking, vibranium flying, shocks sounding. Loki is strong, the strongest opponent he has ever fought and at one point the god gains the upper hand, tripping the Captain, sending him to his knees. As he stands over him, he has his head bowed, as Loki, points the tip of the sceptre on his helmet.

“Kneel…” 

“Not today!” he says, flipping his body over and then she runs forward, aiming a two footed kick at Loki’s chest which sends him stumbling backwards. They begin to fight again, almost like they are performing some kind of twisted tango, then suddenly there’s a loud blast of music. She instantly stills and looks up, scanning the sky for something.

“Hey Kiddo, did you miss me?!” a male voice asks and her face splits into a grin. He looks up to see Iron Man fly over the top, blasting Loki backwards to the ground.

He lands in between the Captain and the Agent, turning to look at the woman. “You know one of the problems of little sisters is always having to bail them out.” 

“You’ve never bailed me out of a fight yet!” she snorts indignantly as Iron Man turns to look at Loki, his suit shooting out every piece of weaponry it contains.

“Make your move, reindeer games…”

Loki puts his hands up and surrenders, his armour suddenly vanishing leaving him in a long, emerald green jacket with a black leather trousers and top underneath.

“Good move.”

“Mr Stark…” he says, not looking at him as he greets his friend’s son for the first time.

“Captain…”

One hand in the air for the big city Street lights, big dreams, all looking pretty No place in the world that can compare Put your lighters in the air, everybody say Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

They lose Loki, but get him back again after she talks his brother, the God of Thunder down in the middle of the forest. Then they row, about SHIELD building Weapons with the tesseracts, about egos, about being on a threat list.

“Wait, you’re on that list?” Tony looks at him “Are you above or below angry bees?”

He feels the anger bubbling in his chest and he snaps back, stepping forward towards the man, holding his gaze.

“Stark, so help me God, if you make one more wisecrack…”

“Threat! Verbal threat. I feel threatened” Tony says, pointing at him.

“Tony for once in your life shut up!” she yells at her brother, angry flushes redden her cheeks.

“Who died and made you President?” Tony childishly replies and raises his eyebrow at her

“God you’re such a dick!”

“Fuck off!” Tony replies

“Hey.” he feels himself snap again.

“What’s your problem now?” Tony glares at him.

“You shouldn’t speak to her like that.” he has no idea why but he feels compelled to defend her. Her brother snorts. “Thanks but I can handle him on my own…” she folds her arms and looks at him, but it isn’t an unkind glare. It’s almost a thank you.

“You speak of control yet you court chaos.” Thor’s voice loudly cuts over everyone quieting the room down slightly.

“That there, that’s his M.O., isn’t it?” Bruce Banner points at Thor “I mean, what are we, a team? No, we’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re a time bomb"

“You need to step away.“ Director Fury speaks darkly.

"Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam, right?” Tony asks placing his hand on the Captain’s shoulder as if they were old friends.

“You know damn well why, back off.” he says said angrily throwing Tony’s hand off.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me.” Tony says straightening up in front of him.

He smiles somewhat condescendingly. “Right, big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, and what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Tony shoots right back.

At that point she steps in between them both.

“Stop it!”

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.” he hisses and she spins, gently pushing on his chest. He acknowledges her touch by stepping back slightly but he continues to goad Tony “Yeah I’ve seen the footage, the only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“I think I would just cut the wire.” Tony responds nonchalantly.

“Tony I mean it…” she says, still in between the two of them as she spins back to face her brother.  “For once in your life…”

“Always a way out.” he can’t help but bite back, “You know you may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero?” Tony repeats in disbelief, and with that he moves his sister out of the way, stepping forward. “Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment Rogers, everything special about you came from a bottle.”

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds.” he hisses, the two men now almost nose to nose.

Thor’s loud laugh rings across the lab “You people are so petty, and tiny.”

“Not helping!” she snarls, rounding on the god.

The sniping continues until Banner makes them all nervous as he picks up the sceptre. The tension diffuses somewhat as the location of the Tesseract is found, but as he watches her read the screen, he has a split second to register the look of shock and horror on her face as she locks eyes with him, before the ground shakes as they’re hit.

Differences are thrown aside as they battle their enemy. Loki escapes, sending Thor plummeting to Earth and after transforming into the Hulk they have no idea where Banner is either. They regain the archer, Clint, Hawkeye.

But Coulson is dead. And she thinks it is her fault, for choosing to try to release Thor, but he assures her it isn’t, and that he would have done the same. A gentle hug as she cries is all he can do. She’s small in his arms, but not weak. Now the mood is solemn as they are left floating in the sky, with no idea what to do next. All previous differences are put aside as they grieve, mourn the loss of one of their own. And then it’s back to business as they figure out Loki’s play- he wants a monument in the sky with his name plastered all over it after all.

And the Avengers assemble on the streets of Manhatten.

In New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you

They are operating as a team now, and he falls into his natural role as leader, as Captain. His instructions as to keep the aliens fighting and their attention off civilians whilst trying to figure out how to close the portal. They’re back to back and he looks around as she takes down another alien with an expert shot between the eyes and he feels a surge of pride at how fiercely she is fighting.

“Cap.” Clint’s voice came through the radio. “The bank on 42nd past Madison. They cornered a lot of civilians in there.”

He stops dead as does she. The two exchange a look and she nods.

“We’re on it.“ He says back.

They turn and ran back in the direction of the bank. When they arrive she doubles over, catching her breath as the pair of them glance through the glass doors. Most civilians are located on the lower floor, in the lobby whilst the Chitauri stood on the upper portion of the bank, pointing their weapons down.

“Shit…” she sighs “how do we get in there without setting them off in a firing frenzy?”

He is looking around for a solution when he suddenly spots one. He points to the small annex at the side of the bank. It’s one story high with a flat roof. “If we get up there we can get through onto the top balcony of the bank.”

She nods and together they run round the back to the alley which was lined with dumpsters.

“You saw Nat right?” he asks, gesturing to his shield. She nods and easily clambers up onto the dumpster. She takes a second then jumps onto the shield and he propels her easily upwards. As he watches she twists and manages to reach the edge of the building easily, the top half of her body safely over the ledge. He vaults onto the dumpster and takes a running jump, catching onto the ledge and pulling himself up. They make their way over the roof, using the various steel vent columns to hide. The aliens have their back to them both but one is doing something on the floor.

“Cap… that’s a-“

He knows what it is. And sighs. “We’ve got to get in there…”

“But how, if we go charging in then-“

“We’ve no other option…” he says, “look, I’ll go first. If you follow, hopefully we can get their attention and keep the fight on us.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He backs up a few spaces and then runs, clearing the meter gap between the two buildings with ease, going shield first through the window of the bank. She follows a few moments later, rolling over on the landing before leaping up. There is a moment’s pause as the aliens registered their arrival, punctuated only by the rapid beeping of the bomb in the background.

Then, the fight begins. He hurls his shield one of the Chitauri’s heads. Another one growls, shooting off its spear, as he dives for cover landing in front of a desk, kicking it forward. She approaches another one and leaps into the air, snapping its head as she arches over the top of it, before throwing it down onto the lower portion of the bank.

"Everyone, clear out!” she yells over the railing, looking down at everyone below.

He turns to another alien that was coming at him, and he raises his shield pushing the alien backwards. But another grabs him from behind in a headlock. He gives a yell as he feels it gripping at his head but he dodges under its arm, leaving his helmet behind and giving a huge two footed kick into its back, sending it over the railing. Meanwhile, his partner manages to squirm out of the hold of the one holding her and he kicks at it before spinning it round and using it as a shield to take the shots fired from the one remaining Chitauri.

“Katie!” he yells as the remaining Chitauri scrambles to pick up the ticking bomb. He races over to her, grabs her round the waist just as the Chitauri throws the bomb in their direction.

His shield takes most of the impact but the force of it sends them both flying out of the window. He twists in mid-air so that she is clutched to his chest and sheltered from the impact as they crash onto the top of a car, his body taking the blow, the roof of the car crushing under his weight and the impact they hit it with. That hurt. He opened his arms to let her out of his grip, moaning slightly as he rolls down and lands on his back on the floor. He opens an eye and stands up, looking around taking deep breaths, eyeing up the chaos. The sounds around him dim slightly, and everything seems to be moving slower. He starts to wonder how they’re going to actually win this one. He looks around and spots the civilians coming out of the bank. One of them he recognises vaguely…

“Captain… Steve!” a voice cuts through his thoughts and he spins round, pulling himself up to full height as he looks at her, then he notices 3 of the aliens stood a few feet away. He grabs her arm and pulls her behind him and his shield.

The 3 Chitauri Warriors look back at them for a moment before they launch. He does the same, snapping the neck of one, ripping the arms off another, using his shield to cave in its head. It writhed in front of him on the floor before going silent.

He turns to look at Katie, the third at her feet as she slid her gun away. They lock eyes for a split second, chests heaving as they catch their breath and then there’s a loud bang above them. Instinctively they both duck and look up, attention to the sky. 

One of the leviathans has exploded in the air as Iron Man shoots out from its tail end, and comes crashing down to Earth, taking out a glass bus stop a few hundred yards from where they were. Then he flies off again, his thrusters at full pelt.

They go again, it’s a fierce fight. Shield, hammer, bullets, arrows. At one point he thinks they are clear and drops his shield to his side, and he is caught in the stomach by one of the rays which burns through his uniform, scorching his skin. He drops to his knees, clutching at his side hissing slightly at the stinging and then she is there. Green eyes searching his, asking if he is ok as she kneels down, one hand on his shoulder, the other gingerly pressing just underneath the wound as she bends to get a look at it.

And then Natasha says she can close the portal. He tells her to do it, but Tony stops them.

“I’ve got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.” Tony says.

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip.” he warns, turning away from her slightly as he speaks, looking up into the sky.

 “Tony. Don’t you dare I…. I…” she begins to protest and he turns to her, sadly.

 “To the Stars and back, Kiddo.” Tony’s voice is calm, and she takes a choked breath at his words, the words he always spoke to her as a little girl when he tucked her in at night are echoing in her head, I love you the stars and back.

“Tony…” her voice cracks as she looks up. Tony climbs higher, and higher, past Stark Tower gaining speed before he flings himself through the portal.

Everything goes quiet on the comms.  He glances down and she looks up at him meeting his gaze through watery eyes and he sticks his hand out to take hers, squeezing it. He hopes she understands what he is trying to say, that he had been wrong about her brother. He was the one to put his neck on the line after all.

 “He’ll be fine…” she says, stubbornly as she turns her head back to look upwards, tears trailing lines on her dirty cheeks, visible under the bottom of her helmet “He’s never let me down before…”

They watch the explosion. The Chitauri soldiers in the street convulse and shake, then stop.

“Come on Tony…” she mutters, as she grips his hand even tighter. He pauses, but there is no sign of the eldest Stark. Nothing. He sighs, he has a code, he never trades lives, but as he watches, he knows that portal has to be closed…and what were the chances of Iron Man surviving that?

“Close it.” he speaks, the words catching in his throat as he turns to look at her, his head bowed. “I’m so sorry Katie…”

She struggles for words, her sobs choking in her throat as he pulls her close, her head burying into his chest. He stands stock still for a moment before he turns his attention back upwards to make sure the portal is closing. He wishes it could have been different, losing men never sits well with him. He feels like he has failed again, just like he failed Bucky.

