#do you think the holes in his coat(?) were an afterthought and he just poked them through with his horns

[nono-uwu]

byakkomaru face reveal? 👉🏻👈🏻

Kbity

Idk I tried to make him a mash up of Raum and Marbas (from ch126) bc I still can't figure out which one is supposed to be Byakko and which one Gekkouin lmao and the colors just fuck it we ball. Also cat

[moral-turpitudes]

Butterflies 🦋: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of fighting, Gore, Blood, Mentions of Death, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, etc.

Word Count: 3,993

Summary: Y/N and Esmeralda are left to look after things and are planning for the wedding, meanwhile Bonnie and his father are on yet another perilous mission for Thomas Shelby.

Requested: Nah

A/N: I’ve worked on this in my drafts for days cuz my motivation has been super shitty recently so I hope this doesn’t suck as much as I think it does lol. I appreciate all the feedback on these fics and stuff though, it means the world. <3

Part 1 | Part 2

Aberama and Bonnie’s footsteps echoed over the expanse of hallowed ground, the leaves crunching as they walked through the brisk morning air, causing the hair on the back of their necks to stand on edge. In the distance Tommy and his brothers were standing near a tombstone, the thick fog eerily clearing where he stood as they got closer. He wore his usual dusty black coat and had his peaked cap sitting perfectly atop his head. 

“Now that you all are here, I say it’s about time we get this over with aye?” He asked, his icy gaze piercing Bonnie’s.

“Where are they Tom? Are we bait now?” Aberama asked, frustration lacing his voice.

“No. They told me to meet them here. If you look off to the distance they dug a grave, for us. We won’t go in there though, not today.” He said, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“Do you have your men positioned behind the trees?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. We have 5 men, not much but they’re good shots.” Bonnie said.

“Good.” Tommy said, turning around and scanning the tree line.

A shot rung out down near the grave suddenly, causing Tommy, his brothers, and Bonnie and Aberama to duck behind the nearby tombstones.

Tommy got his machine gun and loaded it expertly, taking aim where the shot came from as Aberama did the same. Bonnie looked out from the side of the decaying gray stone in front of him, his hands shaking slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John aim for someone to the side of them. John missed the first time, making him have to stop and reload. Without thinking, Bonnie quickly aimed and steadied his breathing, pretending it was similar to hunting for his own sake. He watched the mans movements in the distance like he would a deer, estimating the best angle and time to shoot.

With a single pull of the trigger, the bullet flew through the air and hit the man in the chest as he turned, giving Bonnie an easy shot in the end.

John looked back and nodded at him before aiming again, this time at the three men barreling towards them.

Aberama looked on as they came running and then stuck his finger in the air, moving it in a swift motion, signaling their men to shoot.

Shots rang out seemingly from all sides, as the three men tried to make it past the hail of bullets, but none of them escaped, falling with an audible thud on the near-frozen ground.

A whistle then came from the distance, giving the gruesome scene before them an eerie feeling.

“It’s those damn Billy Boys again... We have to take them out. Wait for my orders.” Tommy said, changing his clips and looking on ahead.

The Billy Boys sang loudly as they marched forward clutching their guns. The rest of the men from the troublesome gang were close behind them.

“I count 4 men from the gang, and 5 Billy Boys...” John said over their singing.

“Alright, Arthur you stay with me, Bonnie you take the right, Aberama you take the left. John you back Bonnie up.” He said, loading the last of the bullets into his machine gun.

With a deep breath Tommy got the unruly lead member, Jimmy McCavern, in his sights and steadied himself like he did in the war.

“In the bleak midwinter...” He muttered quietly under his breath, before taking his shot.

Back at the camp, Y/N and Esmeralda helped plan the wedding down to the last details. They excitedly talked about the food and music they’ll have and Bonnie’s younger sisters even helped Y/N learn some of the dances they traditionally did.

As the day went on, the sun started poking through the trees in dancing golden beams as they prepared lunch, adjusting the portions since most of the men were gone.

Y/N sat down and looked into the crackling flames of the bonfire, letting the warmth soothe her cold skin.

“You okay love?” Esmeralda said, a concerned look on her face as she stirred the kettle over the flames.

“Yeah...just worried ya know? It’s not easy being here without him.” Y/N said running her finger over the small diamond ring.

“They know what they’re doing. They’ll be back. If not, me and you will just have to go over there ourselves.” She said with a wink. Y/N smiled and gathered some bowls, finally working up a somewhat decent appetite after all the cleaning and wedding preparations earlier in the morning.

She and the remaining people there all sat around, talking about random things and discussing their plans for the wedding decorations and music, some asking her opinion, others excitedly showing her jewelry or clothing she could borrow.

“I’d get to resting if I were you Y/N who knows, they may be home later.” Esmeralda said, draping a blanket over your shoulders. She didn’t realize that she had been going nonstop all day, partly to relish in her excitement, and partly to take her mind off how her fiancé was off fighting in one of Thomas Shelby’s little battles.

“That’s true. I’ll go do that I guess...wake me if you need help.” Y/N said before going into the forest green vardo. Her head hit the pillow and she reluctantly closed her eyes, wanting to sleep but not wanting to wake later in fear of getting her hopes up.

Shots rang out in the graveyard, the cold air a bleak afterthought as the bullets pierced through the fog and into the men’s flesh.

Tommy ducked as Aberama took over, shooting two of the 5 Billy Boys. Meanwhile Arthur fought a fourth one who ran off towards the tree line. Jimmy struggled to breathe, choking on his own blood on the frozen dirt as the last of the Billy Boys ran towards Bonnie and John.

Bonnie shot quickly, aiming for the mans head, missing just by a hair. John then shot, hitting him in the shoulder. But before Bonnie could finish him off, he felt a sharp pain in his arm, blood trickling down as he stared at the smoking gun a few feet in front of him. John shot him dead while Bonnie retreated behind the tombstone for a moment to assess his wound. It was bleeding pretty badly and he hissed as the pain tore through his arm as he tied some cloth around it.

“Bonnie are you okay?!” His father yelled as he ran over to him and ducking by a nearby tombstone as well.

“Missed an artery but still bleeding pretty bad. He was a terrible shot, I’ll be fine.” He said, winking at his father slightly before checking the clip in his gun. Aberama took a long glance at him and then at the other 4 men who were no doubt doing business with the now-deceased Billy Boys.

They nervously ran towards Tommy who was aiming again and Aberama watched as Arthur stood in a bloody mess over the last of the Billy Boy bodies.

“Take them out.” Tommy yelled.

Aberama signaled again as Bonnie and John shot at the men, their shots piercing through two of them while the other two managed to almost get to Tommy, a bullet whizzing past his head before the pair were shot by the men in the tree line.

As the last of the bodies dropped, an eerie silence fell over Tommy and the rest.

They all worked together, painstakingly dragging the bodies to the grave that was dug, only to be stopped in their tracks by an odd object in the center of the hole.

“Stop! Don’t throw them in. Get back!” Tommy yelled.

“What is it Tom?” Arthur said as he watched his brothers gears turning frantically in his head.

“A bomb.” He said loudly.

“Everyone get back, do we have anything not valuable...and heavy?” He asked the group.

“We have our guns...but...we need them Tom.” John said.

“We can get more. Give them to me, every one of you.” He said.

Aberama reluctantly let his go, as did Bonnie and Tommy’s brothers followed suit.

Tommy gathered them all, including his in his arms and stood near the edge of the grave.

“Everyone go. Now.” He said.

“What? No of course not! Are you mad?” John yelled.

“Fucking go. That’s an order. Now!” He said, his eyes piercing his brothers.

They swallowed hard and took a look at their brother before running towards the fragile shelter of the tombstones with Aberama and Bonnie following.

Tommy took a few steps back, checking the weight of the guns in his arms before closing his eyes and whispering to himself once again, the images of Grace and Charlie playing in his mind before he got a running start, chucking the guns at the center of the hole and desperately running for his life.

In the 30 seconds it took for the guns to make an impact, the ground rumbled around the bodies of the men they killed and eventually erupted in a loud fiery boom, sending their limbs flying and Tommy slamming into the ground, covering his head in a desperate attempt to save himself.

As the dirt, debris, and blood fell down on him, the others watched nearby as the gross mixture rained down on them as well.

Tommy got up slowly, his ears ringing loudly and vision blurring as he held his arm, wincing at the deep cut that came from some of the debris.

“Fucking hell he’s alive...” John said in disbelief. Tommy always found a way to cheat death, in some twisted way.

As he limped slightly to the men, he lit a cigarette, bringing it to his muddy, blood stained lips.

