#fortunately i reacted fast enough that she only got a glancing blow

[twobigears]

Chandra may be a really good dog in many respects but she is also still a sinner who attempted to break my face by facepunching me when I came home from work today

[wipodu-ao3]

Fueled by revenge - a HTTYD fanfic

Read it on Ao3. Join the Discord!

A work in the Cannibal AU.

Summary:

A simple day in the life of Hiccup, with a few twist that can change a life, not his though.

An explanaition on how the chapter 'Fueled by revenge' came to be.

Words: 2,502

[One-shot]

After they had taken care of the tribe who were responsible for Toothless’ injury, Hiccup had used the forge on that cursed island to build the Nigh Fury a temporary fin. It had disturbed Hiccup that he felt nothing when he stepped over the dead bodies of the cursed tribe, but they were responsible for their own situation.

The tribe that had captured him had held dragons as food, nothing more, nothing less. Hiccup had learned from Storm that they had been capturing dragons and ate them as their main source of meat. While Storm was okay with fish that Shadow managed to catch, Hiccup grew a preference for… something else.

It was easy for Hiccup to take a knife to the body. It was easy to cut the flesh and taste it again. The fact that Toothless indulged in the taste too, just made everything seem okay. Hiccup knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t care.

What had shocked Hiccup, was that Storm didn’t seem to care. She had stumbled upon him with the knife in his hand and a cut up body below him. She didn’t scream or seem afraid. Storm had looked at him in disgust and scoffed.

“Cook it at least,” she told him.

And that was that. Hiccup’s new meat preferences were left undiscussed and an understanding was born between the two humans.

While Hiccup was making Toothless’ first ever prosthetic, they talked.

Hiccup learned that the man he had killed was Storm’s father. He learned that the reason the girl was with the dragons, was because she refused to eat the dragon flesh and her father didn’t have it in him to kill her. The reason Shadow was alive? ‘Skrill wasn’t tasty’.

The more Hiccup learned, the more he felt justified in his actions. Something he hadn’t noticed in his rage, was that the girl didn’t have a leg, just like him she had a prosthetic. It was a simple wooden one and she had clearly not gotten used to it. When asked about how that happened, Storm simply said:

“Just because he didn’t kill me, doesn’t mean he didn’t try.”

The fact that she joined him so easily made sense, she wanted revenge and she got it. Still, Hiccup had taken upon himself to make her a prosthetic, like the one he had, as a gesture of his gratitude. At first she refused, but the prospect of having a comfortable leg won her over.

Fortunately for both Hiccup and Toothless, Storm knew a little bit about healing and she took care of the injuries they sustained. Their injuries needed time to heal and Hiccup gladly stayed on the island for a few more days.

When he was done with both prosthetics, he asked Storm what she was going to do. She had hesitantly admitted that she didn’t know, but she wanted to but the cursed island to the ground. Hiccup was hit with an idea, he knew that learning to fly with Toothless’ new tail would take some time, but he wanted to get back to Berk sooner rather than later. He offered Storm a place to stay if he got her help one more time.

That was about two years ago.

Hiccup was hammering a metal rod for Toothless’ new tail. The new tail would seamlessly blend in with the Night Fury’s body and nobody would know that Toothless doesn’t have a tailfin. It was the third fin Hiccup was making for the dragon. The first one was on the Edge, and Toothless’ current one would join it in Hiccup’s room.

The Edge was the place Hiccup had offered to Storm. At the time it was just an island with a lone abandoned hut that Hiccup sometimes used to spend the night. While Hiccup had been at Berk, Storm had taken it upon herself to fix it up, she didn’t want to explore without Hiccup, so she spent her time building. At this point, the Edge had two houses, one they used for sleeping and the other was like a common space, with a simple kitchen and a library in progress.

Hiccup would leave for the Edge and be long gone by the time the morning rolled around. He had plans to explore and check out some spots frequented by Dragon Trappers. He also wanted to make sure the new tail was okay and that the saddle didn’t need any adjustments. Hiccup had already adjusted the saddle twice, his growth spurt making it uncomfortable.

Hiccup finished with the rod and put away the used forge equipment. He took the rod, also taking some nails he had made previously, and left the forge. It was late evening, but people were still milling around. He didn’t bother hiding the rod or nails as he could just claim they were for his prosthetic, nobody would care, because his growth spurt did mean he had to build a new prosthetic.

Hiccup let his eyes wander across the village. A lot of people were trying to finish up their chores for the next day, as from tomorrow, for almost a week, his father would be in the Meade hall, answering the tribe’s problems and solving their disputes. A good time for Hiccup to disappear for a while.

“Hiccup!” he heard his name being called from behind him.

He kept walking, not even glancing back to acknowledge his cousin. Hiccup hoped his obvious dismissal would discourage Snotlout from pursuing him. Luck was not on Hiccup’s sight it seemed as Snotlout caught up with him and stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Hiccup stopped and looked at the hand in disgust and Snotlout quickly removed it.

“We’re going over to the Meade hall, want to join us?” Snotlout asked him, gesturing to the rest of the gang standing a bit away.

“No,” Hiccup answered after glancing at the others, he went to leave, but his cousin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder again, and even Hiccup’s disgusted look didn’t make Snotlout remove his hand this time.

“We-we’re gonna take some mead and head out to the academy,” Snotlout tried to persuade him.

Hiccup almost laughed. How times have changed… a few years ago, he would have jumped on the chance to hang out with the others, but now he knew that they didn’t have any real value in his life. With Toothless he could see faraway lands and explore, with Storm he could talk about his thoughts and have meaningful conversations. The others just didn’t offer him anything, at least not at this time.

He knew that if they were a bit more mature or adventurous, and forgot their hate for dragons, they would be great friends. Also, Hiccup was still a bit mad that they had tormented him in his younger years, the torment stopping only when he stopped reacting to them and started treating them with indifference. His cold disposition somehow made him cool in their eyes.

“I don’t drink,” Hiccup told him and shrugged of his hand, going back home without looking back.

Hiccup didn’t linger at home, he didn’t need to. He just took a loaf of bread and put it with his other things. He left through the back door so nobody would see him leaving, because while they generally never noticed he left, but that was because they didn’t see him leave.

Toothless excitedly bounced towards Hiccup as he entered the cove. Hiccup greeted his best friend and went over to his stash of things. His stash consisted of the armor he didn’t want to wear around the village, the armor that could easily be recognized as the Dragon Master’s get up, some spare bags and a few of his own made weapons.

He dressed in his armor, mounted Toothless and with one final pet to the dragon’s head, they took off. They flew through the air as fast as they could, making short work of leaving Berk behind. Hiccup knew the way to the Edge by hearth, he could find it with his eyes closed.

Flying was freeing for him. Soaring through the air like nothing mattered, because it didn’t when he was there, Hiccup let his mind wander. He thought about the dragons he had found, the places he had explored and the people he had ‘met’. He used the term ‘met’ loosely as the people met his persona of ‘Dragon Master’.

He didn’t know who had given him that name, but he had no problem with it. The name gave him notoriety and opened doors that could never be opened otherwise. And he couldn’t say that ‘Dragon Master’s’ reputation was unwarranted, because it was. He didn’t hesitate to land a killing blow if he needed to, he frequently went around Dragon Trapper ships and freed the dragons inside, killing anyone who came in his way. And, of course, taking some of his preferred meat with him anytime he could.

Halfway to the Edge, in the middle of the night, Hiccup saw a ship in the waters below him. Curiosity got the better of him and he steered Toothless down. They flew around the ship, the darkness hiding them. Hiccup felt anger rise within him when he heard the roars of scared dragons come from within. Hiccup hated Dragon Trappers, he had taken care of countless ships on his own before, this time would be no different. He doubted anyone would survive.  

Hiccup touched down on the ship, the fact that the deck was clear of people surprised him. He dismounted Toothless and gestured for him to stay quiet, he listened closer and he heard a voice mixed in with the roaring of the dragons. The shouting was filled with pain, it was clear to Hiccup that whoever was beneath the deck was being tortured. That did not surprise him, Dragon Trappers were rarely smart or compassionate people.

Hiccup motioned for Toothless to stay on alert and went beneath the deck. It was light there, torches on the walls giving enough light for him to see clearly. There were about ten people there, all ganged up on one tied up man. The tied up man was screaming as one of the trappers, donned with a cloak made of dragon hide, took a knife to his bicep – carving away the skin there.

Hiccup didn’t waste time when he saw the keys dangling on one of their belts. He sneaked toward the man with the keys, luckily he was in the back of the group so Hiccup found it easy to cover the man’s mouth and pull him back. A dagger to the man’s throat was a quick and silent way to dispose of him, the body went down and Hiccup took the keys from his belt.

It was done silently, not alerting the others in the group. Hiccup used the keys to unlock the cages that housed dragons that did gain the group’s attention. Startled shouts rang out as the dragons ran out, Hiccup used the commotion to his advantage. He took his sword and managed to kill three more of the men before the others register what had happened.

The remaining six were easy to dispose of. Hiccup’s sword was sharp and he managed to behead two of the six, their head landing on the ground with a thud. One took a stab at the heart, two took fatal blows to the neck. The last one was the leader of the group, the one who had been carving at the man’s bicep. Hiccup managed to push the man to the ground and used his sword to cut the man’s leg at the hip clean off. The leader screamed in pain as he bled out.

Hiccup took the dismembered leg and with one swig he separated it at the knee. Hiccup called for Toothless, the dragon bouncing in with a croon. Hiccup took a mesh bag he had in the sack with his other things and wrapped the thigh in it. He fixed the slab of meat on Toothless’ saddle and turned to the man who had been tortured.

The man was looking at him with fear and confusion. Hiccup went over to him and took a knee to stay in eye level with the man.

“What’s your name?” Hiccup asked him with a tilt of his head.

“E-Eret,” the man gasped out, his face screwed up in pain.

“You have a choice Eret,” Hiccup told him, his eyes turning to the man’s bleeding bicep, the wound would scar if the man stayed alive, “Join me.”

“Or?” Eret asked when Hiccup didn’t elaborate.

Hiccup rolled his eyes and looked around the dead men, making a show of his wandering gaze. Eret gulped as he understood, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“Join you.”

Hiccup smiled and went around him to cut the rope that held his hands. Eret was another person for him to train and be friends with. Even if Hiccup could do this on his own, more people meant more saved dragons. Hiccup got Eret in Toothless and they took off.

Hiccup wasn’t scared that Eret would try to hurt him. For one, the man’s bicep must have been killing him. Eret had also been tortured by the dragon trappers, which meant he was someone they hated, and he didn’t share in their believes, at least not anymore. Hiccup could easily recognize people who could be assets to his cause, Eret was one.

By the time they landed on the Edge, Eret was struggling to stay awake, even the pain from his injury and the excitement that came with flying for the first time, couldn’t keep him awake. They had landed by the main building and, even though it was still dark, Storm had come to greet them.

“Who’s this?” she asked instead of greeting them, Eret’s presence coming as a shock to her.

Hiccup jumped from the saddle and helped Eret down, letting the man lean on him. Toothless went over to Storm and nuzzled her in greeting, she petted the Night Fury’s head as she watched the two men. Hiccup started leading Eret to the house.

“A new member of our team,” Hiccup told her as she held the door open, “He needs a bit of medical attention, if you don’t mind.”

Storm sighed and went over to their kitchen, she opened a cabinet where they stored their medical supplies, and took out everything she would need. Hiccup sat Eret down at the table and pulled out a seat for Storm.

She sat down and looked at the man’s bicep, she blew her hair out of her face and glanced at Toothless. The Night Fury was sitting near the door, waiting for Hiccup to take his things from the dragon. Storm eyed the mesh bag and turned to Hiccup.

“Put the meat on ice, at least,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “Thor, you never learn…” she mumbled and got to work on Eret’s wound.

[gorochanfanclub]

Sentiment

Majima x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: Majima and his girlfriend are watching a movie on the floor in their living room. When he reaches out to hold her, she is overcome with a feeling she can’t name. 

Contains: fluff, a bit of angst (maybe), hinted depression, Majima being the secret softie he is

A/N: My first time writing a fic for Majima. Hope you guys like it! Wrote this with a specific person in mind (one of my OCs lmao) but left it purposefully extremely vague who the woman was so anyone reading this can imagine whatever they want. Comment below if you figure out what movie they’re watching!! It is indeed a real movie and I made sure to hint at it pretty hard lol, it’s one of my own personal favorites I think Majima actually would like. Also think it’s worth noting I wrote this entire thing while listening to 1984 by Junko Yagami on loop lmao. Was inspired by an edit on Instagram using this song. (edit was by eyeglassez on there)

She nearly had drifted off to sleep when it happened. The comfortable weight of him on top of her, his heat warming her, the feeling of his hannya patterned ink under her sleep heavy hand, even the low, humming voices on the TV illuminating the dark room, all threatened to carry her away to a land of peaceful dreams. 

As she lay on the bedroll in the living room, the soft cotton sheets cradling her like an infant, her left hand rest on Majima’s shoulder blade, the other next to her face. His right hand rest under her head, beneath the plush pillow she placed it on. His other rest dangerously close to her right, fingers mere millimeters apart. 

This wasn’t an uncommon position for the two to be in. She enjoyed his warmth, the cold of this world being soothed by his soft body heat. He reveled in the feeling of a body pressed to his, often coming up with the excuse, ‘fat tits like yers are better ‘n any pillow out there.’

She couldn’t even remember what was happening in the film Majima had insisted they watch together. It was a Hong Kong made film, one of those kung fu type movies Majima couldn’t seem to get enough of. Her eyelids get heavy as she tries to stay lucid enough to listen, knowing Majima would want to talk about it later, probably referencing lines from the movie for weeks to come. 

Straining them open, she sees a little girl on the screen, getting harassed by a group of boys just a few years older than her. They tug at the rainbow lollipop in her hand, attempting to rip it from her small hands. Suddenly, another boy, much too small to fight even one of the bullies, comes running in her defense, leaving the group to abandon the girl and fight the young hero instead. 

The screen then flashes to the same couple, grown adults now, yet the same hero and the same girl who never go to thank her savior. From a small box, the girl produces the swirly confectionary, handing it to the now adult man who had rescued her all those years ago.

She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next after that. Her drowsiness clouded her mind too much to even think about the intimacy of such a scene on the television. 

Perhaps Majima had felt touched by the story that unfolded before him, or perhaps he just wanted more to feel. Gently, his fingers stretch to hers, lacing their hands together next to her head. His usually gloved thumb, now lying naked in an embrace with another hand, gracefully rubbed the back of her palm. 

It was so soft, so feather light, she might not have noticed it had she been anyone else. Yet, she was her, and in an instant, all sleep that threatened to take her over was gone, full lucidity coming back to her as she nearly gasped. 

She stayed as still as a statue, hoping Majima wouldn’t notice the change in her breathing. Luckily he didn’t, his eye stayed glued to the screen, mindlessly holding onto her as he continued his action. 

Heart beating in her chest, she didn’t know how to react. He was being so… gentle. What did she do to be deserving of any of this kindness? 

Her eyes dilate, losing focus of the television and staring at nothing in particular. She feels her mind wander, the feeling of his warm skin on hers flooding her thoughts, the voices on the screen just in front of her being replaced with his. 

***

The night air breezed past them as they walked. It whipped through his bowl cut, blowing delicate strands into his one good eye, shielding it from her view. 

She could watch him forever. He was like a piece of fine art to her; all rigid and strong with the softest curves on his face. The neon lights seemed to illuminate his skin, making it shine with a heavenly glow from within. The snakeskin leather on his shoulder glittered in the night, each scale gleaming in turn. 

When he noticed her eyes boring holes into him, he turned his head with a smirk, “Ya keep staring like that, I got somethin’ on my face?” 

His eye twinkled as he joked, the brown of it turning to blue, then green, then purple as the street passed him by, its light forming a colorful kaleidoscope on his features. 

She was completely starstruck, the ability to form words long gone from her, her entire brain focused on taking him in. Her lips parted, trying to muster a response to his question, only awed breaths falling from them. 

As he smiled back, chuckling at her silence, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, warming her face in the cold. The blush on her skin made his heart swell, though she would never know that. His smile falls for a second, his typically harsh features softening as they walk side by side, eyes never leaving one another. 

Not looking where she was going, her foot catches on something sticking up from the ground. She wasn’t sure what it could have been; perhaps it was an uneven paving stone, a discarded paper coffee cup, or even just her own clumsiness. Though, whatever it was, it had her falling to the ground fast. 

Long before she could recognize what was happening to her, a warm, leather gloved hand was gripping her forearm, halting her descent to the concrete beneath her feet. 

If she had been starstruck before, her head was spinning now, every nerve in her body feeling fuzzy in the proximity of the man looking down at her. At this angle, he looked ethereal, the moon above glowing on the back of his head like a halo. For just a moment, she felt he might sprout wings and fly her up to heaven. 

Swallowing, she feels him pull her up, standing her flush against him. The open hem of her jacket tickled his chest, sending a fluttering inside him. They were so close, almost close enough to feel his heart beat against hers. 

He scoffed cockily, his breath creating a misty cloud around him. When the fog cleared, he spoke, “Better watch where yer goin’, missy. Can’t have ya getting hurt on me, now can I?” 

The tenderness in his tone said more than his words had. What he meant to say was, ‘Please be careful, I want you safe,’ but the meaning got lost in translation from heartbeat to Japanese. 

Yet, she felt herself nodding, understanding perfectly what his original intention had been. 

***

His stirring on her chest brought her to the present. Hopefully he wasn’t getting up, she needed him there, weighing her down, keeping her grounded while her thoughts were anywhere but this Earth. 

Fortunately, Majima only sighs, his torso rising then falling under her still hand. He shifts slightly, his long legs moving against hers as he finds a new position atop her to lay. His head even shifts, hair rubbing against her chest, and nose gracing her night shirt. 

Staying still became harder and harder the more Majima moved. Every muscle in her body wanted to both tense and melt at the same time. Her heart beat so loudly against her chest, she could hear it in her ears. 

Looking down to the hand inside his, she bites her lip, trying to keep the quivering of it to a minimum. His grip on it tightens ever so slightly, and she is sure he knows she was staring at him. However, when she looks back to the screen, she sees fists flying and tensions rising, a sign that his grasp was only due to the suspense on screen.

At this she relaxes, feeling safe from his teasing for even just a moment. The last thing she wanted was for him to notice her nerves and have this moment end. 

Rotating her head gently, she looks up. The darkness of the ceiling seemed to reflect on her, reminding her that that was life before Majima; dark, bleak, flat, and devoid of all color and warmth. 

***

On days like these, she wanted nothing more than to just crawl up into a ball and fade away, her own existence crushing her like the heaviest burden there could be. It felt even hard to breathe, her lungs squeezing with sorrow. 

Yet, she trugged the streets, walking to the place she had promised to meet him. He wasn’t one for planning things but today was an exception he had said. Nishida told her he was feeling ‘uncharacteristically structured.’ So despite her aching being, she marched to meet him. 

He sat in the cafe, idly scrolling through his phone when she arrived. Meekly, she walked up to his table, feeling like being around him might be enough to soothe her soul. 

It wasn’t until she sat down that he looked up. All it took was that one glance from his right eye to bring light to her vision. Like stepping out of a tunnel, he showered her in sunlight. 

His lips turned up into a smile when he noticed her presence in front of him. He winked, shoving his phone into his pocket absentmindedly, right now, his only focus was on her. “Hey, darlin’,” he flirted, “it took ya long enough. Thought I might have t’ go lookin’ fer ya.” 

She mustered the strongest grin she could, forcing all her energy into imitating him, hiding whatever pain lingered just beneath the surface. Her own face felt so heavy though, and even just that simple action hurt, exhausting her to the bone. 

Even the most subtle change on her face was noticed by Majima. A lot of the time, she felt he could read her mind, see her soul. He always seemed to know what she was feeling, even when she didn’t know it herself. 

Her whole life, people only ever bothered to take her at face value, none dared to look beyond her mask; until him. He seemed to be the only person who could feel her, see her, and hear her the way she so desperately wanted to be felt, seen, and heard. 

Catching the pained expression she held, his smile fell, being replaced with one of almost shocking concern. “Wait, what’s wrong with ya? Ya look like half dead, sweetheart.” His brows furrowed as he studied her, eyes pushing back the veil to take a closer look. 

She only shakes her head, looking down in embarrassment. She never wanted to make him worry, to take away that smile she loved seeing. The guilt of his emotion pressed on her. 

He sighs, smacking the table with both gloved hands. “Well I can’t have ya sittin’ around all mopey like this,” he teases, sing song in his voice being exaggerated more than usual, like hands trying to lift her up. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he gestures with a thumb over his back. He takes a look around, scrunching up his face, “This place is a dump anyway.” 

He stands, looking down to her with soft eyes and a half smile. The sympathy in his features nearly broke her. He was so tender in the way he looked at her, trying to tell her ‘You’ll be okay, I’m right here,’ without speaking. 

A black hand extends to her, fingers spread wide open, awaiting her to place her own inside it. Shaking with anticipation and anxiety, she gives the hand what it wants. Gently, his glove closes around her skin, leading her to follow him into the street. 

Alone on the sidewalk and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, his voice lowers, losing all semblance of its usual insincerity, “How about I treat you to some takoyaki? You like yours with extra sauce, don’t you?” 

***

The loud music of the film’s end credits snap her from her thoughts. Glancing back to the television, she watches the white letters roll up on a black screen. The names of the actors and production team stare back at her, reminding her she hadn’t been paying attention. 

As the music fades, and the credits finish out, the screen goes black, casting the room in a peaceful darkness. Only peaceful because he was here with her, shielding her from its harsh cold and uncertainty. 

She feels him chuckle on her chest, muttering more to himself than her, “Shit, that was pretty damn good. Can’t believe that punk was some natural born kung fu master, never saw that one coming.”

With a sigh, he goes to unwrap his hand from hers and grab the remote to turn the TV off. He removes his arm from under her pillow to push off her and get up. Feeling his grasp on her hand loosen, she instinctively tightens her own, her other hand pushing his shoulder back down onto her chest. 

Majima huffs, falling back onto her. Craning his head to try and look at her, he grumbles, “Jeez, lady, what’re you doin’?” 

Her grip on him only tightens more, fingers digging into him, scared he might leave her grasp and disappear into the night. Not able to contain herself anymore, her muscles tense under him. 

Her skin felt like it was on fire, every sensation of him on her burning hot with a feeling she couldn’t describe. Feeling her heart swelling to almost burst, she breathes deep, a stinging in her eyes becoming more and more prevalent. 

She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, why all of the sudden she felt like a dam had broken inside her, emotion gushing through the cracks and drowning her on dry land. 

Yet, of course he could tell. He always did. Squeezing her hand in his, he mutters to her, voice barely above a whisper. “You okay?” he asks tenderly, “I know it kinda got sappy there fer a minute but that ain’t no reason t’ cry.” Repeating his action from earlier, his thumb ghosts across her knuckles. 

It could have been his physical touch or the way his words touched her soul but either way, that was the last crack in the dam. A sob erupted from her throat- hot, almost steamy tears cascading down her cheeks and onto the pillow. 

She only grips him tighter, near to drawing blood with her nails on his back. Her head finds itself leaning against his silky black hair, cheek pressing firmly onto his skull. Nose buried in his dark locks, she chokes, tears still flowing like a waterfall, “I love you, Goro…”

The words fell from her lips like a prayer. Like it was the only important thing she would ever say. It felt like a confession, though the time for all that had long gone by. 

In her moment of frail weakness, Majima is finally able to push off her, just enough to look her in the eye. Her vision of him was not as clear as usual, the water blurring him and barring her from seeking refuge in his eye. Had she not been crying, she would have seen the change in his face. It faded slowly from concern to ardor, plush lips pressing together. 

Lifting his hand, he reaches it to touch her cheek, hot and wet from her overflow. Wiping some of the tears off her, he whispers, “I love you too, babe. More than ya know…” 

Leaning in and capturing her lips on his, he seals his promise.

[herstarburststories]

Sensitive There

A/N: My beta asked me if I was drunk when writing this. 

My part for @kalesrebellion​’s Bring On The Giggles challenge. 

Prompts: front butt & cum gun

Summary: You and Dean get drunk, which leads to a new sexual experience.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: dirty talk, smut, nipple play, Sam being a cockblock, humping, excessive use of the word nipple, purposely written like that bc crack

A distantly familiar smell invaded your nostrils as soon as you entered the bar, but it was different; nothing like the lingering after current of alcohol that wafted through the air after a long day’s hunt. Dean had his arm on your shoulders as he and Sam talked way too excitedly about something that you didn't bother enough to pay attention to. Dear Chuck, that hunt truly drowned all your energy. Thankfully, the place with shining letters on the front door was only ten minutes away. You already felt your mood lift and a relaxed smile sneak onto your lips just for being here. What was a better way to lift your spirits than grossly excessive amounts of alcohol?

So, that is what not only you, but Sam and Dean did as well. Apparently, you weren't the only one sorely in need of a whiskey vacation. By noon, even Sam was drunk.

Fuck, how long had it been since you and the Winchesters got properly wasted? Not the daily beers or the occasional scotch, but really drunk, just for the sake of it.

‘’I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun.’’

You giggled at Dean, somehow finding his words exciting. Drunk flirting after a hunt was pretty much how you both ended together, mostly because you weren't soberly hearing his pick up lines.

Your chin rested on your hand as you leaned in. ‘’Yeah, babe? Where? On my chest? Or maybe right on my…’’

“Front butt,” Sam interjected, a proud grin on his lips for helping you to complete your sentence.

You and Dean turned to glare at the other person on the table, furrowed brows and slightly opened mouths in surprise. Who the fuck called a vagina that? Especially Sammy. 

“What?”

“No, dude. You can't be serious? Front butt? Really?” Dean threw himself on the chair, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

Sam tried to defend himself. “I forgot the name!”

“Call it filet mignon!” Now it was your and Sam's turn to glance at him a questioning tilt of the eyes, confusion alit on your features.. Dean arched his eyebrows, wasn't it obvious? “Because it's delicious and made of beef.”

You sighed, pouring another glass of vodka with soda. “We really should talk about your weird psychosexual obsession with food.”

“Before you came along, he said that waitresses were his favorite because they smelled like burgers.” Dean slapped his brother's shoulder, exclaiming a dude! as if he had told you a secret. “What? You said!”

Whether it was because you knew Dean or the fact that your blood was slowly turning into alcohol, you weren't actually surprised by Sam's information.

You shrugged. “He got turned on when he saw me wearing his hotdog pajamas.”

“Can we focus on Sam calling your pussy a front butt?” Dean huffed, taking a sip of his whiskey. In an attempt to shift the focus, he smirked at Sammy. “Maybe you should try a guy, they are all butt.”

“And balls. And penis,” you added, sighing dramatically before placing your hand on Dean's thigh. “I like your penis.”

The eldest Winchester looked to his leg, pushing his tongue against his teeth. All the mental images suddenly coming to mind involved you and a bit more of alcohol were very welcoming to him and his big cum gun. He definitely wanted to shoot you. And hey, he was always good with aiming  Dean could bet he could hit right in your hole.

Even a bit tipsy.

“Sam, stay here while we use the Impala.” He raised to his feet, pulling you with him. You giggled, pecking on neck only to gain a quiet moan in turn. His body was always so responsive to you.

Sammy, however, had another idea. He was completely oblivious to what you and Dean were up to. His brows knitted together along with a soft pout.

“What? You guys are just gonna leave me here? I want to go back to the motel too,” he said with a fragile tone, clearly sad about being left alone.

With a cocky smile upon his lips, Dean was quick to reply, “Unless you want see a front butt and a butt, I advise you to stay here until we come back.” 

“But I want to go, too. I'm sleepy,” Sammy whined, and your heart ached a little. He just wanted to spend time with his big brother and you. Wasn't it adorable?

Not in a threesome way. That would be weird. Two brothers fucking the same girl was weird, especially when she dated one of them, but Sam and Dean were hot in so many different ways. One had a physique of a fucking professional athlete and the other had Greek beauty with rough hands. And Sam's hair was so long... Did he let the girls he was with pull his hair? All right, but threesome with brothers was a level of incest. Even if they always fought in sync, so hypothetically, fucking the same girl could be just as good.

You shook your head, trying to push this image away. You'd never consider this after sobering up.

Tipsy brain, stop. Drunk imagination was wild.

Maybe that is why that author told people to write drunk.

“You are drunk.” Dean's voice managed to take you away from that dark place of your mind where you could see nasty images very, very clearly.

Sam huffed, gesturing with slow exasperation. “So what? I can be two things.”

“Yeah, a bitch and a cockblock.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean!” You scoffed, but your boyfriend just shrugged, not feeling guilty. “Let's go to the motel, Sam.”

Fortunately, the motel was only two blocks far, which made it easier for the gang to walk and stumble there. 

As soon as the door was open, Sam collapsed on the couch. Dean lost in the middle of the living room, his eyes searching everywhere to find the beds. They got a motel without beds? Well, at least there was a carpet on the floor. That could work.

He could use your butt as a pillow!