But as the hole closes a scarlet and gold figure plummets down through the sky.

“Son of a gun.” he says, his lips curling up in a smile as he gently pulls back and directs her attention to the sky where Tony has made it back.

Now you’re in New York! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you Hear it for New York!

The group escort Thor and Loki to Bethesda Terrace in Central Park, the safest place for Thor to call the Bi-Frost as it can be surrounded on all sides by STRIKE agents, should Loki try and pull a fast one.

Thor firmly grasps his hand before he turns to her and pulls her into a huge, bone crushing hug.

“I will return, Little Stark” He says as he holds out a glass tube in his hands “I’m hoping that with the tesseracts power we can repair the Bi-Frost permanently.”

“Always a pleasure, just don’t bring him with you.” she grins, gesturing to Loki with her head. The dark haired god returns her jibe with a glare, which she greets with a smirk and the raising of the middle finger of her right hand. Thor nods, gently touches her neck with his hand in a sign of friendly affection before she moves back a few steps to the side of her Captain. The group watches as Tony opens the Tesseract’s case. Dr Banner takes it out, holding it carefully between metal forceps and places it into the glass tube Thor is holding. Thor thrusts the end of the tube to Loki, who reluctantly takes it. The blonde haired god shoots one more look round at the group, nodding, before he twists the handle and then the pair step into the energy beam it generates.

The remaining heroes begin to say their goodbyes and he walks over to Tony, holding out his hand and the man shakes it, smiling.

“I was wrong about you.” he says to the inventor.

“So was I” Tony says “Turns out I wouldn’t just cut the wire, huh?” He gives a little laugh as he drops Tony’s hand. He watches as Tony turns to Banner opening the trunk of his car so Banner can drop his bag into it.

She watches the exchange, smiling slightly, before she steps up to his side and speaks to him.

“So what’s next for Captain America?” she asks as he turns to facer her. “I mean, once the weeks of debriefing and analysis are over…”

“I dunno” he says, looking around. “Fury has something in the pipeline for me within SHIELD, apparently. What about you? Back to DC?”

“No, I’ll be sticking around for a while, certainly whilst the clean-up operation gets going so you’ll get to see my smiley, happy face every day…” He laughs and she pouts “That was your cue to say you’re so excited about working with me.”

“Sorry!” he shrugs, peeping out at her from under his hair.

“Whatever, anyway you’re gonna need this.” she says, handing him a piece of paper “That’s my cell number, call me.”

Steve stares at the piece of paper, his thumb stroking the writing on the page before he looks down at her.

“You know, your father would be proud, of you both.”

“I like to think so.” she smiles. “I mean, he is part of the reason I do what I do.”

There was a moment’s pause before he leans forward, hesitating slightly, before he drops a gentle kiss to her cheek. She feels herself flush slightly at the contact of his lips and the compliment, and his own cheeks flush red too.

“See you soon.” He smiles as she turns to go, grinning to herself as she walks towards Tony’s car

“Hey!” he calls and she stops, turning back to face him. “Maybe I could er, stop by the Tower sometime in the next few days, if that’s ok?”

“You do that!” she smiles “Or I’ll come find you instead.”

He nods, waves, smiles and turns back to his bike before she shouts back to him

“Oh and Cap…”

He turns to look over his shoulder

“You might technically be nearly 100 but you don’t look it so ditch the plaid, yeah?”

He frowns, looked down at his shirt before he looks back at her, she shrugs innocently before settling into the car behind her brother.

**** It was late. Almost 1 am, but her side of the bed was cold and empty. Steve raised his head, blinking. He can’t remember her coming to bed, in fact her pillow doesn’t look like she had. He sat up, still, listening slightly and then heard the faint sounds of the piano and her soft voice. He threw the covers back and padded out into the hallway and down to her music room.

He loved watching her play. She did it with such elegance, and her voice was always so soft yet sultry. As he watched, the soft lamp illuminating her features as her hair fell over her face, her graceful fingers flew to the last key and she let out a soft hum of the last note.

 “You ok?” he asked giving her a moment.

Katie turned on her seat and smiled at Steve as he walked into the room and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, dropping a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Yeah…” she sighed as his hands gently began to work her muscles.

“It’s late Kitten.” “I know, I got ready for bed but just wasn’t tired.” she says, her eyes closing at his soothing touch. “Any particular reason you were singing that song?” he asked.

“Not really. I heard it on the radio before for the first time in years” she said as he worked her stiff shoulders “It got me thinking about the battle, how we first met.” At that point his right thumb found a knot under her shoulder blade which he dug into, causing her to hiss slightly.

“Sorry.” he said gently, easing off but she shook her head.

“Don’t stop, feels good” she mumbled.

“How about you come to bed and I can do it properly.” he said softly.

“Yeah and how long till it descends into you giving me another earth shattering orgasm?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” he pouted.

“Didn’t say that…” she smirked as she tilted her head back to look at him and he leant down so his mouth was an inch or so away from hers.

“Come to bed.” he said softly, and there was something about the way he said it that made desire pool in the bottom of her belly and she nodded, gently pressing her lips to his.

He stepped back allowing her to stand and she turned off the lamp and slipped her hand into his as he led her to their bedroom.

@the-omni-princess​

@momobaby227​

@geekofmanythings16​

[machinequeen4]

When The Tide Is High

The sand was clean as a whistle, no sign of blood or bone. Postcard perfect. It was hard to believe this was the spot that had been plastered all over the papers. There were still tyre marks left from the news vans. 

“Rufus!” 

Hazel shoved her hands in her pockets and tried not to think about where she was. She hadn’t meant to come this far from the town but Rufus had been overeager for walkies. It had been a while since they’d last come to the seafront. He turned and yipped at her. Then he caught sight of a seagull and went haring after it, short legs pounding the sand. Hazel decided to leave him to it. He’d wear himself out eventually.

Another figure stood at the water’s edge. She had both feet submerged in the waves. The air was soggy with drizzle so Hazel couldn't help but give an empathic shiver. 

“Ava?” she called out. The figure didn’t turn but Hazel didn’t think she was mistaken. Ava’s auburn hair was easy to pick out, even from a distance. If Ava didn’t want to talk, Hazel would just say hello and leave. Anything to avoid the guilt of avoiding a former classmate. They’d never been friends, not really, but they’d shared a maths textbook and a resigned determination to find the value of x. As Hazel approached, she kept a close eye on the sea. Having to squelch her way home was not an appealing thought.

Ava turned and smiled in that slow, strange way of hers. Maybe Hazel’s company wasn’t unwelcome after all? 

“Aren’t you cold?” asked Hazel.

“Cold?”

Ava looked confused for a moment. Then she examined Hazel properly, in her tightly buttoned coat and bobble hat.

“It’s August,” said Ava, another smile tugging at her lips. 

“Feels more like October. You must be mad, paddling in this weather. You’ll lose your feet to frostbite!”

Ava’s face didn’t move. There was a brief silence. Hazel could usually read people well enough and had no problem with making them like her. But Ava always seemed immune to the charm that came so easily with others. It was equal measures infuriating and fascinating. And...a challenge. A much more interesting one than finding the value of x.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” said Ava. “After what happened.”

“Well. My dog doesn’t watch the news.”

“Very sensible. Last I heard they were saying sharks. People are so stupid.”

“Maybe it was a new type of shark.”

Ava snorted. “Right.” Her tone was the very definition of unconvinced.

“Or…” said Hazel. There was another, more distasteful theory. “Merfolk.”

When her dad brought it up, her mother immediately hushed him. It was disrespectful to the victims, she said. The murderers were real and would be caught. Merfolk were stories and no ancient skeleton rotting in the local museum was going to convince her otherwise. 

The skeleton had always been a point of fascination for Hazel. Especially the line of spine curving into a long tail, so neat, so seamless. They’d covered it at school a number of times as part of local history. Most townies considered it a fake, a desperate ploy to draw tourists to the seaside. But no matter how long Hazel stared, she couldn’t see the seam where the forgery had been made. 

“Ah! Hazel, you believe the old stories? I didn’t expect that…” For the first time, Ava’s smile seemed genuine. 

“I thought they were just meant to frighten children. But those tourists...were eaten...just like in local legends. Even the shape of the toothmarks was the same.”

“So you think it was merfolk?”

Hazel was quiet. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. Why was she so keen on the stories being real? Wouldn’t it be horrifying to share a home with such savage creatures? And surely if it had been merfolk, there’d be evidence of their existence other than the corpses of tourists? 

The sea shhhed in, forcing her to scuttle back or face the dreaded squelchy shoe scenario. Glancing around, Hazel realised the tide was further in than she’d thought. And her damn dog was nowhere to be seen. 

“Rufus!” 

A bark, but she couldn’t see him. Worry shot through her. Could he be stuck somewhere?

“Don’t worry, he can’t have gone far,” said Ava.

They made for the maze of rocks that comprised the west side of the bay. It was easy enough to find Rufus by following the sound of his barks. But when they did…

Hazel wasn’t one for cursing but now seemed the right moment. That stupid, stupid dog! He had been cut off by the tide and now he was stranded on a little rocky island. Which was shrinking. He barked and wagged his stubby tail but there was no way Hazel could get to him. And sausage dogs weren’t known for their swimming ability. Ava put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t panic. I should be able to get him.” 

“Are you nuts? Then you’ll drown as well!”

“I swim here all the time. Now shut up and close your eyes.”

“What?”

“I can’t swim that well with my clothes on. So shut your eyes.”

Ava already had her shoes off and was working on her belt. Hazel, perplexed, complied with the command but… 

"Stop it. I'll call the coastguard. This is really dangerous!"

"There’s no phone signal out here. I know what I’m doing. Relax." 

Hazel opened her mouth to reply but then she heard frantic splashing which she assumed was Ava running off into the surf. There was no way she couldn't watch. She squinted through her lashes and saw Ava gliding through the ocean. The waves closed over her but when Hazel really looked… 

There was a black, finned tail rushing through the water. Hazel opened her mouth to cry out a warning. But then something about the tail and the way Ava moved clicked together. 

The tail and Ava were the same thing. Which meant… what? Ava was a mermaid? A mermaid saving her dog? She must be going mad. But the more Hazel stared the more certain she was. Ava was using her tail to move through the water. She could see it, the distinctive shape. Two fins on the end, just like pictures in books.

Hazel closed her eyes again. She needed to think. She needed for the world to rearrange itself in a way that would make sense. Ava was a mermaid. The tourists had been eaten, possibly by merfolk. Did Ava eat tourists? Was she going to eat Rufus as well?

When Hazel opened her eyes again, Ava was walking through the surf. On legs. There was no tail to be seen. Rufus was thrust into Hazel’s arms. He licked her face, obscuring her view of Ava  pulling her clothes back on. Her hair dripped down her back. “He wasn’t that far away.”

“Ava, you’re-” Hazel knew the words she needed to say but her mouth wouldn’t say them. Rufus gazed up at them panting, silly doggy smile firmly in place. The water had stuck down his coat but he seemed fine otherwise. 

“You opened your eyes, didn’t you?” 

Hazel nodded. Her heart hammered. The image kept replaying itself in her mind, the finned tail flipping up out of the water as Ava swam. She wondered if she should run. 

Ava leaned in close to whisper in Hazel’s ear. “You’re lucky you were always nice to me. I might not have risked saving someone else’s dog, you know?”

“Well. The bond between two people stuck sharing a maths textbook is no small thing.”