“I’ll deliver your guns and your payment. Tell your men you all are free to go. Thank you for the help Mr. Gold.” He said looking at Aberama as blood dripped down his arm.

“They better be good guns because we’ll need them Mr. Shelby. Let us know when you need us and we’ll be there, if the pay is right of course.” He said.

“It’ll be right, you’ll see.” He said, before waving them off and inspecting his arm.

Bonnie and Aberama slowly walked off after saying goodbye, leaving the gory scene behind them as they walked through the damp grass, the sun glowing in the autumn afternoon. The fog had cleared, revealing the true mess they’d made.

“You’ll need to get that cleaned up before Y/N sees ya know...she’ll kick your ass.” One of their men said, chuckling.

“Oh I will. She’ll kick my ass regardless, because she hates that I’m gone.” He said.

“You’ll see her soon my boy, soon.” Aberama said as they walked down the muddy road and to their horses.

Y/N awoke to yet another empty spot beside her, making her heart drop slightly as she assumed the worst.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and stepping out of the vardo, she walked towards the bonfire which was going strong thanks to Bonnie’s sisters.

“They’re not back Y/N, don’t worry though they’ll be here I’m sure of-“ His younger sister started to say before being cut off by the sound of hooves in the distance.

“It’s them!” She said before getting up with her sister, including Esmeralda.

Y/N joined them as they walked towards the slightly worn path that lead out of the camp and waited. Her eyes darting between everyone. When the men stopped and got off their horses, and that’s when she saw him.

They were all covered in dirt and god knows what, blood and debris covering their hair and clothes. But he stood out amongst the men, having a bright red cloth wrapped around his arm.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she walked towards him quickly, hoping he wasn’t hurt too badly.

She didn’t say anything though, just ran into his arms, doing all she could not to hurt him.

“Told you I’d come back my love...” He said smiling down at her, exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, trying to look at his arm.

“Just a bullet to the arm, I’ll need to get it looked at though. I’m okay love I promise.” He said, looking into her eyes before bringing his lips to hers.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” She said, taking his hand and leading him to one of the logs near the bonfire.

“Sit here I’ll be back.” She said, getting a pail of water, some fresh cloth, and alcohol.

“Need any help?” Aberama asked, walking over as she laid the items out.

“Yes please.” She said grinning as she moved Bonnies sleeve out of the way and carefully unwrapped the blood soaked cloth.

“You have a knife?” Y/N asked.

“Always, here you go. Bonnie bite down on this cloth here alright?” He said shoving a dark cloth in his mouth.

Y/N had helped Aberama a couple of times before when some of the men came back from hunting or getting into fights, so she hoped she could at least dislodge a bullet.

She carefully used the tip of the knife to feel around, cutting a bit to fit her finger into the hole, grabbing the bullet quickly. Bonnie grunted in pain as she did so, and only got louder as she poured the alcohol into the wound.

“Here’s this, remeber that stitch I showed you dear?” Aberama asked. Y/N nodded and put the handle of the knife in her mouth, brows furrowing in concentration while she stitched him up.

She took the knife and cut a clean strip of cloth and tied it around his arm, wiping her hands in the water as she did her hands of the crimson mess. Bonnie took the cloth out of his mouth and composed himself a bit as he watched her clean up and come back with another bowl of water and soap.

“Sorry my love, I know that hurt.” She said caressing his cheek.

“It’s alright, I’m glad you helped me out lord knows no would’ve bled out if we didn’t get back soon.” He said.

“I know...do you want to talk about it?” She asked, bringing the wet cloth to his face, clearing it of all the dirt and blood.

“I don’t want to cause you any stress love. But I’m here and that’s all that matters.” He said, drying his face and hands and then bringing Y/N in close.

“Did you all have fun planning the wedding?” He asked.

“Yes! I think you’re going to love what we’ve picked out. I also learned some of the dances thanks to your sisters...” Y/N said looking up at him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Oh really? Do you think you could take on my dad? He’s the best dancer of us.” He said chuckling.

“I’ll have to bribe him to dance huh. This will be fun...I can’t wait to marry you Bonnie Gold.” Y/N said kissing him as the sun set over the flames of the fire, the night growing colder as time went on.

“Let’s get some sleep love, you need it. We have a big day tomorrow.” She said winking at him, getting up and carefully walking to their vardo.

Bonnie smiled and got up, following behind her and up into the vardo where the warm bed awaited them.

The birds chirped loudly the next morning, stirring Y/N awake. She ran her hand over her small bump while looking out the little window, her eyes going to the new sights before her. She giggled to herself as she got up carefully, slipping on her robe and slippers before stepping out of the vardo.

“Have you been up all night decorating?” She asked, a playful grin on her lips as she questioned Esmeralda who was finishing up throwing petals on the ground.

“What...? No....” She said, giggling as Y/N came over, giving her a hug.

“It looks beautiful. Thank you so much for all this...” Y/N said looking at the lamps placed all around the cleared open space, the only things out were wooden seats set up with the petals all over the ground, and a small platform that was covered in various flowers.

“Now I know Bonnie is asleep, but I wanted to help you get ready for the big day, and I don’t want him to see you until it’s time to say “I do” alright? He’ll be so surprised it’ll be great.” Esmeralda said excitedly.

“Should I wake him at least?” Y/N asked as Esmeralda led her to her vardo.

“No. Aberama will take care of him, you’ll be with me alllll day!” She said, having Y/N sit on her bed while she got out a dress. It was a white lace dress that flowed almost down to the floor.

“Wait you want me to wear that? Is...isn’t that...” Y/N trailed off.

“The one you saw in Small Heath? Yes. I remember when we went to the shops just looking around for fun. And well, you’ll know why I got it, soon.” She said mischievously.

“Oh I love it! I can’t believe it. Oh my I’ll pay you back I swear it.” Y/N said giving her a hug.

Esmeralda giggled as she broke from her embrace to help Y/N slip on the dress. She zipped it up and led her over to a small mirror where she could move it around to see it at various angles. It hugged her small bump which was slightly more prominent now unlike in her other loose fitting clothes.

“I’m gonna be racking my brain all night for how you got this just so you know. This is fucking beautiful.” Y/N said twirling around slightly.

“Bonnie will love it. We got him a suit too. You’ll see.” She said winking. After Y/N got situated she sat patiently while the girls did her hair and makeup, giving her a bold red lip.

After they finished that, Y/N helped them get all dressed up as well in various colored dresses and jewelry.

“Here, I forgot these.” One of the younger sisters said, pinning gold earrings to Y/N’s ears and placing a gold necklace around her neck. It complimented the dress nicely, the suns rays bouncing off the jewels and the sparkling dress.

After one more look in the mirror she felt tears prick at her eyes, threatening to fall. She felt beautiful for the first time in so long, and she was so excited to start this new chapter, never thinking she’d make it this far because of her past home-life. She sighed, thinking about how her parents should be there, but she looked at the women before her and realized she had all the family she needed right there in this small forested area, and she couldn’t be happier.

“You okay?” Esmeralda said rubbing her back lightly.

“Yeah...I’m just so excited, and happy, it’s also a bit terrifying if I’m honest.” She said wiping her eyes gently, not wanting to ruin her makeup.

“This is going to be one of the best nights of your life Y/N, just wait.” She said giving her a reassuring hug.

“I don’t know where I’d be without any of you. I love you guys so much.” Y/N said smiling and hugging them before taking a deep breath and stepping out of the vardo.

She felt the cool ground on her feet, not wanting to wear heels as they’d just sink in the damp earth. She was carefully led behind the vardo to an elaborately colored curtain that hung between two of the trees. Esmeralda placed a string of flowers in her hair before going to her seat, and she saw Aberama in a nice suit walking up to her.

“Are you ready?” He asked, a gentle smile playing across his lips.

“Yes.” She said quietly, nervously holding onto his arm as he walked her through the curtain and down towards the flower covered platform.

Some of the people who lived in the camp played instruments as she walked, the music filling the air as she looked out and saw all of the people she’s gotten to know there over the past year, and saw Tommy and the other blinders among the guests, watching her as she made her way to Bonnie. She looked at him with a huge grin as he watched her walk with his father up onto the platform, the blinders friend Jeremiah acting as the officiant off to the side of them. Aberama let go of her arm and hugged her gently and patted Bonnie on the back before heading to his seat.

“You look absolutely beautiful my love.” He said smiling down at her.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” She said looking up at him, her eyes searching his.

As Jeremiah concluded the ceremony, everyone cheered, the loud music consuming their ears as they kissed.