“Awesome!” Dean said to himself, turning around to find you. Sam snoring on the couch, check. A refrigerator that probably had some beers, check. He finally found you after a complete spin, seeing you against the door. Girlfriend pillow, check. “Y/N?”

“Sam and I got burritos while you were talking to the sheriff this morning. Mexican food, Dean.” Your voice was low and threatening, like you were telling a horror story. Dean gulped, knowing exactly what you meant. Glare lost on Sam's figure, you continued, “We've brought hell on us.”

As if he'd heard a calling, a farting sound echoed. And then another.

“It's starting... We have to run, Y/N.”

You didn't wait any further, immediately latching onto his hand and walking fast through the motel. Dean almost tipped on his feet, but he knew the mission was more important for the greater good — for his boner and your nose.

You slammed the door shut, waking up a scared Sam. You could hear him hit the floor with a loud thump, but you knew you had to save your oxygen while you still could.

“That one was lethal.” Dean rubbed his hands on his face, and you agreed, breathing fresh air in relief. He observed the room, surprise flickering across his features. “We have a bed.”

“Of course we do.” You plopped onto the mattress, looking at him with a sexy smile. “And we should use it.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “I couldn't agree more, sweetheart.” 

Dean started to take his clothes off, and you bit your lower lip at the sight. When the black shirt was thrown on the other side of the bedroom, you started giggling. Dean arched his eyebrows. That wasn't the reaction he expected.

“Your nipples are funny,” you said, still grinning. Wait, were yours like this too? You threw your shirt away, happily already not wearing a bra. “My nipples are funny too. Nipple high five!”

You raised from the bed and touched your nipples with Dean's, who was watching with an adorable, confused face. As soon as your nipples brushed against each other, it was Dean's turn to whimper like a baby.

“Sweetheart, you know my nipples are sensitive.” He pulled away with a smile, uncharacteristically shy for him. 

“I know, but what if it's a good thing?” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers as you led Dean to the bed. You felt light after all those drinks, and you could tell that Dean did, too. You both should have fun with that. “My clit is sensitive and I like when you touch me there.”

“What do you — “ You pushed him to lay on his back, soon jumping on top of him. “Woah, woman!” Dean's eyes were twinkling with much desire, or maybe he was just wasted — you couldn’t tell. Anyway, you would make sure to fulfill this necessity. 

“Besides,” you said, running your hands across his chest, enjoying the view and the not so subtle way Dean's body reacted to your touch. His green eyes were glowing anxiously for your next step. “Cosmopolitan says that we should give men more nipple love, too.” You smiled, surrounded by some nasty ideas. You leaned in, allowing your tongue to circle the outline of his nipple before catching it with your lips.

Dean's eyes shut closed as he bit his lip, the sweet agony lighting him up like a comet. He gripped the sheets tightly in an attempt to compose himself. Your skilled tongue proceeded to swirl his nipple a bit, pressing the wet tip against it before sucking lightly. 

This time, the Winchester couldn't help but exhale a needy moan. Fuck, was it supposed to feel so good? He loved to suck your boobs and imagine knocking you up to get cream from them like you did on his dick, but he never considered you playing with his chest.

Your hand found its way to his free nipple and started to rub it with your thumb, teasing the sensitive skin with a light blow before anything else. You already had gone a bit too fast on his other pinkened nipple for the simple fact of horniness. You could feel his nipple hardening against your finger, while you suck on his other one.

“Sweetheart, you are killing me.” His hold on the blanket tightened, his thick cock fighting to be free of his pants. You felt his cum gun getting ready to blow on your leg and adjusted yourself on top of him, sitting in his lap as you still worked on his breast. “Fuck.”

You pinched his nipple with your fingertips, gaining back a moan of pleasure. You moved your hips back and forth while riding him like a cowgirl, rubbing his erect dick with your wet pussy. You were both still clothed. Ultimately, you attempted to bite his nipple, and Dean groaned loudly, almost a scream. His huge hands knotted into your hair as he bucked his hips, pulling you closer to his chest. You kept exploring his arousement from that spot, scratching and sucking harder. You changed nipples, always caressing the lonely one. The faster you two went, the closer you got. Until your bodies went full YEE HAA and both of you reached liberation with a strong orgasm. His cum gun finally shot inside his pants, and you in yours.

You fell beside him on the bed, and Dean wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer. Both were breathless, sweaty, and incredibly sensitive because of the newfound pleasure. You laid your head on his strong shoulder, laughing softly before grabbing the blanket to clean your mess on his chest. You and Dean stayed like that for a few minutes, just catching your breath.

“That was intense.” He smirked at you, throwing his body on top of yours. “But now, I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun. Gonna dirty your pretty mouth with my white juice. You won't be a veggie once you try my meat, sweetheart.”

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278​  (DEAN’S TAGLIST OPEN) 

Hunter @demonhunterbarbie​ (ALL SPN WORKS TAGLIST OPEN)

[sevenstarsinning]

Summary: Raditz loses his mate when Planet Vegeta is destroyed and finds himself working alongside Prince Vegeta. When he comes to Earth to recruit his brother, he’s dealt another devastating blow when Goku refuses to join and leaves him near death. He’s found by a human and attempts to adapt to life on Earth.

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3

This took entirely too long to finish and get posted because of writer’s block but it’s finally done. The next chapter is going to be a little chaotic, much longer, and hopefully done next week.

Chapter 4

Light touches on your forearm jolted you awake. It was still dark out and the pod was only dimly lit by the moon.

You swatted at your arm to shove away whatever was crawling across your skin but it just came back, caressing your arm like it was trying to comfort you.

You scrambled for your phone and quickly turned on the flashlight to see a furry brown tail coiling around your wrist.

In the few days you had spent sleeping in the pod with Raditz, his tail touching you was a first.

It was gentle, searching and memorizing the surface of your skin.

You reached over with your other hand and ran the back of your fingers softly over the fur. It gave your wrist a little squeeze of encouragement to continue.

Raditz stirred and tried to get more comfortable in the cramped space while you stroked his tail. He began to purr when he found a spot that offered a little more comfort.

"Dude, you purr, too?" You whispered, more to his tail than him because he was out cold. It uncoiled from your wrist and laid across your thighs.

"You're so soft."

It wagged a little and brushed up against your arm.

Raditz sat up so fast it made you scream and the pod shake. His tail was outstretched and fluffed out before coiling back around his waist.

"Human, that is one of the worst sounds I have ever heard," he said, still groggy from the deep sleep he was ripped away from.

"It's involuntary. Give your tail back, it's much friendlier than you."

"That was you touching my tail?" He asked, rubbing his eyes and blinking to bring you into focus.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" You chalked it up to him just being very disoriented from the sudden jolt but the way he looked at you, like he was disappointed to see you next to him piqued your curiosity.

"No one. Don't touch my tail again." He laid back and stared at the roof of the pod.

"Fine… but I didn't touch it first," you sighed and laid back down.

"What do you mean?" He asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I woke up to your tail brushing against my arm. Do you not have control of it?"

"Sometimes it reacts by itself. It's," he paused, searching for the right word to use, "instinctual."

"And the aversion to me touching it?"

"That's personal." He turned on his side to face you, keeping his tail at a safe distance.

"Fair enough."

You could feel him staring at you and it made falling back asleep impossible. You did the only logical thing you could think of and turned to face him. If awkward staring was what the big ass alien wanted, awkward staring was exactly what he would get.

"Twenty questions, big guy. You ask me a question, I ask you one and we keep going until we either hit twenty each or we pass the fuck out."

"Why do you talk so much?" He asked without hesitation.

"Goddamn, dude, you came out swinging," you laughed and adjusted your pillow to get more comfortable.

"I have anxiety out the ass around new people and rambling on and on is the way my brain thinks I should deal with it. Totally involuntary and very annoying," you paused and took a breath, willing yourself to leave it at that.

Learning more about the alien you tripped over in the field was an experience. His world was a lot different and, unfortunately, it was destroyed. Losing that much of your life had to be hard and he made it easy to sympathize with him.

You almost made it through the full 20 questions before your eyes got heavy and you fell asleep once more.

It took a few weeks but you and Raditz had finally fallen into a routine. That was amazing in itself but the fact that you were able to do it with half of a house was a miracle. With no help from insurance, you were on your own. Neither of you knew the first thing about rebuilding parts of a house and hiring a contractor was going to cost a fortune.

So, you did what any rational, struggling adult would do. You watched a ton of youtube videos about building a house.

"Why must these humans say this is easy while they use these primitive contraptions we don't have?" Raditz complained as he reached for another doughnut.

"No idea, big guy. Pass me a chocolate one," you said as you scrolled through recommended videos.

"I'm eating the chocolate." His voice was muffled by the doughnut you were craving. The one you went all the way to the bakery for.

He swallowed a big bite while he held the half eaten thick ring of doughy goodness. That didn't stop you from trying to swipe it from his hand. His tail immediately coiled around your arm to stop you. He brought the doughnut to his mouth and finished the rest in one bite while he looked directly at you.

"Proud of yourself, asshole?"

Before he could answer, you ran the tips of your fingers down his tail. His body tensed and he released your arm immediately.

You still had no idea what the deal was with the tail. He was vague on the details and didn't say why he didn't want you to touch it, so you refrained. At least until it wrapped around you in some way. That was almost becoming a nightly occurrence while you slept in the pod.

"Stop getting distracted and find another video," he chided.

"Stop distracting me and I will." You went back to scrolling through videos and his tail coiled around your arm again.

"Okay, seriously? What was I doing wrong this time?" You turned your head to see Raditz looking at his tail confused.

He pulled his tail back and wrapped it around his waist.

"Why does that keep happening?"

He looked away and remained silent, deep in thought.

Just when you were about to end the awkward silence, he spoke.

"Before my home planet was destroyed, I had a mate. She didn't survive the... " he cleared his throat before continuing, "she was the only one my tail reacted to like that. Anytime she was close it wrapped around her arm or her waist, sometimes her leg."

As you processed everything he was telling you, more questions arose that had your mind going in a million different directions. Did you remind Raditz of his mate? Or did he just miss her so much that any warm body close by was enough.

"What was her name?" You finally asked, opting for the easier question first.

"Maizie." He kept his gaze straight ahead, avoiding even the slightest eye contact with you.

"I'm sorry that happened," you offered, unsure how to comfort someone in his particular situation.

You brought your hand up to rub his back. The moment you made contact with the dark blue fabric of his shirt, his tail was on you. But for the first time, he didn't try to pull it away.

"Do you… “ you trailed off, biting your lip while you reconsidered your question.

“Do I what?” He asked, glancing in your direction.

“It's nothing."

His tail moved up to your face and rubbed against your cheek.

"I guess your tail likes me," you smiled and leaned into the soft, furry appendage.

"It does, but that's me controlling it this time," he admitted.

"Can I hug you?" You blurted. Silence fell over the pod and you wished like hell life had a rewind button.

Being touch starved was bad enough, but having someone like Raditz so close to you all the time made the need so much worse. You also got the impression he was just as touch starved, only his tail was more aware of it than him.

His continued silence had you seconds from laughing awkwardly like it was a joke. Then you felt his tail around your waist, nudging you closer.

"Is… uh- is that you or your tail?" Your gaze met his for clarification.

In the blink of an eye, he had you in his lap with his tail coiled around your waist. You were facing him, straddling his hips with your hands splayed across his well defined chest. Despite the way you were sitting, it didn't feel sexual. It just felt great to be close.

You cupped his face, gently rubbing his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. "I'm sorry you lost her."

Raditz managed a slight smile. “You’re not so bad for a human.”

“You’re not so bad for an alien,” you said, running your hands down his chest. You leaned forward and rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

[floatingpetals]

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 7

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: A sprinkle of spice towards the end, other than that nothin’

Word Count: 2700+

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Are you ready?! Are you ready?! Are you ready?! (Imagine this in an announcers voice) Cause things are starting to pick uppp!!! Gah I’m so excited about this chapter. FINALLY. Things are happening and I am HERE FOR IT. I hope you all enjoy and as always please reblog and let me know what you think! Even it’s you smashing your face on the keyboard I will adore it!( I swear even though I forget to reply I read all your comments and I love you all so much!!) Ennjjoyy!!! 

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Series Masterlist

A deafening boom sent Y/N’s eyes flying open wide, her heart in her throat. She shot up in the bed, gasping in a panic. What the hell was that? She stared around the dark room in wait. A flash came from the window, lighting the room for a split second. Another rumble grew, softer this time and swelled into a louder crash that vibrated the room. Y/N’s stomach dropped. The storm had come.

She shoved the blankets off the bed and ran to the window, throwing open the curtains. A groan bubbled up in her throat. It was dark but she could hear the rain beating against the window, the wind roaring through the trees. No, it can’t! Yes, the clouds hovered above when she fell asleep that night, but she hoped it wouldn’t rain. It couldn’t. Yet here it was. Every bit as treacherous as it looked hanging above.

There was another clap of thunder that caused her to jump with a start. And then she heard the groan of the power shutting off, the light from the alarm clock on the bedside table going black. Shrouded in darkness, Y/N felt her stomach drop. There was an annoyed curse from the hall and a thump before quickly retreating footsteps.

Stumbling over to the door, she grasped around for the handle. Peaking around the corner, she could barely make out anything in the darkness. The occasional lightning strike lit up the hall, showing she was alone. She took in a deep breath and stepped carefully into the hall, running her fingers along the wall. She followed the hall, only stubbing her toes twice and cursing wood baseboards before she came to the living room.

The shades had been pulled up on the windows and showed the room when the lightning struck through the sky. She vaguely made out two large shapes in the kitchen by the back door huddled together. Even over the rain pelting on the rooftops above, she could hear their soft murmurs as the spoke to each other.

“Shit, this is worse than I thought it would be.” Steve, she realized, muttered irritated.

“I’m just annoyed the generator went out.” Bucky exhaled.

“Tony said it was all good the last he checked. The backup generator should have flipped on when the main stopped working. I don’t understand. One of us needs to go check it out.”

Y/N felt around the living room, making sure she didn’t trip over the furniture and made her way quietly across the room. Her eyes had begun to adjust, and she could finally make out Bucky and Steve standing side by side glaring out the windows

“I’m not going out in this!” Bucky bit back sharply.

“What happened?” Y/N called out behind them. The two men nearly leaped out of their skin. Bucky yelped and spun around, while Steve slammed against the windowpane in fright. The twang from the glass pulled a snort from her lips, and Steve shot her an irritated glare. Struggling to stop her giggle at their expense, Y/N bit her lip and apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky clutched his chest and sucked in air. “When the hell did you get there?”

Y/N shrugged. “Not long. Something about a generator?”

Steve, still pressed against the window, grunted.

“Generator went out and now the backup isn’t working. We were deciding who gets to go check it out.”

“In this?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Absolutely not! We can go without power until this passes.”

There was a growl, intense and furious. Y/N jumped at the sound, the rumble from the growl vibrating in her chest. What in the world? She thought dumbfounded. It sounded like a growl from a dog, an incredibly angry canine. Did they have a dog and she didn’t see it? What made it so angry?

“You’re telling us what to do now?” Steve snarled.

“Steve.” Bucky snapped and stepped between them. “She’s right. We can barely see two feet in front of us as it. The winds are fast enough it could bring down a tree and we’d never know until it’s on top of us. We don’t need to go out until it blows over.”

The rumble came back, not the thunder above, but the rumble from the enraged snarl. Y/N’s breath caught, and her body began to shake in fear. She glanced around the room, trying to find the source of the sound. She didn’t know where it was or what it was, but she knew danger when she heard it. It was so close she could feel the power in the vibrations shaking her bones.

“Steve,” Bucky urged, dropping his voice low. He placed a hand on Steve’s arm. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

Steve huffed and pushed him aside, stomping around Y/N towards the stairs. She watched his shadowy figure move without hesitation up the stairs out of her sight, taking the dark cloud he wore over him with.

“Sorry about him.” Bucky sighed. “He’s a little… edgy. This was a freak storm.”

Y/N trembled slightly, still shook up over the mysterious noise. Bucky must have seen her tremor, he reached out and gently rubbed her arms. What was Steve’s deal with me? She thought miserably. He’s hated her on-site, and she had no idea why.

“He hates me…” Y/N mumbled. She heard Bucky inhale sharply. He tugged her into a hug and held her tight.

“No, he doesn’t,” He reassured. “Steve’s always been a little careful with new people. He just has to sit and get to know you.”

Y/N really doubted it. She pretty much got the message loud and clear. Steve didn’t like her and most likely wouldn’t be changing his opinion anytime soon. Knowing there was nothing else he could say on the matter, Bucky decided it was best to leave the living room and move from the spot of discomfort. Gently nudging her back to the hall, Bucky held her securely against his side.

“Let’s go back to bed. Like you said, we can’t do anything about the generator till the storm passes. Might as well get some more sleep.” He said softly.

Y/N nodded and leaned against his side. His heat soaked into her body, chasing away the strange chill she felt from earlier. Her breath caught when his impossibly warm hand settled on her hip and pulled her closer. His thin t-shirt did little to hide the pure slab of muscles he was made of and she could feel everything pressed against his side. The smell of a citrus body wash and a smell she could only pinpoint as him hit her nose and warmed her insides.

Her cheeks started burning when her mind began to wander. Nope, nope, nope she thought quickly. She can’t think about that right now. Bucky was just being nice; she didn’t need to go and salivate all over him just cause he was making sure she got to her room safe. Right, focus on that, she thought. He seemed able to cross the large room and miss all the furniture. She chalked it up to him living here long enough to know the layout like the back of his hand.

“Fortunately, we have a new generator that we can hook up if the other two don’t work.”

Y/N snorted. “You have a back up for your back up?”

“Well!” Bucky chuckled. “We wanted to prepare ourselves, and clearly, this is proof enough we aren’t totally crazy on getting the third one.”

“Yeah okay.” Y/N laughed and nodded. “Fair point.”

He stopped at her open door and gave her hip a gentle squeeze. She titled her head towards his face and could see the soft grin on his face as he stared back. The storm still raged on outside, but inside there was a stillness in the air that made Y/N’s stomach flip. It occurred on her that she didn’t feel out uncomfortable in his arms. In fact, she felt almost at home against him. There was a pull to him she couldn’t ignore, welcoming and warm. She hadn’t realized they both were leaning in until she felt his hot breath against her lips.

A flash of lightning light up the hall, briefly giving her a glance of Bucky’s face. Dark grey eyes bore into hers, the lust unmistakable in his stare. It tempted her to close the distance and finally give in to the call. A second later the crash of thunder overhead made Y/N jump, effectively cutting off whatever spell she was under.

Reluctantly, Bucky let her slip from his grip. He fingers drug over her hip, skimming across her skin from her shirt that had ridden up under his arm. It sent a jolt down Y/N’s back. She had to step back, to get away from this. She was stunned how her body reacted and how willing she was to lean in and press her lips against his. From the look in his eyes, Bucky wouldn’t have protested.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Bucky said softly and pulled back. Y/N whispered a soft goodbye, barely audible over the rain on the roof above. She didn’t move until Bucky’s door clicked softly behind him. Jerking out of her stupor, Y/N flung herself into the room and shut the door behind her. She was trying to forget how her legs began to tremble and her insides turned to molten lava at the heated expression he sent her way before shutting his door.

Nope, she thought and threw herself on the bed. There is no chance in hell this could ever happen.

Right?

Bucky shut the door, his grip on the metal handle so tight his knuckles went white. He almost lost control. He never lost control. His wolf, the animal inside him he’s spent years having solid control over was howling at him to go back and take what was his. Mine. Mine. My mate.

His breath caught in his throat. No that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t his mate. There was no way. For one, she was human. And two, she was human! His wolf had to have it wrong. She wasn’t his and never would be.

Nevertheless, even Bucky couldn’t deny that something changed. Maybe it was because she was human that he didn’t notice it before. The pull he felt, the little tug in his heart that drew him to her. It’s why he stopped at the waterfall.

There was something about her smell that intrigued him, and then something about her that caught his attention. If he hadn’t caught her scent in the wind, would she have ever slipped? Maybe she was meant to, and perhaps if he ignored her call, there was no doubt she would be at the bottom of the river. Instead, he listened to the little voice. It led him to save her, spend all day with her, holding her and watching over her as he fretted about her injuries. He felt the tug but that could have been his compassion attracting him. Why is it now that his wolf had it’s full attention on her?

Bucky sank down on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall of glass windows in front of him. He didn’t see the rain pelting the glass or hear the wind howling through the trees. His mind only lingered on her.

Perhaps it was her being so close, sharing the same space as her. She didn’t smell like it yet; she had only been in the guest room for a short time. But it was enough time for her smell to start to twist and merge with his. Even now, he could smell her if he focused. It was soothing and cozy. Like home.

Earlier, she somehow managed to sneak up on them in the kitchen. They didn’t hear her come up, she had to have stumbled through the room in the dark and no doubt should have run into a few things. Even the rain couldn’t mask her stumbling. Only one person could ever fly under their radar, a shifter’s animal would only ever be at ease with the presence of someone that it didn’t see as a threat. He didn’t hear here because his wolf knew already. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Now the reaction he had when he saw her at the waterfall made sense.

Holy shit. She’s my mate.

Falling back against the mattress, Bucky felt all the air rush from his lungs. He found his mate. Somehow, luck decided to go out and find her for him. 

He went over the emotions he felt standing at the door with her, holding her against his side. It felt so right like everything had finally fallen into place. He could smell her so strongly, could see each and every breath he took. His eyes were better than hers after all. He could see the dark as well as he could in the day. So he saw it all. The way her breath hitched when he tightened his grip on her waist. How her eyes darkened, and pupils grew when she leaned in. Her smell was growing thickly sweet, like honey waiting to be devoured. He was so close to tasting her, his wolf was howling for a kiss. But the spell broke at the clap of thunder and he needed to run. He had to. She was injured and in a strange location. He couldn’t take advantage of her. He wouldn’t.

Even with his wolf snarling in his mind, Bucky knew he couldn’t act on this. Not when it meant he thought of Steve. Steve showed no signs of her being his mate. And that’s what worried Bucky the most.

They were a set pair. Odd as it was, two alpha’s a pair. In nature, it would never happen or ever work out. However, it worked with them. They grew up together and did everything together, despite being from different packs.

Steve and Bucky’s fathers were both close, they had gone to the same college and met through their classes. Their mothers would always roll their eyes when remembering the two older alphas in school. Steve’s mom had mentioned once it was like seeing twins separated at birth with how similar they were alike personality-wise. It was what made things work between them. The two decided to move to the mountains with their packs but have their own respective territories.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to meet up with pack members from the other. It helped give them more protection, to trade off watching over the younger members. That’s what Steve and Bucky did. Steve was smaller, hadn’t quite gotten into his skin just yet, which meant Bucky made it his business to watch over his friend until he could hold his own in a fight. To them, it just made sense. Of course, like in any pack, there were always those few who didn’t like the notion of another pack being so close to their territories, but over time and after many disputes, they grew to appreciate and recognize the good it brought.

When it came time for Steve and Bucky both to step up and take over for their fathers it only made sense to combine the packs. Steve and Bucky were a pair, one wasn’t far from the other. The packs had time to brace themselves for the strange but obvious decision. It wasn’t until they became one pack that Steve and Bucky recognized what this meant. It hadn’t dawned on either of them until they both stood side by side as Alphas.

While they might not be physically attracted to each other, they realized there was a bond between them. Bucky was attuned to Steve’s emotions and vice versa. If he thought about, he always had been able to feel Steve’s emotions, even as kids. For instance, Bucky could feel the rage and frustration Steve had constantly boiling under the surface. Bucky had been worried about him for a while now. 

Going further back, he could still remember with Steve before they-. No. Bucky shook his head cutting that memory off in its track. He wasn’t going to remember that. It was a mistake. A mistake that made Steve how he was now. A mistake that he wished they could take back.

Groaning, Bucky rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Anything to stop Y/N’s smell from invading his senses. He’d have to keep fighting this pull, to ignore the call, he needed to. He couldn’t regret something if he never acted on it.

Right?

Call Of The Mountains Taglist: (CLOSED!!!)

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[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (2)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Nothing is more pleasant than silence when you sleep, isn’t it? The sweet sound of silence...Until some idiot has the good idea to use his car horn. Danny Johnson groaned putting his pillow on his head in vain to mitigate the noise. He looked over to his alarm clock that read 8:11 am. Well, a good sleep to start the day.  

Fortunately for him, he’s got his day off just yesterday so he slept more than usual. He gets out of his bed, raises his arms in the air and stretches until he feels his back muscles crack. Then he does the first thing he do every morning: take a shower. He walks to the bathroom, turned the shower on, undressed and climbed in. The contact with the water made him shudder a little, but he gradually got used to it. Leaning his head back, a grin appears on his face. He remembers about his last victim, Travis Maloney, who he must admit it, wasn’t so easy to kill as he believed.

Travis was an American football player, often spending time in arcades, fast foods, gyms and parks than in class. But when it’s about American football or movies, Travis was unbeatable. Danny stalked him for about an entirely month before taking action. What a coincidence it was for Travis to meet Danny, or as everyone else knew him, Jed Olsen, who had a film culture as strong as him. It was risky for Danny to get so close to Travis, but luck smiles on the bold, isn't it? Befriending this young man was a breeze for Danny allowing him to study his home in order to better strike. And when the time comes that night… Damn it was so delicious, so satisfying. A real pleasure of blood and tears.

Of course, Travis tried to wrestle with his athletic muscles, but Danny was more agile than he was, even though he still managed to hit him in the stomach. What a lovely sound he makes when Danny planted his knife in his back multiple times before turning him like a vulgar piece of meat to pierce his belly like a balloon and finish him by slit his throat with a sharp and precise blow. After taking pictures and making sure he had left no physical evidence of his presence, Danny escaped through the same window where he entered.  

Danny came out of the shower after several minutes and dressed. A white shirt covered with a grey jogging jacket, blue jean and black shoes. He looks his reflection in the mirror thinking about all those men who dyed their head. Seriously why they do that? Just for being more attractive or hide their true hair color ? Foolish idea.  

Natural beauty is better than artificial and Danny was the best example he knows. He knows that he can seduce any girl with just a glance as himself or Jed. He styled his hair in a ponytail and put his glasses on. It’s time for him to be Jed Olsen, reporter of Roseville’s gazette, kind colleague and friend. He takes his bag and leave his home. But lost in his thoughts, he’s bumping into someone...and it was you.

“Oops. Well looks like It's my fault this time. Sorry. Nothing broken?” he said with a little smile.

“No worries, everything is fine!  Almost everything...” you said a little disappointed.

“Why? What happen?”

“Well, I’ve to receive a delivery of Colombian coffee beans for my coffee shop today but...There's been a problem and I won't get it until tomorrow. So, I won't be able to officially open until Friday. I have a little more time to organize everything at least.”  

Jed patted your shoulder to comfort you while Danny held back from not smiling. He's keeping that information in his memory for later. Maybe Ghostface will go for a little tour to get to know the place...Just in case.

“oh...It’s bad luck. You own a coffee shop?” Said ‘Jed’ interested.

“Yup! It's not far from here! Two blocks away instead of Joe's old dinner. I finally fulfil one of my dreams. If it works of course. Because in this kind of business, it passes or it breaks from the opening. But I'm confident about it! And at least it will always give me a good experience.” You said full of determination.  

“I hope it will work for you. Joe’s old dinner you said? Roseville’s Gazette building is further, at the end of the street. I think I'd come often if you make good coffee. Between us, Joe's coffee was really disgusting. A mixture of shoe juice and rotten egg.”

“Eww...Gross. Don’t worry, my coffee won't be a horrible mix to make you sick, neither do my pastries. I got to go. I have to finish two or three things for the grand opening.”  

“I can take you if you want. It's on my way. This will save you from wasting gas.”  

“That really nice of you Jed...But I don’t to bother you and make you arrive late at your job. I'll feel guilty if you get yelled at by your boss because of me.” you respond embarrassed.

“I wouldn't offer it to you if it bothered me. And then if I get yelled at... You'll owe me a cup of coffee and a pastry.” He laughs advancing towards the entrance to get out with you walking behind his heels.

Danny walked to the van parked at his location and unlocked the doors. If Jed laughs a little for having a van, Danny would have liked to drive a slightly more comfortable car. But hey when you are a journalist and you have to go a little far, you have to be able to sleep on the spot to get interesting information. he opened the passenger door so that you could get into the vehicle, from the corner of his eye he noticed that his gesture did not leave you indifferent and that made him smile. One thing he had in common with his alter ego Jed was gallantry, even though the motivations were different. Jed was in order to be polite to everyone, Danny was in order to approach his victims and learn a little more about them. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Devil in disguise.

He went up on his side, put his bag in the back and started the engine before heading towards the coffee.

“So... What convinced you to come and live here? I would have thought that you would go more to open a business in a big city rather than here” Said Danny  

“Well, I wanted to change the landscape. I was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. I was tired of the big cities where the buildings are as big as mountains and where privacy is hardly respected. Roseville have that charming and welcoming little side that I like. How about you? Did you grow up here?” you said with a smile  

“No, I'm a pure Florida boy, I came here for the same reasons. And by being a reporter, I often had to change places to report what’s happening in the towns and villages of our dear country. I can't even remember how many times I moved since I started this job.”