Ava laughed. “Very true. Hazel, you’re shaking. You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

“But the tourists? D-did you-?”

“They drove their boat through sacred merfolk water. They polluted the sea with noise and filth. I tried to warn them but they wouldn’t listen. The merfolk elders ordered the kill.”

“We should tell the police!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Merfolk are not bound by human laws. Only the brutal laws of the sea. The tourists put themselves in the middle of the hunting ground. They became prey.”

“And you? Am I prey to you?”

“Not unless you trespass where I hunt my meals.”

Hazel’s head spun. “I don’t know what to do with any of this.”

Ava smiled again. Was it Hazel’s imagination or were her teeth...very sharp looking? 

“Thank me for saving the dog. Then go home and forget about it.”

“But if you exist...the whole world is different.”

“Think about it Hazel, how can you tell who’s human like you or merfolk like me? You can’t. This town is ours as much as it is yours. The same as it’s always been.”

Hazel’s family moved to the seaside when she was nine years old. They’d had a special assembly on beach safety.

Don’t swim in areas with red seaweed.

Don’t follow the sound of singing.

Don’t follow a stranger into the sea or you’ll never see land again.

“Let me show you,” said Ava. And held out her hand.

[scribeofmorpheus]

I Don’t Dance To Dubstep Part 4 (A Deadpool Fic)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A/N: I don’t even know what the hell inspired this chapter tbh! I just love the banter between all the characters and the reader. Also, Dopinder is a killer cinnamon roll. I will say this: the next chapter contains TIMETRAVEL SHENANIGANS!!

Remember: Reader’s alter ego (nickname) is DJ

Words: 2621

Warnings: Mature Language, Mention of Sexual Kinks,Stan Lee what are you doing here?

(gif isn’t mine)

The taxi was parked in the lot of a clothing and specialists store tastefully named 'Dom N' A's Tricks.'

You had never rolled your eyes so far back into your head you thought they'd roll like bowling balls until you read that tacky sign.

When everyone was arguing amongst themselves as to who should do the shopping, Wade had suggested a sing-off and the loser would have to buy the supplies. As soon as Cable heard 'sing-off' he practically threw himself out of the car and hurled himself into the store.

Wade and Dopinder were singing along to Sonny and Cher's: I Got You Babe playing on CD in an overly enthusiastic performance to pass the time.

You and Domino sat in the back seat of the taxi with your mouths agape and a bug-eyed expression painted on both your faces.

"They say we're young and we don't know, we won't find out until we grow," Wade sang Cher's part in a high pitch, of course.

"Well I don't know if all that's true, 'Cause you got me, and baby I got you," Dopinder was smiling euphorically as he sang along in a pleasant voice.

Dopinder and Wade turned their heads towards each other at the same time like it had been choreographed.

"I got you babe," they sang together, Deadpool theatrically gracing Dopinder’s cheek as though they were filming some romance musical.

Dopinder, feeling not at all uncomfortable with Wade's lack of acknowledging other people’s personal space, played along and swayed his head from side to side.

"I got you babe," they continued singing along.

"Kill me now," Domino said in an exasperated huff.

You were speechless as you watched the act Dopinder and Wade were putting on.

"It's like I'm watching a re-run of all the nightmares I didn't know I had repressed play through in high definition..." You said to no one in particular.

Feeling in no particular mood to listen to the duet between the two weirdos in the front, you used your ability to generate a white noise hum to drown out all other noises. What you were doing was basically generating an ability induced set of earplugs.

Unbeknownst to you as the calming thrum of the white noise lulled you to the brink of sleep, a panicked Cable came sprinting to the car while red lights blared from inside the store and a skinny tatted woman shot off her shotgun in the direction of the car.

There was a busted window behind the woman that had the jagged but noticeable outline of a large man. It looked like a cartoon outline. Deadpool flailed about in his seat as a splatter of his blood missed Domino's face by an impossible inch, no doubt a shotgun pellet had managed to hit him.

You opened your eyes when you noticed Dopinder panic and put the car in reverse, bumping into a light post jerking you from your seat.

You stopped producing the white noise and suddenly you were bombarded with too much information for a sane person to process all at once.

"Drive!" Cable shouted as he threw the box of clearly shoplifted goods in between you and Domino.

Dopinder put the car in drive and his tyres screeched as he burned rubber behind him. The lady with the shotgun let off another shot and shattered the rear window. All three of you in the back ducked on instinct.

"What the fuck did you do, Cable?" Wade chastised in the same high pitch he used to sing Cher's lines.

"I don't carry cash on me and I figured we were in a hurry!" Cable bit back.

"Who doesn't bring money with them when they go shopping?" Wade asked idiotically.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a half-human cyborg from the FUTURE?" Domino shouted over the two of them.

"Then why did he volunteer to buy all the sexy roleplay stuff?" Wade asked.

"Maybe because you threatened to make him sing a duet with you when he was clearly uncomfortable, Mr Pool," Dopinder enlightened him.

"Can everyone stop referring to me in the third person, please? I'm right here!" Cable exclaimed.

"Well if you're from the future an argument could be made for the fact that you are actually existing in two places simultaneously..." You chipped in.

Cable grumbled at you and Deadpool looked in the distance and said, "And that is called a continuity plot-hole ladies and gentlemen!"

"A WHAT HOLE?" You, Cable and Domino asked in unison, completely confused by Wade's comical shtick.

Wade noticed a street sign up ahead that read Parker Ave and pointed to it hastily, "Quick, Dopinder, take the next left and go down the street Uncle Ben will undoubtedly not be killed in during the current MCU reboot!"

Dopinder followed Wade's instructions and drove down Parker Ave and used the back roads to drive to your destination while avoiding the freeway and the mass of cops that were probably out searching for the five assailants that robbed Dom N' A's Tricks store.

***

"I look utterly ridiculous!" You pouted as you looked at your distorted reflection through a store window.

True to the singer persona Wade had given you earlier at the Chinese Restaurant, you wore a platinum blonde wig, a leather corset and fishnets, coupled with six-inch heels that could kill someone just by tripping over a cobblestone walkway.

"Here's the finishing touch," Wade held out a pair of fake teeth with a gap in the middle.

You looked at Cable in astonishment, "Did you buy a set of faux teeth?"

"I take no credit. That was all him," Cable said as he stared at you with intense eyes.

"I'm not putting on a set of fake teeth, Wade!" You warned as you focused the sound waves generated by the whooshing cars driving passed to shatter the plastic teeth into a million pieces.

"You have no respect for the art of role-playing," Wade said.

"I think you mean Cosplay?" Domino corrected him.

"I meant what I said!" Wade shouted as he reached into the backseat to grab another outfit from the box of stolen goods. "Alright sweet cheeks, your turn," He handed the clothes to Domino.

Domino gave the outfit one glance then looked at her own attired and gave Wade a condescending look, "Uh, no thanks. I'm already in costume."

Wade was about to protest against Domino's refusal to change into a new costume when you interjected, "Look I can do the whole infiltrating and catching the target off guard routine on my own. Domino you're on crowd suppression duty, Cable just cover my six from a vantage point, Dopinder keep the meter running and Wade…"

"Yeah?" He questioned cautiously.

"Put on the wig and heels. You're my dance partner, sweet cheeks!" You retorted with a sinister smile.

Domino and Cable laughed, enjoying your little power trip and the fact Wade had to wear a wig and a pair of heels... again!

Feeling a bit flustered, Wade dropped the box on the taxi's boot and placed both his hands on his hips, "Well, jokes on you! I've actually been looking for an excuse to wear heels again. They make my calf muscles pop!"

"Sure thing Queer Eye. Go get changed." You shooed him into the cab.

***

When Wade was fully in costume -above his regular costume, naturally- he quickly made his way up a three-story window that was the entrance into the Burlesque clubs dressing room with ease. You'd die before admitting this, but Wade's agility was something you envied.

You looked up at the window and then down at your heels wondering how on this God's green Earth would you manage to get up there without busting an ankle. Maybe if you focused the sound waves from a considerable sound generating source you could levitate on a cushion of sound waves, but there was nothing loud enough to draw from in your vicinity.

Domino noticed the crease of your brow and smacked Cable's chest before nodding her head in your direction to let him know his assistance was needed.

Cable stood up from the hood of the car, the temporary indent straightening out when his weight was removed. He walked over to you and looked between you and the window, before making a brace with his fingers and getting low on one knee.

"Need a boost?"

You looked down at him, took off your heels and placed your foot on the brace he made, "Since you're offering."

"Hey, don't get any ideas. He's mine!" Wade shouted from the window as he sat on the sill and stretched his arm out for you to grab.

Cable hoisted you up, his metal arm grabbing your ass for the briefest moment. You tried to act like the contact of hard metal on your ass wasn't invigorating and pleasantly different. Fuck! Now you had a new kink to add to your ever expanding list: Metal Arm Ass Groping. Quite the mouthful, you'd have to think up some catchy abbreviation for it later.

With his mechanised strength, he flung you high up into the air and you managed to grab Wade’s hand and he pulled you into the club. Domino and Cable made scarce and disappeared to get with the plan.

You put your heels back on.

"Naughty, naughty," Wade tut-tutted as he noticed your flushed cheeks and devious grin.

"Please, like you haven't thought about it!" You retorted as you marched out of the dressing room and down to the private parlour’s dancer entrance, more than ready to kidnap this Madam Mayflower and pay your rent to your sleazy landlord.

Behind you, Wade gasped in exaggeration as he followed suit walking like a model with poise and grace.

***

The upbeat tempo of the music you were dancing to filled the private lounge where Madam Mayflower sat with a glass of champagne in one hand and a cigar in another. She was guarded by four bodyguards who seemed to be having a hard time appearing stoic and immovable since they were constantly stealing glances of your seductive dance number.

Mayflower eyed you with desire clearly advertised on her face as she licked her lips and eyed you up and down.

"I count two guards on the second floor," Domino's voice rippled out to you through Wade's earpiece as he sat waiting patiently for you to give the signal to make the move on Mayflower.

"I count six others circling the perimeter." Cable's voice rippled out too.

"Something tells me there isn't a stealthy way to handle this," Wade whispered.

"Tell me I didn't dress up like a dominatrix for nothing, Wade!" You said in annoyance, your hands rubbing at your sore temples as you blinked rapidly. You dance routine thrown out the proverbial window.

Madam Mayflower looked at you in confusion, "I'm sorry is this part of the act? I don't remember role play being a part of the package… not that I'm complaining." She said with a heavy lilt as she proceeded to suckle on her lower lip suggestively.

You didn't have time to deal with her horny attitude right now so you raised a finger at her and said plainly, "Just hold on a minute," You curved your back a little and leaned back so that you could peak through the curtain Wade was hiding behind, "Wade just come out here and do your thing, toss me the earpiece."

"What the hell is going on here?" Mayflower demanded from you. Her bodyguards circling in around her, creating a human barrier.

Wade emerged from behind the curtain full of energy and pizzazz, a leather whip in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other.

"You do know Burlesque and BDSM aren't the same thing right?" you asked him.

"Don't ruin this for me," Wade shushed you as he tossed the earpiece your way. He cracked the whip against the open space and made a neighing sound, "Come on boys!" He teased the bodyguards.

"Just keep it quiet, Wade," You reminded him.

Mayflower made a motion to jump out of her chair but you thrust her back into it using a controlled burst of waves.