They then waded through the small crowd, Bonnie introducing Y/N to various people he knew that came in from other areas. But Y/N had a sneaky suspicion whilst chatting with them. Tommy was eyeing them in the distance as she spoke to some of Bonnies friends, making her a bit uneasy. She knew he wasn’t as bad as he had been made out to be, but she couldn’t help feel nervous and Bonnie could tell.

“Hey let me introduce you to them better than I did last time aye?” He said taking her hand and leading her over to them. Tommy’s face faltered from his usual grimace to a warm smile as they approached.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gold....congratulations.” He said shaking Bonnies hand and kissing the top of yours.

“I told you we’d pay you back right...didn’t I Aberama?” He asked playfully, eyeing Aberama as he stood next to her.

“Indeed, thank you for everything, Mr. Shelby.” He said before excusing himself.

Esmeralda came over shortly after, making the interaction less awkward.

“Thank you so much Mr. Shelby. The dress, the lights, everything’s beautiful!” She said winking at Y/N.

“Wait....” Y/N said, as she looked at Tommy with a genuine smile, surprised he’d help them with something like this.

“I should be thanking you as well Mr. Shelby, I don’t see why you went to the trouble though. That was very thoughtful.” She said.

“Your husband and father in law have helped me a lot recently with the business as you know, and I figured I’d give our best fighter something as a bit of a thank you. Don’t worry about paying anything back though love, I insist you keep the dress, for memories sake.” He said.

Y/N grinned as she looked up at Bonnie who held her hand in his. As the night drug on, you two departed from the Shelby’s and went to the source of the music, nervously stepping out with him to dance.

“Oh I’m so nervous...what if I fall?” Y/N said, clutching onto his hand as he spun her around. His sisters were near her dancing like they’d taught her.

“I’ll catch you.” He said before picking up the pace with the beat, everyone cheering as they both danced near the bonfire. Y/N remembered to transition to the other people and so she went to Esmeralda who giggled as they danced around, linking arms with each other and then eventually made her way back to Bonnie.

“Bon...?” She said, smiling up at him.

He grinned at her, her eyes sparkling as the sun set around them.

“Yeah?”

“I...I mean-we love you. Always will...” She said as she caressed his cheek, the music slowed down as their movements came to a stop.

“I love you both too, more than all the stars in the sky.” He said.

The small crowd cheered as they shared a kiss, ending the dance as the light died down around them, surrounded only by family and friends and the sparkling night sky above.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed from the Bonnie Gold tag list just shoot me an ask!) :)

@bonniesgoldengirl, @peakyrogers, @ta-ka-shi-ma

[chasingforeverandaday]

Can I ask for #23 from the fluff writing prompts please? “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (boy/girl/person) I barely know.” I mean, it’s just screaming gendrya at me! Thank you!

Well, how does some Regency era AU sound? This one ended up a full on one shot, because I fell down a rabbit hole real fast. Also I got to write Robb, which was super fun because I never write Robb. He may be a bit out of character, but I feel like if any of the Stark siblings would understand Arya’s conflict of love and duty, it would absolutely be Robb.

half agony, half hope

There are times that Gendry Waters thinks his life would be so much simpler if he’d ever actually learned how to say no to Miss Arya Stark, sister to the Lord of Winterfell. He can stall her in her impulsivities yes, or can sometimes talk her around to his point of view on a matter, but straight up denying her when she looks up at him with those big grey eyes and the pout he always wishes to kiss from her lips?

Stronger men than him would capitulate without question.

Stronger men have.

So when she barges into his smithy one June morning, he steels himself for whatever new (potentially scandalous) misadventure she has in mind for them. But the stricken look on her face as she quietly requests that he close up early and meet her in his personal quarters ignites a panic in his belly, and he hustles the other customers out as quickly as he can after she leaves.

Door locked and forge cooled for the day, he hurries through washing up and finds her in his rooms, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. He can see the exact moment she notices his presence, as her head whips around to his and her face crumples. Terror seizes in his veins and he crosses the room in two strides to pull her into his arms.

She doesn’t fight him, just lets herself be held for a moment before wrapping her arms around his waist so tightly he thinks she’ll never let go. A shudder passes through her slim frame, then one hand reaches up to bend his neck downwards, her mouth seeking his.

Gods know he’d be happy to kiss her forever, but something must have shaken Arya badly for her to show up unannounced and ask him to abandon his work. Pulling away to lean his forehead against hers, he asks, “Love, what’s wrong?

A tiny voice he’s never associated with Arya Stark whispers, “How quickly can you be ready to leave?”

“What?” Utterly bewildered, he pushes her back farther so he can read her face, but she just burrows her face into his neck, clinging onto him like a limpet. Cautiously, he moves them to his narrow bed, sitting on the edge as she falls into his lap, all the while never letting him go.

She looks up at him then, eyes a little harder, a little more sure as she takes his hands in hers. “Run away with me. Gendry, please, we need to go, and it needs to be as soon as possible.”

“I don’t understand, I thought we had more time, that I had more time to…” Prove myself worthy of you, let myself learn to let you go, something, anything but be forced to watch you choose between me and your family.

“My mother’s invited suitors from houses Frey, Dayne, and Arryn to Winterfell, and I heard her tell Robb earlier that she won’t be letting me reject all of them.” Turning away as she speaks, Arya curls into him more, making herself look even smaller if that were even possible. “She intends to have me wedded and bedded by the end of the summer, seems to think it will curb my more unladylike tendencies.”

“Arya, you’re only twenty two for gods’ sake. She can hardly be that desperate to be putting you on the shelf already!” Almost as an afterthought, he mumbles into her hair, “And I like your unladylike tendencies.”

A sad smile on her face, Arya cups his cheek with her palm as she stays seated in his lap. “I know you do. I think she just wants me to be someone else’s problem now. Besides, all my siblings but Rickon have made good matches and are married. But what my mother said isn’t the important part.”

There’s a subtle shift in her voice as she draws herself fully upright, the pain replaced by something a little more hopeful. She’s finally looking at him again, her grey eyes searching his.

“Because Robb…” she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking him straight in the eye. “Robb told her he thought I should have more of a choice. He said that yes, I should marry, but that it didn’t have to be one of them. He told her that none of them would make me happy, and that I should marry a man who made me smile, not grimace every time I looked at him.”

Rubbing a hand up and down her back, Gendry cannot help but wonder, “That’s good, even I know that’s a good thing, but why…?”

“Because Robb walked out of his study and found me standing there, pale as a ghost I’m sure. He took me back to my room, and he told me that he thought I shouldn’t be forced to marry a man I didn’t love.” One of her hands comes to rest over his heart, fluttering rapidly at her touch. “Somehow, he knew about you and me, because then he told me he’d been thinking about commissioning you for some ironwork around the estate, and perhaps I could go to town to speak with you about it, since neither he nor Bran could do so today.”

The pieces fall together, and a little of Arya’s hope finds a home with Gendry. “So you think he’s giving us his blessing, and we’re running away.”

“I know he is, he just can’t come out and say it because of who he is.” Threading her fingers through his own, Arya holds their clasped hands together like a talisman, pressing a light kiss to the back of his before looking up with a smile. “We’re going to Gretna Green, and we’re going to get married like we’ve wanted to for three years, and then I’m going to actually learn how to keep a house and run your smithy, and we’re going to be happy, Gendry, so incredibly happy.”

“Aye, in our tiny little home with two rooms and no grand paintings or pianos or anything fancy like what you have up at Winterfell.” He knows that Arya says she has no care for those things, but he needs to remind her of the difference in their standing, just one last time before they make this choice that will alter their lives forever.

“Stupid boy,” she giggles, poking him in the nose with the first true grin he’s seen on her face this afternoon, “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a manor with some person I barely know. I mean, ideally we live somewhere with a forge for you, but as long as you’re with me, I’m hardly going to be picky.”

Bending down, Gendry allows himself to brush a quick kiss to her lips, a promise made without words. “Give me a few days, so I can finish up my orders and get everything ready so I can leave. Just don’t say yes to any other proposals, and we’ll be saying our vows in a fortnight.”

-/-/-

A sennight later, as she prepares her horse for the journey as surreptitiously as she can, the stable door creaks open. Terrified that it will be that one stablehand who always tells her mother when she leaves the estate without asking permission, Arya hides in the shadows of Nymeria’s stall, peeking out into the center aisle into the hazy, pre-dawn light.

It’s Robb, carefully shutting the door behind him. He walks straight up to her hiding place and holds out his hand to her, a small smirk on his face. “Come out sister, we’ve not much time to waste.”