“You see things, I guess. it doesn't have to be easy every day to be a reporter...”

“oh no I can confirm that. Cases of fraud, murder, corrupt politicians... We don't just make friends in this business. But I must admit that all this is nothing compared to what happens here with Ghostface. it's scary to know that a monster like him is lurking in the wild. All his victims ended up in states... I wish I could erase that from my memory” said ‘Jed’ disgusted while Danny holds back from smiling as he remembered his bloody masterpieces.

“I suspect it wasn't supposed to be beautiful to see. I read your last article it's really impressive, you know? it's almost the only thing I'd read from the paper.” You say before you see the storefront of your business.

Danny parked in front of the shop. At least we know the theme and atmosphere of your cafe. And it would be hard not to spot it with this particular blue that stands out more compared to the colors of the other shops. at first glance, no security camera but better be careful.

“thanks again for the ride Jed. You're such a sweet I don't know how to thank you.” you said with a sweet smile

“Well to be able to taste your coffee and your sweets will be more than enough for me. And don't forget, if I get yelled at...” reply Danny giving you a wink.

“Ha ha you don't lose the north you! Promised a coffee and a pastry offered by the house. See ya !” you said before leaving.

“...She’s prettier than the last tenant at least. Much prettier and innocent...”

Danny smiles before he gets back on the road to work. So, you read his articles? And besides, you love them. A smile made his way on his face, he feels flattered to see how much you appreciate his work. Jed's work instead. he arrived on time in front of the newspaper building, taking his bag before entering, passing through the security pole and climbing the stairs leading to the offices. While some colleagues were writing their articles for the next edition, others were chatting quietly over coffee. Danny put his bag at the foot of the office and went for a coffee just to wake up a little.

“Hey Jed! So, this day off? Tell me you've actually rested and not worked over and over again like you do.” said Melina tapping on Jed's shoulder.  

Melina was the first to welcome 'Jed' into the team with Mattew. Even though Jed was the quietest and shyest of the three, as soon as they were together it was a real mess. But at least they were setting the mood in the offices. But in meetings, they are the most serious group.  

“ha ha promised this time I rested. I know how you're reacting if I don't listen to you on this.” He laughs

“You'd better do it, yes! otherwise I swear your hair will change color. Although I might do it on Mike. What an asshole. Sir thinks he's the best reporter in the world when clearly you're much superior!”

“I'm just doing my job, you know. Nothing more than nothing less.”

“Hey Jed! The boss wants to see you in his office!” shouts Mattew by heading towards them.

“Already? It must be important then. Hoping I'm going to get my straps up. Usually when he wants to see someone so early in the day... See you later guys." Said Danny before leaving

“Do you think it's serious?” said Melina

“Well, the boss looked pretty happy when I told him Jed had arrived.” respond Mattew.

Danny walked towards the office of the director, Johann Hembrook. This man, in his fifties, had been practicing journalism for 33 years. He had covered some of them as scandalous as each other and had decided to open his own gazette here in Roseville. Over time it became practically the only source of paper information in the city and then came the technology. But that didn't stop the newspaper from continuing to prosper. Through the door, Danny could hear a conversation that seemed to end and recognized the voice of Mike, his 'rival' since his arrival.

Mike Harris joined the team five years before 'Jed'. His pretensive side makes him take all the others for little sandbox journalists boasting himself to be the best ,even if it is true that he does a very good job, but not to the point of claiming this title. He hates Jed since he arrived and it didn't arrange when he saw this newbie see himself in charge of the articles on Ghostface. It must have been him and not a novice junk.

If Jed didn't react to him, Danny wanted only one thing: slit his throat. Slowly... Make him suffer as much as possible to make him beg. Oh God it would be divine …

“Get the f*** out of my way Olsen. I don't want to throw up when I see your nerd face early in the morning.” Mike grunts as he shoves Danny to pass.  

Danny breathed deeply, holding back from planting a pen in his throat and knocked on the manager's door before entering.

“You wanted to see me Sir?” He said with a smile.  

“Ah Here's the best reporter in Roseville! Yes, come in Jed. I want to talk. Please take a sit.” said Mr Hembrook offering a seat. “I want to congratulate you again on your last article. It's impressive for a young man like you to write an article of this quality. How old are you already?”

“27 Sir. I’m glad to know that you liked my articles but I'm just doing my job, sir. Just like the others here.”

“And modest with that. However, the police disagree. They'd like you to talk less about these murders. They think you're too involved in their business. You know how cops are with us, they think we're dirty little snoops.”  

“If no one reports the facts who will take care of it? Them? Just to say that someone is dead. People want to know what is going on in their city and it is our duty to keep them informed down to the smallest detail.”

“That's exactly what I told them. You remind me of me at your age. Shyer that said. You have free hand for your next article. If you have any ideas...I know I'd never be disappointed with you.”

Danny smiles before gets up and leaves the office. He already knows what he's going to write in his next article. sometimes you have to put aside the negatives and take care of what is developing in the city. Like your coffee, for example. He passed all morning thinking and writing his article but little problem: without knowing the name or the owner of the café, people will not rush. He took his bag and left the offices to join his vehicle in the parking lot and then set me on. once he reached his destination, he went down and arrived at the door, he tossed what startled you. after all you're not supposed to be open today.

“Well, eager to see me again?” you laugh.

“I'm coming as a reporter this time, and I thought you might get a little advertisement in our newspaper. It always helps.” said Danny with a wink.  

After you allowed him in, Danny sat down with you at a table and started asking questions for his article. He kindly accepted a cup of coffee with a slice of blueberry pie and checked every piece of information. He took out his camera and took a picture of you and the café to illustrate his article.

“Only for my article. promised I delete the photo once the newspaper is published.” Lied Danny. What do you think? Of course, he will keep it for him once the newspaper published! “There's only one question left on your café : What's his name?”

"Well... I've been thinking about it all night and all morning and I think I'm sure of my choice. I'm going to call it...”

***

(Hey! Finally finish this one! I'm so happy to see that you like the first chapter! thanks a lot! Don't hesitate to give me your opinions and ask questions if the heart tells you! Once again, thank you very much, I hope that you’ll like this chapter as much as the first! See ya guys!)  

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Fall on Me ⊰

Request: one where the reader has had feelings for reid for a while and confessed them to him but he then tells her about maeve and when the whole incident happens she stays by his side to comfort him and they end up together? -Anon

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Lots of angst, mention of minor character death, grief

A/N: Firstly, this became much more than what I had anticipated but I was just super inspired and in the feels. Also, this doesn’t really follow the timeline of the show.

Second, my recent fics haven’t been showing up in tags and idk why. If you would like to be tagged in future fics so you don’t miss any, let me know and I’ll gladly add you. I hope you enjoy!

You shifted in your seat as you counted the people strolling leisurely down the busy street. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon in D.C., and almost everyone was out and about enjoying the fresh breeze and warmth of the sun brought by Summer. That’s why you opted to sit outside of the cafe, having been cooped up inside of your office all day for the past week.

Glancing at your watch, your smile faltered when you realized that almost fifteen minutes had already passed. Spencer was very punctual, he would usually arrive earlier rather than later. It was a bit worrying to you because of all the years you’ve known him, he’s never been late.

You were just about to call him on his phone when the chair across from you was pulled out from underneath the table, and you saw Spencer taking a seat.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” he began as he set his bag down while you put your cell back inside your pocket. “I was on the phone with someone and didn’t realize what time it was.”

You smiled as the waitress came over to give Spencer the menu. “It’s alright. I wasn’t waiting for that long anyway.”

“Still, I kept you waiting,” he added, giving you a smile of his own before looking through the menu.

You couldn’t help but stare at Spencer, the tips of his long curls framing the front of his face, hiding away the warm brown eyes you’ve grown to adore. He was quite handsome, not to mention kind-hearted and intelligent. He cared about you more than anyone ever has.

It wasn’t a surprise that you developed feelings for him. And today, you planned on telling Spencer the truth—you loved him.

Honestly speaking, you were nervous about doing it. There wasn’t a secret that Spencer didn’t know except for this one, and you weren’t sure how he would react to it. But to calm yourself down and be able to go through with this, you refused to think of the worst that could happen.

“So, I have something to tell you,” Spencer spoke once the food was ordered. “Remember that geneticist I reached out to because of my headaches?”

You nodded, recalling the time he shared that with you. You had been so concerned about his health though Spencer kept reassuring you that he was going to be okay. “I do. Her name was Maeve, right?”

“Yeah, Maeve,” he said her name in a gentle tone, his lips slightly curling upwards at the sound of it.

You knew little about Maeve, other than Spencer contacted her for his medical issues. He never met her in person because she had a threatening stalker, and it was safer to communicate using phone booths. You weren’t sure why he was bringing her up now.

“Well, anyway, we’ve been talking for months now, and I’ve fallen for her,” Spencer revealed.

Just like that, and it was as if everything around you had stopped moving.

“What?” You could only say, feeling your heart falling into the pit of your stomach.

“I never told you this because I wanted to be sure, but I’ve fallen in love with Maeve. I know it’s crazy because we have never seen each other—”

“Yes, it’s crazy,” you interjected, hoping that Spencer would notice your discomfort, but he only continued.

“But she’s funny and brilliant. We have these wonderful talks about life, literature, and everything!” He said excitedly, and you couldn’t help but feel the ache inside of your chest from seeing him so love-stricken. “It doesn’t matter what she looks like, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

The last bit delivered the final blow to you. The tears pricked your eyes as Spencer kept telling you more about Maeve. You couldn’t even process the words he was saying as the world felt like it was spinning and spinning…

Suddenly, you grabbed your bag and got up from your seat, the chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor, causing the customers around you to check the commotion. Spencer looked at you in confusion as the first drop of tears began to fall.

“I have to go,” you blurted out as Spencer stood, his face showing concern.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, his hand coming to rest on your arm, but you quickly stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing how to explain to Spencer why you weren’tokay. “I just need to go.”

You didn’t even register Spencer calling out your name as you stormed away from the patio area and walked down the sidewalk in quick steps. The tears in your eyes clouded your vision as you turned down the corner, praying that Spencer wasn’t following you. After a couple more blocks, your legs were about to give out, and you sank down on an empty bench.

You sat there as you cried to yourself, ignoring the strange looks from those passing by. Once you finally got a hold of yourself, you took a deep breath and noticed the skies growing dark as the sun began to set.

Sighing, you started heading back home as you tried to forget what had just happened. Your phone kept ringing multiple times until you powered it down, not even looking to see who was calling because you already knew.

As you made your way to your apartment on the other side of the city, you felt the atmosphere around you change. The world which seemed so warm and so bright just hours before was now colder and darker. And it wasn’t because the day had come to an end so that the night could take over.

It was because your heart was broken by the one man you trusted—you loved— and you didn’t know if you could ever heal from that.

-x-

Three months passed, and the city embraced the beginning of Autumn. The leaves on trees were changing colors, and the wind in the air became chillier. Still, people were spending time outside, absorbing the last bit of warmth before the need for thicker coats returned once again.

You had just left your office for the evening, and planned on taking out food from your favorite restaurant down the street where you worked. It had been a fairly busy day—clients kept coming in, phone calls seemingly never-ending. You had taken up more responsibilities at your job, which meant working longer hours during the week.

You didn’t mind it all. In fact, you wanted it. Work was work, and it kept you busy.

Busy enough to keep you from thinking about Spencer.

What happened in the aftermath of that day was something you tried not to dwell on. Three days later, you called him and explained that you were just stressed from work during that week. It was a lie, of course, and Spencer, knowing how smart he was, deemed it as such. You refused to reveal the truth, however, not wanting to get in the way of his happiness.

Because even though it had hurt, you still loved him and wanted the best for him.

Even if the best wasn’t you.

Spencer’s job and your increased workload prevented you two from speaking often. It was either he was on a case a thousand miles away, or you were staying late at the office working overtime. You were glad since you needed space, and it was much easier this way.

After picking up your food, your phone started to ring. Deciding against answering it because you wanted a quiet night to yourself, you continued your walk before another call came in. When you ignored it a second time, your phone rang again, and you finally saw that it was Spencer trying to reach you.

“Hello? Look, Spence, I’m not really in the mood to talk—”

“(Y/N)? It’s JJ,” her frantic tone on the other line caught you off guard, and you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“JJ? Is everything okay? Where’s Spencer?”

“Something happened to him,” JJ said, her voice breaking up. “Reid’s safe, but he needs you. I don’t have time to explain, but just come down to the headquarters.”

The call ended, and immediately, the adrenaline kicked in. Dropping your takeout, you ran to a nearby taxi and told the driver to take you to Quantico as fast as possible, promising him a big tip at the end. Fortunately, it was late at night that there wasn’t much traffic, and you got there in half an hour.

You were out of breath by the time you reached the elevator, the soft music playing in the background doing nothing to ease your nerves. Once the doors opened, you saw JJ waiting by the glass doors, and you jogged up to the federal agent.

“Where is he?” You questioned in a small voice, and before she could answer, Spencer emerged from one of the offices, exhausted and emotional.

Even from a distance, you could tell by his reddened and puffy eyes that he had been crying. You felt your chest tightened at the thought of what Spencer could have witnessed. His work was always so violent, but never was he this affected by it.

As he caught sight of you, he hung his head down and dragged his feet to you. JJ leaned into your ear, whispering the name “Maeve.”

You didn’t need to know anything more.

“(Y/N),” Spencer uttered your name low, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “She’s gone.”

You immediately felt his tears falling onto your neck as you let him cry into you. He hugged you with a tight grip as you ran a soothing hand up and down his back. You turned your lips towards his ear and said, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

You knew your words weren’t enough to bring him comfort, but at least he knew that you were there for him, and you were going to help him through this.

-x-

Winter seized the Capital with its thick white snow blanketing the entire city. The holiday came quickly and went, decorations that lit up the streets were now stored away. Schools were closed, traffic was unrelenting, people were lining up at coffee shops for a hot beverage to keep them from freezing in the cold, frigid air. Winter moved unforgivingly slow, making time seem like it doesn’t pass at all.

Spencer was barely managing it, and you could tell. Maeve’s death prevented him from going to work for two weeks, and when he did go back, that was all that he could do— bury himself in his work.

It took time for Spencer to open up to you about what had happened. He knew how you hated hearing about death, but you pleaded for him to talk about it this time. You wanted him to tell you about his feelings. If he was angry or upset. Did he blame himself or had any guilt?

You weren’t a therapist, but you were a friend. It would only hurt Spencer if he kept his thoughts bottled up. He needed to let it out, and eventually, he did.

You had been coming to his apartment every night whenever he wasn’t out of town. You could be tired from working for the last twelve hours, but would still have enough energy to take care of him.

“So, I brought you Chinese at that place we love so much,” you announced as you looked through his cupboards to get plates. “They miss seeing you there. You used to stop by at least once a week.”

Silence filled the air, and you exhaled deeply. Spencer was in the living room, mindlessly tracing the edges of a book cover in his hands. You knew that the book was a gift from Maeve, and it was the one thing he’s been clutching on because it reminded him of her.

Once you got the plates and cutleries, you brought them along with the food to where Spencer was, setting them on the coffee table. “I got your usual order, and asked for extra sauce this time since I know it’s your favorite.”

Spencer abruptly stood up and dug his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m not hungry.”

He was about to retreat back into his room when you reached for his hand and gently held him in his place. Spencer’s eyes flickered up to yours, and you could see the emptiness inside of them. You knew he was still grieving, but he wasn’t taking care of himself. Ever since Maeve’s death, he’s never been the same, and it worried you.

“Spence, I can tell you haven’t eaten anything all day. Just eat a little bit, and then you can head to bed, okay?”

“Why do you care so much?” He asked you, his tone laced with bitterness.

“What do you mean? I’m your friend. Of course, I care.”

Spencer shook his head. “You didn’t seem to care about Maeve when I told you about her months ago.”

There was slight anger in his voice as you stared at him wide-eyed. Your mouth felt dry as you tried to come up with what to say in response to his accusation. Spencer was hurting, but he still didn’t know how much he had hurt you when he told you about Maeve.

“I did care about her,” you began as you stepped forward. “She made you happy, and that’s what mattered. I only wanted you to be happy.”

“Yeah, but when you stormed off, it didn’t seem that way. After that, every time I mentioned her name, you changed the subject. I let it go because I didn’t want to ask at the time. So, now I’m asking you. Why?”

Your eyes began to well up tears as he looked at you sternly. “I don’t know what to say, Spence.”

“Was it because you thought that it was impossible to fall in love with someone whom you’ve never met? Ever since that afternoon, you’ve acted so distantly as if I had done something wrong. Just tell me the reason.”

You knew that it was his pain driving the anger. It broke you when he believed that the shift in your relationship was because of Maeve when it was far from it. His brain was flooded with so many different emotions that he wasn’t thinking logically.

“I loved her,” Spencer told you. “But you weren’t supportive.”

“Because I loved you!” You released a cry as you let go of Spencer’s hand. “I loved you, and I was going to tell you that when you told me about Maeve.”

Spencer remained silent as you moved to sit on the couch because your legs couldn’t carry you anymore. You were surprised when he did the same, lowering himself down on the seat next to yours, his knees almost touching yours.

“I loved you,” you repeated, this time softly as your eyes fixed on your hands clasped on your lap. “And you broke my heart when you said you loved Maeve. But I had never seen you that happy and so in love. I decided to take a step back because even though I wanted you to enjoy it, I couldn’t let myself suffer.”

No one said a word afterwards. The howling of the wind outside was all you could hear aside from the shaky breaths you released.

Then a hand came to touch your shoulder, and your eyes went back up to Spencer’s who only looked at you apologetically and in regret.

“I didn’t know— I’m sorry.”

“Of course, you didn’t know,” you mumbled, using your sleeve to wipe the remnants of your tears. “I didn’t tell you anything, and it’s not like you’re a pro in reading signals.”

Spencer frowned slightly at that, and you gave him a shake of your head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like it’s your fault.”

“It’s okay,” he responded. “I’ve always been blind to things like that.”

You swallowed thickly, the air in the room felt… lighter.

“You’re going to get through this, Spence,” you said as a promise. “I know things between us have been tense ever since that day, but I still love you as a friend. I’m not asking for anything in return. I only want what’s best for you and to make sure that you’re okay.”

He gave you a small nod of understanding as the weight was lifted off your shoulders. Eventually, Spencer reached for the take out which had long grown cold by now and began eating. You smiled and did the same.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen now that you had told him the truth, but one thing was certain— you were never going to leave his side.

-x-

“The chocolate lava cake was better than the apple custard-pie,” you argued before licking the remaining frosting on your plate.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head at you. “That’s because you have a terrible sweet tooth.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with that,” you shot back with a playful smile as you called the waiter over for the bill.

“Hey, I’m just glad we were finally able to try the dessert,” Spencer replied, alluding back to the last time you were both sitting outside of this cafe.

Ten months had come and gone, and things were different. As promised, you helped Spencer get through his period of grief. It was far from easy, but he was able to pull through. Eventually, he was back to his old self again. He was smiling more, laughing often. The team had even noticed it, and JJ thanked you personally.

Everything seemed to return to normal. You finally had your best friend back, and your friendship with him had grown stronger.

“So, I have something to say,” Spencer said, repeating the very same words he did back in the summer.

“What is it?” you wondered curiously.

“First, thank you for what you’ve done in these last few months. I thought that being alone was the best way to move on when it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t around.”

You smiled softly at him as he reached over the table and held your hand in his. “No need to thank me, Spence. It’s nothing.”

“Secondly,” he continued, “Maeve’s death was tragic, and the time we had was cut short. But you reminded me that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. It took a long time to get out of it, but here I am now with you.”

“What are you saying?”

“These past few months were difficult, but you being there the entire time reminded me how important you are. You know everything there is about me, and you care for me like no one does.”

Spencer sighed, running the pad of his thumb gently on the back of your hand. You could feel his gaze on you as you watched the circles he traced over your skin.

“I didn’t realize it until weeks ago, but it’s always been you. I love you (Y/N).”

Once the words left his lips, you froze. A worried look then appeared on Spencer’s face.

“Isn’t it too soon? I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Spence.”

“I know it is, but with everything that’s happened, I don’t want to lose the chance because it could easily be taken away.”

You didn’t know how to react. Despite all that has happened, you had never stopped loving Spencer, but this didn’t feel right. You wondered if he was ready— if you were ready.

“Spence, I don’t think you’re sure—”

“But I am,” he said, getting up from his seat before pulling you up from yours. “I’ve never felt any more sure in my life.”

Your heart was pounding fast and hard. You wanted this so badly, and you knew Spencer had moved on. As he stood there in front of you with a hopeful gleam in his eye, you let out a deep breath and nodded your head, a smile gracing your lips.

“I love you too, Spence.”

Spencer beamed as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. Before you realized it, his lips were on you, all the longing and love he had were conveyed through the kiss as you stood there, stunned.

But it was Spring, you told yourself. Spring was a time for new things— new joys and new sorrows. New beginnings and new endings. New adventures and new memories. The possibilities were endless, but one that you were sure of was that it was a new page to write on as your story continued, this time with a new love.

And once you reminded yourself of that, you closed your eyes and finally kissed him back.

[chocochar]

Hi I would like to request a scenario with the female reader having a fire eater quirk where she can eat flames and spit it back out 10 times hotter. The only trick is she can't produce her own flames. I would picture this reader as a delinquent who spray paints but isn't an actual villain till dabi notices her. End it as you like. Cheers ❤❤❤

(AN:  I think people are catching on that I like writing for Dabi.... lol Anywaaays so this took a different direction than intended. It also was waaay longer than expected too XD but yeah, I hope it’s okay! Reader is 18, a senior in school)

        (F/n) pants as she rounds another corner, running as fast as she can. She holds a spray can in one hand and a black mask hides her nose and mouth, her (hair color) hidden by a beanie and the teen dressed in a black hoodie and jeans to help her hide if she finds an alley she can slip into.

        "Get back here, you punk!!" She hears the policemen behind her shout and she picks up the pace, her legs growing tired and lungs screaming for air but the student keeps running. No one tries to stop her, although they probably figure the cops will catch up eventually and they don't need to get involved. 

        Fortunately (F/n) has come to know these streets like the back of her hand, so slipping down an alleyway she yells back,"Come on, move a little faster!" She can hear there footsteps growing more and more faint as she turns corner after corner starting to slow down herself. Finally she slips between two dumpsters, kneels, and makes herself as small as possible with her hood hiding her face. They're coming, but clearly they don't have a clue where she went when they turn down this alley, panting and ready to give up.

        "Damn, where did that kid go?"

        "I swear I saw them come down here," one replies, the two looking around and getting ready to pass the dumpsters. "Damn kids, spray painting a business." They stop in front of her a couple feet from her, and she stiffens wondering if they found her. 

        'Cops can be blind, but if they see me I'm gonna have a real rough time getting away this time...' She can only see their shoes under the hood but they haven't turned to face her yet so maybe not. She can hear a third set of footsteps coming from the other side of the alley ahead of them, the shoes tapping on the pavement with a slow pace.

        "Hey, you, you seen a kid running through her, dressed all in black, wearing a mask?" The first cop asks the third person to show up; slowly and carefully (F/n) starts raising her head to get a better look at them since they appear distracted. She freezes seeing the immediate fear on the men's faces when the unknown person gets closer.

        "W-Wait a sec, you're-"

        She jolts back in shock when suddenly bright, blue flames begin engulfing the two men and more than half the alley.

        'Wh-What the hell-?!' The teen presses as far back against the wall as possible feeling the heat licking at her face from the intense blaze and watches as one cop manages to use his quirk to deflect them long enough for him to run, his partner already a charred crisp on the concrete. The flames disperse and once the cop is gone and the third set of footsteps start up again, coming this way. (F/n)'s heart is pounding and she feels fear building the closer this murderer gets; they probably don't even realize she's there, and wracking her brain for information judging by the flames color, intensity, and their targets the person must be-

        "Pigs, always gotta make a fuss when they see us," a deep, rough voice speaks up breaking her train of thought and she looks up wide eyed when the unknown man steps into view; Dabi, from the League of Villains! She is silent, starting to shake when he stops and turns his head looking down at her. His intense stare and the way his blue eyes seem to almost glow in the shadowed alley, and the expression she can't read. For this moment she forgets how his quirk won't harm her and only stays still, hoping he'll just keep walking and ignore her. She may be considered a delinquent but a villain is still a villain, even if his quirk can't harm her he's still bigger than her and can overpower her if things got physical. 

        Fortunately he only says,"Guess I found you, not like they're looking for you now, though." before he looks ahead and keeps walking, passing the corpse without a glance and stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. She cautiously peeks out and watches him leave, her shaking ceasing but the girl not moving until she can't hear the click of his boots anymore.

        When he's gone she stands and gives a look at the body, swallowing. She didn't know this would happen, but it still doesn't help the sick feeling settled in her gut as she rushes out of the alley just as sirens are heard.

[X][X][X]

        A week has passed since what happened and (F/n) can't seem to get it out of her head.

        The fire, the death, the intense gaze, they won't leave her mind and even when trying to focus in school (which she doesn't focus much normally) she keeps looking back on that day. She did feel bad for the cop, even at certain points blaming herself despite knowing his death had nothing to do with her. But the main thing on her mind is Dabi. 

        What if he comes to find her and kills her too to get rid of a witness or something?

        He's apart of such a dangerous villain group, why would he let some trouble making kid off the hook? (F/n) has had run ins with the cops before, and while the other cop managed to survive he's been in the hospital in severe, life threatening conditions so they haven't been able to get anything out of him. Her quirk is known by the police, they wouldn't believe her, and worse may try to pin it on her. Maybe he assumed that.  Or she just wasn't worth the effort.

        This mixed with her dad's drinking getting worse she's left with little to nowhere to turn, and almost considers running away or moving in with her grandparents.

        Either way she's been watching her back more than usual, avoiding alleys for now just in case. Who knows what he'll do if they come across each other again.

[X][X][X]

        "(F/n), why the hell did you choose there to tag?!" 

        It's been 3 weeks since the incident, and (F/n) and her friend Hide are out tagging again. The two decided to spray paint the side of a very popular hero store, and now are once again running from a few police who were out on patrol.

        "You do know we could run into heroes right? Did you think about that?!"

        "We've almost lost them, Hide, here you take that way I'll go this way," she points, the two reaching an intersection. (F/n) goes right and Hide takes off left, the (brunette, red head, etc) running as fast as she can and luckily finding an alley entryway ahead right when she rounds the corner. 'I should be able to lose them in there!' She thinks, turning in and looking for a hiding place or ladder she can use to hide up on the buildings.

        But it seems she's made a grave mistake when her eyes meet very familiar cerulean. He's using his flames again, this time on some local gangsters judging by their clothes. Two piles of ash sit side by side on the concrete while the rest manage to run while he's distracted by her showing up. Dabi is staring at her, only this time his face shows more expression. He looks pissed, his brows furrowed and flames flickering over his right cheek and from his right elbow down to his fingertips. She's not shaking this time, but she still is frozen under his intense gaze as he faces her, his hand now covered in the blue fire.

        "You really don't have any other strategy, do you? Stupid kid," his voice is gruff and lacking emotion like before but there's a hint of something dangerous mixed in and lifting his hand he smirks. "And here I thought letting you go last time wasn't a bad idea, but sounds like you brought more cops this time too. Guess I'll have to take care of you this time before we run into each other again."

        (F/n) doesn't have much time to react when fire bursts from his palm aimed for the teen but luckily she breaks out of her frozen trance and pulls her mask down revealing her lips and face. Just as the fire reaches her she starts sucking it into her mouth, every inch being pulled into her mouth and filling her up. Dabi stops and actually looks taken back, his smirk gone and eyes suspicious. "You eat-?"

        Before he can finish she puffs her cheeks and his eyes widen, the man jumping out of the way behind a dumpster just in the nick of time as this time fire blasts past where he's hiding. She blows the fire out of her mouth like a dragon as it makes an 'o' shape, it not being as widespread as his own but he can feel how much hotter it is, having to cover himself behind his coat just to make sure his skin doesn't get worse or burn off completely. When it disappears he peers out, still processing this girl's quirk. It's.... Powerful and deadly, and works really well with his own.

        The sound of her running causes him to jump to his feet and rush out of the alley, watching the teen run off.

        He can hear the sirens in the distance as well as seeing people running, meaning it's about time to go, but he gives a second glance where (F/n) had ran off before disappearing back into the alley.

[X][X][X]

        "You encountered that Dabi guy?!!" Hide exclaims, the two at (F/n)'s apartment eating snacks and playing a multiplayer game together. He noticed how out of it she seemed when they met up, and now that she admitted what happened she's honestly wondering if he believes her or not.

        "Yeah, this isn't the first time either," she says, having trouble concentrating on the game. Her dad will be home soon, she wants to leave before that but he'll just get made again. "I managed to use my quirk, though, caught him off guard."

        "But like, isn't he a scary dude? He and the League? Aren't you scared?" Hide inquires, the boy watching her now and gauging her reactions. 