The sound of Wade fighting off the bodyguards with his whip was thankfully drowned out by the loud music that played in the room.

"Cable, when I say when, I need you and Domino to generate a loud noise right above the window I'm waving to you from." You said through the earpiece.

Cable searched for your waving figure through the scope of his gun. When he spotted you, he saw Deadpool engaging in a fight with four other guards still wearing his heels and wielding a bullwhip.

"What the?" Cable whispered through the earpiece.

"Remember, when I give the signal, generate big boom!" You said in a baby voice as you thrust Mayflower back into her seat for the umpteenth time again.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Domino asked.

"Get lucky I guess," you joked.

When you turned to see if all the guards were knocked unconscious you looked over at Deadpool who was wiping non-existent sweat from his masked face. During all the excitement you noticed someone had snatched his wig off.

"Hey, Indiana Jones, throw Mayflower through the window," you told him as you opened the large window.

"Wh-What?" Mayflower shouted in shock, her eyes wide with fear.

"What? No, I'm not gonna throw my paycheck out the wind-"

You cleared your throat and clicked your heels, "You mean our paycheck?"

"That's what I said!" Deadpool said all too defensively.

"Just do it, Catwoman!"

"Okay geez, enough with the outdated references already," he groaned as he flung a very scared Mayflower out the window.

"The woman currently hurtling to her death, is that the signal?" Cable asked an instant later.

"Yes!" You shouted as you jumped after Mayflower too.

“WHAT THE FUCK DJ?” Deadpool shouted after you as you began to free fall with Mayflower down several stories.

“Oh, not good,” you heard Domino scurry about anxiously over the earpiece.

Mayflower was screaming like one of the Bond girls.

Please, don't let me die swan diving after a Madame, you secretly prayed to whatever cosmic entity watched over your universe.

Suddenly, a large explosion of fireworks went off in a dumpster near the taxi and the sound of the exploding gunpowder and the vigorous force the projectiles produced when they hit the metal lids generated strong enough sound waves for you to generate a cushion of waves to catch you and Mayflower before you turned to street pizza.

Your prayers have been answered my child, A smiling Stan Lee whispered in your inner ear. Where the fuck did that come from, you wondered.

You landed gracefully on both feet while Mayflower landed in a puddle on her face next to you.

"Okay, we can go now!" You shouted up to Wade who decided the quickest way down was the same way you made your exit. He was lucky the fireworks were still producing enough sound that you were able to catch him and lower him mid-air onto the ground.

Domino appeared out of nowhere as a small explosion went off behind her and Cable grappled down the side of the building he had set up his sniper position by using his metal arm to dig into the brick and slow his momentum.

All four of you (plus a muddied Mayflower locked in the trunk) got into the cab and headed for Al's apartment before any of the bodyguards could fully realise what had just transpired.

MASTERPOST | For Tumblr App

As Always: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don’t be afraid to be added to the tag list and... Metal Arms right?!

Tags: @demonhunter1616  @msstarsword @originalwinchestervamp 

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[man-i-dont-know]

BNHA Chapter 157: Spoilers and Thoughts

I am a bit late again, sorry, but lets get right into this fan-freaking-tastic chapter.

Um... can I say that the page layout with Overhaul reaching for Eri where his fingers act as the panels’ borders is absolutely astounding? Like holy crap, the desperation in Overhaul’s face and the force that Horikoshi managed to capture in that image is amazing. Like I know he has a thing for hands, but this is insanely incredible.

I love seeing Deku’s determination in keeping Eri safe, I want both Deku and Mirio to become a big brother figures to Eri, that would be the best. There is one thing that bothers me about the next scene though. I understand that Deku kicks hard enough that the air pressure launches him up through the hole, but I can’t figure out the angle that he kicked to launch him upward. So he’s falling away from the hole, kicks towards the hole and the wind up is what propels him up? Cause if the kick went all the way through then wouldn’t Deku be shot down super fast rather than up? I’m still tyring to figure it out but that is basically the only problem I have with this chapter (I suppose I have one other but it is minor and this chapter is solidified hype so none of this takes me out of the story).

I like the girls jumping into action right after Deku seemingly vanished, and Sir telling them that Deku is going to be killed, they straight up told him, “With all due respect, that’s BS.” And not only are the girls refusing to sit idly, Sir even stands back up and is ready to get back in the fight. Like, dude, you were basically skewered and I am like, 70% sure your left arm is lying on the ground somewhere behind you, he really should have died a while ago. Sit this one out, ya done good man. But he won’t, heroes make some super dumb decisions sometimes... I suppose the line between dumb and brave is fairly thin though (and there is also duty to think about).

Ok... Ok... I thought Overhaul fusing with that one guy was weird, but fusing with the big guy is just excessive. He’s the boss that you think you’ve beaten then he reveals that there is another form, but he’s done it twice now, Overhaul just needs to go down at this point. 

Deku is fine even after using 100%, and it is all because of Eri. God, Eri is the best character and she has been around half an arc. The draw back to her extreme reverse quirk is that it seems that after she stops using it you begin to revert to your previous state. That coupled with the fact that she is not sure how to use her quirk makes her quirk a huge gamble (at least at the moment). If she were to reverse someone to be healthy, medics would have to be right there so when her quirk gives out they can get to work immediately. Eri stopped using her quirk for a moment and Deku went from fine to intense pain, so again, massive gamble.

Again, Overhaul is now a grotesque final boss monster and he is being an ass and cursing Eri’s existence like the tool he is (please ignore my Overhaul icon), but Deku is an A+ dude and compliments Eri’s quirk. Which is painful to think about if you consider that it is very possible that this is the first nice thing anyone has said to her. And it shows, Eri starts crying as soon as she hears that. I’d say that Eri needs to be wrapped in a blanket and given a hug, but at the moment she is on Deku’s back wrapped in Mirio’s cape, which I am actually very satisfied with. Then... it happens...

Deku finds a brand new way to break his body. I should have expected but the ABSOLUTE MADMAN is hard to predict. He is literally asking Eri to fix his bones as he breaks them, and in order to not be permanently reversed, Deku is going to try to out do Eri’s quirk by breaking himself faster than she can heal him. That makes sense, but, Deku buddy, the moment Eri stops using her quirk you will straight up explode. Also, the power that is basically shooting out of Deku’s eyes is cool and I hope that becomes a signature thing that sets his appearance apart from other heroes. And when Deku goes 100% and starts having laser eyes and Kirishima hair Eri is looking at him with mild concern, I think it’s hilarious.

Well that was an awesome chapter and I am very happy with it. My last comment I want to make is this: Deku plans on fighting Overhaul using a power he has not been able to use without shattering bones and he has a child on his back to top it off. That is it, thank you guys for reading my post and I hope you have a great day.

[riverdalee]

The One Where You’re Drunk

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: Completely drunk during girl’s night with Isabelle and Clary, you’re dared to sneak into Jace’s room and tell him how you really feel about him.

A/N: it’s been a while but here’s one i’ve been saving!

MASTERLIST (mobile and desktop) (you can like it and save it for later!)

“Okay, kiss, marry, kill,” you say. Isabelle and Clary nod.

“Jace, Simon, Alec.”

“Ew, Alec is my brother y/n!” Isabelle frowns in disgust.

“And Jace is mine,” Clary says distastefully.

You sigh.

“Okay, Simon, Meliorn and Aldertree.”

“Aldertree? Really?” Clary shoots you a pointed look.

“You guys suck at this game,” you sigh.

“Maybe that because we’re not little teenage girls,” Isabelle laughs, “Well, maybe you still are.”

You flip her off, rolling your eyes as you rest your head in her lap, “I think we need more booze.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” Isabelle says, scrunching up her nose when your burp.

You pout, trying to reach for a half full bottle without moving. She moves It away from you.

“Why don’t you answer since you’re not related to anyone in the Institute? Jace, Simon or Alec?”

You rub your chin thoughtfully – not that there was even anything to think about. It was Jace. It would always be Jace. But that was something that was hard to admit to yourself, let alone to Clary and Isabelle.

“Well, Simon is dating Clary last I checked and Alec is dating Magnus…”

“So Jace?” Isabelle giggles, “I think the two of you would be cute.”

“Same,” Clary beams, “You’d be good for him.”

You blow air through your lips, waving a hand, “Jace treats me like I’m Alec but the girl version.”

“Well, Jace loves Alec,” Isabelle shrugs, “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“Because it’s not a sexual thing. He loves Alec but he’s not in love with him,” you say, “Jace may love me but not the way I want him to.”

“The way you want him to?” Isabelle asks with raised brows, moving hair away from your face as she looks down at you. You turn away from her and look at Clary.

“The way he loved you,” you say, your speech a little slurred.

You’d been so jealous. Clary had walked in and made Jace fall for her without even trying. And you were happy for him, really. You’d watched him be closed off his whole life and she made him feel again. But a part of you wished it had been you.

After you found out they were siblings, he returned to his usual string of flings and self-destructive behaviour and you, as always, stayed by his side as his best friend.

Clary shifts uncomfortably, “Don’t remind me,” she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, “It’s still weird.”

“It’s a bit weird,” you giggle.

“Wait,” Clary says, sitting up, “Do you – do you like Jace?”

“N-no,” you stammer, “This is just hypothetical.”

She and Isabelle share a look before Isabelle pulls you up and props you up against the wall, “How drunk are you?” she asks.

You turn the bottle in your hand upside down to show her it’s empty and then laugh.

They both laugh, their faces filled with shared mischief – they knew it wouldn’t take much convincing to get you to do something stupid.

“It’s for her own good. Hers and Jace’s,” Isabelle justifies to Clary. Clary nods firmly.

Isabelle hands you the half full bottle and let’s you finish it.

“Are you gonna throw up?” she asks.

You wait a second before shaking your head. Sure, the room was spinning, but surely you weren’t going to vomit.

“Good,” she says rubbing her hands together, “Let’s play a game of truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you nod hazily.

“Go into Jace’s room and tell him you’re in love with him,” she says.

Truthfully, you guys didn’t get to have much fun around the Institute since Valentine had made his return. It was rare to have a girls night. It was even rarer to mess around like this as a Shadowhunter since you’d been taught to be disciplined. You didn’t get to giggle like little girls and do dares growing up.

Your eyes widen slightly but you try not to look fazed – you wandered if you were making a funny face since you were so drunk. In your right mind, you would’ve said ‘no way’ but it seemed like a promising idea. Something you’d laugh about in the morning.

“Deal,” you nod. They both look surprised.

Isabelle pulls you up from the ground and leads you to through door and out into the hallway. You all pause outside Jace’s door – tyring to stifle your laughter.

“Go,” Clary hisses, nudging you.

You slowly twist the door knob. A line of light illuminates his room before you pull the door shut behind you, only to realize you can’t see.

You hold your hands out in front of you until they come into contact with something that clatters to the floor with a loud smashing sound.

A lamp turns out and you look toward it to find Jace staring at you in confusion. He climbs out of bed, wearing slim fit sweatpants and no shirt. You’d seen him shirtless millions of times – you’d even been pinned under him that way during training – but while you were drunk, it made your cheeks flush and your skin tingle.

“Y/N?” he mumbles, walking over and running his fingers through his hair.

You look down at the floor – broken glass and a photo frame with a picture of the two of you in it.

“I’m so sorry,” you sigh, kneeling down and beginning to pick up the shards. You don’t stop even when one of them cuts into your palm.