Slowly, she leads Nymeria out of the stall, fingers tightly gripping her reins. Her brother looks older than she’s ever seen him before. He looks like a lord in a way he never has before, one with the world weighing on his shoulders. But then her eyes meet his, and he smiles at her, and Robb is her big brother once more.

Dropping Nym’s reins, Arya throws herself into his arms, trusting that he will catch her implicitly. She’ll miss this, she thinks, having a brother she knows she can depend on.

When they finally pull away, Robb reaches up to wipe a tear she hadn’t even noticed from her eye. “There now, this won’t be the last time we see each other, little sister. Besides, one would think you’d be happier to be heading off on such a grand adventure with your blacksmith.”

Laughing wetly, she replied, “I am, trust me, I am anxious to start our lives together, I just…” here she shrugged, fidgeting her hands as she tried to gather the words to express herself. “This is the last time I’ll be in Winterfell as Arya Stark, or maybe ever if Mother reacts the way I think she will when she finds out. I’ll miss it here, even when Gendry and I have a new home. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“You’ll always have a home here, for as long as I’m the lord. Probably after too, as you and I both know you’re Little Ned’s favorite auntie. But I think you’ll be far happier living wherever you and your husband end up than you would locked up in a London townhouse with whatever ponce our Mother has handpicked for you.” The disgusted face he made at his own words made her smile again, which she knew was exactly why he’d done so in the first place.

Serious again, Robb placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as he said, “I’ve grown to love Jeyne, I have, but I’ve never looked at her the way your Mr. Waters looks at you, or you look at him, and neither has Sansa’s husband. You’re incandescently happy whenever you’re near him, and I can always tell when you haven’t spoken to him in days because you’re so quiet, like you’re holding in all of your thoughts until you can share them with him.”

He sighed before continuing in a soft tone, “If you hadn’t found him, hadn’t fallen in love, then I would try to arrange a marriage for you that could lead to your overall happiness in life. But you did. You fell in love years ago, and I’m glad that at least one of us gets to experience that joy in this lifetime.”

Moving to hold her hand in his left, he reached with his right into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. “This is the information for the accounts I’ve had set up in your name in London.” He placed it in her hand and looked her square in the eyes. “You may not be marrying with a proper trousseau, but this way you won’t be entering this marriage without your dowry. You don’t need to worry about Mother’s reaction either, I’ll take care of it. Jon will meet you in Scotland, I’ve already sent him an express explaining everything.”

Shocked at all the things he had thought of and put in place for her, Arya could only manage to sob, “Robby, I…” before hugging him again.

Her brother pulled her close once more, placing a kiss on her brow before pulling away. “I love you, and I’m sorry I cannot do more. Be happy, Arya. Be happy and one day when we’re old and grey, you’ll tell me stories of all your adventures with the man I know you love and the adorable little children I’m sure you’ll have. Now go, the tasks I set for James cannot take much longer, and you have quite the ride ahead of you.”

With that, Robb helped her onto her horse and led her outside as the sun rose. After he let her go, Arya pushed Nymeria into a trot, determined to make her way to the closed smithy before the people of Wintertown fully awoke. She only let herself look back once, barely able to see the figure of her brother as he waved her off into her future.

[squidpro-quo]

A/N: Here’s your gift for the @dcmkkaishinexchange @icarusdg! I tried to do some angst so I hope it turned out okay. After seeing the trailer for the new movie 23, I felt like Kaito was due for a banging up :P

With twelve hours left, Shinichi’s head is throbbing.  The puzzle and intrigue of it is maddening and every thought that finds a clue or a track to go down inevitably ends up derailed. Twenty-four hours ago, when it all started with a simple calling card embossed with a black logo it had been a chance, a trail for them to follow at the very least and if he had anything to say about it he’d have given anything to be further along it than he was now. The seconds tick by, drumming against his mind, a reminder of how he’s getting nowhere. He wants it all to be over, the mystery solved and the one responsible in custody somewhere far away from him. Most of all, he wants Kaito back.

~*~

At eleven hours left, an officer steps into the precinct’s chaotic mess of a reception area and Shinichi immediately sees the way her eyes shift across the room to Inspector Nakamori. He tails the woman as she heads into the foray of bustling task force agents and perpetually ringing phones. The scowl on Nakamori’s face twitches up a notch when he sees Shinichi standing at his shoulder again, but the brief moment before he’s ordered back to the mandatory rest area affords him a look at what the officer brought. Another calling card, this time with a note scrawled in neat letters across the back: It’s time to pay the pipers.

~*~

Shinichi’s halfway across town when melodious bells chime throughout the city, leaving him with ten scant hours before the deed is to be done. He doesn’t bear thinking about the other deed, the one that might already be done, and whether he’ll be too late even if he beats time in the end. How much time has he wasted trying to think through the details of the case without knowing the full picture?

For now, he’ll have to settle for simply doing something. The streets are washed with neon lights half a block away from his destination while the entrance is flooded with flashing signs and the glitter of jewels on the visitors’ every limb. Shinichi adjusts his bowtie, sidestepping the attendant at the front with a haughty wave, and enters the Leaping Lord’s Casino.

It aches to see a place where Kaito would have loved to come. Certainly not for a traditional visit, losing at the tables or flushing money down the cards, but rather to put his tricks to use, put on a performance in the most dazzling place for a mile just to see what he could pull out of his sleeves. Instead, Shinichi sees his absence in every dealer’s flick of the wrist.

~*~

It’s a few minutes into the ninth hour when he manages to slip past the guards outside a gilded pair of double doors. Closing his watchface, he doesn’t flinch at the blade pressed to his neck by a slim girl of fifteen. The only reason he’s still alive is because the Lady is sitting forward in her mink fur coat and regarding him with shrewd jade green eyes while the smoke from her Sobranie drifts between her lips.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Information. On where the Pipers have their base.”

“And why would I ever bother to give you that?” The Lady leans back in her chair, face set in a manner of one who likes to watch the faces of those who gamble their lives.

“I will leave without saying a word of what you do.” Shinichi’s heart doesn’t hammer any faster knowing of the threat that sits in the Lady’s gaze, it’s already heavy with the absence of what he’s trying to find.

“Very well.” She knows he’s put his chips on a losing number anyway. Anything she’ll try to do to him later is an afterthought, all that matters to him is how much closer he is to finding Kaito now.

~*~

He checks his watch for the fiftieth time and watches as the precious minutes of his eighth hour dwindle away. Taking a taxi had been the fastest way here, but it had still been far too long a ride for his taste. The cold bricks of the Milkmaid warehouse scrape his arms as he climbs the side to peek in through the shattered pane of a window. Tarry blackness stares back.

The door creaks with his entrance, but there’s no one to hear it in between the rows of stacked crates and rubbish piles building in the corners.

~*~

Just as the first seconds of his seventh hour beat a cruel, relentless march, he finds it under a pile of rubble, the corner peaking out still as white as a swan’s wing. Marred by streaks of ugly dark brown bleeding along the hem, the rest of the cape is torn and dirty, but none of it matters when his fingers poke through ragged holes around its center.

It was the illusion, as it always was with Kaito, that ended up blinding him to what was going on behind the trick and the glamour. The heists had been for some purpose, he’d figured that out early on, but the real reason —the real threat— that drove Kaito to keep pulling everyone’s gaze with his dazzling white was only made known when he’d seen the flash of a muzzle and the familiar shadowy shapes that he knew dogged his own footsteps.

Death and blood didn’t fit onto Kaito’s stage and with it pushed to the wings, that was where it struck from instead.

~*~

His sixth hour feels like a fruitless wild goose chase. Calling in the police was the right move, he knows it though it’s hard to believe when watching the squads of officers filling the warehouse with bright lights and incoherent shouting. He thinks of the cape buried in the dumpster a few blocks away, heavy with secrets and blood.

He leaves, avoiding Nakamori’s haggard figure at the epicenter of the bustling. The thought of what he’s missing, what fragment he lacks that makes the puzzle whole, drives him to keep moving, keeping still only makes him sink down. He’s solved so many cases before with a clear head and a sharp mind, but this one brings with it a cloudy haste that blankets his every action and idea.

~*~

The fifth hour rings out unexpectedly as he crosses the street, the tolling reverberating down from above him. He doesn’t know how or why he ended up here, but the rush of memories is a bittersweet tide as he tilts his head back to look at the clocktower. It had been a lot of firsts, the first time he’d seen KID, challenged him, crossed him, and, he knows it began then, admired him. It was the start of coming to see what Kaito did, really did, and why, because as much frustration and awe as he produced in everyone watching, because you couldn’t watch without being pulled into the energy of it all, there was always more to see behind every trick and smile.