        She nods, then shrugs, setting the controller down. Without the hoodie the light bruising that's all but gone along with more recent marks on her wrists and arms is out in the open, the girl not hiding them when in front of Hide given he knows the culprit behind them. 

        "Yeah, but I doubt I'm worth that much trouble, they're probably too busy plotting more dastardly deeds," she laughs although it's light and almost forced. Hide sighs, patting her back, but hearing a car door slam she stiffens and he groans.

        "Want me to stay? Or do you think he'll be okay today?"

        She hates involving her friends in her personal things, especially when her dad is involved, so she shakes her head, forcing a smile and saying,"It should be fine, you should go home."

        The night air is crisp and cold biting at (F/n)'s bare skin as she rushes through the dark streets. She didn't even bother with a jacket, a new bruise on her forearm and the girl biting back the tears threatening to fall. 

        'I hate him, so much, I just... I wish he'd just disappear! Why can't he see how he treats everyone?! Why mom left us?! Why-'

        "Y'know, without that mask and get up you're actually pretty cute."

        She stops abruptly and freezes up when that familiar voice hits her ears again. Slowly she turns around and watches as Dabi steps out from the shadows, hands in his pockets and his expression aloof as always. His eyes are scanning the girl until they land on her arms, the lighting from the stores making it easier to see the bruises. She's sure it was just a trick of her eyes but it almost looked like his own turned soft, or something like it, but she's sure her mind is just messing with her.

        "Looking to kill me again?" She asks, facing him and while she's trying to stay strong he can already see how she's crumbling inside. "I didn't bring cops this time, but that doesn't matter, huh? You just want to take me out cause I'm a nuisance right?" Her tone has bite to it, while still being shaky with a tremble. But something tells him it isn't because she's scared of him. 

        Holding out her arms she exclaims,"Then do it, do it already! I won't stop you this time!" She waits for him to burn her to a crisp just like the others but is confused when he just rubs his neck and replies,"Keep it down already, do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood? I didn't expect you to be so noisy."

        "You... Aren't you going to kill me? Isn't that why you're here?"

        He shrugs, saying,"Keep being loud and I might, it'd be a shame to burn that pretty little face." But his words don't hold that same threatening tone like they did earlier that day, more like it's just an open threat. Her cheeks turn pink but she ignores it.

        "Then I'm leaving-" She turns ready to keep going.

        "Wait, dollface, I wanted to talk," he moves quickly stepping in front of her. They're only a foot away from each other now allowing her to smell the smoky scent on him and get a better look at his features, namely his scars, staples, and piercings. She takes a small step back in surprise and meets his hypnotizing orbs, also realizing he's.... Handsome, something she really couldn't admire before or ever think she'd have that sort of thought. Despite the scars and staples she feels her cheeks flushing, hell those add to his look; she almost wants to reach up and feel them, see if they really are real or not.

        She shakes her head and misses what he says while scolding herself in her head,'He's a villain, and he tried to kill me, stop being weird!!' "Wh-What? What did you say?"

        He narrows his eyes, not enjoying the way she's staring at him and even zoning out. To him she's most likely looking at his scars, whether that's a bad or a good thing he doesn't really care. But he lets it slide this time and repeats himself.

        "I said, dollface, I'm here to talk to you about something important. To be honest the League would've probably kidnapped you either way, but judging by those something tells me that won't be necessary," he gestures to her arms, and even surprises her when he takes hold of the one with the newest bruise and starts looking them over more closely. "Been a while since I've seen something like this..." he mumbles to himself, not stopping her when she yanks her arm back and tries to hide them, brows furrowed.

        "What did you need to talk to me about, and how important is it?" She asks without hesitation, her own wounds clearly being a touchy subject too. He puts his hands back in his pants pockets and stares at her, the teen shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the beautiful cerulean.

        "The League is looking to recruit you," these words completely catch her off guard and her eyes grow wide while her mouth gapes. "Well, it's more like I was for once impressed by someone not looking to be a hero so I decided to tell our leader about you. After he bitched about adding another to our pile of misfits he agreed it'd be beneficial to add you on." He waits for her response, watching her face for any change in reaction. Her mouth closes slowly and she looks down, her mind buzzing and the girl almost wondering if she heard him wrong. She had to right? Slowly the reality sinks in as to why he came looking for her, the fact he admitted he was impressed with her quirk was quite the surprise too. He definitely doesn't seem the type to hand out compliments often.

        Looking back up she rubs her arm, biting her plump lip. Which he can't help but watch a little; she's cuter than he was expecting, and he oddly has this weird feeling stir in his chest when he looks at those marks all over her. They resonate with him, his own memories flooding through his mind, and while she'd be very beneficial to the League he now has other reasons for wanting to recruit her. He wants to learn more about her, get to know her, and show her how corrupt their society is. He also has this underlying feeling of protecting her, something he wouldn't do for anyone else but somehow this girl is different.

        "And why should I go with you?"

        "Because, sweetheart, we've been in the same boat as you. Mistreated, used, turned away when we needed help. This is a society full of falsehoods, corrupt bastards sitting on top, they care about you about as much as they did about the rest of us. And we want you to see that too," he states, before taking a step back and pulling his hand out of his pocket, holding it out for her to take. "I want you to see that. Come with me, and you won't have to worry about those ever again."

        A smile comes to his lips, waiting for her answer.

(AN: Okay so like, this was way longer than intended, like 3000 words and counting, also I left it open ended for either a possible sequel or for the reader to decide.  Also he’s totally not Touya in this lmao (〃￣ω￣〃)ゞ I hope it's okay, story also took a different direction too, hope Dabi wasn't OOC and hope you enjoyed lol)

[thesoundofnat]

Five Times Steve Worried About Tony's Safety

Tony/Steve

Summary: ...and one time Tony asked him to.

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 3 427

1.

If Tony had been stupid enough to do this without a helmet of some sort, he would've tasted both blood and gravel right now. Maybe spit out a couple of teeth and spend a day smiling all tight lipped to hide the gap before getting it fixed. Possibly get a concussion. Fortunately he'd realized early on that he was most likely better off staying alive if he wanted to do this and get some sort of positive result.

Hence, getting knocked out of the sky to the concrete probably looked worse than it was. To others it seemed like a fatal fall. To him it was simply a matter of getting up and shaking it off.

He groaned as voices filled his ears, the coms going crazy with questions of his well being.

"Stark, are you all right?"

"Do you copy?"

"Holy shit, are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," he choked out. "Just got the wind knocked out of me, but I'm fine."

He sat up, shook his head and gazed out over the battleground, aka some street in New York that a lunatic with a cape and a laser had decided to attack. The others were still trying to take him down, and his coms had gone blissfully silent once he'd reassured them. He heaved himself up, regaining his breath quickly, and made a move to go join them. That's when he saw him.

Tony knew Steve was fast. Had practically seen him run the length of a football field in seconds. Therefore, he wasn't surprised when he saw him running in the speed of light over the battleground, but he was extremely surprised to realize he was rushing toward him.

"Steve, what-" he started, but when Captain fucking America came running that quickly with no sign of stopping you sort of forgot how to use your words correctly. They were both damn lucky that Steve stopped just in time.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, grabbing for the head of the suit in a attempt to cradle his face. "I saw you fall."

Tony didn't shrug him off. "I said I was all right."

"It looked bad, Tony."

"The suit helped."

Steve didn't seem to be listening. "I forbid you from ever flying that high again."

"What, and never be able to be of any help ever? I know what I'm doing, Steve."

"I know but- God, just- just don't scare me like that again."

Had this been different Tony would've leaned in to kiss him, but his suit and the villain still trying to destroy the city were in the way, so he only gave Steve's hand a squeeze. "Let's talk about this later."

Steve nodded. "Please be careful."

"You too. Don't think I don't know what a sacrificing bastard you can be."

Steve laughed. "Says the man who flew into space."

"Uh, guys," Natasha's voice suddenly said. "You're cute and all, but a little help here?"

"Right," they said, and Tony was off, making sure to not get knocked down again. A worried Steve might be amusing, but Tony didn't like being the cause of his terror. Even though he totally had the situation under control.

2.

This wasn't the first time something had exploded in his lab, but it had been ages since he'd been experimenting enough for it to be a big one. In fact, he couldn't actually remember it occurring since he moved into the Tower, which was why he wasn't too surprised when his fellow team members came barging into his workshop a couple of minutes later.

"Sorry," he said before they could demand answers. "I swear it was an accident, but we're all fine. Well, except for the suit I was working on. Teleportation is still off the table, apparently."

"Jesus Christ, Stark," Clint said. "I thought I'd find your burning corpse or something."

"That's not funny," Steve snapped.

"Did I say it was?"

"Tony, be honest. Are you sure you're okay?"

Tony blinked at Steve and slowly turned in a circle. "Not a scratch, but feel free to mourn my suit."

"Forget the suit," Steve said, his voice hard. "For fuck's sake, can you at least wear something to protect you in case things like that happen?"

Tony frowned. "And limit my mobility?"

"For your safety? Yes."

"Steve-"

"Tony, you could've died."

"But I didn't."

"No, but I'm not waiting around for it to happen."

"I'll program something. A shield of some sort that'll get activated during emergencies. Okay?"

Steve sighed, slowly and loudly, and nodded. "Okay."

"Now get out of my lab and let me work."

3.

Galas had become significantly more boring since he’d stopped drinking, but had improved a lot since his fellow Avengers had started accompanying him to them. He stood in the corner watching Clint attempt to uphold a conversation with a man who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there while Nat snickered at him behind them. Thor was surrounded by so many people trying to talk to him Tony almost felt bad for him, but he looked content nevertheless, especially since he'd swooped in to save Bruce from standing awkwardly by himself and had therefore forced him into the group of people inadvertently. It was kind of funny.

Steve bumped their shoulders together, looking more amused now that they were both lowkey hiding from attention. "They're doing all right, don't you think?"

"Wait until Nat decides to join Clint's convo to scare the man half to death. Then we'll talk all right."

Steve barked out a laugh. "I can see it before me already."

"His widened gaze."

"Her lethal smile."

"Barton smirking beside her."

"That guys has it coming. He'd being incredibly rude right now."

They watched him check his watch for the umpteenth time, barely acknowledging Clint's words. They could tell Natasha was merely seconds away from stepping in, her amusement slowly slipping.

Tony shook his head. "You'd think people had learnt to treat superheroes and super spies better by now."

Steve's lips twitched. "They probably don't know what Nat can do. Or Clint, for that matter."

"They always underestimate Barton."

A tray with cups filled with a rosy pink liquid was shoved in their faces, and Steve declined it for both of them before Tony could even react.

"Don't you think it's time to start heading home?" he asked as the waiter walked away, and Tony checked his watch.

"Hm. Yeah. It's acceptable to leave now. Let me go ask the others real quickly."

If Tony had had any doubts about their eagerness to leave this gala, their sighs of relief would've been sufficient to convince him. He grinned as they walked out together, taking up just enough space to draw people's eyes and make it obvious that they'd stayed for at least a couple of hours. He couldn't wait to reach the tower. Grab some takeout on the way and sit in the kitchen, all of them relaxed finally and bickering about whether it was late enough to tune in for the night or if they could afford to play a game or watch a movie. In the end, the arguments about what movie or what game would take long enough that at least one of them would start yawning.

Tony might've felt a twinge of worry once over how well he knew them and their routines, but he'd accepted this weird and dysfunctional family dynamics of theirs ages ago, so he just called for their cars as they all lingered by the sidewalk.

"Hey, Happy," he said as he and Steve jumped into their shared car. "You think we can stop by that sushi place and get some grub?"

"Sure thing, boss," Happy said, starting the car smoothly and joining the traffic, which was surprisingly slow at this time of night.

Tony rubbed his palms together. "Great. I'm starving."

Steve nudged his side. "You did great in there."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You expected me to run amok and make a fool out of myself?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, but it was as if you weren't even struggling. I'm proud of you."

"It's easier because you were there," he admitted. "All of you. If anything it was enough entertainment for a while." He pulled at his tie, glancing at the window to find they hadn't moved much at all. "Oh boy, this is gonna take a minute, isn't it?"

"Maybe we should call ahead to make sure they don't close the kitchen before we get there," Steve suggested.

"I don't want to keep them working overtime. God knows how much overtime. We'll see if luck is on our side when we get there."

"Why's it moving so slowly though?" Steve leaned forward, peeking around Happy at the abundance of cars in front of them. "I get that it's Saturday night, but this is ridiculous."

Tony's phone started blowing up then, and Tony answered Natasha's call distractedly. "No, I cannot do anything about the traffic. Wait, what?"

Steve watched him attentively as Tony listened to Nat, his eyes narrowing the longer she spoke. "Well, shit."

"What's going on?"

"Yeah, I'll check in on it. One moment." Tony hung up, turning to Steve with a sigh. "Someone attempted to blow up the Tower."

"Someone- what?"

"That's why it's slow. The police has shut down several streets."

"Holy shit."

"I mean, they didn't succeed. Of course they didn't. The Tower isn't fragile by any means."

"Still. Imagine if we'd been there."

"Something tells me they never intended for us to be there. Imagine how quickly we would've kicked their ass. Now we don't even know who to suspect."

Steve rubbed his neck. "Someone could've gotten hurt."

"That's always a daily risk though, isn't it?"

Steve suddenly turned to fully face him. "You could've gotten hurt."

Tony tilted his head. "So could've you."

"Without your suit you're entirely vulnerable."

"So's Barton and Romanoff. Why are you so caught up on this?"

"Because I care about you."

"Steve, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

The atmosphere got tense after that, Steve's eyebrows knitted tightly together as Tony picked up his phone again to make some phone calls. Happy was entirely silent, slowly inching them closer to the Tower, sushi forgotten.

The Tower was still up and standing when they finally reached it, the countless police cars around it being the only indication that something had happened. The others were already there when Steve and Tony got out of the car, and Tony had to spend an excruciating hour speaking to several people before they could venture inside, his good spirits from before long gone.

"They aimed for your workshop," Steve said as they entered their bedroom. "Meaning they knew where you work and were specifically targeting you."

Tony sunk down on the bed, exhausted. "Yes, it seems to be an attack on my person this particular time, but I'm tired of you treating me like something fragile."

"You know I’m not stopping."

"I do, but you know you take things too far sometimes, right?"

"What's so wrong with caring?"

"Nothing's wrong with caring, but as you can see I'm perfectly fine and don't need you to fret over me all night, unless fretting involves something more physical."

Steve didn't even acknowledge his suggestion. "I'm not gonna apologize for worrying."

"Well, then I guess we have a long night ahead of us, don't we?"

Steve huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom as Tony started undressing. He hated going to bed like this, but Steve kept underestimating him, and it was starting to piss him off.

Steve took so long to come out that Tony passed out without him.

4.

"I'm sorry," they said at the same time, Steve having entered the kitchen after his morning run to find Tony nursing his coffee alone. Apparently Tony hadn't been the only one drowning in guilt.

"I know why you worry," Tony continued while Steve shut his mouth in surprise. "Trust me, I do, and I don't blame you. I would do the same if our roles were switched."

"I know I go overboard sometimes," Steve said in return. "I know how annoyed I used to get with Bucky's mothering back in the day. I don't mean to crowd you."

"We're both idiots, aren't we?"

"Maybe a little."

"I usually don't mind, but yesterday was intense and it irritated me that you focused so solely on me."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"I just don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Tony held out his hand, and Steve crossed the room quickly. "I hope you never get to find out."

Steve cupped his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. "I'd kiss you if I didn't stink of sweat right now."

"You know I don't mind you sweaty." Tony wagged his eyebrows.

Steve laughed. "You're ridiculous. Come here."

They locked lips, the kiss lasting longer than it usually would in a public space like the kitchen table, and when Steve finally pulled away Tony was feeling a bit breathless. "How about we go make up in the bedroom? I can pretend to still be angry to build up anticipation."

Steve hummed. "That doesn't sound too bad actually."

"When have I ever had a bad idea?"

"Well-"

"Don't answer that."

They smiled, stupidly giddy as Tony downed the last of his coffee. They were just about to get up when Tony's phone rang.

He grimaced. "It's probably about the explosion. One sec."

Steve took a step back. "You take care of it. I'll go shower."

"I'll join you later."

"You better."

*

Tony did get to join him, but it was cut short and he had to - grumpily - get in a car and drive to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Why he was the only one taking care of this was beyond him. And unfair.

They ended up with a list of suspects, none of which Tony had ever heard of before, but he somewhat trusted S.H.I.E.L.D. to know what they were doing, so he took the names and returned to the Tower to discuss it with the others. Get them to pull some of their weight at least.

He accidentally took the elevator to his workshop, his hand having clicked on the wrong button automatically. He paused as the door opened, shrugged, and went to tinker around with something. He probably needed it.

*

"Have you been here this whole time?"

Tony hadn't heard Steve come in, but he heard the somewhat controlled panic in his voice and turned the music down quickly, facing him. "Honey."

"Don't you honey me- shit, I'm sorry."

"Hey, now."

"It's just that you never came back and Fury said you'd left hours ago and since we know someone is targeting you-"

"You got worried. I should've told you I was back. I'm sorry."

Steve deflated, facing the ceiling for a second. "Just- please leave a note or something next time. Or send a text. God, I thought phones would make life easier."

"I didn't mean to even come in here, I promise."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry for worrying you. Again."

"It's okay."

"I know it's not. Come here."

Their night was significantly different from the previous one, and this time Tony felt bad for entirely different reasons.

5.

Tony hadn't expected Steve to hear his pained cry all the way from wherever the hell he'd been chilling in the Tower and come running into the kitchen ready to kill whomever had hurt him. Unfortunately the culprit turned out to be a hot pan that Tony was frying some vegetables in, so it was rather anticlimactic to see the murderous rage roll off of his form so quickly.

Tony held up his hand sheepishly. "I burned myself."

"I can see that."

"No need to worry."

"Of course not." Steve grabbed his wrist gently and steered him to the sink. "Hold this under cold water."

Tony complied. "You know, I think I have enough wits to have thought to do that on my own."

"I don't doubt that."

"But your mama senses were going crazy, huh?"

"Always."

"I feel like I'll trip on a carpet and you'll die of a heart attack."

"Don't trip then."

"I'll try my hardest, love of mine."

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed the wooden spoon Tony had been using to stir the vegetables before they burned. "Do we need to put something on the burn?"

"Nah, I think it's fine," Tony replied, checking it briefly before putting his finger back under the water. "Some would call me lucky."

"I wouldn't say the amount of danger and trouble you end up in means you're lucky."

"Shh. Let me dream, won't you?"

"You're ridiculous."

"But you love me anyway," Tony said, grinning.

Steve's face softened. "But I love you anyway."

And one time Tony asked him to.

The meeting was cancelled just after Tony stepped out of the shower, much to his dismay. They could at least have called him ten minutes prior when he was still snuggled up in bed and wishing Steve would skip his morning run for once. At least he'd be able to fall back asleep.

He sighed, torn between getting dressed and remaining naked to curl up under the covers. If Steve had been here the choice would've been easy.

Despite the shower, he ended up at the gym - after texting Steve about the cancelation - and took his time to warm up. He suddenly had about three extra hours, after all, and he was planning on making the most of them. A thorough workout was long overdue.

Until he tripped and twisted his fucking ankle like an amateur.

"Shit!" he cried out, landing on his side. His foot started aching immediately, and he grabbed for it, trying to determine the severity of the injury. Definitely twisted, but he reckoned the healing process wouldn't be too long. The swelling would probably bother him for a while, but he'd had way worse injuries.

Still, it didn't stop him from cursing, remaining on the floor for a moment as the shock of the ridiculous fall wore off. How he felt worse tripping in the gym than being knocked out of the sky was almost hilarious.

He tried to heave himself off of the floor, but found it hard since he couldn't support his weight on his right foot. This wasn't good. Like, at all. It was pretty much the exact opposite.

"At least I can fly," he muttered to himself. "JARVIS, is Steve back?"

"Mr Rogers just arrived, sir."

"Has he hit the showers yet?"

"No, sir."

"Tell him to come to the gym. Alone."

Steve had that familiar look of worry on his face when he entered a moment later, but this time Tony reckoned it was justifiable. Tony had practically asked him to worry.

"I tripped," he said sheepishly. "Can't really get up unless I want to make it worse. Help?"

"Of course."

"Feel free to laugh."

"I don't think it's funny."

"At least you have reason to worry now. Apparently I can't even jog without putting myself at risk."

Steve leaned down and grabbed Tony's wrists, hoisting him up gently and easily. "Another activity I won't let you do on your own."

"Ah, a joke. So you think it's a little funny?"

"Shut up. Can you stand?"

"Barely."

"Walk?"

"Let me- ah. No. Not really. Not right now."

"Okay, I'll carry you."

"My knight in shining armor."

"You asked me here."

"I needed my knight."

"I'm just glad you didn't insist on doing this yourself."

Steve carried Tony to the elevator, stopping briefly to grab a first aid kit, before continuing toward their bedroom to take care of Tony's ankle. Tony let him channel his inner nurse without comment, hissing when it hurt and laying as still as possible while Steve worked. He had to admit it felt quite nice to be taken care of, even though he was in pain.

"Thank you," he said when Steve was done. "For always caring about my well being. Even when I find it annoying."

Steve snorted, but Tony could see his eyes softening. "Don't put pressure on this for a few days, okay?" He didn't acknowledge Tony's comment, but Tony knew he appreciated it.

Tony grabbed his hand. "The rest of me is just fine."

Steve hummed and allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed. "Should I do a proper check up to make sure?"

"You know what, Steve? I think that's an excellent idea."

[bigasswritingmagnet]

I’ll Cross the Sea Another Time (2/2)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Shrios

Summary: A fic correcting the death of romanced Thane.  After falling in love, Thane wants to live again. Now he does.

Commissioned by @snuffes​

AO3 link

Part 1 Part 2

It was like a nightmare. Every time she thought it couldn’t get any worse, some fresh hell would unfold, and the whole galaxy would be turning to her, waiting for her to fix it. The Citadel was burning, C Sec was in shambles, and just when she’d found the councilor some jackass had hopped down from the ceiling to menace the salarian.

Just once , Joan thought bitterly, I would like something to go right and stay right.

Complain later, she told herself. Right now, she had a mission and that mission was being stalked by a human in black leather. Joan gathered a biotic charge around her fist and slammed her hand against the window, blowing it outwards and showering a rain of glass on the ground below. No time to bother with stairs; she vaulted the window sill. Thanks to her cybernetics, the impact on landing only made her wince, rather than shattering both ankles.

Glancing back at her, the assassin did an absolutely ridiculous jump straight over the councilor and to the other side. Definitely had some sort of augmentation, which was just fantastic. For a moment, Joan had thought this would be easy.

He held up a hand and yellow light gathered at his palm.

“Don’t even think about it,” she ordered.

“Shepard, he’s going to kill us all!” the councilor hissed, voice straining in his terror.

“That remains to be seen,” Joan replied, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Now on even ground, she could take him in in his entirety and holy shit , what was she looking at? He was like a cartoon character, with his tiny ponytail and shiny, too-complicated armor.

The councilor was babbling about Udina -- a coup, a trap, collusion with Cerberus -- but Joan was only listening with half an ear. Her focus was on the assassin, who was wearing what appeared to be oversized swim goggles. The black metal and blue strips of light made him look like a toad. The human was mirroring her attempts to get a clear shot, keeping the councilor trapped between them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Garrus and Tali emerge from the stairwell.

“Three on one, pal,” she said. “It’s over.”

“No. Now it’s fun.”

Joan fought the urge to roll her eyes and groan. What kind of cliche, macho, action movie bullshit …

Thane appeared behind him.

Joan had fought beside Thane for over a year while they hunted the Collectors, but his skill never ceased to catch her by surprise. One moment, the space behind the human had been empty air. Then, there was Thane, pistol drawn and pointed at the man’s head.  

The man threw a punch. Thane blocked it easily but dropped his pistol in the process. Their hands flew, so evenly matched it was almost more like dancing than fighting. Joan kept her pistol up, but didn’t dare fire.

The human caught Thane in the face, sending him stumbling; grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. Joan took the chance and fired, but the assassin was too fast. Thane recovered, pushed himself upright, snatched up his pistol.

The assassin was gone.

Cloaking devices. Joan hated cloaking devices. Okay, yes, they were extremely useful when they were on your side, as Kasumi had proven time and again, but nobody else should be allowed to use them. Her eyes desperately scanned the area, looking for the tell-tale shimmer in the air but finding nothing.

A crackle of electricity and the assassin appeared, holding an honest to god katana, as if this was feudal Japan and not the 22nd goddamn century. Somehow, despite the fact that all four of them had opened fire, the assassin could not be hit. He moved faster than should have been possible, ducking and weaving and always managing to be right where the bullets weren’t.

Thane ducked the first swing of the sword and blasted the man across the room with his biotics. What little of the man’s face Joan could see was twisted in rage as he got to his feet. A breathless pause, and both assassins charged.  

Barely a few feet before they met, the human raised his sword, aimed squarely at Thane’s midsection. He wouldn’t even have to strike. Thane’s momentum would do the work for him.  

The world slowed. Joan’s breath froze in her lungs. Every blink was an eternity, and she didn't dare blink in case she missed it. Everything was in sharp relief, the world so crystal clear Joan could have counted the threads in Thane's jacket. She was sure, so sure that this was the death of the man she loved. Time was sliding away from them again.

As casually as if he was making room for someone to pass in a crowded hallway, Thane turned and slid past the sword. Giddy, hysterical laughter bubbled in Joan’s chest at the bewildered look that spread across the human’s face.

The world sped up, and Thane slammed his knee into the human’s gut, seized his wrist and twisted until the sword clattered to the ground. Thane struck with another blast of biotic energy, though this one was weaker than before -- the fight was beginning to take its toll. The human only stumbled back, giving Thane the space to catch up the sword.

Like lightning, the human closed the space between him and slammed his fist into Thane’s chest, right at the still-fresh scar. Thane went pale under the green and stumbled back, collapsing to the floor.

The human lunged for his sword, but even like this, Thane was better. He rammed it through the human’s thigh. The blade burst out the other side in a shower of sparks, metal pushed open like flower petals.

Suddenly freed from the shock and fear that had frozen her in place, Joan fired and cursed as yet again her shot winged past the man by inches. He wrenched himself and his sword from Thane’s grip, dragged his blade from his leg with a grimace of pain. There was the merest moment of hesitation, then the assassin fled.

Thane tried to pull himself upright, but collapsed back against a table with a soft noise of pain. Joan spared a glance in the assassin’s direction, and made her choice. She’d be quick. The man would pay, and pay dearly, but Joan could not leave not knowing.

She knelt beside the drell and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? Are you--” Going to die, she did not, could not say.

“I am fine, siha. I’ve healed enough that one punch won’t do any damage.” He put a hand to his chest and winced all the same. “It did hurt, though.”

Joan grabbed his hand and squeezed it, relief flooding so strongly she herself felt breathless. She couldn’t help but match Thane’s smile when the drell chuckled.

“He should be ashamed of himself, losing to a man recovering from major surgery.”

“You know Cerberus; all dregs and washouts.”

Thane gestured after the assassin.

“Go. I will guard the councilor.” When Joan hesitated, he squeezed her hand again. “I will not die here, Shepard.”

He’s fine , Joan told herself. He’s fine, he’s fine, he said he’d be fine .

Her hands were not shaking, her heart was not pounding, but it was taking all of her strength to make it that way. She couldn't stop her ears from ringing or her mind from replaying the scene of Thane sprawled on the floor, pale and weak, gasping for air.

Joan’s voice was steady when she stopped a nearby doctor and told him she was looking for a drell, a regular patient here.

“ Room 235, just around that--”

Joan was already gone. She didn’t run through the hallways, but she put on her Commander face and the brisk walk that made people hurry to get out of her way. Normally she felt a little guilty -- she didn't like intimidating civilians just for standing around -- but this was an emergency.

Sort of.

Possibly.

When she reached room 235, however, she hesitated, wary of what she might find. She should have asked the doctor how Thane was doing, if only so she could be sure she wasn’t walking blindly into her worst nightmare. Schrodinger's drell, she thought suddenly, slightly hysterically. So long as she stayed out here, Thane could not be dead.

But he couldn't be alive, either. Joan took a deep breath, then let it out.  

Joan opened the door and nearly ran into a drell standing in the middle of the room. He turned, and she stiffened, instantly recognizing Thane’s son. The last time they had met had been...tense. Though it had turned out well enough in the end, she wasn’t certain how Kolyat would react to her.

Fortunately, he didn’t react with immediate disgust or hatred, only mild surprise.

“Commander. My father mentioned you were no longer incarcerated. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Kolyat Krios.”

Joan had to fight down the quirk of a smile at the corner of her lips. How, exactly, did this young man expect that she would have forgotten the kid she chased halfway across the wards and held at gunpoint? Did he think that was a common enough occurrence for Commander Shepard that the experiences would bleed together? Joan’s life was exciting, but it wasn’t that exciting.

“I remember you,” she said, hoping she managed to hide her amusement. Either Kolyat didn’t notice or was ignoring it, because he simply continued.

“I came as soon as I heard what happened.”