“Stop,” he says, pulling you up and walking you across his room into the bathroom, carefully dusting your palms into the sink.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, inhaling sharply. You smelled like a bar.

“Sorry,” you apologize, biting down on your lip.

He shakes his head with a grin, “Sit,” he says, pointing to the toilet, “Let’s get that cleaned up,” he points to the bloody cut in your palm.

You sit on top of the counter next to the sink, letting your legs dangle and watching as he reaches for the top of the cabinet and pulls out a first aid kit.

You knew you could’ve just used your healing rune but Jace had done this for you since you were kids – anytime you got a small cut or graze, he’d pull out a first aid kit and treat it himself. The way your mother did before she passed away. Jace was all you had growing up.

He pulls out an alcohol wipe and then a cotton swab, dabbing at it slowly.

“I take it girls night is what left you this way?” he asks, concentrating on your hand.

“Maybe,” you say, dragging the word out.

He laughs, shaking his head and looking you in the eye, “Did you leave because you missed me?” he asks, unscrewing the cap of the rubbing alcohol. He tilts it carefully, not wanting to get too much on you.

“I left because I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you,” you blurt out. He squeezes the bottle too hard, clamouring away from you when it spills all over your legs. He stares at you with wide eyes, frozen.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles, grabbing a towel and wiping your legs down. You place a hand over his, letting it rest on your lap, “It’s okay.”

It felt so good to be close to him. It felt so good to say those words knowing that tomorrow you wouldn’t remember them and that you could just say it was a dare of play it off as being drunk. It felt good to be honest and to admit it – to him and to yourself.

His face was so close to yours.

“It’s okay,” you say again, resting your forehead against his.

“You’re drunk,” he says, drawing a line that you so badly wanted to cross. He pulls away from you, resting his hands on your knees with a slight frown, his eyes studying you. He reaches into the first aid box and pulls out a band aid, placing it across the cut.

“You should get back to your room,” he says firmly.

You slide off the sink, feeling your chest tighten. This had all been a mistake.

You walk back into his room, hesitating at the door. He walks up behind you, “I’ll see you in the morning y/n,” he says softly, “Drink some water before you sleep.”

You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to leave things this way.

You turn around, resting yours hands against his chest and moving them up to his shoulders. You stand on your tip toes and lean in closer to him, praying he wouldn’t pull away.

He doesn’t.

He rests his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

“Y/N,” he mutters, pulling away, “I – I shouldn’t have – you’re drunk… I’m-“

“I love you Jace,” you say. You had no other words. You didn’t know how to explain it to him or how to tell him how you were feeling. You knew it was an overwhelming thing to say. Maybe it was too much, but it was all you had.

He just stares at you in frustration.

You’d done a lot of stupid things while you’d been drunk and none of them had meant anything to you. Was he just one of those things?

Or did you really love him?

He thinks about how you’ll have no memory of this in the morning because of the state you were in.

“I-I’m gonna go get you something to eat so you can sober up and we can… talk about this,” he says. That was probably the best course of action. He didn’t want to blow you off and pretend this never happened.

You nod, watching him leave. It’s only then you get the urge to throw up.

When you wake up, your head is resting on Jace’s toilet seat. You groan in disgust – at least your hair was tied up.

“You wouldn’t let me move you.”

You turn your head slightly to find Jace slumped against the wall. You stand up and a blanket falls to the floor that had been over your shoulders.

“How are you feeling?”

“Probably not as bad as I should,” you say, rubbing your temples. You had hoped you wouldn’t remember last night but it was right there, front and centre, on your mind.

You could tell he was thinking about it too but the way his jaw was tensed.

You look over his shoulder at the broken glass still in the middle of his room.

“I’ll clean that up,” you say. You felt terrible.

You’d thrown up and passed out on the toilet and now you had to have ‘the talk’ completely sober -without any excuse for your actions or what you say.

“Can we talk about last night?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

You nod, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and then crossing your arms over your chest.

“You said you were in love with me and then we kissed,” he says with a pointed look, trying to gage whether you remembered or not. You nod with a guilty look on your face and in return, he looks mildly relieved.

“What was that about?” he asks, “Were you just drunk-“

“No,” you say quickly, “Look, Jace – I mean, yes I was drunk. It was a dare.”

“A dare?” he frowns, disappointed.

“Isabelle dared me to do it because I basically told her I liked you and you didn’t like me back,” you rest your head against the wall, “It was the first time I wasn’t scared to tell you how I felt.”

“Are you scared now?” he asks.

You nod, swallowing hard, “I’m scared, Jace, but I’m still in love with you. And I’m glad last night happened and that I can’t take it back.”

“Are you sober now?” he asks with an exhilarated look.

You nod. With one step, he’d standing inches away from you and pulling you into him. He was kissing you so hard you could barely breathe. You smile against his lips, pulling away for air.

“I love you so much, y/n. I barely slept last night thinking you’d sober up this morning and regret that kiss or worse, forget it. I was scared you’d tell me you have no feelings for me. Because I love you,” he sighs, taking your hands in his, “And I want this for us. I always have.”

“You’re a real keeper,” you laugh.

“Why’s that?” he asks with a smirk.

“Because you’re kissing someone who spent the whole night throwing up,” you laugh, causing him to scrunch his nose up when he realizes.

He shrugs, “I don’t care,” he shakes his head with a wide smile, “I love you y/n.”

[shaunfloyd-blog]

real africa;

so, well, um it’s been weeks now. the car which once gave me freedom became my ball and chain. here’s a list of repairs i’ve had done:

four tyres accessories belts overhaul prop shaft replace all engine seals timing belt new alternator exhaust pipe repairs battery clamp spare wheel bracket repairs hand brake realignment air con bearing thousands of cable ties replacing brackets which were probably once there

fortunately the expression ‘this is africa’ works two ways. one is that you wait a very very very long time for anything to happen, but the other is that living is cheap. so if i was optimistic i would say that at least i didn’t spend much money waiting, and that the repairs were fairly cheap. the truth is that i nearly went insane, being told the car would be ready tomorrow for weeks. i feel for the donkey who chases the carrot.

but guess what!? the carrot is finally mine! (although it’s somewhat soured by the fact that the clutch bearing is making funny noises which it wasn’t before. haha eeyore).

it is commonly known here that africa begins in the north of namibia. like there’s some line you cross and suddenly not everyone speaks english and whites are a vast minority. i’m there. i’ve been in africa for over three months now and i now feel like i’m in africa. yesterday’s example is simply too perfect.

i woke at a place called hippo pools community camp on the kunene river which divides namibia and angola. aside from the goats wandering around i had the campgrounds to myself. i collected some kindling and prepared a fire to cook some eggs and toast and to make some coffee. a curious young themba boy dressed traditionally in a thin leopard print shawl around his waist shyly approached, waving first and then looping around before coming back to watch me from behind a rock wall. he spoke little english so after a few attempts at talking we gave up and sat silently, regarding one another. i shared my breakfast (as is expected in africa) and then we went down to the water to skip rocks. while down by the water a super agile, colourful bird flew overhead chasing a bug. i watched it land then showed the boy intending to find out what it was. he grinned, picked up a rock and threw it, knocking the bird from its perch. he ran over, picked it up and handed it to me like a gift. i tried to impress that although i appreciated the gesture, that he shouldn’t kill unless he is going to eat it but of course in such matters i’m the uneducated one (i’ve hardly killed to eat), so my lecture trailed off. it wasn’t long before he started throwing rocks at a monitor lizard, with less accuracy this time. anyway, the bird survived.

some fisherman arrived in their carved wooden canoe on the bank and sold me four freshly caught fish for N$30 (AUD$3).

the boy helped me to pack the car then, seeing how dusty it was, went to the bin, picked out some bottles, filled them with water and started to clean my car with his hands. when we were finished he asked for a banana as payment, which i was happy to give him.

on the way out of the campgrounds, a himba couple asked for a lift to the town, ruacana. the man laid down a patterned cotton sheet in the back seat to avoid getting otjize paste on my seat. he helped take the baby from the woman’s leather back-pouch while she struggled into the car, her jewellery jingling as she moved. the baby was placed on her lap, and the man wrestled with my surfboard in the front until he found a comfortable position. i did my best to shield a laugh at the foreign situation we were all in. they didn’t speak english so the short trip was silent and i thought mostly about whether or not it was significant that the man took the more-spacious front seat. the day before i had given a lift to a teen herero boy and his mama, who had her giant traditional dress on. he too, took the front seat while his mother squished her dress into the back. it is also possible they were the ones taking on the navigational role.

i dropped the himba couple off and drove out of town in the direction of ondangwa. i stopped for ice at a small bar in outapi. while waiting for the shop owner to smash up the ice, i was confronted with stares from around the room. to break the ice i asked the men what they were drinking out of giant plastic jugs. one type was oshikundu, the other something like ontaku. both made from fermented millet and served at room temperature, which is bloody hot. perfect for the middle of a monday. it’s apparent i’m in ovambo land. these people love to drink. there are more bars through this part of the land than any other type of shop.

next stop was an ‘open market’ in oshikuku. i bought some dried chilli, tomatoes and onion to go with the fish and some rice. the woman had heaped piles of dried beans, millet, nuts, mopane worms, dried cabbage, and date-like dried fruits. she charismatically talked me through what each one was and how they cook with it. of course she wanted something in return and asked me to buy her a large bottle of coke. N$20. i bargained that i get a glassful and she grinned and said ‘thank you thank you thank you!’ with child-like enthusiasm.

onward through oshakati and into ondangwa where i’d found a historic missionary which provides accomodation. the family who run the place are really nice and since i can’t keep the fish fresh for long i gave two away. as the sun started to relent, naas, 26, and junior, 9, came to my site and asked if i’d like to come to the soccer. i grabbed a couple of beers, thinking that i’d be watching but when i got there i was allocated a team. six-a-side. narrow goals with no keeper. knockout games where a goal is a win, with a time limit and previous victor carries on if its a draw. the pitch was classic africa. a section of field where a large portion is hard dirt, and flat. we started with three teams and ended up with five as more people came from all directions. everyone was speaking oshiwambo which made it more difficult to play but easier to absorb the rich atmosphere. it all ended when the sun went down and i hobbled back to the missionary with naas and junior. mama had already prepared some ‘meat and pap’ in the traditional ovambo way, and insisted that i eat. so i ate.

i can’t believe it happened in a day

[captivesrp]

The darkness spreads around him, suffocating and heavy. He knows he is not alone but the silence is so complete that his own heartbeat is the loudest sound. He remains absolutely still. He does not know whether this other being is an enemy or friend. He waits for what seems like an eternity and slowly, beyond the noise of his own heart, he begins to hear the heartbeats of the other creature. Yes, heartbeats---the hunter is certain he can only pick up the essence of one living being, but there are definitely at least two separate heartbeats. He knows that the being is aware of his presence, yet it has chosen to remain still and silent. Both he and it are breathing lightly, without a sound, but he can feel the presence of the creature expand and contract with its breathing. He senses that it is roughly two spears’-lengths away and large . . .

How did he even get here, the hunter wonders as he tries to piece together what led up to this point. He remembers a longbow---he could not aim it properly . . . A brace, strapped to his arm . . . He remembers a knot, too tight---it would not come loose.

But why was he here? The creature lets out a soundless rumble. The hunter’s bones quiver. He needs to figure this out. Think!