Shinichi stands frozen on the sidewalk in the dead streets in the ethereal hour before dawn, considering the past, both distant and recent. All the events of the last day run through his mind again in disjointed fragments held together with barely a thread. He’d started spiraling as soon as he discovered Kaito gone and it has been pulling him apart ever since.

If he wants to find him, he needs to do his job.

Setting a faint hunch as his destination, Shinichi steps off the curb and starts to think. There had been small explosions set off in the subway stations of the outskirts of the city for the past few weeks. They had all been classified as the work of pipe bombs; each site was littered with small charred pieces of confetti: the remains of wrapping paper.

There were plenty of places to set the bomb that the Pipers had heralded as the finale the night before, but how would they decide where to put it?

Hit by a thought, Shinichi starts to run.

~*~

At the last minute of his fourth hour, he looks up to see the black shapes of the morning’s first birds circling in the sky above. The streets start to fill, commuters appearing from every apartment building and side alley in a growing rush towards the station entrance ahead.

~*~

The third hour’s first minute sees him come close to tripping down the steps of the colloquially known ‘French Hen’ Station, so named for the comically puffed up bird statue that sits atop the gate leading down. It’s a struggle to reach the platform without bowling anyone over, but as soon as he climbs down into the tunnel he shuts out any shouts of warning and delves into the dark.

A train speeds by after ten minutes, shrieking over the rails in dizzying flashes of light too close for comfort. It becomes a pattern, searching the enclosing darkness for any signs and waiting for the cold wind that blows as warning. It’s not long before the blackness reaching in on every side starts to swim before his eyes, playing with the shapes of things and creeping behind him. He doesn’t notice as he looks over his shoulder for the fifth time, but he rubs the bridge of his nose to ease the headache spreading behind his temples. He spent the entire time running from place to place, thinking he’d thought of something that would bring Kaito back but what he’s gained for his efforts is simply desperation and a sleepless night.

~*~

He walks into yet another sharp wire, feels the prick of it against his ankle, and moves to step over it without glancing down.

It pricks him again, this time on the other ankle, and lets out a soft coo. The meager beam of his watchlight falls on two pairs of beady black eyes, watching him with heads tilted and feathers fluffed.

Seeing his stillness, the two doves take flight in a rustle of wings and dive into a dark alcove set back from the track. Shinichi stumbles after them heedless of the gravel sliding under his feet as long as he can keep the birds in sight.

It’s soft cursing he hears first. The huddled shape that materializes out of the darkness is what finally makes Shinichi’s knees give out, dropping to Kaito’s side with hands already pulling him forward. Something hard shifts between them, poking into his shoulder.

“Shinichi, I’m great at many things but diffusing a bomb is not one of them.” Kaito buries his nose in Shinichi’s hair, letting out a ragged breath. “Not to mention two of them.”

“I know some people who can help,” Shinichi admits, not letting go until he’s run his hand along Kaito’s back. “You weren’t shot?” The thought alleviates a worry.

“They did their best, but only scored with more… short-range options.”

Shinichi finally pulls back, looking at Kaito’s haggard, if smiling face, and takes in the bruise blooming along his temple underneath the fringe of his hair. The vest he’s wearing is flashing red, the silent countdown inching lower and lower.

Shinichi doesn’t let go of Kaito until they’re safely above ground, policemen thronging the scene for the third time that day. Kaito’s doves nest on their shoulders, slumbering in the blanket covering them both. Their last hour never came, leaving them with all the time in the world instead.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Soft Names, Soft Touches

Chapter Two

Previous Chapter 

Pairing: Bucky x OC | Word Count: 2.6k+

Warnings: Swearing. Violence. Russian that may or may not be correct. Angst. Mild sexual content.

Franki woke to the soft sound of beeping and had an instant heart-stopping moment of panic before a strong hand squeezed her own. Her eyes snapped open and darted to the person sitting beside her bed and finding Natasha filled her with relief that she wasn’t back there. Back in the hell hole the Avengers had pulled her out of. “Sestra,” she murmured, calling Nat sister and causing the redhead to smile.

“Sestrenka,” Nat replied with little sister, a smirk twitching her lips. “You gave us all a fright.” Especially one large, metal-armed supersoldier but she kept that knowledge to herself for the moment.

Sitting up, Franki looked down at her air cast coated leg and sighed. “Steve is going to chew my ass out for this.”

“He’s going to have to stand in line.” Seeing her best friend and heart sister sit up was all Natasha needed to unleash the anger living inside her. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed yourself, Franki! You took a swan dive out a seventh-floor window onto a concrete roof and expected to what, just get up and walk away? God! I just want to smack you so hard!”

Blinking, surprised by the vehemence, Franki had to take a moment to catch up. “Natasha,”

“No! No way,” The fired up redhead waved her hands and paced back and forth at the foot of Franki’s bed. “You don’t get to speak, not yet.” Stalking back around to stand before the brunette with the sickeningly perfect mane of hair, Nat gripped her by the shoulders and wasn’t offended when she flinched. Holding her tight, she jerked the other woman forwards and hugged her hard. “You are not expendable. You are not allowed to throw your life away because you feel nothing! You may not feel your pain, but the rest of us do, dammit! You are not some afterthought that we picked up one day in China. You’re part of this team, part of our family, and if you don’t stop pulling this bullshit I will see that Steve and Fury bench you!”

Gasping softly, Franki recoiled at Nat’s words. “You think that I... that I am trying to hurt myself?”

Sighing, Nat plopped down beside her. “Sometimes… yeah.” Taking the brunette’s hand, Natasha held it between her own. “Franki, I’ve seen you take blows you could easily have avoided. I’ve listened to your bones break, watched your bruises heal, your skin knit back together as if the damage was never done. You take unnecessary risks. You fight like your life doesn’t matter. Only the job. Always the job. Sometimes… you scare me, sestrenka.”

A second sharp gasp left Franki’s lungs. She had scared Natasha, the Black Widow. The one all the girls in the Red Rooms had been told was the best. The fearless one. Franki had caused the strongest woman she knew to admit to fear. It broke something inside her to hear those words. “Klubnika,” she whispered, heart aching. “I did not realize…”

“Yeah, well, cut that shit out,” Natasha grumbled, a small smirk twitching her lips, a tiny flush of red in her cheeks announcing her embarrassment at admitting something so personal. “I mean it, Franki. You are important to me, to us. We feel your pain, even if you don’t.” Patting her hand, the redhead stood from the bed and gave in to the need to grin coyly. “Some of us more than others.”

Franki looked at her confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a large metal lug has been lurking, waiting for you to wake up.” Natasha snickered when Franki blushed.

“Oh, god,” she whispered, fingers going to her lips as everything she’d said to him before she’d passed out came screaming back. “I’m so stupid.”

Natasha was quick to sit back down. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Klubnika, I did something very foolish.” Franki whispered, “I don’t know what came over me. I gave him his soft name.”

“No!?” Nat gasped, wanting to shriek for joy. “You called him snegopad?” It was an unknown fact that Franki had soft names for all of them. Wanda knew hers because it was impossible to keep anything from Wanda. Clint and Natasha’s were well used, though Sam had only called her strawberry once before Nat had thoroughly handed him his ass in the training ring, but all of them had her little soft names. Franki just kept them close to her heart, rather than dolling them out.

Steve was belyy rystar’, the white knight, an honourable leader that she was happy to follow. Wanda was blesk, a brilliant sparkle, and Nat thought it suited the Scarlet Witch well, as did Wanda who always blushed in pleasure when Franki used it. Sam was lovko, slick, for his smooth talking ways. Franki would always just roll her eyes and walk away. She loved him like a brother, but he was the little annoying one that did too much talking. Scott had earned his, obayatel’nyy, for being exactly what he was, sweetly charming and a charlatan at the same time. Franki had pegged him, and the Ant-Man hadn’t stood a chance.

Tony was kotenok, kitten, and Nat wasn’t sure how the Iron Man had garnered such a name, but he was excessively arrogant, kind of like a loud-mouthed Siamese who had moments of swift activity but could also spend hours doing nothing. On second thought, Nat found it was kind of perfect. Peter, the little spider, had become lapochka, sweetie pie because he truly was. Plus, he was too damn young and innocent for any other name. And Vision was myshka, little mouse because he was as quiet as one and moved without noise, appearing and disappearing without warning. Fury was nachal’nik, boss man, though he spent little time with them now.