“Is he okay?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Kolyat smiled.

“He’ll be fine. He’s confined to the bed for the foreseeable future, but there was no lasting damage.”

The tangled knots in her chest unwound like clock springs, leaving her weak with exhausted relief. She was tenser than she’d realized, judging by the way her legs had gone to jelly.

Outwardly, she managed to maintain calm. Kolyat stepped aside, and Joan approached Thane’s bed. He was asleep, chest rising and falling without strain. When Joan touched his hand, however, his eyes opened instantly. When he saw her, he smiled sheepishly.

“Siha. I’m afraid I won’t be much more use to you in your fight.”

Joan squeezed his hand tightly.

“You’re alive. That’s all I need.”

Thane’s smile turned wry.

“I was very sure my doctor was going to kill me when they brought me in. Apparently fighting off assassins counts as that ‘strenuous activity’ I wasn’t supposed to be doing.”

Joan couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was a little breathless. Then the laugh caught in her throat and went tight. She swallowed hard as her eyes grew hot with tears she refused to shed. Thane put his hand on top of hers.

“I am alright. I will survive this, and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

“I was so sure I’d lost you,” she whispered.

Thane struggled to sit up, grunting in pain.

“Thane, don’t--” she began, but he shook his head, determined. When he was upright, Thane took her hand and pulled her closer to the bed, close enough that he could reach out and cup her cheek. He drew her down until his lips pressed against hers. Joan had a brief moment of pity for Kolyat, who probably found this extremely awkward, before it was overruled by the tingling on her lips where they met Thane's.

Joan was a little breathless by the time Thane pulled away, but his expression was deadly serious.

“There is too much here on land, siha, for me to pass willingly into the sea.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Mommy” Part 5

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part 1        Part 2       Part 3        Part 4 

The Joker insisted you accompany him to the meeting he has today with one of his main smugglers. You were hesitant leaving the children at home, especially the one month old Emma. Plenty of trustworthy people to watch the little ones, but you prefer to take care of them.

It’s been a while since you last acted as head of security; being pregnant stopped you from such task. The truth is you kind of missed it, yet you love your role as a mother also. Thankfully, Frost is the other reliable person to keep a very close eye on The King of Gotham and make sure it all goes smooth when you’re absent.

The negotiations started 5 minutes ago and you circle the warehouse, signaling the other henchmen to patrol outside. As you walk towards the far north end of the storehouse, you pass by a pile of ammo crates and the faint cry coming from behind them gets your attention.

“What are you doing here, hm?” you mutter to yourself when you see a baby in a cardboard box, maybe two months old, apparently a little boy since the intense blue onesie stands out. “Hey buddy, where’s your blanket?” you lift him in your arms, not seeing anything else around except the cold space he was confined in. Chilly in the warehouse and the baby’s hands are so cold to the touch. He whimpers, not having the strength to cry louder.

You take off your jacket and wrap him up in it, upset at the situation. The mom in you immediately takes over and you blow air on the tiny fingers, warming up the helpless infant and cuddling him to your chest.

“Ssssttt, don’t cry,” you slowly rock him. “It’s better now, see?…Hey Sully!” you raise your voice, walking back towards the gathering. “Who’s baby is this?!”

The smuggler stops talking to The Joker and Frost, worried about that displeased expression written all over your face.  

“Oh, we took him from some very wealthy folks. They didn’t pay the ransom yet so I am not sure what to do with him,” Sully lifts his shoulders up, explaining the situation to a more and more annoyed Y/N.

“Did anybody feed him?! Or changed him?! Why isn’t he wrapped in a blanket?! It’s very cold in here for a baby!!”

“Ummm…” J’s business partner feels cornered since you’re becoming more and more aggressive. “One of my girls fed and changed him this morning.”

“This morning?!” you shriek. “It’s 2 o’clock Sully!!!”

Frost glances at The Joker, seeking for some kind of clue on what he wants done; your boyfriend is silent, watching the scene and not reacting for the moment.

“Well, what can I say? The parents didn’t pay the ransom, probably they don’t want him back that badly,” he chuckles, believing the other two guys will consider this as funny as he does. “If they don’t pay by tomorrow, I will probably drown him and mail the packaged body to them, this way those rich bastards learn their lesson, right?” and he laughs, the smirk dying on his lips as you frown, irritated:

“You’re an asshole, Sully!!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he lifts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry it was a bad joke,” he turns towards The Joker: The Clown Prince of Crime is still quiet, staring at you. “No need to bother with this insignificant problem; I’ll take care of it,” he reaches his arms for the little boy.

“Try to take him from me and I’ll break your fucking neck !” you threaten with such determination the smuggler stops his movement, nor understanding why you’re so mad.

Knowing your reputation, it’s wise not to stir the waters even more.

The Joker didn’t see you in action for some time and would like to witness your skills at work again, but he wants his money also. He gestures it’s OK to for you to leave and watches as you stomp towards one of the exits, shouting orders at the other henchmen as soon as you’re outside.

After about 30 minutes, the short meeting concludes and Frost stays behind, organizing money in two suitcases to take with him.

“What’s up with Y/N?” Sully asks Jonny, perplexed on your behavior. “She got mad for nothing.”

“You know she raised Mister J’s children, right?” Frost grumbles, not excited he has to explain your actions: it is obvious to him why you did it. Apparently, not everyone is on the same page…

“Yeah, everybody knows that,” the smuggler replies, insensitive to the issue.

“And you know Y/N and Mister J had a baby together recently, yes?” Frost lifts his eyebrows, almost done with his chore.

“Yes, everybody knows…Oh, wait…” Sully frowns, “…you mean it’s the mom thing?!”

Jonny gives him such a glare words are not necessary.

“I get it, you know? But this is business and that’s my merchandise. I need my merchandise back; the kid is worth a lot.” Frost closes the suitcases, ready to bail.

“I wouldn’t push her buttons more if I were you,” he utters before abandoning a confused Sully.

***********

The Joker finds you in his SUV, breastfeeding the infant. He rests his elbow on the opened door, takes a deep breath and inquires:

“Are we adopting honey?” the smugness finds its way out of his mouth.

You sniffle, caressing the tiny fingers:  

“Poor thing, he was starving…”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, not necessarily pleased or displeased with the whole incident.

“You do realize your charity case might have diseases or God knows what, hm?…”

“He’s just a baby…” you whisper, watching him fall asleep. Now that he’s been fed and warmed up, the little one is comfortable enough to doze off in the arms of the stranger that saved him. “You know she used to do this… She didn’t show any interested in your babies…she didn’t feed them…or changed them…just gave birth to the children and neglected them afterwards,” you sniffle while lifting your bra up and struggle to button up your shirt with just one hand since the other is holding the kid.

J knows exactly who you’re referring to: Anya.

“That’s why I asked you to take care of them,” he licks his lower lip, biting it afterwards.“Lemme do it,” he offers to help and buttons the remaining ones. “Saint Y/N,” The King of Gotham sighs, closing the door. He’s not even frustrated, which is rare.

The Joker goes around the car and places himself in the driver’s seat, jiggling the keys out of his pocket.

“Can you ask that jerk whose baby this is so he can be delivered to his parents?” you plead, not wanting to give the baby boy back to Sully. “I’ll ask a currier to take him back…Please?…”

A deep growl.

“Please?…For me?” you beg, squeezing the new found treasure to your body.

“Uggh… you’re killing me,” J protests and takes out his cellphone, dialing Sully’s number since he doesn’t want to return to the warehouse.

*************

“I shouldn’t have listen to you,” The Joker sneers, watching the news on his tablet. “His family is loaded! We should have kept the kid and collect the ransom. A few easy millions down the drain!”

He’s been bickering about it, especially since they keep on re-playing the breaking- news: a video of Bruce Wayne and his wife, thanking the person that returned their son safe and sound, the only hair to the enormous fortune for the moment.

You kiss his shoulder, snuggling by him on the sofa under the canopy. Everyone is at your house today, taking advantage of the nice weather and enjoying the outdoors.

“I love you,” you smile to make it better, aware J is extra crabby and you had something to do with it.

“Good for you, Princess. Such an achievement!” he huffs, turning off the tablet, sick of seeing the stupid reason why he’s not a few millions richer.

Emma is sleeping in her baby basket right by you, not bothered by her parents talking. Mia sneaks under the canopy, wanting to play with her sister. You didn’t even notice yet.

“Boo!!!” she gets into Emma’s face and the small body shudders, abruptly woken up from her nap.

“Oh no honey, don’t do that,” you pick up the little one in your arms as she cries and screams up a storm, startled by her older sibling. “She’s too young for this game, OK?”

Mia’s lower lip quivers and before you can say anything else she starts bawling her eyes out, upset her little sister is crying like that.

“It’s ok, don’t cry. You just scared her, she’s fine. Just don’t do it again, alright?”

But tears keep on rolling down her cheeks and The Joker finally decides to do something about it. He lifts Mia up, making her stand on his knees while holding her waist so she won’t fall.

“Why are you crying, hm?”

The three years old keeps on sobbing, her face getting redder by the second.

“That’s my daughter…” he points out towards Emma and you get ready to intervene, afraid he will say something mean to Mia, probably bring up the fact that she’s not his.

It’s not her fault Anya cheated on J and had her with God knows who.

“I don’t like it when my girls are crying, gives me a headache,” he wipes her tears and the toddler has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Daaa’yyy,” Mia whimpers, nuzzling to his neck because all she wants for now is her parent. The Joker sighs, holding her tighter and it seems to be working: she’s calming down.

“Why do I have so many kids?!” he blurs out, most likely a rhetorical question out of exasperation; his girlfriend wants to reply anyway.

“You mean we? And five kids is not a lot,” you bring to his knowledge.

Emma is not crying anymore and you keep on rocking her, tickling the little feet. You take Mia’s hand, pulling her towards you:

“Do you want to give Emma a kiss?”

“N-no,” she pouts, burying her face into J’s shoulder.

“Awww, why not?” you laugh since she’s fussing.

The Joker’s cell phone alerts of a brand new text message and he glances at the screen, scrolling down the page.

“The shipment arrived,” he announces, trying to put Mia down but she clings to him, needy and sulking. 

“Already? That was fast,” you softly bounce Emma on your knees, hoping she will close her eyes soon.

“I’m going to go and make sure everything is there,” he gets up, forcefully putting Mia down but she starts whimpering and he lifts her up again. “You’re such a brat! I’ll take you to the car and that’s it, alright?”

“Noooooo,” she whines, prepared to have a tantrum if her dad doesn’t stay with her.

“We’re going back to the Penthouse soon,” you announce when he leans over for a kiss.

“Sounds good, I’ll return once I’m done,” he pecks your lips, almost losing his balance with the little girl hanging from his neck.

**************

“Zane, com’ere!” you urge the playful child that’s hiding behind his tween, giggling.”Honey, you need to put your pants on !” you try to catch him when he runs behind his other brother Kase, refusing to obey.

You gathered everybody upstairs in the master bedroom at the Penthouse, changing the kids’ clothes after they had chocolate ice-cream: they surely enjoyed it and of course the sweet treat got on their garments.

“Hehehehe!” the boy teases and you give up, tossing his jeans on the bed.

“Fine, just walk around in your underwear, see if I care,” you protest, getting on your knees in order to collect their dirty clothes.

“Anybody home?” you suddenly hear a voice and Sully sees you popping up at the edge of the stairs. “Hey Y/N,” the smuggler greets, trying to be nice after messing up badly the last time he saw you.

“What are you guys doing here?” you look at the familiar faces: about 13 men, people you do business with quite seldom.

“Mister J invited us over for a meeting,” Nyx lies without blinking because he doesn’t want to make you suspicious.

That’s odd, you think.

The Joker never summons anybody here.

“He’s not back yet,” you announce. “Take a sit and I’ll come down shortly,” you gesture towards the lavish furniture, having a dreadful feeling about their unexpected presence at your home. J should have at least texted you they’re coming.

“Will do!” Sully agrees, waving in acceptance.

You step back inside the master bedroom and get your phone, wanting to make sure your boyfriend wants the meeting to be held at the Penthouse. As you sweep the screen, the baby monitor on the desk lights up, capturing the conversation going on in the living room.

You have baby monitors all over the place, something you need when you have five children to keep an eye on.

“The bitch needs to go down first,” someone whispers, “then we take care of the little assholes.”

“This will show who’s in charge; Gotham is not his!” you distinguish Sully’s low voice.

“Shit, I’m not sure if I can kill innocent children,” one of them has doubts and he gets reprimanded.

“Don’t be a pussy!” Nyx scolds. “Nothing connected to him is innocent !”

More indistinctive conversation that you don’t listen to anymore: you are already shoving the children towards the bathroom, grabbing Emma from the crib in the process.

“Get in here!” you help the kids inside the empty Jacuzzi and they think they will play around after you turn on the water. “Stop it!” you admonish and they don’t understand why their mother is so bitter when she’s usually very affectionate.

“What is it mommy?” Kase gets uneasy as you force them to sit down. 

“Sssttt, be quiet! Just stay in here and don’t come out, ok? Hold Emma,” you give her to the six years old, determined to protect your babies at all costs.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Aiden wants to get up but you press him down towards the bottom of the tub, fighting the tears.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll be right outside, alright? Kase, keep your brothers and sisters in here! I don’t want to see any of you outside this bathtub until me or daddy come get you, alright?”

“Mooommyy,” Mia winces but you don’t have time to soothe her.

You close the bathroom door and take the phone out of your pocket, rushing inside the walk-in closet for your gun and bullets.

“Yes?” J answers promptly.

“Sully and about 12 more are here for us,” the shocking sentence makes his heart stop; and The Joker thought he doesn’t have one.

“Do what you have to!” he snarls, hanging up and dials Frost’s number, running towards his car. “Frost, where the fuck are you?!”

“In the basement, sir !” Jonny reports, worried his boss is yelling like that.

“Who let Sully and his men go upstairs?! Nobody gets to the Penthouse without my consent, you all know that ! Why wasn’t I called for approval??!!!!”

“I was in the basement for the last hour, sir. What’s happening?”

“They want to kill them! Go! Go now!”

Frost drops his cell, screaming for the other henchmen around to follow him. He races towards the elevator, cussing and wanting to find out who is responsible for endangering The King of Gotham’s family.

Little he knows it won’t be that easy to reach you.

****************

You quietly crack the bedroom’s door open, crawling towards the railing with your gun in one hand and a short range grenade in the other. You cautiously peek downstairs and see the guys scattered around the living room. The elevator’s door is pried opened with a suitcase and the staircase entrance is blocked by one of the dressers they moved in front of it.

The jerks came prepared.

You take a deep breath and get on your feet, Max being the first to notice you.

“Y/N, are you coming?”

The others turn their heads towards you, waiting for a reply.

“My children…” you raise your voce, “…are not assholes!!” and you pull the pin from the grenade, tossing it and rushing back inside the bedroom.

Turmoil downstairs and screams, then the powerful blast shakes the Penthouse; you know you can’t use more than one explosive, it’s too dangerous. After you lock the door, you walk backwards towards the bathroom, talking to the children since you can hear them fret, scared of the noise: “It’s ok, mommy’s here! Don’t be afraid, I’m here! Stay in there!”

You wish you could go comfort them but you can’t; you have to keep your kids safe.

Groaning and moans of pain reach your ears: makes you wonder how many you got with the grenade. Heavy steps going up the stairs and you know a few men are in front of the room. You shoot different spots in the heavy door and a thud is heard on the other side.

“Fucking bitch!” Max exclaims. “Shoot the door knob and kick the door open! We all charge inside in the same time! She’s alone!”

Your arm is extended towards the entrance, your finger steady on the trigger. You pant, outraged somebody has the audacity to come at your house and try to kill your babies. At this point you know that no matter what happens, you will gladly give your life trying to protect what belongs to you and The Joker.

************ “Fuck…,” Frost mumbles, seeing you lying face down in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor, surrounded by the children. They’re all bawling, terrified and not understanding what’s going on. Kase is still holding Emma, repeatedly attempting to get a reaction from his mother:

“Mommy, wake up! Pleeeassee, wake up!”

It took a while for the henchmen to break into the Penthouse: the elevator didn’t work and they had to take the stairs, but that way in was blocked also. They had to retreat to the 25th floor, climbing up the fire escape ladder that leads to the terrace on the 30th floor. The few pricks that were left alive and tried to flee when help arrived didn’t make it very far: they were captured and executed on the spot.

You used whatever strength you had left to get to your kids, just to make sure they’re alright, then you collapsed, fainting from the blood loss. You were shot 5 times at point blank: twice in the abdomen, once in the right arm and 2 more bullets pierced your left leg.

Frost knows his boss is going to flip and for good reason this time.

************

The Joker's voice going in and out, angrily shouting things you can’t understand, Frost yelling and blaming what happened on the careless idiots that took your safety and the children’s lightly. Gun shots. Is he punishing those responsible? No way to know…

****   Silence…for a long time…who knows for how long…

“Pumpkin, can you hear me?” his voice echoes and you can’t move or react. “You need three more surgeries, otherwise you won’t be able to walk…Don’t worry, you’ll be fine…” J gulps, concerned when there’s no reaction.

He was told the doctors will keep you into an induced coma for a while due to the nature of your severe injuries, yet the hope for a slight response still lingered in his mind.

****  “Mommy, I’m not wearing pants,” Zane confesses, whispering in your ear. Muffled laughter and you sense your hair being combed, probably Mia is playing, adding her ribbons and clips to your long locks because she likes to do that on a regular basis.

“La,laa,la,laaa…”she hums a little song and then your boyfriend snorts.

“Wow, Princess, I like your new hair style, you should keep it. I’ll take a picture and show you when you wake up, ok?”

****   Distorted whispers, then the clear secret shared in great intimacy:

“Mommy, I hid Aiden’s red truck under your bed,” Kase giggles, caressing your cheek.

Nothing for a long time, then a faint question:

“Mommy, I can’t find my red truck. Did you see it?”

You would like to say something, but you can’t move.

****   You feel a weight on your chest and realize it’s Emma. Steady breaths around you and the only thought before you lose yourself again is that they children are probably sleeping, cuddled to their mother.

****  “Princess, you’re done with the surgeries. Hurry up and get better so we can work on that new baby. We’re not getting any younger, especially you… … … … I just called you old. No comment?… … … That’s a first!”

Your lips being kissed…so much silence again…

****    “Anytime now would be nice,” The Joker grumbles, squeezing your arm. ”These kids are driving me crazy. Wake up!”

****   Is it night or day? You wish you would know….

You slowly open your eyes and stare at the ceiling, attempting to turn but you can’t feel your body. You want to speak yet no words come out.

“Daaadyyy!!” you suddenly see Aiden’s face popping close to yours. “Daadyyyy!! Mommy’s awake!”

*****************

After 16 years

“Are you guys ready?” Connor asks the 22 year old Kase as he enters the living room; his friend is here to pick him up and his siblings so they can go skiing for the weekend.

“Almost! We’re packing the last things,” Kase texts on his phone, glancing at you every few seconds.

“How is your mom doing?” he points towards the woman sitting on the couch, blankly staring in the distance. “Is the new treatment working?”

You oldest son exhales, saddened by the state you’re in.

“Not so far, still paralyzed…We tried so many things over the years without any results, it’s discouraging. My dad says there is another medical procedure out there that might help. He’s looking into it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Connor sighs at the news. “It’s always good to see you Misses Y/N,” he addresses the crippled mother even if she can’t reply.

Kase remorsefully sniffles.

“Is Evie coming too?” Connor changes the subject. ” I know Mister J said no last time because she’s only 14.”

“She’s coming, we managed to convince him. I’m gonna go and finish packing,” your son explains, heading upstairs again. “I’ll keep your mom company!” Connor smiles, approaching your resting spot.

“Sounds great!” and a door is being slammed.

The young man stops in front of you, bending one knee so he can be at the same eye level with you.

“I feel sorry for you,” he talks in a low tone, a huge smirk creeping up on his face.”Everything you did for them and it’s all for nothing.”

A malicious chuckle.

“I’m saddened to inform you none of your children will return home from the ski resort, including Evie. You must be going insane knowing Mister J had another child with someone else after you were reduced to this, hm? Like it’s not enough you raised four children that aren’t yours, he added another one. Look at the positive side: at least you didn’t have to nurture one more daughter you didn’t give birth to since you were paralyzed. No loyalty from The Joker, right? What else to expect from someone like him anyway?…I want you to know they won’t suffer, it will be quick. Took months to plan but…”

Suddenly, your eyes focus on Connor and your fingers go tightly around his neck as you push him to the floor, pinning him under your knees. He struggles to escape but your grip is so strong he feels he’s already suffocating.

“You think you’re the first piece of shit trying to get to our children? You think we didn’t know what you are up to?” you pant through your clenched teeth, watching him squirm without being able to break free. He’s choking on his own saliva, fighting to escape when Kase’s punch lands with such ferocity Connor’s jaw cracks and he passes out instantly.

“Mom, let go. Mom! Let go, dad said he wants him for interrogation, more people might be involved.”

It’s hard for you not to snap Connor’s neck but you finally decide to release your hold.

The young man had no idea, but only Kase is at the Penthouse: his five siblings are at the hideout by the ocean, safe and sound. Your oldest had to stay behind, this way Connor wouldn’t be suspicious; the elaborated scheme to gain notoriety from murdering The Joker’s offsprings was bold and needed immediate attention. Unfortunately, not the first or the last trial.

“Dad said he took care of the crew waiting to kill us at the ski resort. We didn’t lose any men,” your son helps you up and you step over the limp body, cracking your shoulders.“Are you ok mom?”

“I’m fine, just stiff,” you faintly smile, stretching after not being able to move for an hour on that damned couch.

Not a lot of souls are aware you fully recovered after being in a very bad shape for almost a year. Just a few close to your inner circle know the truth: when it’s thought that The King of Gotham has a weakness, it’s even easier to manipulate things. Evie is actually the second daughter you and The Joker had together; J didn’t have her with another woman. Of course it’s assumed otherwise since everybody thinks you’re a vegetable.

There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your kids; no sacrifice too great, always prepared to protect the six children belonging to you and the man that once asked his ex to take care of his babies because he didn’t trust another with the task.

A mother wouldn’t think twice before deciding this.

Also read: MASTERLIST

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick - Chapter 21

(Loki x Reader NSFW) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party.

All chapters to date at AO3 (50K, NC-17)

Tagging my rebloggers, commenters and other folk who asked. Please let me know if you want in (or out) of the list: @joanbushur, @frenchfrostpudding, @lovely-geek, @wolfsmom1, @sigridlaufeyson, @lokislonelylady, @monitoroutside, @daniissuchadani, @devilbat, @deadlydreamersecrets @helenisabel, @stardustandangelsfanfiction, @ely-seum, @wendyrobson1978, @the-ships-i-ship, @shemart101, @dreamourbrainout, @sadghostomg, @lokilover2000, @blobfishington, @lynneth1968-blog, @deaddecade, @nardo94 

Chapter 21

You inadvertently do something that shakes Loki’s trust in you and reveals a shocking secret from his past.  Meanwhile, Odin’s overconfidence with the Aether is more than raising eyebrows.

Hornace is sitting bundled in a reclining chair on the balcony.  He’s glum and clearly uncomfortable, but far better already than you ever could have hoped. His rapid recovery seems driven by his anger, but he’s still too weak to travel. You’re charged with bringing him in and changing his dressings.

“They should get rid of it before it swallows Asgard whole.” he mutters. He’s not really talking to you, more to the view of the city. “They don’t know what they’re doing. Not even the King.“ His voice falls to a whisper. ”Impetuous, excitable, foolhardy…”

He allows himself to be lifted and wheeled inside. 

None of his words seem to describe the stoic and proud Odin. Stubborn perhaps, but ‘foolhardy’? Hornace’s mood is soured by his injury, of course, and Odin is not his King. Might that make him more objective ?” You missed most of the explanations of their experiments that day after Odin’s speech, but you know what they’re trying to do - protect the realm.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” He huffs. He must see your consternation and turns his head to look at the wall, away from you and the task you have to do, away from the wound. “He’s the only one who can call a halt.”

Hornace tenses himself but doesn’t flinch as you let the warm water flow over his skin. You feel proud you’ve got the temperature perfect. Here in the healing rooms you pour yourself into your tasks like nothing else existed.

Rather than recoiling from the damaged flesh, you find yourself admiring the precision of healer’s work there. Dwarves are so much smaller, how difficult it must have been knitting the skin together there.

“Beautiful.” You say. An inappropriate word, but he doesn’t seem offended, just raises a shaggy eyebrow and hazards a glance. “I mean… it’s healing beautifully.”

“So much the better, the sooner I’ll be out of here.”

    Your confusion resurfaces as soon as you leave the healing rooms. So you walk home alone along the battlements with only the rising wind for company. Soon it will be too cold for this route to be comfortable, but for now it’s fine. You welcome the wind in your hair and clothes. You try to let it blow away your cares.

You wonder who Loki will be tonight.

Your wonder about Loki and Sif, and Fandral and Sif and Thor…and Sif and you and what she can possibly be thinking of you now.

As if on cue, you spot them, Fandral and Sif, coming the other way along the narrow walkway. They must see you about the same time. You keep your pace steady.

When you draw close enough, you see that Fandral is carrying both their swords, so they can walk closer together. How cute. You try not to show you’ve noticed, try not to stare. Whatever the issue was this morning they’ve resolved it. You’re getting ready to greet them politely when Sif drops her hand from her lover’s waist and bounds ahead to meet you.

She’s not confrontational, just awkward, which is far worse.

“I would like to apologize, for my intrusion.” She bows her head. She’s as uncomfortable as you are. A thousand unvoiced questions hang in the air.

“A simple mistake. No need to worry.” you reply. It’s easier to say while she’s not looking at you.

Fandral catches up and Sif raises her head, catching your eye a second. There’s the tiniest something there, as though she thinks she understands you and seeks that spark of understanding in return.

You don’t know how to react. You don’t try to process it. It’s at such cross purposes to your true situation. You stand there at a loss and the moment passes.

“Look.” says Fandral, oblivious, breaking the silence.

He’s pointing toward the tournament field where there’s a group of figures, your mother and Odin among them. You see that Odin is holding Gungnir and, mounted on the end of the famous staff, is something glowing a familiar red. Odin points it into the field where there is still some fallen masonry waiting to be cleared.

There’s a shot of light and the block of stonework simply explodes into nothing leaving a puffy cloud of dust. The people applaud and their cheers are carried to you on the wind. You look at the place the stonework had been as the dust clears.  Hornace’s worries were unfounded it seems, if the dark elves return now they run the risk of annihilation by their own magic.

But then you notice something dark in the dust.  Something falling away, sucking the dust somewhere, like a mouth in the ground.  A growing mouth.

The figures in the party draw back and move closer together.

Then Odin steps forward and you have your heart in your mouth ‘foolhardy and impetuous’? What has become of him since Frigga passed?  But he has Gungnir, now free of the red appendage, and he swings it above his head until its moving so fast you can hardly see it and the movement lets off a hum.  The rest of the group retreat still further. 

Odin lets out a great cry and the swirling air above his head falls toward the advancing abyss, just yards from his feet.

The hum stops and the enchantment lands like a net over the hole, straining as it’s pulled from below. Nothing moves, the hole neither growing nor retreating. The magic holds. 

There’s a collective sigh of relief but no clapping this time. Sif and Fandral are still staring incredulous at the scene. You quietly slip away.

    Loki’s coat is slung over the back of one of your chairs, claiming territory. That soft leather coat, long and so familiar, is very much his, not hers.

The man himself is standing facing the window, hands linked behind his back. Hearing you, he turns revealing an expression as hard and cold as a stone wall. Something has happened. He’s strained, tired, and angry. Could it be about his father’s actions

Thiere’s no trace of the honest ardor of yesterday nor the mischievous grin of this morning. He looks full on at you with a cold fire in his eyes and it hits you. It’s you he’s angry with.

“Darling” he says, without an ounce of affection. “When I said ‘tell no one’ I meant no one.”

“What?” you take a step closer and he rounds on you defensively, ready to spring, and not in a good way.

“I say to ‘tell no one’” he repeats slower and harsher, “and you spill every Intimate detail to the most vicious gossip in Asgard.”

“What? Who?” What can you have said or done to bring about this change? In a rush you think through every word of every conversation, you’ve had… Sif, Fandral, Hornace, the healers, the girls…

It’s true that people around you have noticed something different about you. How could they not. Your mother prised a few details from you, Fandral understood there was something, and as for Asta and Dagny, they are also very close to knowing. but you never let slip the truth to any of them. And not one of them could be called the ‘most vicious gossip in Asgard’.

Asta might be excitable, but she’s sweet, never nasty. You guess she was the closest, if she thought Loki was once your ‘sweetheart’.

“But my friend she…”

“Told everything to anyone who would listen. Details about my ‘stamina’, about how many times…” he spits. “But worst of all that I’m alive and in Asgard.”

“What, I never.”

“Fortunately, it went no further than the stables,”

What? Now you’re lost, you don’t know anyone who works in the stables, at least not personally.

“The damage control we’ve had to do.” He sighs. “All because you had to confide in your ‘faithful steed.’”