He remembers fighting to remain positive---for a friend . . . a tent, dejection . . . a calm voice, sun on the rippling sea---a solution. The hunter recalls sunset and sunrise. He remembers authority, a wall: “No.” . . . questions about the stars, a colourful robe. Then . . . darkness. Why or how he got into his present situation is beyond him. 

The being rumbles again. The hunter decides that the time for caution is over. He opens his mouth to speak. “Can you speak to me?” the hunter asks, with a voice breaking from lack of use. He clears his throat. “I mean you no harm. I really do not know why I am here.”

There is silence from the creature. Its breathing and heartbeats, unchanged.

The hunter takes a step towards the presence, but a more intense rumble rises from the being. He retreats slowly, thinking: proximity is an issue . . . Why? Okay, focus. What next?

*     *     *

Murchadh is very attentive as he watches the brigand guards circling the captives’ tent complex. There has been extra alertness around camp ever since Archora disappeared. About her disappearance, the brigands have been tight-lipped. Not even Tyree would answer his questions. Did Archora run away, or was she just . . . removed . . . because of her injury? Murchadh does not like this last thought, but it is a possibility. He can no longer trust any of the brigands. His guard is up, but for his efforts to gain their trust he has to pretend it is not.

Though Murchadh can tell that his tent-mate’s disappearance is weighing heavily on Ffrewgí, he and Wyddryr are doing very well. Murchadh is very glad that they have been able to achieve so much. It is good to have peers that are equal to him. He likes that better than being the one who knows it all.

He has been loving his lessons as they continue to become more and more advanced. Both Asgell and Fuldryn have much more experience than him and he has been glad of their tutelage. Over the last few days a sense of urgency has leeched into their lessons. Murchadh suspects that their time of training is coming to a close. Murchadh is hoping that they will be ready to do what they need to do---whether it is completing their trained-for task or ditching the brigands. Or both.

Murchadh sighs. He is sitting outside his tent, staring out into the fog. This is the nineteenth evening he has watched pass from the dirt in front of his tent. It is time for him to sleep. He prays silently that the dream will leave him alone tonight. He has not been resting well recently.

*     *     *

This is a real nuisance, the hunter thinks in the dark silence as he feels the presence breathe. But it’s just a dream. The hunter smiles with new confidence and steps forward, ignoring the rumbles of warning until with a falling face he remembers . . .

*     *     *

It is hard to wake up. Another dream trapped in that darkness with the two-hearted beast . . . Murchadh sighs. When will this end? What is so important about it? 

Why the hell is he worked up about a dream? It is just a dream---leave it. Magic, and magical creatures---fool's thoughts . . . right? His dreams have begun to challenge his perception of reality, their images leeching into his days.

Enough; time to focus on living. Murchadh needs to learn more about Wyddryr today---that is his goal. He needs to trust the bright-eyed boy, but Murchadh has such a strange feeling about him---about his history, about who he is and his place in the village. 

It is raining today and that means a cold, damp lesson. Murchadh sighs as he sits in the entrance to his tent, watching the village grudgingly come to life. No one enjoys chores in cold autumn rain. Summer is as good as gone and a deep chill is settling in over the land. He wonders what the guides will be doing today. He hopes it will not be swampland tracking again---in this weather, it would be horrible. Murchadh sighs, rolls to his feet outside the tent, and begins to jump around to warm up. He may as well get wet now. He needs to get his blood flowing anyway; he needs to clear his head from last night’s dream. Time to enter the real world.

Anwen joins Murchadh in the rain after a few breaths. As they walk to the staging area they chat about their hopes for the day, jokingly wishing for a dry lesson in a tent. As they draw near the other children they greet them with cheerful voices, mocking the weather. 

Murchadh waves goodbye to Anwen and heads off to where Asgell waits in a cloak. Ffrewgí and Wyddryr have arrived already. Ffrewgí is still downcast from losing his tent-mate, it appears. Though his body does seem to be wasting away---he had even fainted once during training---Murchadh suspects his grey pallor is more due to a broken spirit than poor diet. Murchadh wishes that he could help, but it seems impossible. Archora’s disappearance seems to have been the tipping point. 

Murchadh looks over at Asgell, wonders again what happened to Archora, but decides against trying to ask again. Asgell may be kind, but when she says enough, she means it. 

Wyddryr stands, impassive---almost: a slight shiver shows that the rain is affecting him as well---watching Murchadh with his bright blue eyes.

Asgell speaks cheerfully. “I have a special lesson for you boys today. I have been saving it for just such a miserable day! Follow me. I think you will all be grateful for it!”

They follow her as she sets off into the gloomy woods. Murchadh is excited, but his apprehension grows as Asgell leads them straight for the bog they had had to explore a few days ago. When they can see its hazy duns and browns ahead, Asgell veers to the left, skirting its edge. They travel for a couple bowshots, then stop by a large, stony protuberance jutting from the loamy turf.

“Here we are then, boys!” Asgell says, with so much enthusiasm that Murchadh throws her a sharp glance of surprise. Her eyes gleam in the dim forest light. “Today, I am going to have you learn how to navigate the underground.” 

She leads them around the base of the rock, to a dark pit-mouth no more than a pace across. She lights a lantern and ties it to her rope before lowering it into the hole. She feeds down almost half its length before tying it off on a sharp spur just outside the pit. “Alright,” she says, “Wyddryr first. I’ll follow last. This is going to be a really interesting day!” The grin on her face is stunning and full of life.

Wyddryr wraps the rope around himself in order to rappel down, wriggles through the hole, and disappears. Murchadh is next. The mouth of the pit opens up almost immediately and Murchadh finds himself rappelling down a free-fall line, swinging in the open air. 

Wyddryr is waiting at the bottom with the lantern, standing in an island of warm light. When Murchadh arrives, he finds the stone beneath his feet is dry and surprisingly warm. He draws in a stale breath and feels the heat in his lungs.

When Asgell arrives after Ffrewgí she takes the lantern and heads off into the gloom. “I found this cave system last winter---I noticed caved-in snow melted hard about its entrance. I found this right away . . .” She approaches a jutting head of stone close to the height of her shoulder. What is beyond it is in shadow until she lifts the lantern and places it on the rock’s flat surface. The lifted light grows suddenly in dartles and sparkles, bouncing and refracting through jagged crystals, clinging to the ceiling and far walls, until it lights up a sizable portion of the cavern. It is huge and beautiful. Stalactites and stalagmites cling to the ceiling and rise from the floor like teeth, glittering with cold blue and pure white crystals. 

Murchadh no longer wonders at Asgell’s excitement: this is truly an amazing place. 

Asgell turns and studies their awestruck faces. “Don’t get too caught up in the beauty---you’ve still got work to do today. I have hidden three items in this cave system. I’ve hidden them over the course of the last month, but, in these conditions, not much is disturbed. Find my things and we can return home.” She smiles and leans back against the rock column. “I’m going to take a nap for now. Have fun! Oh,” she says, straightening and lifting the lantern down from its seat, “this is yours.” She hands it to Wyddryr.

Murchadh looks around, bewildered. She said she had explored the entire system when she had found it last winter, so every passage should contain traces of her passing, and she had said herself that nothing much will have been disturbed since then. Even if they could distinguish the age of her tracks, the items had been hidden at different times! It seems impossible! Murchadh grins as he considers the scope of the challenge; he loves the impossible.

Murchadh heads away from the crystals, over to an intersection of tunnels. Varying tracks criscross in the fine, sand-like dust. Murchadh crouches down to inspect them, looking for any differences that could be age markers. He picks out two intersecting footprints---the shallowest of scuffs in the sand---and can tell the fresher print by how it lays atop, for lack of a better term, the other. 

Wyddryr leans in above him. “There are more tracks leading this way than the other,” he says, gesturing in the direction provided to Murchadh by the fresher print.

Murchadh nods silently. A good way to start. They head off into a narrow passage, Ffrewgí following silently behind. The tracks disappear as soon as they step from the shallow sand bowl onto smooth rock, but the tunnel leads on in a single direction, so Murchadh walks on confidently.

“Are we going this way ’cause there are more tracks?” Wyddryr asks.

“They were also the newest,” Murchadh responds with a shrug. “I'm not sure about much, but I want to try out an idea and see if it works.”

“The newest doesn’t mean the most reliable, right? Asgell could have hidden all three items right away, then come in after just to lay false trails.”

“Yes, she could have, but . . .” Murchadh smiles wryly, “it’d be a cruel trick complicating an already difficult task.” He grins at Wyddryr. “It is not a guarantee, but the newer the track the better the odds that she was either hiding or checking on the objects.”

“That makes sense,” Wyddryr says. He is following Murchadh closely, almost treading on his heels. His voice is a reedy whisper: “I . . . don’t like being down here.” 

Murchadh slowly turns and looks at him. Wyddryr looks like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a predator. 

“It’s okay, Wyddryr---and you can share stuff about yourself without fear of being hurt, especially with me,” Murchadh says in a steady tone. The is the first time Wyddryr has revealed a vulnerability willingly to him. There is obviously a reason that Wyddryr is so scared of sharing his past and weaknesses---something to do with his whip-scarred back, Murchadh is willing to bet.

Ffrewgí chips in, “We’re not that comfortable down here either, Wyddryr. It’s okay.”

Wyddryr loosens a little. 

Murchadh looks at him, concerned. “It is fine to say what unsettles you: there is no weakness in that. Only the truly strong can share fully about their uneasiness.” He stares at the small boy. “How long ago were you captured?” There are lots of questions Murchadh would like to pile on, but he does not want to prompt Wyddryr to close up again. This is a rare chance to get to know him better.

Wyddryr’s glowing eyes burn in the yellow lamplight. “I can’t—as long as you have, I guess.” Then he pauses before continuing quietly, “It’s not like you trust me, either.” His accusatory tone is clear.

“I don’t trust you because you never trusted me. You won’t tell me anything.” Wyddryr just raises an eyebrow, so Murchadh continues, “There’s just something about you, Wyddryr.”

Wyddryr remains silent.

“I would like to trust you, but I’m just not sure I can. There have been too many weird occurrences---”

Ffrewgí steps in to wisely divert Murchadh’s passion. “Hey, Murchadh, I—here are some more tracks,” he finishes lamely.

Murchadh takes a breath, but remains focused on Wyddryr. “If you want to be my friend, you need to start responding to me.” He then falls silent, having said everything he could without pressing too hard for any answers. When Wyddryr remains silent, Murchadh gives his mouth a faint twitch and turns to look at what Ffrewgí may have found.

They walk in silence, continuing down the straight passage for a few breaths, then Wyddryr speaks again. “Look, I don’t see what you’ve been seeing. I just don’t like sharing about myself.” He pauses and turns his head, sending it into shadow. Murchadh can hardly make out what he says next: he grumbles, “Especially when I’m pressed.” He turns back into the sphere of light. “I think I was the first captured. Maybe that’s the cause of the weirdness you think you see.”

Murchadh turns and looks at him. “Asgell treats you differently. Symbre, too---I’ve seen her regard you when she oversees our training.”

Wyddryr’s eyes get a little harder. “I think you’re just seeing things.” 

Murchadh holds his gaze intently. He knows that Wyddryr is not telling him everything, but he makes a decision to trust him anyway. He nods, accepting the boy’s response. 

Wyddryr blinks, and suddenly his blue eyes lose their edge. “Don’t . . . don’t bring your suspicions up with any of the tribespeople.”