Both Bruce and Thor hadn’t been around as much, Franki unable to make a decision on their soft names as she just didn’t know them very well. Thor was stuck in Asgard, dealing with the fallout from his brother’s latest escapade, and Bruce was, well, he was being Bruce and had disappeared again. The Hulk had been more present in his day to day life than ever before and, though he accepted the other guy was part of him and not something he was ever going to get rid of, sometimes he just needed to disappear into a rainforest or the wilderness of some remote area to find a little balance again.

Focusing back on Franki, Nat let her grin widen at her rapidly reddening friend. “And!?”

“And what? I passed out!” She flopped backwards over the bed and felt a mild hitch in her breathing. “Did I break ribs, too?”

“Ribs, leg, punctured your femoral artery and bruised a kidney.”

Nat’s voice was hard and full of disapproval, but Franki ignored it in favour of sitting back up. “Shit.” She’s was going to be out at least three days before she was back to fighting strength.

“Forget that. What are you going to do about Bucky?” Nat said, poking her in the shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t just do nothing!”

The screech was enough to have her flinching. “Nat,” she sighed when the redhead glared at her. “I think I have embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime.”

“It is a soft name! You know the others all want one.” It was a bone of running contention that only she and Clint, allegedly, had them.

“Nat… my mouth ran away with my brain. I told him why!” Franki almost wailed. Using her enhanced hearing to make absolutely certain they were alone before telling her friend all that had happened in the quinjet before passing out. Nat’s wicked smirk and glee filled giggle made Franki growl, “Not funny, Natasha! I practically mauled the man!”

“It’s hilarious!” Franki was never so vocal or so outgoing. She was very contained and to tell Bucky all she had, wow! But to initiate touching… it was unheard of.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Franki sighed. “It was like my mouth had a will of its own that my fingers followed.”

“Well you did have a severe head injury at the time,” Natasha scoffed.

“Oh. Must have been when I was hit with that chair…” she trailed off at Nat’s look of exasperation. The agent had rung her bell with the blow causing her vision to swim but, like all injuries, she had powered on.

“Franki…” Nat sighed but refused to get sidetracked. “You should take a chance and talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“You know why I can’t.” Franki murmured, rubbing her temples. She didn’t have your traditional kind of headache, but there was pressure behind her eyes that was playing havoc with her vision. It was a stress thing, she knew, but it didn’t make it any less annoying or easier to calm herself.

“Franki, you won’t know you can’t tolerate his touch if you never try.” Retaking her hand, Natasha squeezed it gently. “You have grown used to my touch.” And she had no doubts that the petite brunette would handle Bucky’s just as easily. Most of her issues with the team seemed to stem from the mental phobia, not from actual physical discomfort.

“Yours is different.”

The softness, the whisper, hurt Nat’s heart. “Why?”

“Your touch is not sexual in nature.” Franki turned her face away, embarrassed. She’d grown up in the Red Rooms but had never gotten old enough for that kind of training. And every touch she’d ever experienced afterwards had been to inflict pain, pain that she couldn’t feel though they kept trying. “I’m not even sure I can feel pleasure.”

Without hesitation, Natasha reached out and cupped Franki’s breast through her cotton gown, brushing her thumb over the other woman’s nipple. The brunette gasped, her mouth falling open in shock. “Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” Nat chuckled, drawing back her hand.

“What… I … what?” Franki was quick to cross her arms over her chest.

Natasha frowned at the strange reaction. “Franki, what do you know about sex?” Another bright red blush covered her milk-white skin and widened Nat’s eyes. “You’re kidding me?”

“I am familiar with the… theory behind the process but I was not… initiated,” she murmured, wringing her hands. “And then I was in China. They were more concerned with pumping me full of that serum and teaching me to be an efficient killing machine. I could see the lust growing as I did, but, no one ever…” She shrugged. There had been that one time, but she had killed the man so quickly, his touch so foul, no one had dared try it again. Even drugged, she would grow feral at the slightest brush of her skin. It seemed the softer the touch, the more she fought. She didn’t want gentleness. Softness bred weakness. Weakness was death in the facility she had been in.

“Alright, alright. Okay.” Nat breathed out. “I can work with that. Come on.” Tugging on Franki’s hand, she helped her to her feet and into the robe at the foot of the bed. “We need a girl’s night. I’ll call Wanda in, too. She’ll want to help.”

“Help what? Do what? Nat?” Franki asked, puzzled, tying her robe closed. “And what about the boys?” They were all going to rip into her eventually. She kind of wanted to get it over with.

“I’ll deal with them.” Nat flicked her fingers in dismissal and wrapped her arm around Franki’s waist, gripping a little tighter when the woman stumbled. “Let’s get you settled on my couch.”

They hobbled towards the door, doing their best to keep the pressure off Franki’s cast. She may not feel the pain, but her body was still working to fix her. They didn’t need to do more damage or slow the healing process. They’d made it to the elevators before one of the boys caught them.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s out of bed.” Tony’s smug voice called out.

“Not now, Stark,” Natasha growled as the doors slid open.

“And why not? I have a few things to say to little miss Francessca that keeps making me restock my med bay.” Striding forward, he ignored the look from Nat, glared at the two of them, and finally focused on the pale face of the woman he was annoyed with. “Oh for god’s sake,” he huffed before giving Nat a shove and lifting Franki into his arms. “You’re a stubborn little fool.” Tony griped.

“Bite me,” Franki snarled, gritting her teeth together. She tried very hard not to shudder, but his touch made her want to throw a punch so badly. “Put me down, Tony.” She didn’t have enough layers on for this. Her uniform was different, offering its own sort of protection, but in day to day life she spent the majority of it covered up unless Tony was throwing another party, in which case Nat wouldn’t allow her to go in less than a body-baring dress.

“I know your issues, kid. You’re going to suck it up and deal until we get you where you’re going. Or would you rather I call the metal man to cart you around?” he asked smug smirk and raised brow making him look more arrogant than usual.

“Tony,” Franki couldn’t contain her shiver a second time but had no time to protest further when he stepped into the elevator with Nat who hit the button for their floor. The pressure was building in her chest as the warmth of his arms seeped through her clothing. “I need you to put me down.” She didn’t want to hurt him but she would, soon, unable to stop herself if he didn’t.

“Tony,” Nat could see the sharp panic beginning to fill Franki’s face.

Silver eyes were slowly going glassy. “Franki, focus on my voice,” Tony murmured, well aware she was halfway to a panic attack. “Look at me and take a deep breath, follow my breathing.”

He was exaggerating the inhale and exhale, forcing his chest in and out against her side, and she latched on to the moment of distraction, staring into brown eyes filled with more understanding than she’d ever given him credit for. Closing her fist in his t-shirt, she breathed with him until the doors slid open and he followed Nat to her suite where he placed her quickly on the sofa and sat on the coffee table before her.

Rubbing her arms, Franki refused to look at him, embarrassed to react so to a teammate that wouldn’t ever try to hurt her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

Looking to Nat standing guard over the small woman, Tony sighed. No matter how badly he wanted to yell at Franki for being stupid and reckless, she looked like a kicked puppy. Much too pale and so very young. He felt old just sitting there. “Franki,” he murmured, reaching out slowly to lightly touch her chin. She jerked against his fingers, and it hurt his heart. Yes, the one Sam and Scott teased that he didn’t have. “Hey, kid. I know all about panic attacks. You ever want someone to talk to, come and find me.” Standing up, he nodded to Nat and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Was Tony Stark just… nice?” Franki asked in shock.

“Yeah, yeah he was.” Natasha smiled after him. She’d thank him for that later. Picking up her phone, she called Wanda to join them and began gathering snacks and drinks, and everything they would need for a girl’s night in. While she was in her small kitchenette, she texted Clint, telling him to keep everyone off Franki’s ass for the night and to warn the others they’d have to go through both her and Wanda to get to the other woman if they tried. He sent back a smiley emoji and nearly made her snort. Clint had an obsession with emojis.

Next Chapter

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again - Chapter 2

Whole Again on AO3

Time was a blur. His legs ached by the time he thought to stop. He was still on the coast, still in town. He couldn’t have been running more than forty minutes. An hour at most. He was old. Even at a slow speed, running longer than it took to get from a hit to his car was tiring. And he was. His body felt loose and disjointed. His sides throbbed, punctuated with the occasional sharp pinch. His toes were numb, result of piss poor circulation. His head pulsed in time with his too rapid heartbeat. He felt dry. Dry and heated to the point of cracking. His mouth thought he had woken up from one hell of a bender.