But…What? Not Asta but…

“Nara?!”

Of course. The first day out on the moors you had indeed told Nara., you had to tell someone about Loki’s return, you’d been bursting with it and, no, you hadn’t spared any details.

“But I thought it was safe. What harm could possible come…I didn’t think she could. She’s only…” You stop yourself but its too late.

“Only a horse. just a dumb animal, a stupid nag,?” his voice mounts. If he was angry before, that was nothing compared with this. You tell yourself not to be scared. It’s not fair. You didn’t know you could do harm this way, you just hope he can understand that.

“I’m supposed to be dead. Asgard is full of those who betrayed me, if ever the truth was known…”

“What?” You don’t quite reach his volume and that one brave word is weak and wavering but at least it’s there.

You didn’t know he could be this way. He’s livid, but more than that he’s hurt and you don’t know why. You reach for him. You want to coax out the other Loki – the one who teased you about telling on him when you were little – but he dodges and steps away.

“I’d have to leave again.” He says after a moment, “and there’s still so much I’ve got to do.” He starts pacing.

“I’m sorry”. You try. That stops him in his tracks and he looks back at you confused.

“We’re lucky her reputation is so bad. Most didn’t believe her.” He sounds calmer, like he’s trying to reign in his anger, but he won’t meet your eyes. “Perhaps she is ‘just a horse’ to you but she’s a skilled rumormonger who’ll speak ill of anyone to get a laugh or get you on her side. I would truly admire the disorder she makes if it weren’t solely out of hate. She was just waiting for a way to get to me again.”

“Again?” You think you know.

“You couldn’t know.” He sinks down on the bed, resting his head on one hand, hiding his face.

“Sleipnir?”

“ You do know then.” He drops his hand and you see his eyes shining.

“Fandral said-”

“Fandral.” He roars, jumping to his feet.

“He said that Thor. “

“Thor! And what other gems did Thor share about my life.”

“I don’t know.” You’ve got to calm things, boy is he volatile. “It was when you were dead. One evening they were telling stories. I got too upset to stay and listen.”

He softens slightly at that, and starts pacing again.

“She would say that I’d never be a true horse. They were all saying it.” He mutters in a lower, hateful tone. “But I would have. I would have stayed. If he’d loved me back.” You keep quiet, in part from shock, in part because you know it’s the best way to get him to go on.

“She never let me forget.” He sighs. “Jealousy. Pure and simple.”

“And she’d call Sleipnir ‘the clumsy spider’. Behind my back of course, but so I’d know. She and the others. Always little remarks about the ‘L.E.G.S.’ She got them all saying it. Hilarious.” he adds without humor.

“Of course that changed when he was grown.” And at last you see the hint of a smile.

“But I would have stayed. If he’d only come back.” You are trying to picture it all and keep down your panic about it being true, while he’s having a pity party about slights from a bunch of horses and unrequited love for some unnamed stallion. The ridiculousness of it hits you, but you can’t laugh. You step over to him and put your arms around him, trying to break him out of it. He doesn’t resist.

“Well you’re not a horse Loki, you’re a man, this is you.” you stroke your hand down the length of his arm. He doesn’t push you away so you take his face in your hands and make him look at you. “I love you as you are, the real you.” He doesn’t respond. Not even the rawness of your confession shakes him out of it.

Then it hits you. Loki already has a child! A secret child and you wonder, if Loki can turn into a horse can Sleipnir transform himself into a person? You can’t get your head around it. Loki has done crazy and, some say, terrible things, things you have pushed these to the back of your mind, incompatible as they are with what you have always known of him. But the hints you had of his doings were of violence and deluded world conquest, not of passing time as a pregnant mare, quietly bearing and rearing a foal in the prairies of Asgard while bickering with other horses.

It’s near impossible to picture him as he is here, elegant, poised, sad, but beautiful and to imagine him as a horse. If he hadn’t just told you, if you didn’t know his prowess at transformation, if the story hadn’t come from Thor, if it wasn’t for the desolate look on this face…You would think it was a prank.

“It was a prank that went awry, terribly awry.” He looks away from you and out into the gathering night. “But I’d do it again.”

“Loki, do you want more children?”

He stiffens and you curse yourself. You hadn’t meant it like that, through transformation and magic. What had you meant? it shrieks of a demand for commitment – You’ve only made things worse again. What if the only being that Loki ever had commitment to was this uncaring stallion.

I should have known.” he says slinging himself on the bed.

What should he have known? Known about you? You said you loved him and he ignored it. You don’t know if you’re forgiven. How much of his reaction is your betrayal and how much is his memories?

His face is turned resolutely away from you and into the pillow. He’s fully dressed, a thick layer of leather between you and him, protecting him from any comfort you would bring. You don’t feel great about bringing comfort. It’s you that hurt him, what matter that it was an accident. At least he stayed, when he could have simply disappeared the same way he first brought you here, He’s deep inside himself but at least he’s here with you.

You hug him from behind while he lies there stiffly, never softening into sleep.

Finally, you doze yourself, your cheek against the leather. You only wake when you hear the door close and realize he’s gone. He chose to take the door though. He wanted you to know. He’s walked out angry and with no resolution… You can’t let that happen.

In a second you’re out the door.

He’s moving fast, but not running and you’re chasing, barefoot and silent. It’s déjà vu, like in the gardens before the attack, or in the palace that first night. He could magic himself away, you’re sure of it. If he doesn’t its that he wants you to follow him, or else he’s too distraught. You don’t understand. It seems like the problem was solved, no one believed Nara, so where is the problem. Why is he running away?

You chase him though the corridors of the palace, wondering when you will meet someone or when he will disappear. You try not to lose sight of that flash of green, but you round a corner and find yourself alone. When he’s run from you before he always wanted you to follow. This time you’re not so sure.

There’s no sign of him. You’re miles from your rooms. The night has never seemed so silent.

Then out of the gloom a figure breaks away from the darkness, your heart leaps as the it moves silently toward you, slowly, so slowly almost stumbling.

“Loki?”

There’s no answer. The figure advances.

Chapter 22

[marinette-buginette]

Tales of Miss Fortune (Part 4)

Welp, everybody ready for Ladrien? Also, excuse y lack of talent when it comes to fighting scenes descriptions

First | Next

Adrien sighed as he typed away some report. Alright, so they got the best wool from the Vucana sheep, the national animal of Chile. No, Peru. Yeah, the national animal of Peru. Wait… why did he write down about the origin of their wool stocks when he was working on a report about the perfume line? Adrien squinted at his screen, obviously looking for a reason why he was being an idiot when someone cleared their throat. Adrien glanced up, to see Marinette giving him a dotting look, her arms crossed over her chest while she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. Adrien gulped, making himself small in his chair. One may think he had no reason to be scared of his assistant. Well, those people obviously never met Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Adrien couldn’t even care less she was 30 centimeters shorter than him, she was terrifying. She had a glare that could unleash the apocalypse and he saw her arguing with someone and he was pretty sure that person pissed their pants at the sight of angry Marinette. Also, Adrien saw her running in stilettos without a trouble which only made her more terrifying. Who can run in stilettos without some dark magic going on? So yeah, you could bet your ass Adrien was cowering in fear at the sight of an obviously annoyed Marinette.

“Can… can I help you?” he asked in a small voice, trying to give her his best kitty eyes and somehow soften her.

“All the paperwork you sent to me to forward had mistakes in it. In the last report that is referring to the new shoe collection, you said there should be an increase in cashmere use.”

Adrien opened his mouth to argue, but closed it back just as fast. Honestly, it didn’t seem so far-fetched, given his state lately, but he still had so much to work on. “I’ll be more careful.” he promised only to flinch as Marinette closed the lid of his laptop a little bit too forcefully.

Adrien gulped as she lifted him off the chair by the tie. “Where are we going?” in all honesty, he hoped the answer wasn’t ‘your death’ or something similar. Or… you know, actually, he was going to enough of a young adulthood crisis to enjoy being caressed by the sweet touch of death.

“To the gym.” she said shortly, before dragging him towards the elevator.

Now, you may wonder, why would the headquarters of a fashion empire have a gym. The answer: his father had to be extra™ while working on the plans of the building.They also had a pool, a jacuzzi, and a mini spa.

Well, Marinette was right, exercising did help with stress relief. And stretching his muscles really came as a good distraction from all the work. From both jobs.

“Hey, Adrien.” he turned around to find Marinette leaning against the ropes of the boxing ring. “Wanna spar?”

Adrien considered his options for a second before nodding and joining her in the ring. As the sparing began, he couldn’t help but notice that Marinette was having good moves and defensives stances. She probably had some martial arts training, but Adrien still referred to no go full force on her. She might have training, but he was a part-time superhero. It just didn’t seem fair to go to hard on her when there were criminals that he didn’t go hard on because it wasn’t necessary. He moved fastly, trying to give a blow to her left, but in a blink of an eye, he found himself on his back, staring at the ceiling in surprise. Marinette moved forward blocking his view while her hands were holding his shoulder and neck securely.

Her lips curled in a cocky smirk. “Don’t go easy on me, sir.”

“As you wish.” Adrien declared after a couple of seconds.

Getting back on their feet, they began to spar again.

Marinette had the first round in the bag. It started pretty normally, they both focused more on hand to hand combat. Left, block, upper right, dodge, spin and low blow, move out of the way. Adrien was all too familiar with this dance. But honestly, he wanted to kick himself for making such an amateurish move to leave his feet unprotected. Marinette took advantage of that to knock him over. He was about to try to roll her over, when she secured his hands in an almost painful grip above his head while she was squeezing his hips with her thighs.

(Which he was entirely not enjoying, the same way he wasn’t enjoying her position on his crotch. No, sir, he was entirely professional.)

“I win.” Marinette declared in an almost bored tone, as of kicking his ass was a daily occurrence, very much like washing the dishes.

The second round was his. The fighting had been much more intense and it seemed both him and Marinette weren’t pulling their punches anymore. And he came to the conclusion he won’t ever get Marinette angry. She was ridiculously strong, flexible and had great stamina, given the sparing was going intensely for around fifteen minutes. Adrien had half a mind to suggest her to become a superhero. It was by pure luck, he caught her in a less favorable pose. He managed to get her hands in a lock, pulling her back against him, while he keept her hands seized by his side, his feet moving to block hers from kicking him over. They were both breathing heavily and Adrien took a couple of seconds to enjoy the sweet victory. But just when he was about to declare it, Marinette giggled.

“Are you trying to seduce me so you can win?” she teased in a voice that seemed oddly familiar, obviously referring. “Because two can play that game, sir.”

Adrien tried to keep from gasping as she rolled her backside against him. It just crashed on Adrien that they were in an awfully intimate position, her back to his chest, their limbs tangled together and their breaths still heavy. Adrien let go of her fastly, for the sake of saving whatever appearances were left (for whom… he wasn’t sure).

“That doesn’t work on me. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” he muttered darkly. “Round three!” he shouted without noticing the huge smirk playing on her lips as if she knew exactly what he’s been through.

In all honesty, Adrien had absolutely no idea what the hell happened in round three. But somehow he found himself on top of Marinette, his forearm against her throat, keeping her in place. Their chests were heaving against each other and they could feel the other’s ragged breath on their faces. And there was something in Marinette’s eyes, a fire that he couldn’t quite describe. Not that he had time to linger on it, because Marinette took advantage of his stillness to grab his arm and throw him over her head and right on his back. Fucking hell, she was strong! He didn’t even get a chance to think about what he should do next before he felt a pair of strong thighs wrapping around his head and neck. He felt like choking and it wasn’t because of the lack of air. By all means, if he will die, death by being strangled by Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s wonderfully muscled thighs was a fantastic way to go. But that wasn’t his main problem right now. No, his main problem was caused because of his heightened senses caused by the cat miraculous influence. He could smell things people couldn’t. And in that moment he was smelling arousal. And it smelled so sweet it made his mouth almost water. God, he wanted a taste of it. And just when he seemed to be left without any air, Marinette freed him. Not that it helped too much. Not when he was still laying in between her spread legs, not while her bare abs were glistening with sweat and certainly not when here hair was a wild mess, falling in her eyes as she parted those pink lips of hers. Oh, fuck.

“Are you alright? You look positively starved,” she stated, tilting her head almost innocently. “And you are awfully red.”

Adrien gathered himself and got on his feet as fast as possible, turning away from her. “It is because of the workout!” he argued.

He didn’t notice the way Marinette licked her lips, as if she just got some wonderful juice from which she intended to savor every drop.

Adrien hated himself. And his cat tendencies. No, wait. Tomcat tendencies. God, he couldn’t believe that thing crossed his mind. And towards Marinette! Hell knows what she must think of him. Adrien wanted to scream at the thought of losing his only current friend. She didn’t react badly after the whole incident, not even when they went back to the office. The things seemed as they always were. But something still felt off.

And as if it was magic, an alarm from a store began wheezing just then. Nudging his pocket to wake up Plagg, Adrien slipped in an ally. God, a superhero can’t even go grocery shopping without something happening. Just when he was about to call his transformation, a sweet voice interrupted him.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Adrien’s eyes were close to bugging out of his head at the sight of her jumping in the alley and walking towards him slowly.

“Miss Fortune.” he gasped.

“Oh, “ she put a hand over her heart. “So you know me.”

Adrien knew her personally, but he was sure the rest of Paris knew how she looked too. He began, to retreat slowly, only for his back to hit the wall.

“Lucky thing, “ she walked slowly towards him. “I know who you are too.”

For a second, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of her knowing his secret identity. But these worries were vanquished a second later when she stated. “You are Adrien Agreste. The model. You are even more handsome up close.”

Adrien was flabbergasted when she began running a hand through his hair, playing with it, before she slid her fingers down, caressing his cheek. She sighed dreamily. “Why do I always fall for the beautiful blondes? It is almost like I have a type.”

Huh, handsome blondes? Who was she talking about?

Coming even closer, she leaned against him, playing with the collar of his shirt. “So Adrien, given my kitten is so adamant about not kissing me, what about you? Would you like a taste of sweetness?”

Adrien gulped, as sh leaned closer, tilting her head. And her lips were really tempting, they had always been, so full and pink and he truly wanted a try. But there was a voice in the back of his mind screaming about morals and how kissing criminals wasn’t a superhero’s business. Looking aside, Adrien shook his head. “I’m not kissing thieves.”

“Oh, “ if he wouldn’t know better he could have sworn she sounded disappointed. Adrien noticed her expression dropped, before regaining her flirty demeanor back fastly. “well, if you ever change your mind… “

She kissed her index finger before tapping his nose with it, while leaning in awfully close and staring at him with those startling blue eyes. “… you just have to call my name, and I’ll make sure you won’t need anything else sweet ever again.”

Turning on her heels, she took a few steps with a swing in her hips. “Until then, au revoir pretty little thing.”

And with that, she threw her yoyo up disappearing in the night and leaving a flabbergasted Adrien Agreste against a wall in the alley.

[moonsandstar-s]

Nevermore (Reprise)

Chapter I - I Am Damaged 

 He is damaged, far too damaged. Remnant is full of fairytales and legends, but it is just as full of beasts and demons, and his misfortune only marks him out as an outcast. The souls that Salem has taken are lost; they are beyond redemption, as he will soon be.

Team STRQ is shattered. One dead. One lost. One traitor. One damaged.  By watching the turn of the clock, Qrow can see that there's not much time left before the same fate repeats itself on the ones he loves.

                                                             ☨ ☨ ☨

He was born to the wind and sky, a bird in flight. Born to the blood of the tribe, spilled across the pavement, and to his sister, one whom darkness knew well. Melded to a team— to Taiyang, the one of sunshine, and Summer, shackled to silver and murdered by a legend. He brought misfortune wherever he planted his roots, abandoned the ones he loved, created a spot of turbulent darkness in a beacon of shining light.

A beacon, one that glowed like a star, erected from nothing. His home, now an empty shell. He remembers the one who stood apart from the crowd, unencumbered by the troubles of everyday life, untouched by humanity’s strife, the spirit of light.

The man who was devoured by fire and burned to nothingness, swallowed up and spat out into shards, consumed by the breath of autumn.

Qrow remembers this: his copper eyes.

He thought he’d never see them again.

☨ ☨ ☨ He was born to the tribe on the cusp on autumn and winter, when the last of the leaves fell from the trees, along with his sister. The tribe had never been one to celebrate the birth of new stock, but twins were uncommon, and the healer of the tribe predicted enormous fates ahead of them. “The girl,” the healer had said, “shall bring luck and fortune. She will open the closed eye that can see the future’s events. Good luck lies in her path, but it will not be an easy one. She will lead us out of famine and into strength. On wings of darkness, this child will fly us to infamy.”

And they named her Raven, for the bird that followed the wolves, and for the inborn ability of the tribe, the ability to shape-shift.  

“This one will bring misfortune wherever he may tread,” the healer said of the second child, a boy. “His path winds long and dark. It is impossible to see the end of it. The tribe will never make use of him, nor he of us. His path is shrouded in mist, obscured by things I cannot divine, a fate marred by misfortune… the pitfalls along the way will surely kill him.”  

And they named him Qrow, the sign of bad luck, and cast him down while his sister rose in the eyes of the tribe.

When the twins entered the world, the first snows began to fall.

☨ ☨ ☨

“The last survivor,” one of the tribe members croons, his voice taunting. “Your whole village is dead, isn’t it? Pity you’ll follow them. Don’t you know that nothing outside your precious little kingdoms is safe anymore?”

Qrow edges forward in the shadows, his hand on his dagger. The tribe is not kind, and they will punish him cruelly, if he’s found eavesdropping. They’re taunting a little girl from the village they raided last. She’s not much older than he is— only twelve, he would guess. Twelve years old.

She is missing one eye. They’ve been torturing her for a while now, and she hasn’t seen sustenance in days, except for scummy water and food so molded that it resembles dirt. Her hands, altogether, have less than four fingers left. Her skin is gashed up, vicious old wounds layered over newer, red over brown. He can smell the scent of infection, fear, and pain, even from here. Her hair is more tangled than a bird’s nest, and her remaining eye— a terrified green— peers out from between the gaps in her hair. Two tribe members are standing over her, mocking her, and the sunlight shines off the knives they hold in their hands.

“Tell me,” one of the tribe members purrs, “who is the Master?”

The girl shrinks back, silent.

“Who is the Master?” he repeats again, his voice dangerously quiet. “Answer me.”

Again, no answer.

Instantly, they descend upon her, beating her and torturing her, because her will is not broken yet. She will not submit to them. And for that, he knows, she will surely die. It’s not long before she will succumb, he can tell, but in the time between now and then, it will be living hell for her. She screams as they bring out their knives into the equation, and blood mixes with the dirt. Qrow’s hands clench together, and he winces at each scream, a jolt going through his body.

Her howls of agony swarm through the air like birds, flocking in his ears, and he cowers away, hands over his ears. His nails scratch against his temples so hard he almost draws blood, but the agony in them— the strangled pain— tells him that what they’ve done before is nothing compared to what they’re doing to her now.

Qrow scowls, but bile rises in his throat. His hands seem to pulse, and his eyes widen as he realizes his semblance is reacting. One of the tribe members yells, startled, as his knife jerks to the side, misfortune yanking it from his hand, and it plunges towards his foot, point-down. He leaps back, shouting angrily.

“Who in the hell—” He begins, before casting around, eyes roving over the shell of the blackened town. Qrow scrambles back into the shadows, desperate not to be seen by those searching eyes, but he’s not fast enough.

“Damned bastard kid,” the member hisses, stalking towards him with the knife. “Get out of here, you useless, misfortune-causing—”

Qrow jumps to his feet and runs, leaving dust billowing in his wake as fear ignites in his heart, but he’s not fast enough to outrun the sound of the little girl from the town, screaming as they finally kill her.

☨ ☨ ☨

The night he shifts into his crow for the first time, he flies straight for Vale, and never looks back.

☨ ☨ ☨

Life on the streets is hard.

Every day is an uncertainty. Often, he goes hungry, curled in a back alley underneath corrugated tin and dumpsters. The only food he can get is what he nicks from market stands and paws out of trashcans. The only bright side of his life is when he transform into a crow and fly over the city, seeing the true beauty of it, the winding rivers, soaring spires, glittering buildings. He speaks to birds, tells them where to fly. He can hear the songs on the breeze, and for the moment, life is good.

Kids try to fight him all the time when they find him in the streets, like some rat. They aren’t real fighters, just thugs and idiots, and he wins so easily. He always wins. Every time he strikes the finishing blow, he feels like he loses another part of himself.

☨ ☨ ☨

He is seventeen years old now. It’s been seven years since his parents were killed. Five since he witnessed the murder of the little girl. And it’s been only hours since he sustained another wound. He has nothing now— he is still fleeing the tribe, fleeing their cruelty, seeking a better life.

A group of rich kids playing at being gangsters jumped him a while ago in an alley while he was scrounging around— nothing he couldn’t handle, but they’ve cost him precious energy and the sheer amount that attacked him gave him a few wounds that sting like fury. To top it all off, they stole the meager supply of Lien and Dust he had forged. Now, he has nothing. He is nothing but Qrow Branwen, bastard of the tribe, ally to the wind and sky, renegade of the tribe, ex-brother to Raven. There is nothing but the clothes on his back, the wounds on his body, and the knife in his hand.

He walks down the streets of Vale, fresh out of a back-alley fight. He’s pissed off, itching to start and finish another fight. At least in battle, there is nothing but the mind numbing-chill of adrenaline. His anger feels like live wires, twisting and coiling white hot in his veins, and he can see the muscles moving beneath his skin, flaked with white scars.

His chest aches. The puckered, jagged scar there, stretching from collarbone to navel— one he received many years ago— stings like fury. It was Raven’s fault that he ever got it in the first place, but she would never admit it. They’d always promised to have each other’s backs in a fight— until, one day, she didn’t. Now, the scar is reopened, bleeding shallowly from a blow he sustained recently.

Above his head, a bird croaks.

He turns to look up. There’s large black raven perched on the elegant curve of a light-pole, its red eyes fixed upon him with a a beady glare. It would look unassuming to anyone else, but he can see the amused cock of his head, the slight ruffle on the crest of its head, and there’s also the irritating fact that he knows his sister, though it’s been five years since he’s seen her, and he would know her anywhere.

Glancing down the street to make sure that it is still devoid of people— he’d look especially idiotic if someone caught him chattering at a bird— he raises his head to the raven with a scowl. “How long have you been stalking me?”

The bird spreads its wings and spirals to the ground. Midway in flight, it elongates and shifts, and then Raven tumbles out of the air and lands in a catlike crouch, smiling up at him. She’s always been able to shift from human to corvid easier than he has, and she makes it look effortless. Rising, she dusts herself off and tilts her head, studying him— all sharp teeth and narrowed eyes. “Not long, brother. Maybe a week’s time.”

“That’s actually pretty long. I didn’t know you found me so interesting.” Qrow scowls. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any sign of you, Raven. Too long for this to just be an idle visit. I ran away years ago— five, to be exact. What brings you here now, after all this time?”

“I’m on a mission… my first one ever. The tribe believes I’m out scouting out other villages to attack, and I found one swiftly enough to allow for this little… excursion. I wanted to find you before now, but it was impossible without risking them finding out.” She tosses her black hair behind her shoulders, taking a deep breath. “So here we are.”

Qrow scowls at her, and imagines how he looks— gaunt and ragged, every rib showing, his battle-marked skin a harsh reminder of the life he’s eked out in the streets, fighting and stealing to survive. Just as the tribe has— but now, he imagines, he will be able to escape it. He has to. He’s seventeen, after all; that’s the applicant age to enter a combat academy. And his fighting skills are plenty advanced.

“I don’t want to speak to you,” he says at last, dragging his attention back to his sister. “The tribe has a way of sinking its claws into its members… and that’s obvious with you. So if you’re here to drag me back there, beat it. I’m done with them, done with their murdering and thieving and stealing, and I’ve been done with it for years. I’m not going back.”  

Raven looks haughty at his quick dismissal, and he can see her jaw tighten with disapproval. “If you must know, that wasn’t my intention at all, but if you insist on being so prickly all the time, brother…”

He begins to walk, his stride tightly clipped, and Raven moves to his side, her eyes flashing. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

“I can sure as hell try.” He tries to duck to the side and outpace her, but she matches him stride for stride.

“What if I were to make a proposition?” His sister’s voice has the edge of an amused purr. “Your listening ear in exchange for a promise of honesty, little brother. I’ve never lied to you. Never had cause to. You’ve never tried to understand me, nor I you, but we’re family. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

His eyes go to slits. “Your deals always involve some sort of double-cross. Please, don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you’re an innocent little flower.”

Raven’s nostrils flare, and she steps into his path, forcing him to stop. “You act like you’re so secretive,” she snaps, “but you’re an open book, brother. Do you think the tribe didn’t know of your desires long before you saw that little girl murdered? They knew you shifted into your crow and flew out to Vale, to study the Hunters, study their ways. They knew you were growing restless. I daresay they even knew you would leave them, despite everything they gave you. Perhaps you are desperate to play the hero, but it’s a path that will only take you to your own demise. I cannot stop you from running off like a starry-eyed fool, pursuing your destiny. I can’t even keep you from chasing after the malleable idea of destiny, throwing away all the heritage of your past for an idiot’s dream of being a Huntsman. That’s not where you belong. You know that.” She looks pointedly in the direction of the soaring spires of Beacon Academy. “That’s not your home, Qrow.”

“I always knew you were pragmatic,” Qrow grunts, shielding his anger at her words as his hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife. “Though, sis, I’ll admit I never really realized you could be so much of a bi—”

“It’s not your home alone,” Raven interrupts without a trace of anger, “but it could be ours.” She hesitates. “If I came with you.”

He eyes her suspiciously. “No offense, but I can tell you’re lying. Why would you leave the tribe? They’ve always been a bigger part of you than I have ever been. That’s just how it is.” A pang of sadness echoes in his heart. “Why would you leave them behind to come with me?”  

She looks caught off guard for a moment’s instance, but it quickly disappears, replaced by a mask of cool self-certainty. “The tribe means much to me, yes. But you’re my brother… and knowledge is power. There is much that the tribe cannot teach me, of the ways of Remnant— knowledge I could acquire there, at Beacon Academy. The leader of the tribe was grooming me to become the next in line, but I’m not ready. I know myself. Power is something I could handle so easily, but it would be rash to take it now, while there is still so much to learn, so much to change before I shoulder a burden like that.” Her eyes darken, the color of freshly-spilled blood. “And… I care for family, even if you do not.”

“Family means nothing. It’s just something you’re born into.”

“Your heart is filled with bitterness,” she tells him.

She could be lying, he thinks. Raven has always been remarkably gifted at duplication, but her gaze is guileless. She’s either become an extremely good actor in the time since he’s last seen her… or she’s telling the truth.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Qrow grunts, before he unsheathes his knife, and looks at it. The sunlight sparks off it, gold and silver, and Raven stiffens. Qrow puts it away, and reaches out his hand towards his sister. “But I’ll give you another chance.”

Raven takes his hand in a firm grip, nodding, her eyebrows forming dark slashes sheltering the depth of her eyes, and what hidden motives might lie there. “And I will be honored to take it.”

☨ ☨ ☨  

They both apply for Beacon.

They find a small coffee shop, ignoring the glances of the patrons as they stride in— they both look scruffy and wild— and find a table near the back to fill the forms out in quiet. Raven frowns down at her paper, and he helps her, ignoring the amusement he feels at it. He’s technically her little brother by mere minutes, but it’s good to know he still has the edge in cases like these. The form is nothing fancy— just printed applicant boxes on cream-colored paper, with lines for a signature. At the top, the headmaster’s name is flourished in a simple script. Professor Ozpin, it says. Privately, Qrow thinks it’s a ridiculous sort of title.

The register with their names, Qrow and Raven Branwen.

They easily fill in the boxes asking them to describe themselves and why they want to be Huntsmen or Huntresses. Qrow’s honest about it— no point in lying, really, if he’ll only be caught— and marks down his motives as being the same as anyone else’s: he just wants a career that’s not as constrictive as others, and one that allows him to help others out, while being an adventurous job. He has no idea what Raven puts, nor does he want to know.

They register with their choice of weapon, or the idea of weapon they might like to forge. Raven marks her down without a hint of hesitation— she’s always fought with a blood-red katana and a few vials of Dust, something the tribe gave her after a particularly remarkable display in a raid— but Qrow wavers, his pen hovering over the paper long enough to blotch. He has no weapon, because he’s never stood out like his sister has enough to earn one. Not unless you count the dagger he carries around— he doesn’t count that.

I request a forged weapon, he writes. I will make it with my own two hands, so long as I can use the material and a furnace. I’m not afraid of hard work.

He thinks a larger weapon would be good. He doesn’t want to use something that the tribe uses, so mentally, he rules out the idea of any maces, or bows, or knives. A sword would be nice— a greatsword, one that’s full of power and promise. He might even fancy it up and include a shift in it, to symbolize how he can shift to a crow… something unexpected, like a gun, or a scythe, like those used to cut down fields.  A faint smile crosses his lips, and he looks around, surprised by the burst of lightness in his chest. This is all so unfamiliar— feeling hopeful, sitting with his sister in a quiet but comfortable silence, applying for a future he knows is right for him. He almost feels happy.  