Murchadh looks at him shrewdly. None of his theories have lost any power and he is just left with more questions, but Wyddryr turns away and walks beside Ffrewgí down the passage---he is done talking. He has trusted Murchadh enough to dialogue a bit. Now Murchadh must respect his silence. He feels like a wall has come down. Wyddryr will come forward with more about himself when he is ready.

Murchadh follows the globe of lamplight with thoughts humming about in his head.

As time passes the three boys slowly figure out how to navigate this foreign world. Soft minerals on the walls betray the slightest touch and new build-up stands out clearly from immemorial roughage. The guides find life, even down here---they track prints in fungal slime, look for signs of foreign passage in delicate mushroom beds. Even without determined signs of Asgell’s trail, the boys manage to cover a lot of ground: in an underground environment, there are only a few paths a quarry can take and the briefest hint can send a tracker in the right direction for hundreds of paces. 

Murchadh has lost all track of time by the time they find the last object: a tin pot. They found the other two items mostly by chance, but had needed to really focus and combine their skills to track this one down. Wyddryr picks it up and smiles, and the group heads off back to Asgell.

*     *     *

The hunter groans and stops moving toward the creature. The darkness changes. He has entered a cave! This is real! He must have fallen into a pit or something! Okay---had he been alone? Was he traveling with his friends? Maybe they could lower him a rope! 

“Hey!” the hunter yells. “I am down here! Throw me the rope!” 

Suffocating silence rings in his ears. 

The beast no longer growls, but suddenly huffs a few times, almost as if it is laughing.

No. The hunter remembers now: they had finished their day in the caves successfully. They had returned to the village, had made it to their tents late---the moon had been halfway through its movement for the night. 

The hunter’s reality seems to fade around him.

*     *     *

The afternoon sky is almost clear of clouds and the day is getting hotter. It is a nice change from the rain yesterday, even if most of it had been avoided by spending the day underground. Murchadh’s head is still stuck in the wonders of the underground. Those caverns have done more than anything else to persuade him that magic can exist. Those caves were surely full of it.

He is thankful that Asgell had let them sleep in today. She had pointed out the pockets of moonlight from between the clouds on their way back to the village, predicting a clear following night for a lesson of star-charting under Fuldryn. 

Murchadh grins up at the clear skies, excited to work on the brace. He hopes that he can remember what Anwen had shown him nights ago well enough to replicate it. First things first, he thinks, trying to focus, and sends his eyes downwards to look for Wyddryr’s tracks.

*     *     *

Ffrewgí and Murchadh have just picked up the brace from the fencepost where Asgell had placed it for them when Asgell arrives from the village and calls to Murchadh. He leaves Ffrewgí with the brace and walks over to her. Asgell points to two figures approaching from the camp. One of the figures is Anwen!

“Murchadh, did you plan this?” she asks, pointing to Fuldryn and Anwen as they approach.

“No, I didn’t,” says Murchadh honestly. “What is she doing here? I just assumed this wouldn’t be allowed . . .”

“You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this?” Asgell asks, sending Murchadh a wry smile. “You've been wanting her to help you this whole time.”

Murchadh just shakes his head. “I swear I did not even ask. You can ask Fuldryn---I had nothing to do with this.”

Asgell calls out, “Fuldryn, who’s the guest? You didn’t tell me there’d be another kid for me to watch over this evening.”

Fuldryn smiles wide. “You haven’t noticed all of Murchadh’s questions during our lessons? Rather out of character, I thought, so my curiosity was piqued and I asked him where the questions were coming from. Turns out he was asking as proxy to Anwen---who has, I see, wandered off.”

Murchadh sees that she has already joined Ffrewgí, and the two are deep in conversation over the arm brace. He may yet get a chance to really use a bow!

Asgell looks sharply at Murchadh. “So, I guess you did ask, after all?”

Fuldryn laughs, cutting in. “Not at all, Asgell---though I would have applauded it. I simply love nothing more than a willing and eager pupil."

As they walk into the field, Murchadh rejoices internally at this stroke of luck. He glances over at Anwen and Ffrewgí. The latter seems the most alive he has been since the loss of his tent-mate as the two work animatedly on the brace. 

Feeling eyes on him, Murchadh shifts his gaze quickly. Wyddryr, sitting silently at the gathering place where Fuldryn and Asgell are just arriving, is watching him closely. Murchadh’s mind is suddenly filled with the questions he did not ask in the cave.

“Ffrewgí, Anwen!” Fuldryn’s voice cuts through his reverie and the group gathers around, ready to learn the secrets of the stars.

*     *     *

The hunter shakes himself free from his memories and realizes he is still with the beast, in the darkness. He is getting tired of standing so still, unable to move any closer . . . unable to move away, too. He still does not know where he is or how he got here, but he must survive, he must learn. He needs to fulfill his duty to the others. He made a promise to them and they are closest thing he has ever had to a tribe.

But he is so tired.

A heavy wave of exhaustion sweeps over him and he slowly sinks into the darkness, wondering what will become of him.

*     *     *

Murchadh groans as he wrenches himself from sleep. Another night stuck in that damned dark cavern. He does not feel rested at all. He props himself up on his elbows groggily, hoping for an easy lesson today.

Suddenly, he sits bolt upright, smiling with excitement as his brain sorts out what day it is. Today is the day he can try the brace again! Every four days, for the past sixteen days---since the guides’ first hunting lesson---the guides have been rotating under the other task leaders. Four days ago they had had their second foraging lesson. If they continue the pattern, Murchadh and the other guides should be learning under Draeg today, and Murchadh is sure that the brace will work this time. Dreams completely forgotten in his excitement, he crawls out into the light rain and starts to stretch eagerly. He needs his shoulder to be loose so he can shoot with maximum effectiveness. This is going to be a good day! 

He is the first child to arrive by the waiting task leaders. He strides confidently over to Draeg and waits for Ffrewgí and Wyddryr. When they arrive, Draeg leads them wordlessly to the slaughtering field to start the day’s routine. 

The day goes by quickly, and when the archery portion arrives, Murchadh can hardly contain himself as Ffrewgí straps the brace onto his arm. He eagerly takes up a bow and arrow, and . . . it works! It is clumsy and difficult to aim, but he can use it! He applies the same technical theories he uses for throwing knives to his archery, and by the end of the session he is hitting the target fairly often.

His muscles burn as he returns his bow and two arrows to the box beside Draeg. He is not used to using his right arm as he has been today---holding the bow steady and upright for so much of the lesson really taxed what muscle he has there. His muscles may be sore, but Murchadh is thrilled: he will be an archer like his father!

His father . . . Murchadh wishes he could be around to see him grow. He sobers a little as the guides reenter the encampment and head for the dinner clearing.

*     *     *

The hunter slowly, groggily, rises from sleep, feeling the weight of the darkness swell around him. He sighs: he is back. Too bad his dream could not last longer . . . or is he dreaming now? The lines of reality are blurring in his head. A bow and full quiver are slung over his back. He moves his arm, tucked tight against his side: he can feel where the brace was lashed, he knows it was real. His other arm brushes against the cold stone of the cave wall. It is unusually smooth. 

He sighs and rises, then freezes. The creature has moved. The hunter feels as if it is lying down, hardly twenty paces from him. Its dual heartbeats thrum slowly, rhythmically. 

The hunter sits down carefully, takes stock of his gear. He finds both ancestral daggers in his belt---why would his cousin relinquish them? Asgell’s throwing knives are in a rolled packet beside his daggers. He runs a hand over the horns of the bow slung over his shoulder. It is most definitely his father’s. Why does he have no memory of coming here? How did he lose his memories?

The creature huffs. 

The hunter glares in its direction. “I hope you know that when I figure out what is going on I will make you pay for every second of this torture!” 

The creature snorts in response.

“I am not your toy! You will show me why I am here and . . . and if you are a dream, I will control the dreamscape to get my revenge!” The hunter suspects the creature will not understand him. Saying these things is mere catharsis. 

A shock suddenly runs through the hunter’s consciousness. He hears nothing, not even in his head as when his golden dream-friend talks to him, but he knows all of a sudden that the creature is telling him---without voice, or even image---to wait and to have patience. Pure information without filter.

Exhaustion overcomes the hunter and the darkness becomes sleep.

*     *     *

Rising up through the weight of his dreams, Murchadh struggles for alertness. It is morning. Anwen is still sleeping beside him, the night’s rain has passed, and the first wan light of day dances with shadows on the canvas of their tent. Murchadh rolls silently onto his hands and knees and crawls past Anwen, leaving the tent for the grey light outside. 

They have been training for four weeks. What lies before him and his new family he does not know. He stands, watching the rising light of dawn battle an enormous storm head to the north. Whether this world is just a dream or reality, he will do his best to care for and protect his family, no matter the cost.

[sceawere]

an leabharlann pt.3 | finn shelby

[pt 1] [pt 2]

The date had not gone as planned.

There’d been an accident by the bridge and they’d had to back up and drive halfway around town to avoid it, meaning they were late for the start of the film. They sat through the last half anyway, completely confused as to the storyline. They’d ended up whispering to each other, doing funny voiceovers and making up their own story.

A woman had shushed Florence and she’d quickly told them to shut up and let her have some fun. When they turned around she realised they were her mums friend and apologised, pushing Finn quickly out of his seat.

He’d laughed at her as she’d walked out so fast she was nearly jogging, red faced, dragging him behind.

“We can never come back here again”

“It’s not that bad, you only told her to shut up. I bet she’s heard worse”

“Never from me! I won’t be able to show my face for weeks”

“Florence!”

“Finley!”

“That’s not my name”

“I know but your name’s too short for impact, you need a Sunday name. Everyone needs a Sunday name”

“What now?”

“Let’s just…go for a drive somewhere. Anywhere”

The tyre blew. And on the walk back, the heavens opened.

They ended up running back to Watery Lane, which by now was living up to its name, huddled under Finn’s coat as best they could.

“Oh my gosh. You’re soaked, Finn”

“I’m alright”

“You need to put summat dry on before you get chilled. You look like you went for a swim in the canal”

“You don’t look much better”

“Oi!”

He laughed, smoothed his hair back, and then looked around to see if anyone was around. He gave a peak through the door to the office and could see the lamp on in Michael’s office but little else.

“Come on, I’ll get you something to change into”

“Trying to get my clothes off, Mr Shelby. For shame! On the first date”

“You’re the one who brought it up, missus”

Florence shrugged, taking his outstretched hand, following him up the staircase.

“Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. My cousin’s in his office but it’s still early so…”

“Will Polly be alright with me being in here?”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She likes you”

“It’s different, though”

“Sorry about the mess, didn’t think we’d be coming back or I would have put stuff away”

“No, it’s fine. I have a brother, remember, I’ve seen a damn sight worse”

Finn went around grabbing clothes of the floor, kicking bits under the bedframe, pushing drawers shut.

“Right, uh. This is clean, I promise”

He handed her over a shirt and she laughed under her breath, tugging it between her teeth so her hands were free to unbutton the back of her dress. After a few goes, she dropped the fabric from her mouth and caught it, holding it to her chest.

“Can you…my fingers are too cold, I can’t get these properly”

“Uhh…oh yeah”

Florence turned her back to him, flicking her head round to look over her shoulder a few times nervously. He trailed her hair over one shoulder, then set about unhooking the buttons through their loops, fingertips trailing over the damp skin peering through the opening in the fabric.