What the HELL!? What the fuck is wrong with me!? Stan panted, hunching over to regain his balance. God damn. What was that? Stan’s mind reeled. Where had it come from? This sudden urge to maim and torture and fucking play with someone just to see what would happen was not an urge he was used to having anymore. Besides, he knew what would happen. He knew what the screams would sound like, how the organs would feel and how warm the blood would be. He knew, damn it! He didn’t need to do it. He didn’t want to. Fuck!

Had he always been like that? Had he been that violent as Stan? He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear that answer.

He ran his free hand over his face, shoulders slumped and feet unsteady. His other hand loose and hanging onto the bag of steaks as an afterthought. It was too easy to slip into agenizing, hopeless despair. He had spent decades lost in that void, both figuratively and literally. Years lost on the road or stumbling through the forest looking for those damn journals. Centuries lost in a slowly collapsing dimension, wavering in and out of delight and regret at having killed his entire family and everyone he loved.  

His body went ridged, muscles wound tight with agitation. No. He wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to let this affect him. It was just an impulse. He had those, everyone did. The only difference now was he had different impulses. More violent ones. He shuddered and gritted his teeth, dentures pinching at his gums.

He should head back. He needed to pack up all the stuff he had delivered to the ship. He needed to make sure no one passed by and lifted anything.  Where was he? He had gone in a straight line, right? He didn’t remember making any turns.

He was in some residential area near the coast. The road had pulled away from the water’s edge and he could just faintly hear the splashing of the waves. He was on a bridge (a low one, barely ten feet) going over a gully leading down to the beach. The cement guard posts, made for stopping cars more than pedestrians, provided some semblance of reprieve. Everything hurt. He just needed a few minutes. He took off his red beanie and stuffed it in the pocket of his trench coat, running a hand through his hair. His hands felt tight, like the skin was too small. That’s when he realized he wasn’t sweating.

He needed to find some water.

Stan squinted at the buildings up the road from where he came, wishing not for the first time that he had been brave enough to get that cataract surgery. Anything not within two feet of his face was blurry and anything in the distance was just color. His glasses helped, but not much.

There is a bakery, 400 yards down the road, left side.

What? O Pan e Manteiga. Simple. Run by a Guy named Viktor. Makes great pita bread, oddly.

How did he know that? How do I know that?

He squeezed his eyes closed and started the slow trek to the storefront. He passed by a clothing store and a pawn shop on the way, a twang of nostalgia passing through his core.

It was there. O Pan e Manteiga. The Bread and Butter. Maybe he’d seen it and his subconscious took notice of it. I know lots of things! He shuddered. He wasn’t omnipotent. Not anymore. And not knowing everything kept things interesting.

Stan pushed the door open and winced at the tinging of the bell. A slender man about forty years old with salt and pepper hair greeted him in Gaelic. Stan didn’t respond, instead shuffling over to the counter clutching at his side that had started hurting again.  

He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped and tried again.

“Auga?” He asked tentatively. Stan’s voice was weak and he realized how out of breath he was.

Viktor smiled faintly and pulled a bottle of water from a sliding door cooler behind the counter.

“Douscentos trinta e cinco” Viktor spoke slowly, realizing that Stan was a foreigner.

Stan squinted and shook his head in confusion. He understood, kind of, but his mind was foggy. “What?” Viktor sighed and mimed the numbers 235. Stan pulled out the envelope of bills Ford had handed him after leaving the bank earlier. He flipped through the bills numbly and handed over far too much than Viktor had asked for but he didn’t care. The guy needed it if his daughter wanted that yearbook. Damnit! Stop that!

He gulped down the water, draining the bottle in a few short seconds. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead and nose as his body adjusted to having necessary moisture. Bodily necessities sucked. Sweating was weird, even if he had done it for sixty years, it was still weird. All that water just in his body and eking out through tiny holes in his skin. Skin itself was kinda weird too. It was mushy and soft and was fun to poke at, especially Ford. Ford had always seemed bemused whenever Stan Bill took over his body and sat poking and prodding at his various appendages.

He finished the bottle with a final gulp. Panting, he turned his gaze back to Viktor who was holding out a plastic bag with another bottle of water and some sort of wrapped pastry.

“I don’t…what?” God his voice was rough. He must have really needed that water.

Viktor sighed again, shaking the bag slightly at Stan. “Kleina. You like.”

Stan took the bag slowly, dropping the empty bottle in the bag too. The Kleina was warm and appeared to be diamond shaped donut with a hole in the middle.

“Thank you” Stan was still a little breathless and his words came out as a harsh gasp. He felt his cheeks coloring. He reached for the envelope again, but Viktor waved him off as he turned to help another customer that had walked in behind Stan. Stan pulled the second bottle out and began drinking it much less desperately and left an extra bill on the counter on his way out. That should cover part of the yearbook cost at least….aw, fuck it!

Storefront would look better yellow. Or pink. Guy’d look better with pink hair too. Stan’s fingers itched to snap, but he resisted. This is stupid! I’m human now! Been human for damn near sixty years. No more powers. Think I’d be used to it by now. He’d never wanted them before, so why now?  He was just feeling nostalgic, that was all. Being on the ocean with Ford had brought up a shit ton of nostalgia and it brought this too. That’s all it was. He sipped his water and made his way back to the docks.

*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His back ached by the time he had gotten the supplies loaded. Thankfully nothing had gone missing. He suspected the Harbor Master had been keeping an eye on things; the man had been walking back and forth in front of the Stan O’War often enough to catch Stan’s attention. Nice as it was it was still annoying because it meant he had to carry everything by hand rather than shrinking everything down and making one trip that didn’t throw his back out.

He was lounging on the galley booth nursing a Pitt Cola when he heard voices out front. Ford and some other male, both speaking Gaelic. He wanted to play dumb and pretend he didn’t understand. Let the syllables roll over him without their meaning sticking. But curiosity and the cat and all that. Actually, curiosity didn’t kill the cat, curiosity brought the cat people of Dimension Al/26 to his realm and he killed them. After he dressed them up in adorable little outfits and made them dance. Captain Puratrick the Fourth had cursed him with his last breath. Maybe that was why Lazy Susan’s cats hated him. He was cursed. Worked for him. Her voice reminded him of his aunt anyway. Creepy old trapezoid that she was.

Stan lifted himself off the seat of the booth and grumbled about being old. He let his mind shift and began listening to the conversation above.

“I’m still sure I can get a better range if I modify the receivers with reflective sheeting to concentrate the signal, but I need to know if you can supply the metal.” That would be Ford. Tongue flapping and voice rapid fire as he prattled on about improving their antenna. Stan knew it wouldn’t work. All it would do is scatter the signal even more with several receivers on their current antenna. Be better if he just ripped the whole thing out and put in a proper dish, but that would take weeks and more money than they both were comfortable spending.

Stan heard a low whistle and a regional exclamation of awe he didn’t quite understand. The hell did ‘codding’ mean?

“Jesus, an’ you came from America? You really are slaggin’ me. That’s ships pretty small ain’t it? Not even a sail. You got anyone else to keep you company?” Guy sounded more Irish than anything. Ford didn’t seem to take note of the flirtatious tone.  

“Just my twin Stanley.”

“OH, Twins, eh? Is ‘e as clean on as you are?” Nope, this was not happening.

“Umm……I don’t, I mean…the, um, the mainframe is in the top cabin if you wanted to take a look.” Great, Ford had finally caught on to this guy’s intent.    

Stan had been on his way up at the mystery man’s first comment. He exited the main cabin’s door in time to catch Ford blushing bright magenta holding his hands in front of him in defense.

“Ah, sorry, had you pegged for queer. Too bad, you’re just my type.” The Icelandic man (Irish, Stan was sure now) seemed to back down when he saw Stan hovering behind Ford. Stan put on a neutral to slightly annoyed expression and addressed Ford in English.

“Hey, back so soon? You missed putting supplies away. Who’s this clown?” He gestured to the new guy with an uptick of his chin.

Because the man really was dressed rather absurdly. Low cut white v-neck showing off his chest hair, cardigan thrown over his shoulders (he wasn’t even wearing it properly), chunky gold chain, green paperboy cap balanced on his head, 70’s porn ‘stache and…did this guy really have a fucking gold tooth?

His appearance ran like pins down Stan’s back; he instantly disliked the man, even without the knowledge that he was putting moves on Ford.

Damn kid was stealing his look! And flirting with his brother! AND getting a reaction. Time to nip this one in the bud.

“By the by, I picked up a package ‘o yer nappies. Expensive as hell out here, but if it’ll keep the mattresses clean.”

Ford’s face seemed to get even redder, deepening into near purple with humiliation. His eyes narrowed and he turned a scowl towards Stan that would have withered him some years ago.