Under the box that asks them to label their semblances and any additional details, Qrow’s chest tightens. As if on cue, somewhere in the shop, he can hear the tinkle of a glass shattering, and an angry shout.

“Misfortune,” he growls.

Raven’s eyebrows raise in an amused manner and she sneaks him a sly, sidelong glance. “Misfortune, indeed. Just be glad that it’s not you dropping a glass. You know, you might even be able to turn your semblance to your advantage at the Academy, Qrow. Just be sure to hang around those you don’t like, and you’re home free.”

“It’s not funny,” he snaps, and she smiles.

“I never said it was, my brother.” Then she looks directly at him, her good mood fading. “Do not tell them you can shape-shift. That marks us out as different. And what society deems as different, they deem unnatural— they don’t understand what’s different, so they brand it as an outcast, and drive it away.” Her voice is dark and heavy. “Believe me, I know.”

He notices a pale scar stretching from her temple and disappearing into her hairline. She didn’t have it when he fled the tribe, and he is half-tempted to ask what it’s from, before he decides to let it go. “I won’t.”

He marks down misfortune just as she marks down good luck, and he wonders why some people are cursed in life while others are blessed.

☨ ☨ ☨

They are accepted one week and five days later.

☨ ☨ ☨

The initiation ceremony is awful, and the speech is just as redundant and boring; he’s beginning to sweat under his gear and regret all of this. He’s surrounded by a swarm of gossiping idiots who seem to have no idea that this is a school for fighting and battle, not parties and fun. Raven slinks off soon after they enter the amphitheater, and he doesn’t bother following her. He slips to the front of the crowd, eyes narrowed. Behind him, someone trips, falls, and cries out as their nose begins to gush blood, but he doesn’t turn around to look at them. He is past the point of worrying about those whom his semblance affects.

The headmaster, Professor Ozpin, is up at the forefront of the stage, standing silently and observing the crowd. A ray of sunlight falls through the window and illuminates him, bathing him in warm gold. Qrow stares up at him, reminded of a statue carved like an angel. All he lacks is the wings flaring out from his back. He’s way younger than Qrow expected, and flicker of surprise shocks him, for a moment. He’d expected to see some boring old guy, complete with wobbling jowls and absolutely no idea how combat actually worked. But this man meets neither expectations. Sure, there’s a cane balanced under his crossed palms, but Qrow doubts he uses it; Ozpin looks no older than—

Come to think of it, Qrow can’t actually guess his age. He looks ageless, in a way. Like something that’s stood here as long as the school, as long as Remnant itself.

“May I have your attention,” he says into the microphone. Something about his voice— resonating a quiet power— makes the room fall silent instantly, as if holding its breath, put into a trance. “Thank you all for coming here today. While Remnant is full of many excellent professions, the career of a Hunter is, in my mind, a noble one to pursue. You all have one common bond: you have decided you want to aid your world through your skills, and make it a safer place. You have put your duty and your people ahead of yourself, and through careful selection, we chose the individuals who we feel will be the most… suited, per se, to this task.” His eyes rove the room, passing over the shifting crowd, and Qrow takes a step back as they pass over him.

“As you know,” Ozpin goes on, “most of you sent applications within the span of the previous month. The remainder of you entered Beacon with an open application. Now, all of you will be fielded for your unique combat abilities, and narrowed down from there on out. I am sure you have heard rumors of our initiation ceremony. They run rampant through Vale, each one wilder than the last. Allow me to end those rumors right here.”

From the crowd, a kid shouts out, “Is it true that we’ve got to wrestle a King Taijitu and win?”

“Not in the slightest, I’m afraid,” the headmaster replies conversationally, a brief smile gracing his face, and Qrow feels his heart lighten a little bit. “Our process is decidedly less rigorous and exciting, though some of you may find it challenging enough on its own. You will be entered into the forest lying to the north of Beacon; the Emerald Forest. It is inhabited by many of the lesser subspecies of Grimm— Beowolves, Deathstalkers, and Ursai. These, we have deemed, should be manageable for first-years undergoing initiation—”

“He calls Deathstalkers manageable?” Someone mutters behind Qrow.

“—and the exact details of the initiation should be made more clear to you tomorrow morning,” Ozpin continues. “For now, there will be a tour of the Academy, wherein you will learn the grounds of the campus, and be permitted a rocket locker in which you may store your weapon and any personal belongings. Then you will be sent to the ballroom, where temporary sleeping spaces have been arranged for you. After initiation, those of you who are left will be assigned to your teams, and delegated to a dorm room. I wish you all the best of luck. Get a good night’s rest for tomorrow, and listen well to Professor Goodwitch.”

The crowd erupts into speculative chattering as Ozpin turns and vanishes backstage, and his assistant— Goodwitch— turns the other way, walking down the stairs and calling for the massive crowd to follow her. Privately, Qrow thinks she looks way too young to be an assistant, too— she’s got to be only a couple years older than he is, but whatever. Dismissing the thought, he looks around, searching for one dark head of hair in the crowd.

“Don’t look so angry, brother. You might frighten all the children here.”  

Her voice is spoken in the shell of his ear, and he jumps, startled, before whipping around to glare at her. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

She frowns. “This whole initiation ceremony seems rather… foolish, don’t you think? I think the headmaster should simply pick the ones who don’t have their brains in their feet… though to be fair, that seems to be less than half of this room.”

Qrow scoffs. “Don’t tell me you actually stuck around to listen, Raven.”

Her eyes burn at him. “I told you I was going to do this wholeheartedly, or not at all.”

“Fine. Don’t bite my head off, or anything.” He strides off into the crowd that obediently trails Goodwitch— she’s prattling on about the campus’s rich history, or something— and his sister follows him.

When they get their rocket lockers, they get them right beside each other, and he sneaks a sidelong grin at her as she fiddles with the combination, her brows furrowed in frustration. “Need some help?”

She scowls at him. “Yes, I can’t work with all the technology as well as you. Very amusing. Now would you just get on with it?”  

“Alright, it’s fine. You didn’t have to scrounge out your life learning stuff as fast as I did to survive on the streets— not your fault, but whatever.” He leans over and fiddles with her combo, punching it in and typing in the affirming ‘click’. “Tribe didn’t work much with technology, did they?”

She’s obviously nettled, her red eyes locked onto him, and her sentence comes out in a sibilant hiss. “You’re the one that left, not I.”

“I did.” He moves his shoulders in a shrug, but her words hurt him more than he lets on. “But that’s in the past now.” She doesn’t press the argument further, but he can tell she’s still bubbling with resentment over the supposed betrayal of her brother.

Whatever. She didn’t see what I saw… or if she did, she chose to ignore it, and that’s not my fault.

In the ballroom that night, it’s packed with chatter, and Qrow claims a corner near a candle, though he doubts he’ll get a wink of sleep with all these kids going on and on. Someone yells “shut up!” from the western end of the room. The talking abates for a heartbeat before resuming, even more noisily than before, and Raven settles beside him with a soft sigh.

“You’re not used to this kind of life, are you?” Qrow asks her. “All these people and all this entitlement and fun.”

She eyes him jealously, her face shadowy in the firelight. “You seem right at home here, brother.”

He cocks a brow. “No. I’m no less comfortable than you are with these many idiot crammed into a room. Honestly, I hate it. I spent a lot of time alone, Raven. I was always on my own.”

She turns away, curling up in a little ball of shadow, but he knows she isn’t asleep. Unwilling to press the matter further— Raven’s always been an enigma, and he’s long since accepted the mysterious silence of her ways— he snuffs out the candle, plunging their corner of the room into darkness. But after a long heartbeat, he can hear her whisper, just under the chatter of the room.

“Your isolation was self imposed.”

☨ ☨ ☨

In his sleep, an old lullaby from when he was child rings in Qrow’s ears, wearing the voice of his parents, and he tumbles down into nightmares. The words of the lullaby haunts him into the darkness.

“I know the rain like the clouds know the sky

I speak to birds and tell them where to fly.

I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze

I write the names of the rocks and the trees.

Oh, you fool, there are rules

I am coming for you.

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild.

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

Oh, you fool, there are rules

I am coming for you

You can run but you can't escape…

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

You will open the yawning grave…”

☨ ☨ ☨

Qrow wakes up, wide-eyed and stiff, to yelling and an authoritative voice rising above the chatter. Raven’s already awake, pulling on her wrist guards and looking distinctly tired, her eyes ringed with blue shadows. As Qrow blinks around the room, getting his bearings, she casts him a sour look. “Excellent,” she tells him, her voice conveying the exact opposite. “You’ve finally woken up. And just in time— the headmaster’s assistant has ordered us to get a move on down the cliffs bordering the northern end of the campus, near the airdocks.”

Qrow makes sure his dagger is tucked on his hip, and tightens the raggedy red material of his cape around his shoulders. “Any idea what they’re planning for us?”

“We’ve been accepted,” she points out. “I don’t doubt it’s some convoluted plan to get us assigned a team and a partner, but…” She gives an elegant shrug. “Who can say?”

Qrow rises to his feet, and sticks out his hand with raised eyebrows to help her to her feet. She scorns the proffered hand and uncurls herself from the ground gracefully, rising up and moving off into the shifting throng of initiates.

“Typical,” he mutters, before rolling his eyes heavenward and trailing after her. They both weave their way to the front of the crowd, where Goodwitch is scolding a kid who is rumpled from sleep, his hair stuck up all over the place.

After she’s done yelling, she sweeps one frigid-eyed glance over the waiting crowd before whirling around and stalking from the room. Obediently, they follow after her, clutching an array of gear and weaponry— Qrow can see sensible weapons, sure, but some of the things he sees look ridiculous. An extendable wooden staff with a spear-blade on one end and a gun on the other, a wristbands that bristle with spiky metal knives, a large sword with two guns protruding from either side of the hilt, a whip ribbed with fire Dust, a bow shaped in the curve of a wing, the endings flaring out to resemble feathers, the arrows fashioned in the form of a bird’s beak and glowing with Dust in their points.

He doesn’t see anything like what he has in mind of what he wants to forge— a greatsword that can change to a scythe with the flash of a button— and he hides a smile.

“Why are you smiling?” Raven asks him.

He cocks a brow at his sister. “Nothing, really. Just thinking about things. Are you regretting your decision to come along with me yet?”

In unison, they both glance to the right as a boy lets out a loud retching noise and suddenly vomits all over the ground, scattering the kids around him like windblown leaves, except with more shrieking and name-calling. Qrow snorts, and Raven gives him a cold, tight smile. “Most definitely.”

The walk to the cliffs is silent from then on. They make it there in less than five minutes. It’s a lonely, wild place, with craggy bluffs and a vast forest of green trees spreading out before them. The trees are already beginning to turn to gold and red as autumn dawns closer, and the coldness in the air only confirms that summer is finally reaching the end of its passage. Qrow stops as the other Beacon initiates fan out in a long line.

There’s already a solitary figure poised on the edge of the cliffs, straight-backed and elegant, his hair silvery and windblown in the gale. Qrow recognizes it as Ozpin. Autumn leaves chase each other around his feet. As the initiates come to a stop, he turns around, his copper eyes surveying them. “Welcome,” he says.

A soft murmur of greeting is echoed back to the headmaster, and he nods to the stone squares that lead down to the end of the cliffs. Each of them have some sort of springboard device rigged beneath them, and they are emblazoned with an emblem of crossed axes and laurel wreath. “Please, find yourself a spot on the springboards and have your weapons at the ready as I explain how your initiation will go. I am not one to waste time, so please, make it swift, and we can begin this as soon as possible. Thank you.”

There’s a mad scrambling for spots on the boards, complete with mild scuffles and name-calling, and Qrow finds himself on one of the stone pads right in front of Ozpin and parallel to his sister. She looks slightly uneasy, and he shares the sentiment. What the hell is their initiation going to be, exactly?

“Now.” Ozpin casts a glance over all of them. “As I’ve said before, I do not doubt you’ve been exposed to several rumors concerning our initiation process here— each one more wild than the last, I’m sure. I’m afraid it’s not going to live up to some of your expectations—” He looks at the kid who asked him about wrestling a King Taijitu, and the initiate blushes— “but rest assured that it will not be your typical entry-level assessment, either. You were all accepted here because I determined you had what it took to survive this sort of test. Today I will see if my expectations were correct.

As you know, today you will be receiving your teams, and your partners. Your teams and your partner will be your counterparts for the remainder of your time at Beacon— they will be who you can count on in fight; you will take your classes with them; you will eat with them, sleep in a dorm room with them, and in every way, they will be your family for the duration of your time here. Therefore, it is in your best interests to find someone with whom you can work well.”

Qrow looks dubiously down the line of initiates, who all seem to have the same thoughts, but Ozpin’s voice catches his attention once more.

“You may be wondering the exact process of how your teams and partners will be selected: allow me to cease your wonderings. You will be placed in the forest. The first person with whom you make eye contact shall be your partner for the next four years. Furthermore, the next set of partners you run into will make up the remaining members of your team. Once you have your team, you will make your way to the heart of the forest together. This forest is home to many Grimm, so do not expect to go unchallenged on your way. Once you have made it to the forest’s heart, there lies an abandoned temple stocked with chess-pieces that will serve as indications to me that you have completed your objective. After you retrieve a single chess piece, it is your responsibility to make your way back to the base of the cliffs. Is that understood?”

A chorus of “yes, headmaster” rings out from the line of initiates. Qrow shivers in the blustery autumn day, complete with a steel-gray sky and biting wind, and and wishes that he had something a bit warmer than his raggedy gear.

Well, that settles it. He’s not going to get paired up with some idiot, and he’s not going to get shoved off on a team full of blockheads either. He’ll have to slink around until he finds someone who doesn’t look like a total washout and settle for them.

“Sir? Professor Ozpin?” Someone asks in a quavering voice.

“Yes?”

“Um, how exactly are we going to get down to the forest?”

“You will be launched from the stone pads on which you are currently standing at a rate of over thirty miles per hour,” he announces. “Your Aura will protect you from any serious harm, but it is in your best interest to devise a landing strategy that will keep you intact. This will also allow me to glean your sense of thinking under pressure, and planning to keep yourself safe in the long run… and it will give me a sense of who to appoint as team leaders.” There’s not a trace of humor in his voice, and a low murmur of shock runs through the line as they all realize he’s being completely serious. “Best of luck, and may you all do well.”

With that, the first stone pad lets out a sharp click, and then with a screech of shock, Qrow watches as an initiate is launched from the cliff and into the air. Another follows, and then another, and then Qrow sees his sister flash him a sharp-toothed grin before she is winging off gracefully into the gray autumn sky.

Then it’s his turn.

Qrow meets Ozpin’s eyes for a single moment, his gaze narrowing, before he is hurled into the air like a bullet shot from a gun.

The air screams in his ears, and his heart thunders in his ears, a deluge of adrenaline firing through his veins. He waits until he’s out of sight of the cliff, and of his fellow initiates, before he shifts midair, the change swallowing him up in a whirl of feathery darkness and spitting him back out in the form of a crow. Cawing triumphantly, he rides the gust of wind that soars through the air, letting himself glide safely down to the forest floor. There, he changes back into Qrow, clutching his dagger and wishing fervently he had a better weapon.

There is no time to waste— he can hear an Ursa howling in the distance, and gods know what else trampling through the brambles behind him— so he speeds off, keeping one ear open for sounds as he dashes through the brush. After what seems like an eternity of running, he hears a crackle in the trees ahead, and he skids to a stop, before suspiciously making his way forward.

He sees his sister, and he swears as their eyes meet, red against paler red.

“Hello, my brother,” she says, not looking at all surprised or displeased. She looks smug, satisfied. “Or, to be more accurate, my partner.”

“Goddammit,” he snaps to himself.

“Pity,” she drawls as she takes note of his crestfallen expression. “Because it’s a terrible fate to be partnered to your sister, is that right?”

“No. I’m just cringing inwardly at the prospect of being forced to have your back and all that sentimental shit for four years, that’s all.” He lets out a scoff. “Let’s get moving.”

They both move off into the forest.

☨ ☨ ☨

After about ten minutes of walking, Qrow can hear yelling and the sounds of thudding impact, followed by an agonized bellow. He charges forward towards the sound, Raven on his heels, and whips his dagger out, and then— as he breaks through the vines and trees of the Emerald Forest— a chaotic sight unfurls before his eyes.

Two initiates whirl around a Grimm, crying out— not in fear, but in excitement. They are attacking an Ursa, one of the more massive kind. There’s a short girl, wispy and petite, who doesn’t look at though she could hurt a fly, but she’s riding the back of the Ursa and whooping triumphantly as she bashes a long feather-staff over its head. Her eyes are bright silver. Her partner is a tall blonde-haired boy, broad-shouldered and weaponless—

That’s not quite right. His hands are gleaming with brass knuckles. His eyes spark like blue fire as he hurls himself at the Ursai and taunts it almost playfully, punching it in the jaw and dancing backward, out of its reach.

Qrow and Raven exchange a glance before they leap into the fray as one, knives and katana flashing. The Ursa bellows in pain, but it doesn’t stand a chance against four, and they all retreat as it dissolves into black smoke.

“Hey,” the girl greets them, looking exhilarated, her hair windblown and her face flushed. “Tai, our team is all together now!”

The boy sweeps a nonchalant glance over the twins, giving them both a crooked grin. He’s broad-jawed and his hair is swept back over his head in a messy flare of blonde. He’s good-looking in a rugged, handsome way, Qrow supposes, if you like that sort of thing— but doesn’t like the way his eyes linger a moment too long on Raven. She seems impervious to the appraising look.

“Hey, there,” he introduces himself, his voice warm. “My name’s Taiyang Xiao Long, but I also go by Tai, if you’d like. This is Summer Rose—”

“But you can call me Summer; I don’t mind,” she interrupts. Her voice is melodic and kind, and Qrow feels himself softening towards her. “I know Summer Rose is a bit of a mouthful—”

“— but it’s no big deal,” Tai finishes for her, blue eyes glittering. He steps forward to shake hands with Qrow. “I didn’t catch your names last night when everyone was getting all gung-ho friendly with each other in the ballroom, but I remember you two well enough— the dark-haired twins, that’s what Summer called you. But what do you want us to call you?”

“Raven Branwen,” she responds, a note of ice in her voice.

Taiyang grins good-naturedly at her, pushing a hand through his hair. “And your brother?”

“I’m Qrow Branwen,” he offers, letting out a heavy breath and sheathing his dagger to throw his hands in his pockets.

“Qrow and Raven,” Taiyang snorts. “You sure it’s the Branwen twins, and not the birdbrain twins?”

“I bet that’s the wittiest thing you’ve said all week, dirt-for-brains,” Qrow snaps, storming past them, and Summer giggles. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a relic to find.”

Raven catches up to him as he takes the lead, and they both exchange a glance, not needing words to voice the thought that passes between them. If these two vapid idiots are their team members, it’s going to be a long four years.

“So what do you think we’ll be called?” Taiyang wonders aloud. “Like, our team name, I mean. Professor Ozpin decides them. He seems alright, but I wonder…”

“No idea,” Qrow grunts, flattening a track through a tussock of high grass. “It’s Q, R, S, and T.” Suddenly, a thought occurs to him, and he swears. “Fuck, he’s not going to call us something like Team SQRT, is he?”

Taiyang chokes out loud. “There is something horrifyingly wrong with you.”

Qrow can see Raven bite back a smile, which makes him feel a bit less suspicious about this whole thing. “Squirt isn’t a color, Qrow,” Summer reminds him gently.  

Qrow lets the three of them talk and he leads the way through the forest, over bubbling creaks and tangled brambles. There’s not hide nor hair of any more Grimm, and he begins to suspect that Ozpin’s little speech was just for theatrics and flair.

A glimmer of sunlight on stone catches his eyes, and he pushes through the trees, and is greeted by a buffeting blast of wind. He’s on the edge of a small cliff, and his team fans out behind him as the sight of what lies below spreads out ahead of them in brilliant color. Summer and Tai inhale sharp breaths, and Raven lets out a noncommittal grunt of surprise.

There is an abandoned temple. It’s still mostly intact, but it’s weathered and old-looking. Lichen and moss coats the pillars, and there are several alters ringing the structure; each one holds a chess piece on the top of it. Each one is black as pitch.

“So how do we get down there?” Taiyang wonders aloud. “I don’t really fancy our chances trying to climb down this cliff, and while our Aura might keep us from dying, I don’t really want a broken bone today— or ever.”

Qrow casts a glance at his sister, thinking of the dramatic show he could create by shifting into a crow and soaring down the temple. Besides, he’s never listened to Raven before; why should he do it now?

She seems to know what he is thinking, because her expression shifts to anger as he grins at her. “Qrow—”

He allows the change to swallow him up and spit him out as a corvid. His bones elongate, melting and shrinking, and his skin prickles and aches before the world blurs before him, and he is standing several feet smaller, three humans looming over him.

He doesn’t stick around to hear Raven shout at him for being an idiot; enjoying the sputtering shock of Taiyang and Summer, he spreads his wings and glides off the cliff, down to the temple.

Ten minutes later, Raven, Taiyang, and Summer join him, having traversed the long way around. Raven looks stormy as a thundercloud, Summer looks mildly surprised but happy, and Taiyang is shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “A fucking bird,” he says. “His name’s Qrow and he can change into a fu—”

“Taiyang, please.”

Qrow brandishes the black rook he took from an altar. “I know it must be so interesting to discuss my abilities, but here’s the damn thing we were sent here for, so drop it. I don’t walk about shouting out my semblance for the world to hear, so you shouldn’t, either.”

Raven shoots him a look that’s sharper than a dagger— they both very well know his semblance isn’t shifting into a crow— but they don’t let Taiyang or Summer know that.

“Well, that’s it; we’ve got our relic,” Raven tells the team. “Now let’s get back to the checkpoint as swiftly as we can. Our objective is fulfilled now.”

“Don’t you want to explore?” Summer asks her, eyes twinkling like stars. “After all, surely Ozpin can’t fault us for checking out this area.”

Raven’s cold eyes fall upon Summer. “No, I do not. It’s foolish to hang around here longer than we must.”

Summer’s smile seems to waver and fall from her face. “I— do you not want to be here or something?”

“I think this is all theatrics and a pointless waste of time.” Raven sheathes her sword, eyeing the relic. “Perhaps it’s fitting for fools, but not for I. We should get assigned our teams and leaders and be done with it, the sooner the better.”  

“Hey, you don’t need to be like that,” Summer tells Raven. “Is this because you’re worried Ozpin is going to see your real skills and that you might not be made the leader? Look, I get you might be disappointed in this whole initiation deal, but believe me, it’s fine if you’re not going to be made the leader. Leadership isn’t for everyone, and not everyone is an excellent fighter… I can tell you and your brother don’t seem really accustomed to how all of this works, but it’s no big deal if you don’t quite understand it yet. Beacon will teach you how to fight and lead well, especially if you can’t do it yet. You seem like an okay fighter, but not everyone can be really strong and special… not everyone is cut out to be really good, you know?”

Qrow’s eyes widen at that. His sister stiffens at the word ‘strong’. She sputters, eyes gleaming furious red as if Summer has uttered the vilest of insults— and Qrow knows that, in a way, she has. Then, with a feral snarl, his sister charges at Summer and lifts her hand, her sharp nails flashing brightly in the sunlight as she prepares to rake them over Summer Rose’s face.

At that exact moment, a blonde streak shoots past Qrow and plows into her, throwing her to the side. They roll end over end, coming to a tumbling stop on the moss several feet away. Taiyang slams Raven’s shoulders into the ground, a terrible growl coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

“Get off of me!” she spits, thrashing underneath him. “Let me up this instant, you whelp, you idiot! Let me go!”  

Taiyang doesn’t move an inch. His burning blue eyes remain steadily locked on hers. Qrow knows from bitter experience the strength in his sister’s muscles, and he can appreciate how much endurance it must take to keep her pinned there. “Not until I can trust I can do that without you trying to murder one of your teammates.”

Raven struggles again. “My teammate—”

“We’re all your teammates now whether you like it or not. Capisce?” Taiyang lets out a huff. “Qrow,” he addresses him, without budging an inch to twist around to look at Qrow. “Is Summer okay?”

Eyebrows raised, Qrow glances at his new teammate. Her silver eyes look stricken, and she’s a bit pale, but she directs a shaky smile in his direction, voice managing to be chipper. “I’m right as rain. She didn’t touch me.”

Qrow nods, returning the smile reluctantly. “She’s fine,” he tells Tai. “Pretty face unscratched. Way to dash in there, sport. I’m sure you’re her knight in shining armor now.”

Taiyang visibly sags. “Okay. Brilliant. Perfect. You’re both determined to be sarcastic and bitter at every possible time. Wonderful.” He lets out a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Look,” he continues to Raven— she has stopped thrashing around by now— obviously making an enormous effort to remain calm. “I get that we’ve all got our differences, and it’s stupid to expect them to go away just because we’re teammates now. I don’t know what part of what Summer said offended you, but it did. I’m sure she didn’t mean to do it— misunderstandings are fine— but it’s done with, so just apologize to each other, because if we throw ourselves at each other every time we disagree, we’ll never learn to work together. Got it?”

Raven goes limp, boneless; Taiyang seems to sense that the fight has drained out of her, because he scrambles to his feet quickly and dusts himself off. Raven gets up on her own, red eyes falling onto Summer, who gazes at her nervously.

“I’m sorry for offending you,” Summer murmurs.

Raven’s mouth thins in a stern expression— not angry or displeased, but guarded. “And I apologize for charging you. It was foolish.”

“And rude,” Qrow chimes in, his voice light. “Don’t forget ‘rude’ too.”

His sister shoots him a dirty look. “Be silent, Qrow.”

While they’re apologizing and making an uneasy peace that’s definitely never going to last, Qrow patrols the border, making sure there are no Grimm lurking around. Everything is silent, though, and he makes his way back to the team, still bearing the black rook. “Let’s head back to the cliffs and get this done with.”

As they move back into the forest, their new truce still heavy in the air between them, Qrow feels— hopeful.

Nothing unfortunate happens to them on that day.

☨ ☨ ☨

Qrow wakes up to the unmistakable sound of snoring.

It’s Taiyang. He sounds like some gods-awful mixture between an donkey, gunshots, and a blender— a droning, strangulated sound that makes Qrow want to wring his neck. Miraculously, Summer and Raven are somehow managing to catch some sleep through the noise, but he can’t. Eyes wide-open, he stares at the ceiling and curses the name of every god he knows before resigning himself to the fact that he’s not going to get back to sleep unless someone punches him unconscious. In fact, he’s half-tempted to do it himself.

Muttering angrily about blonde idiots, he slides out of bed and drops to the ground, silent as stone. Living on thievery has given him an edge on sneaking around— nevertheless, it doesn’t rest easy on him, all this secrecy. As he pads past Raven’s bed, he half-expects her to snap open her eyes and yell at him, but she doesn’t, and he eases himself out of the dorm as quietly as he can.  

Moonbeams fall across the ground in the hallway, and lush red carpet muffles the sound of his steps. He wanders down the hall like a shadow, relishing in the silence that accompanies his solitude.

“Mr. Branwen.”

A sudden voice rings out into the silence, clear and crisp as crystal, and Qrow jumps in shock, whipping around to see Ozpin standing in the middle of the hallway, observing him with raised brows.

“Godsdammit,” Qrow mutters. Caught before I even made it out of the dorm building. Way to go.

Unfazed, Ozpin looks at him over the rim of his glasses. “You are, by the rules, technically out after curfew, and thereby going against a very stringent policy of Glynda’s. I would not advise you to be roaming the school after hours, Mr. Branwen. Count yourself lucky that Glynda was not the one to find you first. She is not as lenient in such matters. Why are you out here?”

“I can’t sleep,” Qrow admits. “Taiyang snores… and I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac.”

Ozpin smiles, lowering his cane to the ground with a clicking noise. “I see. Believe me, you would not be the first student I’ve caught out in the corridors after hours with a case of insomnia… or teammates who have rather bothersome sleeping habits. I have found that a game of chess has always been particularly useful in clearing intrusive thoughts from one’s mind and lulling it into a calmer state for rest. I don’t mind circumventing the rules in some cases, and I would be lying if I claimed that no student ever broke curfew. Would you care to join me?”

Qrow shuffles his feet, but he can’t exactly turn down the headmaster without looking like an ass, and this might be a good chance to get on Ozpin’s good side. He’s long since learned that you don’t survive and get ahead of everyone else without tallying up favors and being in good graces with those in authority. “Yeah, I guess.”

He follows behind Ozpin in silence as he continues down the hall, and then the headmaster launches into what Qrow can already tell will be a long-winded lecture on history, or some shit. “Beacon Academy was constructed many, many years ago, on the principles of courage, duty, and compassion, before you existed. It still holds those morals, and I’m pleased to see that the ambition of Huntsmen and Huntresses world-wide has not waned as the years go by.”