“Thanks”

“Yeah, sure…I’ll uh” He headed off to grab the door handle.

“You can just turn around, I trust you”

He’d never looked this deeply at a door in his life. A few more moments and he would be able to draw a fucking map of every line and nick in the paintwork. There was a soft shuffle of fabric, a whoosh of air as her dress hit the ground, and he swallowed, looking to his feet.

“Alright, I’m decent again”

He scratched his forehead, giving her a few extra seconds just in case, before he turned back to her. She was tucking her bare legs under her on the bed, her dress and stockings draped over the wire frame to dry.

“I’ll shove the fire on, it’ll dry them out faster”

“Oh, I’ll do it. You get something dry on”

He handed the matches over to her and she crawled off the other side of the bed towards the fireplace. He turned as quick as he could at the sight of a little more skin than he was prepared for.

He’d never been so self-conscious in his life, turning back to check she was pre-occupied about 20 times during his change.

“What time we on?”

“Uhh…it’s about half 8?”

“Oh, plenty of time then. Although…what are we going to do about getting me home without the car?”

“I can call one of the trucks off Tommy”

“So…” she stood and turned to him, arms fussing in front of her “what are we going to do now?”

-

They settled for pulling the blankets down off the bed and making a nest in front of the fire. Finn ran down to raid Polly’s cupboards and they ended up having a picnic in his room, cuddling up when they were full.

“Uhh…both”

“That’s not the game! You have to pick”

“No, I don’t”

Finn was lying with one arm behind his head, the other lying on the ground, Florence resting on it. She’d grabbed his hand and was playing with it by her shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

“Finn!”

“I-“

There was an echo of a door slamming from downstairs and Finn turned his head, listening. The rumble of voices and footsteps on the stairs got them both moving.

“Shit, is that your brothers?”

“Yeah, must be”

They looked around for somewhere for her to hide but save for crawling under the bed frame or standing behind a curtain, there was nowhere. Florence palmed at her dress hurriedly, scowling.

“It’s still too damp to put on, fuck”

“Try-“

The door opened before he could finish his thought and Tommy stood there, looking between them both. Florence fussed with the hem of Finn’s shirt, trying to pull it to cover a few extra inches of skin. Tommy rolled his eyes over to Finn, hand still on the door handle.

“Downstairs, Finn”

“Tommy-“

“Downstairs” He looked back over to Florence “Get your dress back on before Polly sees you”

“I can’t-it’s too wet. We were in the rain, I-“

“We got caught in the rain Tommy, that’s all. She needed something dry to wear”

Tommy’s eyes flicked between them both, and the blankets mussed up on the floor.

“I swear, Tommy”

“Where’s the car?”

“Other side of the factories. Tyre blew out, we never replaced the spare, so I couldn’t fix it”

“We had to run back through the rain. He never touched me, I promise. We’re just waiting for it to dry off and for you to come back with the truck so he could drive me home again”

Tommy nodded, looking back to Finn.

“Be thankful it wasn’t Polly who came home first, yeah”

“Yeah…thanks Tommy”

“Polly was fixing a dress for Ada – go and find it. She can wear that and I’ll drive her home while you fix the car”

“Tommy-“

“Thank you, Mr Shelby”

Finn looked over to Florence and she fixed him with a look that told him not to push his luck.

-

The drive back was awkward. Tommy was driving with Finn in the front and Florence in the back. It felt wrong to be wearing someone else’s dress, her own damp one bundled up in her lap. No one spoke.

He pulled the car over behind the other and stepped out to help Finn carry the tyre and bits over. He looked over the car carefully, checking to see if Finn had done any damage to it. Florence took the few moments, popped out of the backseat, and pulled Finn behind the cover of the car.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my goodnight kiss while I can”

She pushed up, smiling against his lips, and pulled his cap off his head to shield their faces from where Tommy was. She giggled when Tommy cleared his throat on the other side of the fabric and pulled back.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby”

“Goodnight, Miss Turner”

She handed the cap back to him, keeping her head down as she turned back to get in the car.

Tommy blew his smoke out, watching her climb back in, turning to Finn when she shut the door.

“Don’t scratch my car”

He climbed in and drove off, Florence sticking her tongue out at him through the back window until she disappeared out of sight. Finn watched her go with a smile, turning back to move the wheel.

“Ah, fuck”

-

@collecting-stories

@james-k-delaney

@thebakerstreetdragon

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@weirdnewbie

@bloode-money

@photograiphy-00

[one-boring-person]

Whose Side Are You On? (Part Three)

Terminator (1984) reader-insert.

Warnings: death, violence, blood imagery, mention of war

Context: (Y/n), Kyle and Sarah have their first run-in with the Terminator.

A/N: Again, I just really suck at descriptions 😅💛

Masterlist

As soon as we enter the brightly lit, cacophonous room, I feel disorientated, something in my head not quite able to compute the ranging sounds and heavy rhythms, my vision briefly blurring over as it corrects itself to adjust to this new environment. Around us, people are moving in time with each other, sweaty bodies pressing up against each other as they dance to this pounding music, the area bustling and uncomfortably busy, though we manage to get to what I know as the bar somewhat easily, given that people instinctively move out of the way of others. A strong reek of alcohol and sweat radiates from the throbbing crowd, the stench assaulting my nose harshly as we finally make it to the bar, barely able to hear ourselves think.

Subtly, I look over my shoulder at our target, locating her before turning back around, waving off the bartender as he comes over, completely unsure of what we'd order in any case, unfamiliar with the drinks on display. Instead, I stare at the entrance, staying like that for a good half hour as I watch more and more people arrive, though none of them seem to be the right one, apparently showing no real danger to the victim that is sitting a few metres behind me. I fiddle with the handgun in my pocket, running my fingers over the grip and stock, just to be familiar with it before I have to use it, my thumb flicking the safety off as it passes, the weight of the now-ready weapon reassuring in my pocket. We stand together for some time at the bar, not saying anything to each other, both too occupied with our own thoughts, until Kyle speaks up.

"You've got a gun, right?" He asks, looking down at my hand.

"Yeah, but I haven't got too much ammo." I affirm, my eyes remaining fixed on the entrance.

"Hopefully you won't need it just yet." He lowers his voice so he's whispering in my ear, " How about the...thing?"

My eyes flick to him.

"What do you mean?" I say, emotionless.

"Well, are you going to be ok, or is it gonna happen?"

"I'll be fine, thank you." I growl back, though I'm not totally assured of this myself, my hand instinctually coming up to run over the ghastly scar lining my face.

"Just making sure." Kyle reassures me, patting me briefly on the back as I return my gaze to the entrance, where something catches my attention.

"Hang on, look! He doesn't fit in with the rest of them...he's too...awkward." I point at a newcomer, a large, muscular man wearing an oversized grey jacket over a tight t-shirt, who's features are unrecognizable in the odd casting light. As if detached from the rest of the room, he steps through the crowd, eyes methodically roaming the faces present, his facial expression only now becoming recognisable.

His countenance is emotionless, as if dead and devoid of any feeling, which it most likely is, his huge stature easily parting the crowds. For a split second, his gaze finds Kyle and I, though it swiftly moves on when his homing device doesn't instantly recall our faces, making us both sigh in terse relief.

Initially, the newcomer walks past our target, just missing her as she bends to pick something up off the floor, though she then looks up to find Kyle watching her, freezing her in place. Naturally, this leaves her face exposed to the sight of the one person she should, in fact, avoid, the hulking figure making his way over to her, pulling a gleaming pistol from inside his jacket, the laser sight focused between her eyes with an unnatural accuracy.

Vaguely, I notice Kyle draw his sawn-off shotgun from under his coat, pushing and shoving confused people out of the way as he takes aim, cocking the gun and firing. As the gunshot splits the air, something behind my right eye whirs to life, my conscience suddenly fading as I slump forwards.

*

Beside Kyle, (Y/n) goes limp, body falling forwards slightly until her eyes suddenly snap open again. Instantly, her posture rights itself and she becomes rigid, expression blank as she pulls her handgun from her pocket, moving with military-style efficiency as she cocks it and takes aim, firing straight at her target, not reacting when he ducks out of the way.

"(Y/n), what that hell?!" Kyle screams at her as the bullet narrowly misses his head, eyes wide with confusion as he takes in the dead expression of his sibling. As she lifts the gun once more, however, it clicks in his head, a short burst of despair flaring to life inside him as he grits his teeth and slams his shotgun across her face.

Her body falls to the side, a dull crack coming from the impact point as she crashes into a nearby table, drawing the muscular figure's attention away from the terrified form of Sarah Connor and to the momentarily prone soldier a little way away. Seemingly disregarding the pain of being hit, (Y/n) climbs to her feet, gun now pointed at the guy across from her, eyes staring into each other as they watch each other, (Y/n) shooting into the broad torso without abandon until he falls back. As he goes, he shoots once at her, the round just grazing (Y/n)'s shoulder as it passes her, but there is no reaction at all. Instead, she turns back to Kyle, gun raised at him once more, eyes almost unseeing.

Behind them, the previously wounded man stands, expression just like that of (Y/n)'s showing no sign of pain whatsoever as he draws a quick-fire gun from under his coat, the bullets tearing through the air to (Y/n)'s left as he attempts to hit the fleeing Sarah Connor, only managing to catch someone running behind her. They fall to the floor, Sarah caught beneath the body of the dead runaway, the killer purposefully stepping over to her, weapon raised.

Upon seeing this, Kyle ducks out of range of the handgun pointed at his head, narrowly avoiding another bullet as he swiftly moves over to the entrance of the club, shouting at (Y/n) as she lets yet another bullet loose at him. Fortunately for him, that marks the last of her bullets, the soldier pocketing the gun and stepping forwards, eyes fixed on the retreating from of her sibling, only darkening when he lashes out with the shotgun again, cracking her across the face again. This time (Y/n) falls to the floor properly, body limp as her conscience leaves her, her head having hit a table corner on the way down.

Having dealt with one threat, Kyle turns his attention on Sarah Connor and the looming figure standing over her, his grip on the shotgun tightening as he lets loose into the clothed back of the seemingly invincible killer. Spinning on his heel, the tall man staggers backwards with every shot, falling out of the smashed window as each round smashes into him, leaving him sprawled on the pavement outside.

Going to Sarah's side, Kyle crouches down beside her, hand holding her arm gently as he tries to get her to move, eyes fixed on the body outside.

"Come with me if you want to live!" He snarls at her, hoping it will spur her on, though it's only when the man slowly sits upright again that she snaps out of her trance and scrambles to her feet, running after Kyle as he goes to leave, the soldier briefly stopping to scoop his sibling up into his arms as he goes.

Together, they race out of the building, leading their pursuer down a seemingly secluded backroad until they find a car which is already, conveniently, open, Kyle swiftly dumping (Y/n) onto the backseat as he uses the door as a shield, firing the shotgun at the gas tank under one of the cars a little way away, grimly standing again when the vehicle explodes. Harshly, he forces Sarah into the car with him, getting into the driver's seat and putting it into drive as he goes to pull away, only to curse when the guy suddenly appears on the bonnet.

The car tyres squeal loudly as he puts the vehicle in reverse, trying to throw the killer off with swerves and sharp movements, biting his lip when a fist is smashed through the windscreen, the hand instantly reaching for Sarah's throat. Thankfully, one particularly sharp twist manages to dislodge the man, sending him flying to the floor, the car quickly speeding away.

Part Four