“STANLEY!” Oh, he was pissed. “What are you on about now, you knucklehead?” Stan shifted his attention back and forth between Ford and porno guy, internally cheering when he saw a look of surprised disgust curl up and find a home under that poor excuse for a mustache. While an unfortunate fact of life, he figured incontinence was a major turn off if this guy was lookin’ to ride a silver fox.

The guy switched to English and Stan felt damn proud of himself pegging the Irish heritage when a thick accent came out. “Oy, sorry mate. Takin’ a look at yer set up, I don’t think there’s anything I can do. ‘Less you wanna get yerself a whole new rig. Ye’ best jus’ stick with what ya got. Sorry, other places ta be. Good luck, ya?” And with that, Irish prono ‘stache was hopping off the deck and hightailing it to the main dock.

Stan couldn’t help but grin; cat and proverbial canary and such, but the guy practically left trail of fire with how fast he ran. HA! He braved a glance back at Ford, who had been lackadaisically trying to call out to the guy, hand outstretched to stop him. He turned to Stan, lips pursed.  

“Damnit, Stanley, what the hell was that for?” Ford’s hands gesturing between them.

Stan frowned. Ford was naive when it came to social interactions, but he wasn’t that dense.

“Saving you from having to fend off potentially wandering hands later.” He’d thought it had been obvious. Ford apparently hadn’t gotten that.

“By implying that I’m incontinent? If anyone needs extra absorbency it’s you. And he was going to help me modify the antenna. Now where am I going to get highly polished sheet metal?” Stan decided to ignore Ford’s comment and simply address the main issue, which was that this guy was moving in on his terr, NO! Not going there. He was just looking out for Ford.

“Polishin’ sheet metal wasn’t what he was lookin’ to do.” And he did know. The guy wanted to do a heck of a lot more than just work on their antenna. He could see the guy’s fantasies of being dominated by Ford as clear as if he’d been watching a film. He would have been disappointed.  

“I could have handled it.” Sheepish and mild annoyance made Ford adorable. I need a lamb costume. Wonder if he would do the ‘Lambie, Lambie dance’ for me.

“Yeah, like you weren’t trippin’ over yer words and backin’ down like you were avoidin’ a fight.” Even in high school Ford had been all hands and confused tongue when talking to people he liked. Cathy Crenshaw being a prime example.  

“Stanley, I’ve been traveling the multiverse for thirty years, I can handle one guy. And who’s to say I wasn’t interested. You don’t know what I’m into?” Stan snorted. Yeah, he would have never expected Ford to be attracted to a yellow triangle, but there you go. Come to think of it, Ford had stammered and flushed when he had flirted with him, too. Not that he had intended to, he was just praising Ford on his calculations. And maybe implying that big brains were evidence of other big things. At the time, he had meant big heads, but Ford’s wide-eyed expression was funny, so he had let Ford think otherwise. 

“No, I don’t know, but I could see you were lookin’ fer a way out. I gave you one. ‘Sides, the guy was right. It’d only scatter the signal more.” Stan was done with this conversation, and he could tell Ford was on the last bit of his patience too. Ford arched an eyebrow incredulously, nose wrinkling in disbelief.  

“How would you know? I don’t remember you knowing anything about radio signals.”

Stan baulked. Shit…Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“I don’t tell you everything, Poindexter. ‘Sides, I had ta learn a lil’ somin somin ‘bout it. In the middle ‘o winter, havin’ a radio to let people know what’s up was damn useful. I’m gonna head down and start moving things. Got some steaks for dinner tonight. Picked up a donut at a shop down the way. Left it for you. Not sweet enough for me.” Stan waved a hand dismissively and started back down to the galley. He fully intended to spend the rest of the night avoiding any continuation of this conversation if he could help it. If that meant re-arranging stock, cooking dinner, and washing dishes, then he was glad to do it.  

He grumbled obscenities about where Irish Porn Star could shove it and about brothers who were too smart for their own good as he stomped down to the galley, back pain be damned. He snagged the bag of toffee peanuts from the table, tearing into the bag without thinking.  

“I thought they stopped making those God-awful things?” Ford had obviously followed him down and was emptying his pockets into a drawer by the stairwell. Stan glanced down at the bag in his hands, mouth open in mid-bite. Ummmm.  

“Oh, uh, found a store in town that sold them. Guy wouldn’t let me buy their whole stock. Same place I got you that donut.” He pushed the bag with the Kleina towards the other side of the table where Ford would undoubtedly sit.    

They had been in the bag that Viktor gave him,…right? Yeah, he’d asked for them. There had been a whole display. And if a bag of jellybeans appeared in the cupboard the next morning for Ford to find, well, those had been in the bag too.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The steaks had been exceptional (though he was sure they had been mutton rather than beef, but hey, good either way) and he and Ford had set up on the deck with folding chairs and a pack of beer between them. It was some domestic (Icelandic) beer that sat meaty and heavy in his mouth. But it had been cheap and tasted okay cold. Ford didn’t seem to mind it either, and he had never been much of a drinker.

“There are positives and negatives to being near civilization.” Ford’s voice was light and Stan hummed in curiosity. “This is the first night that we haven’t been able to see the stars clearly.” Ford took a sip from his bottle and leaned further back in his chair. Ford had always liked looking at the stars. Constellations and planets and the occasional light distortion of a distant galaxy. The telescope mounted on the roof of the cabin was proof enough, although that was mainly used for navigation.  

Stan grinned, “You want stars Poindexter, all you gotta do is look out on the water.” It was true. The various lights from the ships coming in and out of port twinkled and danced as their light reflected and refracted off the moisture in the air and the water’s surface. It reminded him of the clouds of fireflies that would creep out of the forest at night back in Gravity Falls.

Ford let out a soft chuckle and drained his beer before snagging another. They sat in silence and just took in the world around them. Quiet slaps of the water against the hull of the boat, gentle breath of the wind bringing in the smells of the ocean. He could almost feel the sand between his toes and the press of a wooden seat of a swing set. They used to do this, sit for hours, and not talk, watching the swirls of the mindscape float by, carrying pages of information and memories with them. Comfortable. Stan had always taken comfort in Ford’s presence. Even when he had annoyed the heck out of him and Ford was purposefully ignoring him, he still liked being near Ford. Making a point to sit next to him or float just beyond his peripheries.

At first it had just been a way to use Stanford. Get close and chummy to gain his trust and have the portal built. It was kind of pathetic how quickly he grew to enjoy Ford’s company. He used to find really stupid excuses to possess Ford’s body; he need to write something down, he missed a button, he was gonna slip in the shower, he hadn’t eaten that day, he’d been trying to…stay awake. 

Stan hated himself. All of himself. He had driven Ford to the brink of insanity, tormenting and teasing. Messing with his mind and memories in an effort to goad him into pleading, begging him to stop. It pleased him when Ford begged. He had wanted to pull Ford taut, pull him apart before giving him what he wanted. Eventually, Ford had stopped eating, stopped sleeping and he was losing control of his body. Stan remembered forcefully taking over just to get Ford to bathe and shove a sandwich down his throat before downing some sleeping pills. Yeah, Ford was a puppet. But he was Stan’s favorite puppet. 

He sighed. That was a long, long time ago. As much as he lamented it now, he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it at the time. Things were different now. He was a new man, a different man and as much as memories from back then nagged at his mind, this was what he wanted. This, right here. On a boat with his brother, looking for scientific and magical anomalies and finding treasure. And babes! Speaking of, Stanford had been turning something over in his mind. Stan wished he’d just spit it out already, he was ready for some action. He pointedly ignored that he knew what Ford was going to ask.        

Ford cleared his throat. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the scanner. I think there might be another anomaly up the coast a ways.” Stan harrumphed and chugged the last of his beer. “I heard today that Lokinhamradalur Valley up in the western fjords has had some issues with ghosts for several hundred years. The farmers up there have been complaining about spooked livestock, wilting crops and sand in the water pumps.” Ford scratched at his side of his face, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye, desperately trying not so sound like Dipper discovering something new. Stan could feel his eyes rolling before he even thought to do so, and shook his head. What kind of brother would he be to deny Ford who seemed all but vibrating out of his seat with excitement.

“Alright, Nerd. We can go lookin’ for your spookums and ghosts and shit. But you’re cookin’ dinner tomarra’ and I get to decide what treasure we keep.” There really wasn’t any malice behind his words, but one had to keep up appearances.

The grin on Ford’s face could have lit up a room. His eyes practically glittering. What was a little side trip to check out some local folklore?  

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