“And before you were born too, I expect,” Qrow says dryly, trying not to sound disinterested. Normally he wouldn’t care, but there’s something about the headmaster that tells him that being standoffish is a very, very bad idea. To that, Ozpin does not reply.

They enter the office amid the same emptiness, and it’s quiet, save for the turning of the gears above Qrow’s head. He seats himself as Ozpin pulls out a mahogany chess set from beneath his desk, opening it and removing the pieces— bishops, rooks, pawns— with a few deft flicks of his fingers. “Black or white?”

“Black.”

He sets up the black and white pieces. Moonlight sparks off the game board. Qrow narrows his eyes, determined to win, and pulls his chair closer to the table as the headmaster takes his own seat.

And five minutes later, in less than sixteen moves, Ozpin has him beat.

“Fuck,” Qrow says as he’s forced to concede. “How long have you been playing chess?”

That earns him a wan smile. “Far longer than I should be, I assure you.”

“Huh.” Qrow sits back, folding his arms with a frown flickering across his lips. “Well, chess isn’t really a huge skill anyways. I bet I could beat you in a straight-up fight.”

Ozpin’s eyebrows slant downward. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. A warrior’s greatest asset is not his strength, or even the weapon he wields— often it is his mind. And while we’re on the subject, Mr. Branwen, do you have your weapon? I remember that you had filled out the box on your transcript requesting one.”

He shakes his head. “Just a dagger. It’s fine, but I don’t think it’ll carry me through the four years. I asked if I could forge one or something.”  

Ozpin nods. “Yes, you’re correct on that count. A more advanced weapon will help you gain an edge in a fight, and it will hone your skills more than a plain one could ever do. In that case, you can begin forging your weapon tomorrow. Head to the furnaces of metalworking on the fourth level of the school, down the hall and in room 3B. Skip your second period class— I think you are enrolled in Grimm studies for that time, I believe, which from my observations thus far, I believe you have that subject well in hand.” There’s a hidden note in his voice that makes Qrow wonder just how much he knows. “And for now, I will bid you a good night, Mr. Branwen.”

Qrow finds himself standing outside the door of the office several moments later, looking up at the vast, shadowy ceiling, ribbed with beams, and there’s only one thought in his mind.

I’m screwed.

☨ ☨ ☨

Qrow splits from his team as they head for their second block class. Raven gives him a parting glance as Taiyang and Summer, chattering excitedly, drag her off. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look contemptuous or unenthusiastic— her expression is unreadable. He doesn’t stick around to ponder upon it, though. He tosses his dagger into a waste bin and heads for the fourth level of the school.

☨ ☨ ☨

“Is your task going well, Mr. Branwen?”

He jumps, the chair clattering as he nearly falls out. “Gods!”

“No. It’s merely me. I apologize for startling you.” It’s Ozpin, looking grave over the rim of his glasses. There’s a cup in his hand, a chipped white mug bearing the emblem of crossed axes.

“I know that’s hot chocolate,” Qrow grunts without looking up. Turning around, he casts an accusatory glance at the headmaster. “Also, quit sneaking up on me.”

Ozpin’s voice holds a trace of amusement. “You and Glynda make up the only two people within the confines of the school who are privy to that knowledge.”

Qrow turns back to the hunk of metal that will soon be his sword, and begins to hammer at it. Its shape is beginning to take form, slowly but surely, and sparks scatter from the clangs of the hammer. “You don’t need to talk so formally all the time, you know.”

Ozpin moves to flank his right side, and Qrow stiffens slightly, the even rhythm of the hammer on the metal faltering slightly. “Would you prefer me to fall into a more colloquial manner of communication, like your friend, Tai?”

Qrow tries to imagine Ozpin’s formal, silvery tones replaces with Tai’s gruff and open words, and fails. “If there’s a hell on this earth, that would be it.”

Ozpin lets out a laugh. “I didn’t believe so. Formality is always simpler, I’ve found, in the long run… it’s easiest to be straight-up instead of twisting and hiding behind evasions and modern-day words.” He pauses. “Are you getting along well with your team?”

Qrow weights the merits of lying against honesty, and decides on the latter; Ozpin has a knack for sniffing out lies. A rough laugh forces its way up from his throat. “I’ve been fighting with Raven since we could open our mouths to form words, so no surprise there. Summer is… alright, I guess, but I’ve yet to see her fight… she seems more like an innocent schoolgirl than anything, with that round face and those innocent silver eyes…”

Something in Ozpin’s face flickers, but Qrow puts it down to the shimmer of the firelight on his expression. “She was not admitted to this academy on uncertain terms. You can trust her skill when engaged in combat. And what about the third member? Taiyang?”

“I don’t like him,” Qrow growls, and the hammer crashes on the metal with vicious force, the muscles in his arm rippling with the movement. Cinders swarm out from the epicenter, and he shakes his head to extinguish them. “I don’t like the way he looks at my sister, I don’t like his holier-than-thou attitude, and I hate that damned honesty… he’s got no clue how the world works, none at all, and it’s going to come back to bite him where it hurts one day.”

Ozpin is quiet for a heartbeat, and then: “Cynicism does not suit you well.”

Qrow glances up, taken aback. Ozpin is not looking at him; he stares deep into the heart of the furnace fire, his expression more ancient and full of grief than words can say.  

“You try not being a cynic once you’ve lived my life,” Qrow responds, turning back to his task.

Ozpin leaves, his pace slowly and unsteady, like he’s bleeding out from an unseen wound— Qrow would know; he’s seen enough people stumbling away in their dying throes from the aftermath of the tribe’s attacks. None of them ever make it far enough to tell the tale of what happened to them. He can see Raven’s eyes, and the red in them is not her irises, but the blood of those they have slaughtered together. It blurs together— the unsteady stride, the blood, the eyes, Ozpin— until he is nearly drowning in memories.

It’s only when Qrow smells the stench of burning cloth that he realizes the edge of his sleeve has caught on fire from the furnace.

☨ ☨ ☨

“Holy hell!” Taiyang exclaims as Qrow meets up with his team, where they’re standing by one of the fountains in the courtyard. He is smoldering with fury, one sleeve of his gear cut off, leaving a raggedy hole from which his singed arm protrudes. “What happened to you? Get into a little run-in with a fire Grimm?”

He laughs at his own joke, and Qrow scowls, hurling the scorched remains of the sleeve at his face. “Shut up, Raggedy-Andy, and go pant after some girl you have no chance with, why don’t you?” For good measure, he lets his eyes flit to his sister, who looks thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal.

Taiyang laughs roughly, but his eyes narrow, and Qrow knows he has hit a nerve. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Qrow scowls, tosses his hands into his pockets, and tells him to do something with his body that’s anatomically impossible. Taiyang’s eyes flash and he stands up in one smooth motion. Qrow stares back without a trace of hesitation or fear. The air crackles between them.

“Sure, I will. And where have you been, Qrow? Chasing after a certain someone, right?” The challenge in his voice is unmistakable. “So you think I’m the freak for going after a couple girls, but you’re off with the hea—”

Qrow shoves Taiyang in the chest with both hands, sending him lurching back. The brawler has always been top-heavy, and the shove sends him toppling into the waters of the fountain, water surging up and soaking him. Taiyang snarls, just as Raven snaps, “Brother, that’s enough,” followed by Summer letting out a startled squeak. They stand up together, and Raven towers over Summer, but they both stare at Taiyang and Qrow angrily. They make such an unlikely pair, the daughter of the tribe and the innocent girl—

Taiyang comes hurtling out of the fountain in a wave of water and a streak of golden fury, and the force of the punch he throws sends Qrow’s head snapping to the right, his vision breaking apart into jagged flashes of red and black. He goes down, his skull cracking against the pavement, and Taiyang lands right on top of him, shouting something about Qrow being pretentious and deserving every bit of the beating he’s about to get. Fury exploding as his shock finally gives way to retaliation, Qrow flips Taiyang over and strikes him squarely in the nose, rewarded by the crunch of bone and a gush of blood as it breaks. Taiyang retaliates by returning the favor just as savagely. Blood bursts from Qrow’s nose, spraying Taiyang’s shirtfront with scarlet splatters, and then he grabs his arm and snaps it around. Qrow screeches in pain and anger as his bone clashes against its joint, sending burning agony exploding up through his arm— and then he clocks Tai in the eye, a straight punch with all his force behind it, and he knows it’ll bruise later. Taiyang bares his teeth, looking up at him.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” Qrow snarls.

Taiyang’s laugh is cruelly amused. “What? You think we all can’t see it whenever you come back from being around him? You think it’s not obvious? Because it is, and you lo—”

Qrow drives his elbow into Taiyang’s throat, choking the words off with a strangled noise. Taiyang rams his knee straight up into Qrow’s stomach, blasting the breath out of his lungs, before flipping him over and pinning his shoulders to the pavement, fingers digging in viciously. Qrow’s vision goes blurry as his head cracks against the stone once more— now would be a great time, he thinks hazily, for the misfortune to kick in and get Taiyang to magically fall unconscious, or something— but nothing happens to aid him.

And then, someone shouts for them to stop. The voice is familiar, and Qrow’s heart drops all the way to his toes as he makes out Ozpin striding towards them, cane clicking against the pavement, and Glynda is at his heels, looking amazed and stiff with disapproval at the two boys brawling on the ground.

Taiyang scrambles up, but Qrow lies there, oblivious to his sister’s narrowed gaze on him, and Summer’s wide-eyed worry.

“Sir,” Taiyang says stiffly. There’s blood running down his noise, and his eye is beginning to blacken; he looks like a bulldozer has run over him. Qrow feels a vicious sort of satisfaction. The idiot’s no longer cocky and handsome, and certainly in no state to be eyeing up his sister.“Sir, I—”

“That’s enough, Mr. Xiao Long. Quite enough out of the both of you. I don’t know why this happened, nor do I need any explanations for it.” Ozpin’s voice is colder than Qrow has ever heard it, before his eyes flick down to him. They’re devoid of any discernible emotion, except one that cuts Qrow to the chest, hurting him far more than any of Taiyang’s taunts: disappointment. “Glynda,” he announces, each word heavy, “go back to my office and make sure there are no students waiting to meet with me, please. I shall take care of this.”

The assistant scurries off with a nod.

“Miss Rose, Miss Branwen,” Ozpin continues, looking at them in a more kindly manner, “I would advise you to take Mr. Xiao Long back to your dorm— or, if you feel it necessary, swing by the infirmary.”

Summer glances at Qrow nervously, and he looks away, scowling, feeling too close and cornered in his stupid school uniform, with one sleeve still singed off. He cradles his arm close to his chest, feeling it ache. It’s sprained, if not broken, and that’s not even accounting for the state of his face right now, with one cheekbone dented and beginning to swell up with a black bruise. “What are you going to do with him, sir?” She asks, her voice quavering.

Ozpin looks down, back at Qrow. The sunlight forms a soft halo around the silver of his hair, his copper eyes dark. Even with Qrow’s vision blurry with pain, there’s no denying what he sees and the way his heartbeat seems to cease, if only for an instance. “I shall speak with him, and make sure he understands why this behavior isn’t fit for this academy— or, truly, ever. Fighting amongst peers is not something I will permit in my Academy, now or ever, and the rules are most stringent on that policy… but I am sure the four of you were well aware of that before this occurred.” He directs another comforting, patient smile towards Summer, and there’s the headmaster side of him that Qrow knows. “However, I will make sure he is all right before I go about any methods of scolding, Miss Rose. Do not fear about that. The wellbeing of my students is always my priority.”  

“Thank you, sir,” she says, before helping Taiyang hobble off, like some wounded war-hero, and Qrow scowls again. Raven shoots her brother one last look, and Qrow can’t tell what she’s trying to convey, before Ozpin’s hand on his shoulder draws his attention back to the present.

“Do you need help getting up, Mr. Branwen?”

Qrow tries to put his arm down to brace himself and rise, but the lightning bolt of pain that jolts up his arm, nearly making him black out, prevents him from doing that. “Yeah, I do. My Aura is shot,” he growls thickly, trying to hide his shame as he wipes a hand over his nose to stifle the flow of blood. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

Ozpin’s hands loop under his arms, and he helps Qrow stagger to his feet. Qrow shivers, before breaking away and stumbling to a steadier stance. “Thanks.”

Ozpin nods shortly, gripping his cane. “Come with me to my office, and we shall discuss a few matters that should have been cleared up long before today.”

[sophcaro]

Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 17

 When Rena arrived in Nagoya a little while later and stepped out of the Nozomi, she grew more than concerned when she checked her phone again, and Jurina still hadn’t replied to her message or even tried to call her back. While moving towards the taxi line she decided to take advantage of the fact she was not on the train anymore to call her again, startled when it didn’t even ring a single time, but fell directly on the voicemail.

Even if the younger girl had been busy all morning, she surely had time to check her messages during pauses. She always did. A little voice inside her head was telling her this unusual lack of response couldn’t be a good sign. It was the middle of the afternoon; the possibility that Jurina had not heard of the pictures by now was very low. Could it be the reason why she has shut her phone? To not be bothered with unsolicited phone calls?

It only took half an hour for Rena to reach her apartment, and she leaned her back against the front door once she was safely inside. She let her gaze wander around her apartment mind-absently, its peacefulness a sharp contrast with her own restlessness. Since she left Osaka, the knot in her stomach had simply refused to leave her. After a little while, she removed her coat and her shoes, before deciding to empty her suitcase.

Rena waited patiently for Jurina to get back to her, but her name never flashed on her Smartphone once. As the hours passed, she considered finding out about the group’s current location, in order to meet Jurina after one of her jobs. However, she brushed away the thought quite fast, realizing it wouldn’t be very wise to be seen together in public after the recent release of the controversial pictures. It would only add fuel to the fire.

At 8 PM, and with still no news from her girlfriend, Rena knew she couldn’t stay idle anymore. Given that she systematically fell on Jurina’s voicemail each time she tried to reach her, she realized she had to find another way to get in touch with her. One name came swiftly to her mind when she searched who could possibly be aware of SKE’s ace whereabouts, and she grabbed her phone to send a short text to Akane. Somehow, she had a good feeling the latter would provide her with the information she needed.

Her instinct didn’t betray her. Only a few minutes passed before she heard her phone beeping, and she gave her undivided attention to the text she had received from Jurina’s friend. Hi, Rena. Jurina is staying at my place tonight.

Rena processed the revelation. It definitely wasn’t the first time Jurina had a sleepover at Akane’s place – she had done it plenty of times in the past – but Rena was conscious it couldn’t be a mere coincidence for Jurina to choose to sleep at her friend’s apartment that evening in particular. Now, no doubt was possible; Jurina was definitely aware of the article.

Rena swallowed back a lump in her throat, fearing her girlfriend was not in a good emotional state right now. More than anything, she was relieved she was not going through this difficult time alone, but had her trusted friend Akane by her side right now. However, now that she had discovered Jurina’s specific location, she categorically refused to let another hour pass without seeing her.

   “R-Rena?” Churi blurted out in surprise when she rang at Akane’s apartment a little while later, and the latter opened the door. “Jurina told me you were shooting a movie in Osaka. I had no idea you were back in Nagoya…”

Ah yes, that’s right, Rena realized when she noted Akane’s very confused expression. When she sent Jurina the short message asking to call her back, she still hadn’t taken such decision yet. And after that, she unfortunately never managed to reach the other girl. “Hi Akane,” Rena inclined her head slightly, now feeling slightly guilty for not announcing her arrival beforehand. “I’m sorry for coming uninvited, but… can I see Jurina?”

“Of course,” Akane nodded and opened the door wider, taking a step aside. “Come in.”

Rena’s eyes wandered briefly around the apartment she was discovering for the first time. Even though she had never visited the other SKE member before, Jurina had one day communicated Akane’s address, and she was thankful for the fact their apartments were not very far from each other. However, she didn’t take time to really study the place in detail. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here for a friendly visit, but was in search of a certain someone who didn’t appear to be present right now. Intrigued, she focused her attention back on Akane. “I’m sorry but… where is Jurina?”

“Ah,” Akane turned around slightly, motioning a door a bit further away on the left. “She’s resting in my bedroom. But before you go and see her, I have to warn you. She’s not… well.”

Akane’s statement was not that surprising considering the circumstances, but her concern nevertheless grew a notch at her words. Now, she really dreaded what she was going to discover behind that door. How badly had Jurina reacted to the news?

“Thank you for being here for her,” Rena said in all honesty, putting her fears momentarily at the back of her head to show her gratitude towards her host.

“Jurina is my friend,” The other girl shook her head lightly. “I will always be present whenever she needs me.”

A smile moved to Rena’s lips, her words only serving in reinforcing what she already knew regarding Akane’s personality. When it came to Jurina, she was truly a trusted and dedicated friend. Without her consent, her eyes soon flickered over to the shut door behind Akane’s shoulder, and she didn’t wait any longer when Akane invited her to go and see Jurina.

Tentatively, she opened the bedroom door slowly, her feet pausing on the floor when she stepped inside, and her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to the obscurity greeting her. Apart from the light of a small bedside lamp table, the room was plunged into darkness. Once she was able to discern things better around her, her attention got drawn to a form laying on the bed. For an instant, the older Matsui wondered if the younger girl hadn’t fallen asleep, considering she was completely still underneath the blanket.

Wishing to assess it for herself she walked towards the bed carefully, her predictions ending up being all wrong when the mattress started shifting at the sound of her approach, and two eyes glanced back at her in incredulity. “R-Rena? What… what are you doing in Nagoya?”

The older Matsui took a seat on the side of the bed but didn’t reply straight away, her heart sinking at the painful view offered to her. Despite the partial darkness, she could distinguish easily her girlfriend’s puffy eyes through the dim light, evident proof that those last few hours had definitely not been easy on the member’s emotional state. How long had she been crying? Had her good friend Akane been here to comfort her or had she stubbornly tried to remain strong and hidden her tears from others?

When Jurina straightened up on the bed Rena didn’t think twice, and pulled her into a hug. The embrace was returned immediately, and Rena didn’t miss the feeling of Jurina’s fingers clutching the back of her vest.

“I left Osaka as soon as I heard the news. I had to see you,” Rena explained, caressing her back gently. “Didn’t you get my message? Why did you shut your phone all day?”

“I…” Jurina’s voice was small and hesitant when it sounded against her ear, “When I listened to your message, I was still very busy with work. I was going to call you back later once I would have more free time, but then I heard about the article and I was completely… I couldn’t even…”

“I understand,” Rena interrupted her gently when the other girl was beginning to have difficulty formulating coherent sentences. It was not hard to guess the younger girl was probably reliving the moment as she was speaking, and Rena couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to keep doing her job with a smile on her face after the terrible news.

“I-I can’t believe this is happening,” Jurina spoke up after a little while, and the tremble in her voice taught her the younger girl was evidently still in a very fragile emotional state.   “W-Why us? Why now?”

Rena tightened her hold when she could sense the other girl was letting her emotions out, and now on the verge of tears. More than anything, she wanted to reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but she couldn’t bring herself to give her false hopes. Not only didn’t she have answers to those questions, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe there wouldn’t be consequences after the release of the article.

“We have no other choice but to wait…” Rena confessed painfully, not liking one bit being so powerless. Unfortunately, it was completely out of their hands, and it was still too soon to know the impact the article was going to have on both their careers.

“What if they ask me to graduate?” Jurina’s voice suddenly pitched up in despair.

Jurina’s question didn’t come from left field: she knew it was one of her deepest fears. Jurina loved SKE with all of her heart; she had given so much to the group since its creation in 2008. If their producer came to such a drastic decision, there was no doubt it would devastate her completely. Having the ace of SKE forced to graduate prematurely due to scandal reasons would also evidently tarnish the group’s image, and fragilize its situation even more. If such a thing happened, Jurina would never forgive herself.

Rena was no fortune teller; she had no idea what decision management would take in the light of the recent compromising pictures. However, even though Jurina’s fears were legitimate, her pragmatic side was telling her management wouldn’t go to such length as asking Jurina to leave. Of course, this article was not a small issue you could sweep under the carpet discreetly. However, one thing was certain: as leading figure, Jurina was essential to SKE. Losing her right now would be a real blow, and maybe even sign the end of the group’s existence.

Was management really ready to take such a huge risk?

Rena disentangled herself from her girlfriend’s embrace, reading her dismay when they looked into each other’s eyes. Reaching for her hand she laced their fingers together, trying to sound as reassuring as possible when she replied. “I don’t know what decision our producer will take, but I don’t think they will ask you to graduate. I really don’t.”

Jurina shook her head in disagreement. “How can you be so optimistic… Did you see the pictures? They won’t ignore them.”

“No, they won’t…” Rena admitted, the truth impossible to deny. “But this is business and they can’t afford to let you go.”

Rena felt Jurina’s fingers slipping away from her grasp, and she watched her in concern when the latter averted her gaze. By her desperate look, she knew she had unfortunately failed to convince her. Right now, Jurina was too scared of being expelled from the group to contemplate any other positive outcome. But could she really blame her for that?

“This… this is all my fault,” Jurina’s voice quivered, “If I hadn’t kissed you… none of this would have happened.”

“Jurina…” Rena shook her head, catching her hand and giving it a light squeeze when she noticed tears forming in her eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re not responsible.”

“Of course I am,” came Jurina’s stubborn reply, glancing back at her at once. “I was stupid and put us both in danger. What if you’re forced to change agency because of me? What if it affects your acting career? What if-”

“Please stop,” Rena cut her off, refusing to hear any longer her girlfriend putting all the blame on herself. Extending her arm, she brushed away the tears now sliding down her cheeks, her voice full of determination when she continued. “I’m calling my agent tomorrow to refuse the role in Osaka. If Grick doesn’t want me anymore, I’m sure she won’t wait very long to inform me about it. If that’s the case, then I’ll just have to find another agency.”

“You’re not doing the shooting?!” Jurina stared back at her in shock. “Don’t do that, Rena. If you refuse that role-”

Rena pressed a finger against her lips hurriedly. “I know there may be consequences on my career because of the pictures, but it’s not something I have any control over. Whatever the consequences may be, I will deal with them. But there’s one thing I won’t change my mind about: I’m not letting you deal with this situation alone. We’ve been together for two years, and I love you. You are more important than a simple job.”

Jurina’s lips were not very cooperative when she leaned forward to kiss her, and it was easy to guess the younger girl didn’t approve of her decision. To be honest, she half expected her to insist when she pulled away, but the latter had a somewhat resigned look on her face when their eyes met. “You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

The affirmation made Rena smile. “Look who’s talking. Jurina Matsui, the most stubborn person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

A smile inadvertently fell on Jurina’s lips and she pulled the older girl towards her, capturing her lips into a tender kiss. “I love you too, Rena. I love you so much…”

Rena tangled her fingers in Jurina’s hair when the latter leaned her head against her shoulder and they remained in that position for a while, relishing quietly the presence of the other. As the minutes passed, Rena could tell the younger girl had calmed down considerably, and she came to believe maybe consequences wouldn’t be so bad after all.

A few girls had been involved in scandals these last years, and management seemed more and more lenient over the years when dealing with those tricky cases. Rena believed it strongly when she previously claimed they wouldn’t ask Jurina to graduate. Not only was she the figurehead of SKE, there was no denying she was also one of the members the producer liked the most.

Noise coming from the kitchen suddenly caught Rena’s attention, reminding her of Akane’s presence in the apartment, and of the late hour. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No…” Jurina’s admission didn’t really surprise her. “I haven’t been able to eat a single thing since…”

Rena pulled away and stood up from the bed, giving her hand a light tug. “Let’s go and eat something.”

At first, her offer was met with resistance as the younger girl simply didn’t bulge from the bed, until a second more firm pulling of her hand managed to do the trick, and Jurina followed her quite reluctantly outside the bedroom.

   The following day, it was almost noon when Rena decided to finally call her agent back. Until now, she had ignored deliberately the message the older woman had left on her voicemail, deciding it was fundamental to meet and have a talk with Jurina before anything else. After dinner, she had left Jurina behind at Akane’s apartment, both agreeing it wouldn’t be wise for the younger girl to come back with her to her place.

When Rena took a seat on the sofa and grabbed her phone, she decided to carefully review one last time in her head what she was going to announce her agent, before making the call.

“Hello, Rena,” The familiar voice sounded a few seconds later on the other side of the line. “Have you arrived well in Nagoya?”

“Yes, yesterday afternoon,” The young actress replied, noting her interlocutor’s calm and polite tone. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have think anything of it but today, it caught her slightly off guard. If she didn’t know any better, she could easily think her agent was still completely in the dark, and the news of the article had not reached her yet. “I was calling to inform you I’m not going to sign the contract. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.”

There was no reply, and the older Matsui held her breath in anticipation, unsure how the older woman was going to receive the news. Until now, she had always supported her decisions, even when she unexpectedly told her she wanted to stay in Nagoya for a few months at the end of the shooting of Destiny.

But this was an unforeseen situation: never had she changed her mind at the last minute, just before the signing of a contract. Rena was a decisive person: once her mind was made, she never moved backwards. Much as it certainly didn’t please her to backtrack in such an unprofessional way, she didn’t see any other option.

“I spoke on the phone with the director earlier on,” Her agent said at last. “He reaffirmed his deep wish to have you as leading actress of his movie. I really think you should accept the role.”

Rena processed the piece of information, reading behind the lines easily. Indirectly, her agent was informing her that - even though the director was definitely aware of the article - he was choosing not to pay attention to the rumors. A part of her definitely felt bad for letting him down, especially when he was still relying on her so much.

However, much as mulled it over in her head, she couldn’t think of any alternative. Of course, she could always visit Jurina on the week-end, as both cities were only one hour away by train. Much as it definitely was a possibility, she quickly brushed it away. Once she would have signed the contract, there would be no turning back. If something serious happened to Jurina while she was away, she would be bind by her contract and completely stuck in Osaka.

To be honest, it wasn’t the sole reason why she was refusing the role. Since the article got released, she had difficulty focusing on anything else. Given the fact the shooting was supposed to start at the end of the week, she seriously feared she would have a hard time doing her job properly when her mind was not at it.

The director had picked her because he had admired her work on Destiny. As a result, she owed him exactly the same: a flawless performance. No middle ground was conceivable and even less acceptable. If she was incapable to give her everything in that role, then another actress had to replace her.

“I’m truly sorry…” Rena acknowledged her agent’s attempt to make her change her mind, and couldn’t hold it against her. After all, she was doing exactly the job required from an agent: guide their clients, and make sure they took the best decisions when it came to their professional career. “I will call the director in person to apologize.”

“I just don’t want you to regret it later. The agency is supporting you no matter what, but… as your agent, I wouldn’t advise you to stay in Nagoya right now. I know Jurina and you are close, but I think it would be best to put some distance with her. At least, until things have settled down a little.”

Close.

Rena didn’t know what to think when her agent used that very neutral word to describe her relationship with the other girl. Oh no, she definitely never told her agent they were both romantically involved. That was a piece of information she had carefully kept to herself all this time, firmly convinced her private life was no one’s business. In fact, the younger girl had very rarely been a subject of topic these last years, except on a professional level when they were supposed to do a job together.

Did her agent believe the conclusions drawn by the article, and supported by the compromising pictures? Or did she, like a certain part of her fanbase, disregard them as ridiculous rumors? The older Matsui had not a clue, but she had no intention of asking. Nevertheless, one piece of information surely didn’t escape her keen hearing. Despite the article, it appeared her agency had decided to keep on supporting her.

She had been mentally prepared to change agency if needed, and the knowledge she wouldn’t have to go through such trouble relieved her. Somehow, this positive outcome made her hope the article might not have too many repercussions on her actress career after all.

“I’m really thankful for your guidance,” Rena replied in all honesty. Until now, her agent had always given her sound advice, and she was definitely grateful for that. For nothing in the world, she would want to replace her. But in that case in particular, she had no choice but to go against her wishes. “I was truly looking forward to working with Matsumoto-san, but I have to decline that role.”

After those last words, Rena didn’t hear her agent insisting again. Whether she agreed with her final decision or not the older woman kept her thoughts to herself carefully, and they hang up a few seconds later. Rena let out a small sigh in relief, glad the matter was finally over. It had not been an easy announcement to make, but she was convinced it was the right thing to do.

While she was resting on the sofa Rena started feeling the effects of her very short night, and she had to blink a few times to try hard to stay awake. No, she had not slept a lot the previous night…

After placing her phone on the coffee table, she laid down, deciding to take a small nap. Staring mind-absently at the ceiling of her living room, it didn’t take long before her thoughts drifted to Jurina and - as her eyelids closed progressively – hoped deep down she would also soon receive reassuring news.

   It was the sound of her phone beeping that woke her up. Given the fact she was still feeling terribly sleepy when she opened her eyes tentatively, she figured she mustn’t have slept a lot. A fact that got confirmed when she realized it was still broad daylight, and the time on the clock in her living room indicated it was the beginning of the afternoon.

Once her eyes got accustomed to the light better, she extended her arm towards the table to reach for her phone, a little frustrated by the unwilling disturbance. Why didn’t she mute the sound on her phone earlier on? She was sleeping so well. All negative thoughts vanished when she realized it was a text from Jurina, and she straightened up on the sofa to read it.

When she read the three little words written in her message, her heart stopped.

“They suspended me.”